In the early hours of July 19th, on the highway from Oak Forest toward Fort Howe.
A layer of white frost coated the thorny Turaxis shrubs lining both sides of the road, glittering like crystal under the sickly white headlights, like works of art crafted by some supernatural hand. In the profound darkness, hungry polar beasts roared somewhere far away, while the icy wind carried the scent of blood and gunpowder.
1st Squad's heavy armored personnel carrier led the convoy, a Kel-Morian KM flag snapping beside its right-side rearview mirror. Augustus was driving, while Second Lieutenant Reagan, the platoon commander, sat in the front passenger seat. The container-style rear compartment behind them was packed with fully armed Marines from 1st Squad.
As they drew closer to Fort Howe, the shell craters ahead grew steadily denser. Sometimes Augustus had to carefully steer his armored personnel carrier around several craters before they could continue forward.
"We're only one mile from Fort Howe's first outpost. Stay alert, Marines," Reagan said over the platoon-wide communications channel as he watched the navigation display on the console.
"Load your weapons." Augustus spoke those few words in an exceptionally calm voice over his squad's channel.
He received only silent acknowledgment and a synchronized series of clicks. In the quiet wait, everyone could feel their own hearts beating.
A mile was not far for armored personnel carriers speeding down the road. When Augustus and Reagan spotted the first destroyed roadblock, the silhouette of an outpost slowly emerged beside the highway, composed of high-strength steel towers, semicircular bunkers, and cold-gray ring walls.
"We're passing through Outpost 020." Reagan's voice sounded again as the armored personnel carriers visibly picked up speed. Augustus and the others could clearly hear that his breathing had become somewhat hurried.
Augustus's armored personnel carrier sped