The whole damn tour was like a combat gag reel...except you weren't laughing, because you were living it.There numbers were larger, but they were still a nomadic anti-boarding party looking for a good time and a few orcs to kill. The good news was that the men around him were angry and ready to fight. The bad news was that compared to this shitstorm, they'd have to be smart and lucky to make themselves useful.<br/><br/>Fortunately, useful was exactly what he and Rico were making themselves. The Sweeper was running low on rounds and only used specifically at the Sarge's command. In the meanwhile, he had rifle rounds to spare and made use of them during a few of the skirmishes. Each fallen soldier was like an imperial machine leaving oil. Not so bad over drops and spurts, but give it long enough and you'd be wondering why the fucker broke down.<br/><br/>The day was starting ot get long. Even with the earlier rest, it was difficult to stay on his game. He'd almost moved in the other direction when the Sarge directed him to clear the intersection, which was a damn good metric of just how wasted he was. Still, the SAW's function was pure muscle memory, and nothing provided the kind of wakeup that The Sweeper gave, outside of a stimpak...<em>'Which would be nice to have...'</em>he thought wistfully. The problem was once you start, you can't stop until you're ready to crash, and they only bought you so much time before you were better off dying anyway.<br/>