August 8th, noon.
About a week earlier, a cold wave from the Frozen Ocean had swept south across the Thorn Plains, where Fort Howe stood. Temperatures plummeted, rivers froze over, and snowstorms raged. For several days straight, Fort Howe had not seen the sun, and a layer of icicles constantly formed on its Victorian-style pointed windows.
But this day broke from the usual gloom. The weather was clear. The sun of the Turaxis system hung like a faintly yellow ball of light in the sky, its rays mild and lukewarm.
On Fort Howe's landing platform, hundreds of flight crew and ground personnel ran in every direction at once. Avengers took off one after another. Amid the shrieks of air and engines, the formation pierced the clouds and vanished into them.
The soldiers of 1st Company's 3rd Platoon stood in formation beside the right side of an APOD-34 atmospheric transport. Their silver-gray CMC-250/EX Power Armor gleamed with a mercury-like sheen beneath the sunlight.
Augustus stood before the formation, facing his men, proud of their orderly ranks and the solemn readiness of soldiers poised for battle. His platoon was the most elite force in the fort.
"It is twelve hundred hours. In ten minutes, we board and depart. Check your weapons again..." Augustus said.
"Hey, Sergeant Mengsk, look over here!" An unwelcome voice interrupted Augustus. Though deeply displeased, he still turned in that direction.
Two cameras were pointed at Augustus. At least ten members of a UNN documentary crew carried tripods as they shifted cameras around to adjust their angles, while a boom microphone was extended before him.
"I'm frontline correspondent Marx Pierce, broadcaster for UNN Central. Reporting to you from Fort Howe on Turaxis." A man in white Power Armor staggered up in front of Augustus, awkwardly threw an arm around