[OOC: Fair warning: if the link in this post works, it will start playing music.]
A blue cloudless sky hung over the tank testing ground. It was a balmy day, with a light breeze blowing, and the staff of ENDTech milled out, munching on hot dogs and burgers. A few range safety officers kept the crowd off of the actual testing field, and out of a marked path leading toward a temporary hanger squatted a hundred feet from the berm that marked the tank firing range. Downrange, about a thousand meters off, an old Leopard tank stood on a ridgeline. A large Eutopian flag snapped in the wind, and a band played both popular and patriotic Eutopian music.
A reviewing stand for VIPs and ENDTech directors stood to one side, to provide a good view of the upcoming show. The meal was the same, though, and executives and military officers underwent various culinary gymnastics to keep the mustard from the hot dogs off their suits and uniforms. Nearby was an elevated platform for the press and television cameras.
Levarge stood up, took the microphone. His voice, crisp and low, boomed out across the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out today. We are here to mark a milestone in Eutopian military history: the unveiling of the first production Gorgon main battle tank, a product of the minds and muscles of you and your fellow Eutopians! I’d like to recognize Michael von Struesser, my predecessor in this position, for making this all possible. Here it is: the new bulwark of our nation, and the tip of the spear of the Eutopian army – the Gorgon main battle tank!"
The door of the hanger began to rise, as the third movement of Mozart's
Requiem, Dies Irae, began to blare. Those schooled in Latin or Mozart knew the lyrics:
Day of wrath, that day
Will dissolve the earth in ashes . . . .
With a roar, the Gorgon sprang to life. It slowly began to emerge from its cave, first the 120mm cannon, then the bulk of the beast. The tank was unpainted, its body a gunmetal grey, dimly reflecting the sunlight. It left the hanger with the grace and deadly impact of a sword being drawn from a scabbard. Down the length of the cannon was painted the words "Dragon Slayer." Underneath that, in small script like an artist’s signature, was: “by Michael von Streusser.” Near the bogy-wheels was painted the serial number: G/00001. At the sides of the turret was the Eutopian flag, and at the rear bogy-wheels was a small unit crest, recognizable to a few there as belonging to the 14th Dragoons, the scout troop of the Third Brigade of the Sixth Mechanized Infantry division - Levarge's old command.
As Mozart's apocalyptic music swelled, the Gorgon lunged forward toward the berm marking the firing range.
What dread there will be
When the Judge shall come . . . .
The audience was still in a stunned silence when the tank stopped for a moment. It suddenly rocked back as a foot long tongue of flame sprouted from the barrel. A massive
boom enveloped the onlookers. Levarge, still on the reviewing stand, had enough time to think
Don't miss, you son of a . . . .
The distant Leopard tank had been geared for battle. It had a half tank of gas and a number of shells aboard, along with four crash-test dummies. The round from the Gorgon struck its left flank, just below the turret. The tungsten penetrator tore through the armor, turning into chaff and spalling, and spilling molten metal into the passenger compartment.
From the review stand, it looked like the Leopard shrugged for a moment, and there was a puff of white smoke. Tankers in the audience know what that meant, but others, expecting something more dramatic, let out a collective sigh of disappointment.
Then the onboard ammo cooked off. The Leopard vanished in a massive flash of yellow fire. Its multi-ton turret flew slowly skyward atop a pillar of flame, tumbling end over end.
When the accursed have been confounded
And given over to the bitter flames . . . .
The crowd flinched slightly as the sound of the explosion washed over them. Then, as one, they erupted into mad applause. The music of Mozart died out.
Levarge spoke into his field radio. "Gorgon one, this is ENDTech actual. Nice shot. Move out."
The Gorgon shot forward over the berm, and raced downrange toward the burning Leopard. As it moved, targets popped up. The Gorgon fired on the move, knocking down the cardboard tanks seconds after they appeared. It wheeled out of sight behind the growing cloud of greasy smoke that marked the Leopard’s funeral pyre.
When the tank emerged, it was aiming straight at the reviewing stand, and traveling at its full road speed. It rumbled toward the VIPs, an unstoppable mass of metal. It literally leapt the berm that marked the range, flying for a brief moment, before landing with an earth-shaking thud and coming to a halt in front of the stand. The hatch on the turret opened, and the Captain in charge of the 3/6 scout troop emerged and threw a snappy salute at the VIPs while the Eutopian national anthem began to play.
Grinning like a child on Christmas, General Levarge saluted him back.
