Good bloody question. Answering the civilian was the least of Toreth's concerns, though. He steadied himself, hurriedly shoving the papers back into one of his front pockets. Stopping was very decidedly not in the plan, and if any sort of roadblock had been set up here, it hadn't been communicated through the Bowman. Not that the piece of shit was reliable, anyway.
It was supposed to have been a smooth, uninterrupted twenty minute ride, and a safe one at that, in fairly familiar territory. Not a hundred percent safe, of course, because nowhere was during a war, but it hadn't been declared hostile, either. At least they were in a Mastiff, heavily armoured, although Toreth had made the fucking mistake of shifting his crew around on account of the civilian. If any attack came, they were possibly fucked if it didn't come from the front. Toreth's fingers tightened on his assault rifle, thumb pressing the PRR switch on the grip of his weapon as he went to one knee, business end of the rifle aimed out the back of the truck. His eyes searched the darkness for any signs of movement as he spoke, unconsciously echoing the man's question.
"B-C, why in the fuck have we stopped?" His lance-corporal was in the leading Husky, hopefully with a clue about what the fuck was going on. He released the comms switch, expression carefully blank as he waited for the response. It took a few seconds.
"There's something on the road." B-C sounded calm, if not slightly wary. "Body. Should we take a look?"
A body. In the middle of the fucking road. Right. Christ, they weren't born yesterday.
"Not yet. Sit tight and don't get out of your vehicle. If it's a trap, they're going to have to make the first move." Being in heavily armoured vehicles was highly preferable to setting foot outside. "Carter, scope the surroundings, but don't make it obvious. As far as they're concerned, we don't know what the fuck to do about that body yet. If it's an ambush, there can't be that many of them. This zone is supposed to be clear."
Off the comms, "What the hell are we taking you out to fix, again?"
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It was supposed to have been a smooth, uninterrupted twenty minute ride, and a safe one at that, in fairly familiar territory. Not a hundred percent safe, of course, because nowhere was during a war, but it hadn't been declared hostile, either. At least they were in a Mastiff, heavily armoured, although Toreth had made the fucking mistake of shifting his crew around on account of the civilian. If any attack came, they were possibly fucked if it didn't come from the front. Toreth's fingers tightened on his assault rifle, thumb pressing the PRR switch on the grip of his weapon as he went to one knee, business end of the rifle aimed out the back of the truck. His eyes searched the darkness for any signs of movement as he spoke, unconsciously echoing the man's question.
"B-C, why in the fuck have we stopped?" His lance-corporal was in the leading Husky, hopefully with a clue about what the fuck was going on. He released the comms switch, expression carefully blank as he waited for the response. It took a few seconds.
"There's something on the road." B-C sounded calm, if not slightly wary. "Body. Should we take a look?"
A body. In the middle of the fucking road. Right. Christ, they weren't born yesterday.
"Not yet. Sit tight and don't get out of your vehicle. If it's a trap, they're going to have to make the first move." Being in heavily armoured vehicles was highly preferable to setting foot outside. "Carter, scope the surroundings, but don't make it obvious. As far as they're concerned, we don't know what the fuck to do about that body yet. If it's an ambush, there can't be that many of them. This zone is supposed to be clear."
Off the comms, "What the hell are we taking you out to fix, again?"