I awoke in my ship. There was no power, it was crumpled, and I was on my back, blood flowing from my wounds. It was very dark, and very hot.

 

But I had survived the blast.

 

I looked outside, and saw nothing. Just blackness. Darkness. I looked into the sky, and saw a small twinkle. Falconer had completed the evacuation. I was dizzy, and smoke crept up my nostrils. I couldn't see very well in the darkness, and I began to lose my balance. Suddenly lights flared from in front of my ship, and another forcefield extended to my own. It was a tank - but a heavily modified form of our own. There was more armour, it was a lot larger, and had fewer windows - but there were laser periscopes. A door opened, and a man beckoned for me to come towards him. I staggered onto the ground between the two crafts as my hovercraft collapsed into a pile of twisted metal behind me. I stumbled onto the side of the ship and the man pulled me in. I heard a voice.

"We have a Brit here! This is good! I love British people!" the accent was British. I looked up and saw a man with a large Dolvium rifle. He was grinning. I frowned, then passed out.

 

* * * *

 

I regained consciousness a while later, and eventually I regained my full sight and hearing. The pocket man came towards me again. He pulled me up and held out his hand.

"Pete Madissen," he said. "Engineer. But they call me Pocket Mad - for a reason..." Another man, slightly taller, equipped with a lot of rifles, a launcher, and a pistol in his hand approached. He was gruff, and firm.

"You can call me Kruncher." I nodded. There was going to be no messing with this one. I looked around. There were two others who also introduced themselves to me. The keeper of the logbook, historian, and co-pilot, Picard, was a thoughtful, wise man. But the man who fascinated me the most was Flynn. Flynn Clubbaire, known as Flyclub by the crew, was the Captain, and the main pilot. He had, in fact, designed this entire tank. He had navigated the entire circumference of Mars, and knew his way through the harsh deserts.

 

He was a remarkable man, good-spirited, kind-hearted, always positive, and the entire crew looked up to him. He described his band of brothers as just that - a brotherhood. They had been roaming Mars for a week before our Expedition. They knew not of the Great Martian War, as they had been over 100 miles away. They knew I was a soldier, and they were cautious of that. But these men were strong, and we could take out Frederiksen's men on our own. We didn't need Falconer, or Richardson, or MacDane. While they sat in their comfy chairs, discussing the situation, drinking coffee and fine wines, we would be out here, destroying the evil that was Frederiksen's army.

 

It was a new dawn.