Hugh turns to the new additions to his sweeping team.
"Alright, here's how you hunt them. Forget single shots. Short, controlled bursts. Try to get multiple guns on one target. The undersuit is vulnerable - go for that if you can. Other than that, it's not rocket science - massive, concentrated firepower will do the trick. Don't let 'em limp away, they'll just use their healing disks and come crawling back. When they go down, make them stay down. And don't forget the suppressive fire. Those guns are absolutely deadly. Don't let them get a shot at you. Work them over from cover, pin them down, throw 'nades...all the good stuff. We're talking total fucking overkill - everybody got that?"
Now that he's loaded up with munitions, Semo is feeling his cojones and a smile crosses his face. "Yes sir!" he replies to the captain and begins handing out kill-toys until everyone is loaded to the gills.
Hugh gives the new guys the lecture, and Semo just listens as he finishes with the resupply. "Everyone's ready, Captain."
Angel grabs his rifle and checks it over, taking a few of Semo's...toys.
"Their suits don't handle explosives any better than we do...frags do a number on them." He falls into line with the rest of the Delta cadre, cracking a few stiff knuckles.
V. Cleveland's the corporal who's growing her hand back. G. Fritter and P. Rodriguez are both PFCs. You can tell Fritter's scared, but doesn't want to show it in front of Delta. Rodriguez and Cleveland appear to be more of the payback-seeking variety.
Payback is put on hold as the team makes it to sublevel 1 and the infirmary. Two servicemens' bodies lie sprawled in the corridor in front of the infirmary door, cut down by beam weapon feet from cover. Inside, you find the corpse of a medic. He bled to death before he could staunch his wounds. Basic medical supplies are scattered all over the medical wing, but the majority of the stores are intact and in their places. Luis restocks his equipment and everyone takes a small first aid kit.
Midnight, Local Time
The entrance to the Mesas Negras facility is through a nondescript squat building, just big enough for a security station, the elevators, and a stairwell. The steps to the surface are covered in rubble; not enough to block your progress, but enough to impede it. The entrance hut has been demolished by an out-of-control Humvee.
Angel does a quick recon, peeking his head up out of the sublevel stairwell to get a view of Mesas Negras' surface. It doesn't take much to tell that Captain Salazar's team of engineers were ambushed on their way into the base. The destruction here is massive; spear-bombs were thrown with abandon, slagging three Humvees and two trucks. The engineers were just coming in to restore power. They didn't stand a chance.
Bodies still smolder in the cool desert air. Moonlight gleams through bullet and sliver-holes punched through the barracks, mess hall, and motor pool. Angel figures the drones were probably the primary weapon, skittering here and there, their withering fire never relenting.
No weapons fire comes their way. Either the Turai are waiting for a better shot or they're not watching the sublevel entrance. Your ears perk up, however, as you hear the growing sounds of helicopters. Two Black Hawks - no, four Black Hawks - are coming in low and fast from the west.
---
Hethna Varos remains silent as Max not only conquers the IFF limitations, but figures out the armor's cloaking abilities. It appears to simply be a property of whatever material makes up the armor and the undersuit. The helmet interface activates and fine-tunes the cloak, which not only covers the armor, but ties into any Turai equipment carried. The beam rifle, the stinger, the sword, the spears, all of the alien devices shift color with the suit. It makes sense, though - having a cloaked suit with a shiny chrome gun is useless.
One of widgets the Delta team confiscated from Varos starts glowing blue. It seems to surprise Varos as well as Max. It's one of the little iPod-type gadgets, much like the Whirr shaman's.
"That is for me," Hethna Varos says, motioning with his head like an Earthling would to get someone to bring them their cellphone.
Hugh grabs his tactical radio and tries to find the right frequency for the Blackhawks.
"Mesas Negras to inbound choppers, Mesas Negras to inbound choppers - we have intruders operating on the base surface with anti-aircraft potential. Recommend you abort approach and unload troops at one mile out. Please confirm."
*Coyote Flight to Mesas Negras, we read you. Coyotes 3 and 4, establish perimeter 1 mile out. Mesas Negras, we're comin' in hot. Clear us an LZ, over.*
Two Black Hawks break formation, heading to MN's northwest and southwest corners. Coyote Leader heads in low, with Coyote 2 covering. You can't help but wince at the premonition of the helo's firey death, but it doesn't happen.
*Sweep team, this is Paxton. Relay from Command: satellite re-tasked to this area upon receipt of distress call, should be coming up in 90 seconds.*
Dirt and ash kick up as the first Black Hawk touches down, disgorging a squad of eight heavily-armed soldiers. No unit insignia, no ranks, just gray, black, Kevlar, and balaclavas. They spread out in two fireteams, sweeping the apocalyptic base grounds for hostiles - or survivors. Coyote 2 continues an orbit of Mesas Negras, its miniguns supplying constant vigilance against any incoming fire.
