[b]Pvt. Aden Robertson[/b]

Luck had been on Aden's side in that the room 'Ammo #18' was not rigged and contained a sizable horde of small arms ammunition. It continued to hold as the first row of wooden boxes proudly proclaimed seven point nine two millimeter in its sterile stenciling. 

The scout had spent the better part of the day loading ammo into a pair of satchels and hauling the munitions to the arms room. Making sure to stow the liberated cardboard cartons just out of sight before he retired for the night. Gold didn't interest him and there were enough on watch that he slid into a bunk confident he would be alerted when trouble arrived. 



****


A man screaming over the ship's announcement system jolted him from a slumber that felt too short.  The only thing his waking mind comprehended was battle stations. So that's what he prepared for; hurriedly slipping on his uniform and jamming his boots on awkwardly. Stomping to secure the footwear; he rushed out of the berth. Great coat being pull on one arm while his fighting harness and rifle dangled off one side. 

It was an awkward shuffle that Aden took to his post; bracing periodically on the wall the try and fix his boots or pull his uniform on. But by the time he threw open the hatch and stepped out to the machine gun gondola he was at least dressed. Though his helmet had been left in his haste back at the berth. 

Not that it registered as the marksman back slung the rifle and hurriedly mounted an ammo belt into the tray of the fore machine gun. He began to swivel the gun.... 

Then he realized that he had no idea what the threat even was. Awareness was beating back the adrenaline fueled haze his rude awakening had given him. He took a moment to steady his breathing; the chill of the air stinging his lungs slightly. 

He groped for the binocular's dangling from his neck; the glass still crisp despite the mileage and he started to scan. Just like he was taught; near to far, one side to the other. Not looking but letting the world stand....

A band of horseman on the ridge. The color's and uniforms blobs at this distance but they would soon be visible at their rate of closure. They would be within range of his guns shortly though their effectiveness would be poor for a while. Especially with him having to judge his impacts and shoot the gun. 

So he waited, adjusting his watch cap lower on his skull as he tensed up and waited. The slightest jitter in his left foot betraying the mixture of fear and anticipation he was sadly becoming all too acquainted with.