The soldier paced back and forth holding a helmet with a cracked visor.

  "It’s been two days-”

  “Technically it’s been three days, sir,” a private corrected as he looked at his wristwatch.

  “Are you insinuating I am wrong, private?!”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” the private replied as the soldier coughed.

  “As I said, it's been three days. Three days! -and we haven’t heard a peep. Tell me we at least have contact with the perimeter defense," the soldier growled, walking across the command facility bunker, “This is the calm before the storm, I’m sure of it.”

  "Yes, sir," reported a young man with a shaved head, "Local radios are having difficulties with cutting through the jamming. But the satellite uplink will connect us to the relay point within the hour. Locally the commanding will be difficult, but it shouldn’t affect the defenses."

  "Have you been able to locate the source of the jamming?" The soldier asked, standing over the man who just answered him as he worked away at his computer.

  "No, sir," he replied, "But it has to be local, probably within the support sections. I'm trying to narrow it down based on signal strength. Whatever it is, it has to be big and powerful to be interfering with our comms at this distance."

  "Just find it," The soldier said, stepping away, "I need to be able to-"

  “Sir. I’m sorry for interrupting you, Sir. But the sensors have detected an ion storm building up within the red zone since 0300 hours. We need to deploy countermeasures asap.“

  “Why haven't we been notified until now!? Get to it!” the soldier practically screamed as the men began to rapidly type on their keyboards as beads of sweat began forming on their faces.

  “Sir! I am locked out,” one of the men exclaimed. He kept trying to gain access to the controls. However, despite his actions, the system started booting up regardless and announced its stages with a computerized voice.

  “M.A.R.V Systems Online. Command uplink active.”

  “Uplink!? didn’t you say we had an hour before the satellite would be in range!?”

  “I think we’re being hacked, sir!” the man who sat next to the computer exclaimed.

  “Updating Vector, Sweeping Area. Refactoring Objectives. Recalculating deployment vectors,” the computer voice boomed with a loud volume.

  “Stop it now!” the soldier ordered as he felt like the helplessness would give him a heart attack, “T-The emergency override. Engage the emergency override!”

  “New coordinates Acquired. Primary weapon engaged. Target locked.”

  “We need to evacuate! Sir! We don’t have enough time-”

  “Weapons Locked ON. Deploying armaments. Assault vector alpha. Commencing Fire.”

  The room shook, consoles flickered, and the soldier's grumpy face relaxed into a face of helplessness. The latter did more to frighten his many subordinates than any of the former. The blast wave had cracked the windows.

  “That’s? I… I am so fired,” The soldier said dejectedly.

  * * *

  A welding torch that had been delicately lodged in a ladder shuddered and slammed into the ground as dust and chips of mortar sprayed over Doc from the ceiling.

  “Wha? I-I am awake, I’m awake!” Doc blurted out as his head shot up.

  He appeared to be folded over something, one side of his face was red from having been pressed against the hard surface. He blinked, his vision sharpened as he awoke fully and he saw a series of jagged lines, the distinctive shape of the T-55’s new modified armor. He had relaxed for a moment as his job was completed. He was sprawled out on the turret, his feet still dangling in the air after having dozed off with the welding torch in hand.

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  Vodko entered the garage while pulling down a sweater covered with an incredible amount of holsters with guns and knives properly secured.

  “How long did you sleep for?” Vodko asked as he put on a coat, almost completely hiding the weapons.

  “Seven,” Doc looked at his wristwatch and yawned. Dark rings were visible under his eyes.

  “Hours?”

  “Minutes,” Doc replied as he climbed down from the tank and yawned once more.

  He briefly attempted to fix the thing resembling an inky black crow's nest on top of his head, but eventually gave up and slumped down into a plastic folding chair and exhaled a deep breath. Another muffled explosion resounded as a ding indicated that diversions were underway. The elevator shuddered to their floor and with a ding spat out a very relieved person. Patting the dust off of his clothes, a faint smile emerged on his face.

  “Comrades, is time!” Ivan announced with a muffled sound as a gas mask was properly secured on his face. He could feel a vibration, and tiny flakes of rock were falling from the ceiling.