"Captain Verrill!?" A square-headed, heavily-lined, 1950s poster boy for "spook" fast-walks towards Hugh and his team, returning his M4 to a ready position as he closes. "Agent-in-Charge Sturgis, CIA. My squad is cleared to sweep this facility. I need to know where your people are, and they need to know my men are coming down." Before Hugh can respond, he barks into his mic, *Coyote 2, close off that eastern perimeter. I want full coverage in 5 minutes!*
Luis' laptop has access to the satellite data - the eye-in-the-sky starts spitting out images as Sturgis comes over. There are no contacts on Mesas Negras' surface besides Hugh's team and the new arrivals. It's not surprising - after all, the Turai do have considerable stealth capabilities.
Angel claps the skittish looking private on the shoulder on his way out before bringing his rifle to an easy ready and heading to the front of the group headed up.
Watching the entry, he has the suspicion that the Turai's failed planetary invasion force has gone to ground - it's what he would have done, especially with those nice suits. Counting rotors was never something Angel was particularly good at - that's what the badguys did - but the Blackhawks weren't exactly being subtle.
He signaled their approach to the captain, then settled down to cover their LZ while the spooks unloaded.
Soon they move out, heading for level 1. From his position bringing up the rear, Semo expects to find opposition, but it doesn't materialize. The exit to the outside is seriously chewed up, giving an indication of where they went.
As the Blackhawks approach, Semo takes up a position on perimeter, covering the LZ in case of opposition to the landing. Again, none materializes. Something just doesn't feel right here, though.
The captain spends some time on the horn, then talking with the head of the inbound team.
When the captain appears to have a spare moment, Semo approaches. "Permission to speak, sir?"
Hugh turns to Semo and gives him a look of mild if pleasant confusion, much like a stray dog might regard the tray of dog food left on the porch of a kindly old woman's house. After forcing himself to remember that it's "Mr. Regulation", Hugh gives him a nod.
"Somethin' don't feel right here, Captain. Might the aliens have doubled back on us somehow? If they're headed for the Pit, the nerd herd could be in deep shit."
One of widgets the Delta team confiscated from Varos starts glowing blue. It seems to surprise Varos as well as Max. It's one of the little iPod-type gadgets, much like the Whirr shaman's.
"That is for me," Hethna Varos says, motioning with his head like an Earthling would to get someone to bring them their cellphone.
"Oh, I'm sure it is. What would you like me to tell them?" rhetorically replies Max.
*looking over to a Grunt*
"Watch him." orders Max, continuing to move away from Varos to a quiet spot in the Pit.
*keys radio*
"Captain. It's Kilgore. We've got an incoming message on Varos' communicator from (presumably) his remaining forces on this side of the Gate. He wants to respond, although I think that's probably contraindicated right now."
"That's an affirmative, Doc," Hugh replies. "Nobody's taking that call, understood? It could be, like, a burst of ultrasound that fries your brain, or...well, okay, probably not that. But point is, we don't even know what that thing does. Hands off."
"We've got survivors!" one of Sturgis' commandoes shouts. "Medic! Medic!"
A blood trail leads from a burning deuce-and-a-half to the motor pool garage, where it mixes with black oil spots and grease on the floor. Sturgis' team finds two engineers holed up behind three heavy toolboxes. One's been gutshot with a beam weapon and is alive but unconscious, the other's taken several fragments to both legs.
There are actually tire marks through the blood trail. Someone took a vehicle out after the engineers crawled in here, and they didn't notice or didn't care to follow the trail.
"You're gonna be okay," one of the black-clad soldiers tells the wounded engineer. "We've got a chopper standing by. MEDIC!!!"
"They... I don't... dunno what they were, but they... they took a hummer. Couldn't move. Had some trouble starting it. Couldn't leave Anders." The engineer's falling in and out of lucidity; he's lost a lot of blood.
---
"It is simple... simply... device for sensing. Vox-link. Data," Varos says to Max.
"That's enough outta you," Taylor says, prodding the robed man with a boot.
"That's an affirmative, Doc," Hugh replies. "Nobody's taking that call, understood? It could be, like, a burst of ultrasound that fries your brain, or...well, okay, probably not that. But point is, we don't even know what that thing does. Hands off."
"Understood."
Max secures the CommWidget, watching the screen without mucking with the interface.
Admiralducksauce wrote:
"It is simple... simply... device for sensing. Vox-link. Data," Varos says to Max.
"That's enough outta you," Taylor says, prodding the robed man with a boot.
"I'd keep your mouth shut unless spoken to. I'm pretty sure Taylor here isn't exactly keen on keeping you alive...In fact, Taylor...gag him. It's bad enough we have to babysit him, we don't also have to listen to his line of deceptions."
Luis hears the calls for a medic and takes off for the source, leaving his laptop in the care of the remainder of the team. As he approaches the site, he sees the scene and catches the last part of the conversation.
Quote:
"You're gonna be okay," one of the black-clad soldiers tells the wounded engineer. "We've got a chopper standing by. MEDIC!!!"
"They... I don't... dunno what they were, but they... they took a hummer. Couldn't move. Had some trouble starting it. Couldn't leave Anders." The engineer's falling in and out of lucidity; he's lost a lot of blood.
