The Last Tomato

The steady hum of turbo jets and the feel of hot wind blowing around me made me drowsy. I tried to doze as I was being rocked from side to side. I hadn't slept in two days.

I'd been stowing weapons, breaking down living shelters, packing my personal equipment, and pulling ambush duty at night.

Last night's ambush resulted in one of the worse skirmishes in months. Our platoon suffered two wounded casualties. The rebels paid a higher price?ten killed.

I sat along the port side of the Vertical TakeOff and Landing (VTOL) troop transport, in the seat closest to the open rear cargo door. I glanced out of the cargo door and could see the other VTOL's following in formation. They were a little lower and it looked as if they are just clearing the trees that surround the many fields on this planet.

I placed my MPB-92 assault weapon between my knees and raised my arms to stretch. Great weapon, I thought as I yawned. The ability to fire magnetic projectiles or particle beams makes it an excellent choice in any combat environment. I've knocked down reinforced steel doors with the mag rail and cut down trees with the beam.

As I continued to stretch, I noticed that we were now flying over some building.

"We're here!" I yelled as I lowered my arms and placed my hands around my weapon. The response in the cargo bay was a mixture of yells, handclaps, and profane vocal approval.

Our six-month tour of duty was over on Farmers Planet.

Our pilot suddenly gained altitude and banked left. I watched the top of the control tower flash beneath us and felt the VTOL decelerate and eventually hover. I continued looking at the various buildings of Spaceport IV as the pilot rotated the aircraft ninety degrees and started our decent. Nothing had changed. The port looked the same as it did when we arrived here six months ago.

While we continued our decent, the VTOL crewchief make his way to the rear of the aircraft. When the landing skids touched the open field, the crewchief deployed the cargo ramp. The field we landed on was adjacent to the main shuttle runway.

I unbuckled my safety harness and stood in the cargo bay along with the other fourteen Astroborne Commandos, wearing the same type of camouflage battle dress uniforms. When the ramp touched the ground, we exited in two single file lines.

We walked out onto the field to a safe distance and stood in formation. The VTOL's began departing for their next missions. We waited for the other members of our platoon to find us?they had come in on one of the other VTOL aircraft.

Seconds later our platoon Sergeant, Staff Sergeant Scott, and the rest of the platoon joined us. As they neared, she motioned to the commandos that accompanied her to fall into our formation. Not attempting to speak until she could be heard over the noise of its engines, she watched as the final VTOL departed.

Sergeant Scott had been a commando for eight years. This was her second combat tour of duty. Her first combat assignment, as a Private, was on Izar. She was the only survivor of an AI unit raid during the final battles for the planet.

Although small, five foot six inches 140 pounds, she is physically strong and her past experiences have made her mentally capable. Her tough persona and no nonsense attitude had saved our lives many times during the past six months.

I watched her as she suddenly looked forward and used the palm of her right hand to push against the communication speaker embedded in her helmet to her right ear. She stood there as if in a trance as she listened to a command transmission that she was receiving.