  Ivan’s mechanical leg stomped up the metal ladder, opened the driver’s hatch and he settled into the driver’s seat. Vodko sat down in the gunner's position next to him and put on his gas mask as well. Doc landed on his seat with a thump and after checking if the wires were firmly in place, he made the final tweak to the tank as he connected it to the hardlined array they had struggled to lower into the tank earlier that day. Because without light, they'd have to rely on eavesdropping and scanning of enemy frequencies to know if they would finally be able to make a move safely. He muted the speakers before setting it to broadcast to the three other teams on a secure channel. He tapped a couple of keys on the sophisticated computer system set in the dashboard in front of him. He struggled a bit to put on the gas mask as Ivan began the process of starting the tank.

  “Zegnition,” Ivan flipped a switch, toggled the gearshift with his left foot, pushed the release button atop a pair of levers used for steering, and flicked a second switch “Primer.. shit”

  As he flicked the second switch, the engine coughed.

  “Well, I’m sure some of these buttons do something!” Ivan pushed three more buttons and a green light lit up on the display in front of him, “Yes, green is for go.”

  Pressing down the gas pedal once more, the engine built up momentum but coughed and stopped once more. Ivan checked the fuel reading before punching the fuel gauge. The fuel indicator spun around and indicating that not enough fuel had been added to the tank yet.

  “Blyat! Tank! You have done this mistreatment. You have betrayed motherland! you can’t escape judgement!” Ivan said as he climbed up on the tank after retrieving a few red plastic containers and filled up the vehicle’s external fuel tanks with fuel.

  “Aah da, da, with the fuel mixture! Give it some reach fuel and is good to go,” Ivan patted the tank and threw the empty plastic containers away from the tank.

  Climbing back through the driver’s hatch, Ivan once more turned the key in the ignition and pushed down the gas pedal. But the same as before, the tank wouldn’t start.

  “Ay blyat, is exactly like lada!” Ivan opened the driver’s hatch, then the turret hatch and handed Vodko a crank, which he used to nudge Doc awake.

  “Hm? Wha? I’m awake. I’m awake.” Doc blurted out, slapped himself with both his hands and repeated to himself. “Can’t fall asleep, Can’t fall asleep.”

  While Doc had painstakingly been forced to engineer a means to secure the railgun on the turret, he had however not been able to refine the engine system. He had plugged leaks and done the best he could, but still felt it would be amazing if it still worked considering the number of years it had been gathering dust in a museum. Doc gestured for Vodko who went to the back of the tank and yammed the crank into a hole. He began winding up the device furiously to ensure that the engines could finally bloom into a full ignition. A lamp lit up in front of the driver's seat and noticing that, Ivan immediately pushed down the gas pedal, watching eagerly as the vehicle’s engine began thrumming and quivering with power.

  “Ohoy mamotchka! We have engine power! Doc, comms,” Ivan exclaimed happily and grabbed the intercom that hung beside him, “Comrades! Slavitsa Tank moving out!”

  After announcing the start of their mission, Ivan hooked the intercom and grabbed the steering levers. Doc carefully focused on the screen as it flashed, and then dimmed when lasers outside of the tank began lancing out and tracking the surrounding walls as the modified T-55 tank pulled out of the underground garage with a thunderous roar.

  "You guys aren't taking this seriously," Doc muttered as he shuffled around, trying to pick a position that wouldn't give him leg cramps as he stayed absolutely still on the seat next to the stack of six tank shells on the floor. Honestly, if all went well, he'd be out in a couple of hours. Free from having to follow these orders. Doc made a tired grin as he supported his heavy head by resting his chin in his hand and balancing his elbow on the hardline array.

  Ivan flicked another switch and the headlights lit the featureless tunnel as the behemoth eased forward through the tunnel like a land-bound battleship, the treads clanking with a near-musical chime. Well, at least if the artist was tone deaf, as the treads hadn’t been used for a couple of decades. They traveled forwards as sewer pipes that Ivan’s men hadn’t had time to move in time crumpled into nothing beneath the weight of the tank as it barreled down the narrow tunnel and turned right at an intersection. The tired suspension screeched as Ivan barely avoided plowing through a wall with the sharp turn as he wasn’t used to the increased weight of the railgun as it swiveled slightly in the sharp turn. The flashing red letters on Ivan's cybernetic eye ensured that they avoided the wall by a hair's breadth.

  Inside, Doc was just about to warn him as he was eating a power bar quickly, practically stuffing it into his mouth with his eyes strained open while he focused on not falling asleep, as well as keeping an eye on the hardline array that was steadily scanning for signals.