Luis sprints over and crouches down by the engineer. Almost instintively, he hand starts for the Frisbee, but he remembers what happened to Dietrich, and the possibility of worse "side effects," so he goes for his Earth kit instead. He sets to work staunching the blood flow, and as he does, he turns the new development over in his mind. A Hummer, eh? Well, that may turn out for us as well as for them. They'll get farther but they hide that heat. He turns to one of the new guys quickly as he reaches for another bandage, "You. Tell Hugh the news, and tell him to try an infrared of the area, out to a range of, say, thirty miles."
Taylor grins. "Thank you, Doc." He quickly gags Varos with strips from his own robes.
---
Luis does what he can for poor Anders, but whether the guy lives or dies is going to be up to him at this point. He's got a chance, which is better than what he had a few minutes ago. The other engineer, Lane, is doing much better after getting an IV hooked up and some painkillers.
Quote:
You. Tell Hugh the news, and tell him to try an infrared of the area, out to a range of, say, thirty miles."
The guy stares at Luis from behind his tactical goggles. "And which one is Hugh?" Luis quickly corrects himself while giving the meathead a "this is not the time to fuck with me" glare, and the commando trots off.
Hugh's got a lot of attention all of a sudden. The balaclavaed commando's telling him something about "the medic says the hostiles are in a Humvee" and to "try an infrared scan, 30 mile radius." Meanwhile, Corporal Cleveland pipes up with "Pardon, sir, but we've got wounded all through the base. Can't we task some of these helos for evac?"
Hugh stares at the laptop. Its myriad workings are an eldritch mystery to his straightforward mind. Semo gives him a look like "please don't pick me to touch that goddamn machine". Angel's still sweeping the perimeter.
(This is called "you all have d4 in Tech", min-maxers.)
*Verrill, this is Paxton. What do you need?* Hugh relays the situation, to which Paxton responds, *All right. Get your topside wounded to the infirmary. I'll have Herricks and his wounded meet up there. Morris and I'll wait for the sweep team to clear above. I'll get on the horn with DoD. Continue your pursuit and... stand by.*
*...If this gets sloppy, the remaining hostiles are to be... saboteurs with stolen military prototypes.*
Sturgis shouts to his men, "We've got friendlies on sublevel 1, infirmary! Sublevel 2, armory, sublevel 4, CiC! Sublevel 8, um... they said we'd know when we see it! Move out and begin your sweep!"
He catches Hugh's eye. "Good hunting, Captain!"
---
Without any button-mashing, Max inspects Varos' device. He's had a lot more experience with the Imperial technology since his first hands-on with the Whirr widget. As far as he can tell, it's still gibberish, but it's gibberish with a visual element this time: a starry sky. Max watches, and determines that the gibberish repeats.
"Doc?" Taylor asks. Max waves him off as he enters his "geek fugue".
He matches glyphs on the widget with glyphs he recognizes from the Turai armor's HUD. He finds an audio element, and against his previous "no button mashing" judgement, he soon has the widget speaking softly in a well-defined but tinny voice. He lets the message repeat several more times until he's fairly sure of the meaning, then taps out his best translation on his PDA.
Rav-Turai Ai Gelek, Fifth of the Twelve and Unyielding Shield of the Jade Emperor, sends full-cortex broadwave, code one-one-zero-eight. We stand on the Homeworld. The Blank Pillar shall be inscribed at last. Of my Quad, only five remain. Turai Dorje Donden, Turai Senge Sun, Turai Ial Vymaris, and Turai Rishon Gallo Forn. Our sensor sweeps show the Homeworld has no orbital gate. We will attempt to use the molecular forge. If we fail, this message will be our legacy. Night cycle orientation and navigation begins now:
The visual of the Mesas Negras night sky appears for a few moments, then the message continues:
In the centuries to come, we only wish that our descendants would know of our bravery. Message repeats.
(It took 2 Wild Dice to get that, but that second WD rolled a 12. There is no purposeful mistranslation there - that is exactly what the Turai said.)
Rav-Turai Ai Gelek, Fifth of the Twelve and Unyielding Shield of the Jade Emperor, sends full-cortex broadwave, code one-one-zero-eight. We stand on the Homeworld. The Blank Pillar shall be inscribed at last. Of my Quad, only five remain. Turai Dorje Donden, Turai Senge Sun, Turai Ial Vymaris, and Turai Rishon Gallo Forn. Our sensor sweeps show the Homeworld has no orbital gate. We will attempt to use the molecular forge. If we fail, this message will be our legacy. Night cycle orientation and navigation begins now:
The visual of the Mesas Negras night sky appears for a few moments, then the message continues:
In the centuries to come, we only wish that our descendants would know of our bravery. Message repeats.
Max makes sure Varos is out of earshot before talking with Hugh.
"Captain. Go to secure channel Alpha-2....I just translated the Turai comm message..."
There's a lot of talking back and forth, but the only bit that really interests Semo is the tracks out of the motor pool and the statement of the mechanic there. They didn't double-back. Time to go get those bastards.
Semo moves over to Angel. "Be ready. I suspect we may be taking one of the 'birds to chase after the aliens. Unless the captain says otherwise, I want you on the hunt."
That said, Semo then approaches Captain Verrill. "Permission to take the 'Hawk and hunt them down, sir?"
Gatac
