Pavle Acin leaned on the idler wheel and wiped the sweat off his face, reeking of burnt oil and lubricants. He was almost done helping his driver, Josif, with maintenance on the transmission of Home on the Road, their HAV-24D. It had been making disconcerting noises while maneuvering along with the 13th Armored Brigade and was beginning to make him cringe. These things never happened at a good time, did they?
After they reached their defensive line, First Lieutenant Culik gave them permission to work on the offending gearbox while the platoon awaited further orders. From their dug-in position on the hill, Pavle could see across the River Teza to where the Irsmun lines were located, somewhere behind the dense fog.
It could be tonight, tomorrow, or a week from now, but the battle was inevitable. In all likelihood, he and his crew would die in one of a few ways, hopefully a quick one. But until then, the wait was unbearable. It felt like he had ants crawling underneath his skin, making it damn near impossible to sit still. Pavle was beginning to understand why karjinova had become so popular during the revolution.
Until orders came, there was nothing but the wait. The best they could do was ensure their tank was in perfect fighting trim. As he entered through the hatch, Pavle once again read the words he had inscribed on the rim. Three years ago, when he’d first started commanding Home on the Road, his favourite passage from the transcriptions of Yevgen the 22nd:
And Baskaia said, “Thou art my spear and my weapon of war; for with thee I will shatter nations and pierce the veil that hinders the light.”
