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A Call of Duty

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A Call of Duty Overhead and behind him the sky was going from day-blue to dusk-purple. Casting shadows behind the tall giant like columns of rock that lay before Johnson. In front of him the sun hung low, a quivering red disc, although day was coming to an end, it was still overwhelmingly hot. Not like back home on earth. But this was not Earth. Where was it? A planet which seemed to be an arid wasteland with no vegetation as far the eye could see, just rocks. At least he could shelter from the persistent drying wind and flying grit from his eyes and lips. Four days ago he'd managed to manoeuvre his damaged hole-stricken vessel to land on the planet that was home to his enemy. Johnson's chances of survival were very slim. In fact minute. Scared, nervous, frightened he felt none of these not even a word in his vocabulary. The only thing that worried him was never seeing his family again. ...read more.


The purple sky was the same, no clouds, no stars, no aircraft, no enemy ready to strike and no rescue mission. There was no sound. Was it just him? Alone. So certain of this, the rescue transponder was transmitting on three frequencies allowing him to detect any signs of his comrades or mother-ship. Surely they must be searching for him by now. Or had they given up hope of finding him? This is a question he could not answer. Perhaps the atmosphere was different the radio signals could not reach him. One thousand questions went through his mind. Where are they? That little voice in the back of his conscience was getting more familiar. No Johnson thought I must concentrate; I must clear my thoughts and have no doubts, for it was him who misled the Genosian gunships away from battle giving his allies a chance to attack. What a battle it was! The battle plan was straight forward, if everything had gone to plan the Genosian mother-ship would have been sabotaged and neutralised. ...read more.


He paid the heavy price. His stealth hunter star fighter ship shredded to pieces of shrapnel spiralled out of control. Only a man of his skills could survive, landing the battered craft in the midst of the planet he is presently on now, waiting for rescue. Johnson quickly jolted himself to get him back to reality. He'd been day dreaming. He could not afford to do that - not here, not now. All he needed to do was get off this planet, back to a base ....His timer shook silently against his wrist. Water. He dug into his left leg pouch, fingers counting over the sealed bulbs. Ten. That meant that there were still ten in the right leg pouch. Johnson finished his water, uncurled himself, stretched, and danced several fight moves to bring up his attention level. Feeling considerably refreshed, he moved around another forbidding rock, heading down. Behind him, his shadow was flung back across a day's walk or more as he strode across the ridge, but there was no one there to notice but THERE WAS ...... ?? ?? ?? ?? ...read more.

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