Tom grumbled to herself. "Damn pukes were taken out by their libidoes." Their Gunny was going to hear about it at the debriefing. Aunt SAMantha might
have a looser dress code than Uncle Sam but the core of her CORPS was shaping up to have the kind of reputation her inspiration had dirtside. It was like the
old saying about Ginger Rogers: she did everything Fred Astaire did, backwards, in high heels and a dress. Admittedly, Tom hated wearing the Sammies'
"formal" uniform but she loved the way Allison looked in it.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Now that her targets of choice were out, all she was left with were ...
She grinned when she saw the battlemover. She was going to get to use the stuff she cadged from the ninja wannabes. The thing was loud, clanking, and seemed to
be looking for similar targets. Just like a 'Dane tank, and she KNEW how to handle tanks. She watched from the tunnels for a while, to get an idea of the
field of vision of her target. Satisfied, she dashed from cover point to cover point as the head of the suit swiveled around, staying out of the pilot's
line of sight.
She pulled a "post-it" from the pad and slapped it on the back of the suit's knee, tearing a corner and priming the expansion foam "limpet
mine explosive note." A manic grin split her face as she dashed to a safe distance and more concealment.
"God, I love satchel charges!"
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll
have a looser dress code than Uncle Sam but the core of her CORPS was shaping up to have the kind of reputation her inspiration had dirtside. It was like the
old saying about Ginger Rogers: she did everything Fred Astaire did, backwards, in high heels and a dress. Admittedly, Tom hated wearing the Sammies'
"formal" uniform but she loved the way Allison looked in it.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Now that her targets of choice were out, all she was left with were ...
She grinned when she saw the battlemover. She was going to get to use the stuff she cadged from the ninja wannabes. The thing was loud, clanking, and seemed to
be looking for similar targets. Just like a 'Dane tank, and she KNEW how to handle tanks. She watched from the tunnels for a while, to get an idea of the
field of vision of her target. Satisfied, she dashed from cover point to cover point as the head of the suit swiveled around, staying out of the pilot's
line of sight.
She pulled a "post-it" from the pad and slapped it on the back of the suit's knee, tearing a corner and priming the expansion foam "limpet
mine explosive note." A manic grin split her face as she dashed to a safe distance and more concealment.
"God, I love satchel charges!"
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll