Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 2

threadbare 2015-07-19 18:28:47
Quote:

"That's your choice, Samal," Zaef says, and turns to walk back to Narsai'i Command, pulling up Hunter on the vox as he does so.
"Talked to the Samal - he doesn't really trust the Narsai'i strategy, and was trying to drill the men in the 'proper' forms. I talked him on-board, but not into liking it. And you're going to need to explain that 'crossing the streams' phrase to me, too. The more I think about it out of the context, the less sense it makes."


"I'll explain it later. For right now, think of it as a good way to start a pissing contest." Hunter says. "I'll let Captain Martinez know that things are more or less resolved. Might be for the best anyway if they want to stay in the back, at least until we hit combat."

Hunter pops off the vox, and heads back to Captain Martinez. "My apologies, Captain. We explained to the Bashakra'i why they were out of line, and they're ready to play ball. They'll be in the back until you ask for them. They might need an explanation here and there, but I believe we have things straightened out."
punkey 2015-07-20 20:17:50
"Good," Captain Martinez grunts. "When they pull their heads out of their asses, I'll move them forward."
punkey 2015-07-20 23:09:31
And after some final jostling around as Task Force 815 finds open spots in the convoy (including poor Swims-the-Black, who’s forced to take a seat in one of the trucks with Angel joining him, and Luis holding Arketta’s hand as her knees practically end up around her head in the backseat of the HMMWV), the convoy gets under way. Hug’sh, back at the FOB, gets reports back through Khodash and Kararr that a good percentage of the companies on this offensive have integrated the Naranai’i into their units as independent squads under the command of Narsai’i platoon leaders, which gives him a good feeling as the panic attack from earlier slowly works its way out of his fur. Still, a good portion of the off-worlder contingent is stuck in the back of the convoys, sitting with the gear, Sheen servers and radio equipment as each company trundles its way towards the mountains.

----

Hunter's vox pings on the way up the narrow dirt road towards the mountains, and when he checks it, it's a holo from Honima.

“Hello, Hunter,” Honima says with a smile. “I hope your exercise is going well - I know you were nervous about things going well, and I want to remind you that you’re one of the ones that helped train them. If they can beat you, lahna, they can beat some mountain farmers no problem.”

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair - her tell that she’s nervous about something. “So...I’m not just messaging to ask how things are doing. My assignment during the exercise reminded me how much I miss, well, having a kitchen instead of an autochef. Having real food instead of just protein mass. So, I took a teaching post with our Turai Academy. There was a commanding Samal post for one of the classes, and I took it. It means, well, more time for you and me. I’ll be staying on Atea for the time being, so, uh…”

Her smile turns up another notch. “I was hoping you might want to move in. I have priority selection for a family berth, so, uh, if you want...I’d love to share a bed with you full-time. You...I like how you and me feel, Hunter. You make me happy, and I hope I make you feel the same way. Don’t...don’t feel like you have to respond now. Just...think about it, okay? Love you, lahna.” Her hand darts out for the controls, and the holo flicks off.

----

Zaef's vox pings at some point slightly later - it's a holo from Kitty.

"Hey, Zaef," she says with a smile from inside one of the habs back at Kabul International Airport, stripped down to a light Narsai'i undershirt and loose pants and glistening with sweat. "I just got back from the field, and they said you had already moved out, so I decided to get my workout for today in before I sent you a holo." She flexes an arm, displaying the biceps, triceps and traps that Zaef still feels so conflicted about. “It’s so amazing finally being strong. I can’t wait to come out there with you. The longitudinal study is going great, we’re already getting great data - this Bashakra’i genetic and immune screening equipment is so amazing -” she holds up a device the size of a large Narsai’i flashlight, “- this does everything, and give me results in two minutes! Oh, what I would have done to have this in grad school. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’m doing...I’m doing all right, okay?” She’s suddenly turned shy and uncertain again, but not about herself - it’s obvious that she’s nervous about Zaef’s reaction to what she’s done to herself. “No problems here, no need to worry.” She smiles again - but has to wipe her eyes a bit. “I love you, Zaef. Come back soon.”

----

Swims-the-Black hangs on to the side of the truck for dear life, his claws scratching away at the paint on the bars. Angel isn’t doing a whole lot better as the truck bounces around, and the Sheen seem only to be staying in place by magnetically adhering themselves to the floor of the truck bed. Angel’s vox whispers in his ear that Erika has a message about ExTerran - the first round of inquiries have gone out, and she’s already gotten a few dozen replies, mostly positive. The land purchase is proving a bit more tricky, as the local politicians in the counties in question (meaning pretty much everywhere that isn’t Raleigh or Durham) aren’t very interested in having an off-worlder business in their area, either out of political expediency or honest personal distaste.

“There’s a few options - we can move the facility, but I’m already pretty sure that isn’t on the table,” Erika continues. ‘We can provide monetary compensation - money always tends to help people see things a different way, build a few schools or something. Or we can make some noise and raise a ruckus. Personally? Building a few schools and maybe a hospital wing is already on the agenda to bring Naranai’i advancements to Earth - might as well get started locally, right? Give me a call with your answer.”
”Problems?” Swims grunts.

----

Now that the whole convoy is on the move, things in the JTOC have settled down into a nervous, tense, but peaceful silence. Onas sits near Hug’sh on the off-worlder half of the room, keeping in touch with their various trins and quads spread across the assault (with the 815 being more or less entirely silent), while the Marines are busy with status reports, advance planning and organizing real-time recon information. They’re trying to push all of this through the cogitators and vox wireless, but it’s been slow going to get the Narsai’i to understand how to correctly use the cogitators for Bello and Onas’ Turai.

Onas has his holodisplay up and running on a constant connection with Bello back at Kabul International, where the tall spymaster is doing largely the same thing that Onas is doing, just back at the main operations center. In a brief lull, Onas looks over to Hug’sh. “I swear, teaching these Narsai’i will be the death of all of us.” He nods towards Keating and the two Bashakra’i helping him set up his tactical overview on the big holodisplay in the middle of the room. “At least they are listening to us for the time being.” Hug’sh sees Onas subconsciously rubbing a black tattoo ring around his right middle finger that connects to a wending path leading up his arm and into his sleeve.
Gatac 2015-07-21 11:04:10
Hug'sh feels a little blue creep into his fur at the sight of Onas's loneliness - and it is plain to see. Clearly, the only logical response is for Hug'sh to put a hand on Onas's shoulder and gently pull him closer.
Onas stiffens up for a moment, then leans into it a little bit. "Thank you, Walks-the-Fire." He then shrugs out of the gesture and returns to his holodisplay. "But we have people we must take care of."
Hug'sh retracts his arm, letting a bit more green into his fur. "You should take care of yourself, too."
"There will be time for that later," Onas says. "I am needed now." He smirks at Hug'sh - in a way he hasn't seen from the big soldier before. "But I wouldn't mind perhaps something later, if your mate wouldn't mind..."
Hug'sh smiles a bit. "I'm afraid that's more than I can offer," he says. "But if there's anything I can do for you as a friend..."
Onas laughs. "Relax, Walks-the-Fire. I am joking - Paul isn't here. And you can just be my friend. That is what I need."
threadbare 2015-07-22 15:14:00
Hunter slumps back and lets the message sink in. Mail call can be hard. He takes Honima's advice to think about it, but he also knows that moving off-world is a gesture with implications, ones he's not sure he wants yet. Not to mention the family already has back home, imperfect it may be.
As Hunter sorts through his thoughts, he also notices something else coming up, a feeling of worry about easing up. A worry that if he doesn't do everything possible, by all means, to save home, it won't be there to go to. It's a familiar one, in some ways: one of the reasons his marriage broke down was his inability to 'stop trying to save the world.' What good is home if you're never there? He worries he might be doing it again. There's a lot swirling around family, home and being off-the-clock. Why does 'getting to be human' sometimes feel like it's against mission protocol? You can't push too hard for too long without breaking yourself. But how hard is too hard? What's going too easy, and what's being smart about playing the long game?

Pulling his helmet down over his eyes, Hunter settles in for a catnap. All these problems are going to be around when he wakes up, but he owes himself the rest.
e of pi 2015-07-22 22:19:07
Luis looks over the tactical views as the convoy rolls out. It seems like at least a decent number of the Naranai'i have been slotted into the Narsai'i companies, but his eyebrows still knit at the others trailing the rear of their various companies as the convoy rumbles towards the mountains. He shakes his head and turns to Arketta, who's on the line with a series of Sheen and Basahkra'i units checking and rechecking their readiness status.

"I'm trying to remind myself integrated offensives take time to work the bugs out," he mutters to her over the Humvee's engine and the road noise in the brief break between Arketta's calls. "And that this is going pretty well for a start, at least. But I'm still going to be glad when somebody starts shooting at us, we all have a joint target to shoot at together, and we can see how this holds together."
Arketta doesn't respond, but he can tell from the bobbing of her helm she's talking to someone.

After a second, she turns back to Luis. "Sorry, sorry. Just making sure everyone is ready." She sighs. "These are my Turai, Luis. Mine. I trained them."
"And you did great, "Luis says. "They're ready, and they will be whether you call them one more time or not. I'm not worried about any of the units on their own, so much as...how well we'll all play together when it hits the fan."
He shakes his head. "Just only one way to find out."

"Yeah," Arketta says. She looks out the window. Even with his ocular implants, Luis can't see her face through the helm, but he doesn't need to to picture the worried look on her face. Luis puts a hand on hers and squeezes it, following her gaze out the window at the rugged terrain. Arketta doesn't look away - but she does squeeze his hand and refuse to let it go.
CrazyIvan 2015-07-22 23:28:10
I'm sorry, Mr. Kesh can't come to the phone right now. He's busy being jostled down a dirt road on the other end of the goddamned world to get shot at by religious fanatics.

Angel closes his eyes for a moment, just in time for him to almost hit his head on the side of the truck, and decides that there's no way voice communications are going to work. Instead, he starts moving his jaw, his vox translating the sub-vocal movements into text transmitted to Erika.

The Triangle it is then, tired of trying to ask idiots to play nice. Offices in Raleigh, new High School for Durham, see if UNC needs a new wing. Spread the money out a little bit. Ten scholarships - Tora's name - for women in the state. Full ride, tuition, books, everything. Find four people in the State House the least likely to be xenophobic idiots, R or D, and remind them who their friends could be.

He looks up at Swims and shakes his head. "Nothing more than the usual. At least they're not trying to shoot at me, right?"
skullandscythe 2015-07-23 11:19:59
Zaef starts recording a holo of his own.

"Hey, you're a sight for sore eyes," he says with a smile. "Got some time, so I figured I'd just say that...well, I'll probably never stop worrying about stuff, but I trust you. If you're doing fine, you're doing fine." Smile opens into a younger man's grin. "Sure look fine to me. I love you, Kitty. I'll..."

The smile falters, but recovers quickly. "I'll see you soon."

Zaef ends and sends the message, and toys with the vox idly for a minute, staring into nowhere. Then he starts going back over his equipment again, sharpening knives and checking the Tenner.
punkey 2015-07-25 14:53:59
Ngawai puts an arm over Garrett’s shoulder as the two of them stand over Naloni, watching their daughter sleep peacefully in her Imperial infant creche’s warm embrace. Ngawai smiles, and gives Garrett a peck on the cheek.
“She’s so beautiful,” Ngawai whispers.
“She looks like her mother,” Garrett replies with a peck back.
They both sigh.
“We should get going,” Garrett says.
“One more second,” Ngawai replies. She reaches down with her chrome gauntlet and strokes her daughter’s cheek, and she smiles, eliciting a smile and a tear that Garrett wipes from his wife’s dark cheek with the back of his gauntlet.
“Okay, okay,” Ngawai says, and lowers the faceplate on her helm as Garrett does the same.

Ngawai’s first to the front door, and picks up her chamakana. “Systems green,” she says, her voice carried over the suit’s internal vox.
Garrett picks up his beamer, and the two of them vanish as they engage their carapace’s active camo. “Let’s blow the bottom out of this asshole’s enterprise.”

----

“Do you think we made a mistake?” Garrett asks as he waits in an alley, pressed against a wall as what little late-night foot traffic there is makes its way past him.
Ngawai grunts as she hauls herself up onto the next roof as she makes her way from building to building above. “He started it.”
“You know what I mean,” Garrett says. “I can’t help but feel bringing Naloni with us was a mistake with all of this.”
Ngawai surveys the next rooftops and sighs. “What were we to do? We had to be here, and we were not going to leave her behind now, not when she is so young. She needs to be with us.”
Garrett’s head hangs. “Did we have to come, though?”
Ngawai does no such thing. “They are our team, and they need us. We are their eyes here.”
“But -” Garrett starts.
“Lahna - shut up,” Ngawai says. “We did the right thing. We are doing the right thing. Off of Narsai - Vidas Lam, even on Narsai, right here - there are families living in war. The difference between them and us is that we are not just civilians - we are the 815. We can protect our daughter from whatever murderous asshole comes after us. She lives on a military base, which the Narsai’i are supposed to be securing. The rest is on us - on us to do what we are doing right now.”

Garrett waits for a second after Ngawai’s speech. “But it would be safer if we did stay behind,” he says.
That silences them both for a moment. “But we can’t quit,” Ngawai says. “I know that you can’t, and I know that I can’t. I...we need to be out here. Making things right, making things safe for her. We are doing this so she has a life worth living and a world to live it on.” She pauses. “We’re certainly not doing it for the fucking Narsai’i.”
“Yeah,” Garrett says. “Yeah, you’re right. I couldn’t put a finger on it before, but now that you’ve said it...that’s why I’m here. For her. We can’t stop until we’ve won this war for her.”
“That’s right,” Ngawai says. “We will keep her safe - but sometimes that might mean having to protect her ourselves instead of depending on distance from danger. And I have no doubt that we will do whatever it takes.”
“You’re right about that,” Garrett says, and nods. “All right. All right. You’re right, lahna. We made the right decision. Some risk now to make sure for later. And we can handle this.”
“You’re First-damned right we can,” Ngawai says. “Now, let’s find this weapons cache. Try to kill a few of them, that’ll make you feel better.”
Garrett smiles. “Yeah.” He peeks out, sees a clearing, and hustles across the road, the carapace’s camouflage ensuring he is completely unnoticed. “I love you, lahna,” he says as he hits the wall on the other side.
Ngawai smiles. “I love you too,” she says, and sprints for the next roof.
punkey 2015-07-26 00:47:45
And as night falls, the setting sun highlights the scale of the task before you: an unbroken line of mountains, stretching hundreds of miles in each direction. It’s a perfect natural barrier for anyone seeking to push east through Afghanistan, and so it makes sense that this is where the Taliban have chosen to make a stand and fight back. Somewhere up in the limestone faces of the mountains are dozens of caves, all wending deep into the rock and full of insurgents ready for a fight to the death. Everyone in the 815 knows that no matter how peaceful the mountains look now, they’re not likely to stay that way for long.

The rest of the late afternoon and early evening is spent setting up for the attack - conducting initial reconnaissance, readying the Sheen servers to receive incoming Sheen and redirect them towards new shells if need be, and preparing the whole force to advance up the mountains, one company at a time. Arketta mostly sits nervously at Luis’ side, waiting with the Wherren and Bashakra’i while the Sheen prepare their server to move and the Narsai’i perform their own checks and coordinate with the Samal in charge of their little contingent (which mostly seems to consist of “we’re leading, you stay a few hundred meters back and wait for us to give the all clear). Angel and Swims-the-Black are considerably more busy, moving from squad to squad, making sure the Naranai’i have what they need and understand the orders their Narsai’i leaders have given them. Hunter and Zaef play referee between the Marines and Bashakra’i, managing to get some small degree of understanding and cooperation going between the two groups, just enough to guarantee that they won’t get in each other’s way. Hale does what he can, but with just the bare minimum of Whirr-sign and zero Narsai’i, all he can really do is stick by Hunter’s side and look tough-but-approachable.

As the sun goes down and the stars come out, the thousand or so Narsai’i, Bashakra’i, Wherren and Sheen forces arrayed at the foot of the mountains are finally prepared for the assault. In the forward TOC, Hug’sh and Onas watch as General Keating waits for the last clearance to go from his regiments.
A phone call pops up on the section of the big holodisplay dedicated to Keating, and after a few futile waves at it, one of the Bashakra’i answers the call for the general.
“Sir, this is Colonel West - the 1st Marine Regiment is good to go,” the voice on the other end says.
“Good to hear, Andy, and good luck,” Keating replies, and motions for the Bashakra’i tech that answered the call to disconnect him. A Narsai’i officer tries to work a cogitator to connect to the radio network, but after a few seconds takes his hands off the holo as a Sheen glances at the cogitator for a second and pops a channel open on the holodisplay. “All regiments, this is General Keating - Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy, over,” he says, repeating the go-code for the operation. A flurry of affirmatives come over the radio in response. “Godspeed, gentlemen, and good luck. Keating out.” The Sheen operator terminates the link at that. Hug’sh and Onas turn their attention back towards the holodisplay and their own status trackers as the push up the mountains begins in earnest.

----

Hunter, Zaef, and Hale each peer from their respective positions on the Naranai’i security perimeter surrounding the company’s equipment - mostly some supplies, radio equipment, and the Sheen server. Nearly fifty Bashakra’i, Wherren and Sheen are belly-down, trying to stay as hidden as possible in a 100 meter circle around the vehicles - and between adaptive camouflage and adaptive fur, they’re all about as close as you can get to being invisible in the nighttime conditions. Hunter watches through his NOD optics and Zaef and Hale through their helms as the Narsai’i move up the mountain about 500 feet above and nearly a half-kilometer away, infrared lights and lasers invisible to human eyes but blazing bright to the platoon-sized element below. It looks to Hunter like they’ve reached the first cave - the lights suddenly go flat against the stone surface, and he sees the telltale signs of a security perimeter and entry team forming up.
Sure enough, Captain Martinez gets on the radio a moment later. “’Preparing to enter, guest platoon, over,’” Martinez’s spontaneously chosen name for the Naranai’i attached to his company.
The word is quickly translated for the Samal, who replies, “Copy, waiting here,” the Samal replies, and his words are translated back.
A few moments later, Hunter, Zaef, and Hale see a flurry of lights and lasers enter the cave.

----

Angel and Swims-the-Black, by contrast, are much closer to the action. Right outside the cave entrance, as a matter of fact. In contrast to the hillside climb that Hunter, Zaef, and Hale are at the bottom of, this cave abuts a smallish plateau. A few hundred yards distant is the convoy, parked, silent and under security.
’Okay, we’ve got second platoon moving in first,’” Captain Nichols says. “’Mr. Kesh, Mr. Swims-the-Black, I want you moving in with first platoon, which is going in second. Understood?’
”Confusing numbers aside, tell him that I understand,” Swims grunts.
’We’ve got it,’” the Sheen in charge of the Naranai’i contingent translates. “’Good luck.’
Nichols nods, and follows in just before the Wherren playing rear security for first platoon.

----

“Onas, can I have an update on our forces?” Arketta asks over her vox.
“No contact reported - yet,” Onas replies, with Luis sitting on the connection. “But the helm feeds show our people that the Narsai’i integrated are doing well. You should be proud, Samal.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Arketta replies. “Let’s hope everything goes this well.”

Arketta disconnects from Onas and sighs. She and Luis are sharing a position on security, watching through helm magnification from the top of a five or six meter ridge across to the other side of the small valley that Captain Correa and his men are just now reaching the top of. There’s a good five or six hundred meters separating them, and a fifty or sixty meter deep valley besides.
“At least our defensive position is good,” Arketta says. “In case something happens.”
”They are entering,” one of the Wherren leaders of the Naranai’i group grunts as she looks through binoculars. Sure enough, Arketta and Luis’ helms show one platoon’s IR lights flash and then vanish inside, and then another.
’Entering now,’” Correa calls back. “Keep my seat warm in the Humvee, Stanhill.’
“Vidas Lam, he’s an asshole,” Arketta says, not bothering to keep that strictly over vox.
Gatac 2015-07-26 05:15:54
Hug'sh has gone into many battles outgunned, but none quite like this: his weapons are an earpiece and a smaller holodisplay shared between him and Onas. Hug'sh can't help fiddling with it, zooming in on formations, putting names and faces to the unit designations, and switching from compact "strategic" view to a three-dimensional "terrain" display, clicking on displays of comm frequencies, designated waypoints and the simulated sensor ranges of Sheen flyers in a somewhat futile attempt to have the whole Big Picture in his head - and spot the holes in it. He gets about halfway through drawing up an order to redirect Blood and Thunder - one of the new "faces" in the Sheen detachment backing up the more seasoned Orphan Grinder - into a new position roughly one klick north-northwest, rise to Flight Level 180 for a two-klick radius ten minute orbit...

...then he remembers that he's not in charge of this. A quick wave of his hand dismisses the drafted order, though not without a sideways glance from Onas, who can see the blue/violet fringing on Hug'sh's brown fur. It's easy to understand, after all, there's nothing Hug'sh can do from here.

Nothing but sit, wait and worry.
punkey 2015-07-27 21:48:56
(Bravo/2-1 Knowledge roll: 1d6 = 4 vs. 2d10.hi = 9)

While Hunter, Zaef, and Hale wait outside, inside the cave Captain Martinez pushes forward to see what the hell the hold-up is.
“What’s the fucking hold-up, Lieutenant?” Martinez barks.
“Sir! We’ve got some kind of weird device,” Lt. Harris replies, standing aside to let his commanding officer through - and motions to the weird device in question that his platoon has set up a perimeter around. A faceted golden lozenge sits half hanging out of a packing crate, connected to a metal box by a length of cable that runs through the shredded cardboard packing material.

“It might be a bomb, Sir,” Harris continues. “What are your orders?”
“Doesn’t look like any bomb I’ve ever seen,” Martinez replies. “Might be some kind of radar unit. Mark it and leave a security detail, let’s keep moving. There’s a distinct lack of dead asshole around here, and I aim to fix that.”

----

(Bravo/2-5 Knowledge roll: 1d6 = 3 vs. 2d10.hi = 8)

Captain Correa stares at the strange golden device in front of him. The Taliban left it, and the metal cube it’s attached to, sitting on a table just waiting to be found.
“Looks fucking expensive,” Correa grunts.
“Should we try to disconnect the two devices, Sir?” Lieutenant Bolger asks.
“Doesn’t seem to be doing all that much,” Correa replies. “Flag it for one of the aliens to hump back to the trucks on their sweep. Let’s keep moving.”

----

(Charlie/3-5 Knowledge roll: 1d6 = 5 vs. 1d6 = 4)

While radio comms checked out within the first few meters of the cave, Angel’s shades (still worn even in the dark and now providing his own private light amplification and IR night vision) let him know his vox connection is still solid. Somewhere up ahead with Captain Nichols is second platoon, methodically sweeping each alcove and room before one of the Naranai’i vox back to the Sheen with Angel and Swims (who is barely making it through the cramped spaces in the cave) to advance and take their spot to pull rear security.

“Entering next room now,” the Rav-Turai calls back.
“Understood,” the Sheen replies, resting its shell on the floor. “We’ll continue sitting on our butts.” It turns a sensor pod to Swims. “Thought working with the 815 wouldn’t be this fucking boring -”
Vidas Lam!” the Rav-Turai bellows over the vox. “Evacuate! Evacuate the fucking cave!
The Sheen bolts upright, banging all four sensor pods off the ceiling. “What the fuck -”
“They’ve rigged the cave with fucking sunmines!” the Rav-Turai shouts. “Get the fuck out, now!
“Oh, fuck,” every Bashakra’i, Sheen and even Wherren say simultaneously.
The Narsai’i with them all bolt upright with them - but in confusion. “What’s going -”
“There’s a radiation bomb in the cave!” the Sheen shouts. “Get the fuck out so we can call this in!”
CrazyIvan 2015-07-27 22:07:55
"Fuck."

Angel's tone is in that quieter, infinitely more dangerous tone he gets right before - well, right before people start dying, one way or the other.

"Captain Nichols. Get your men out, now. Those TV sized gold devices are enough to kill everyone in the damned cave. And are Imperial tech. The game has changed."

Angel grabs just about any Marine clever enough to follow someone who knows what's happening and tries to get them headed in the right direction (out), before hoofing it himself to the exit of the cave and ideally away from getting reduced to a charcoal smear with really good taste. "Sunmines. There are sunmines in the caves. Do not approach the big gold football looking things." Privately, he switches to a channel that he doesn't really rate access to as Specialist Kesh, but which his membership in 815 gets him to. "We need to withdraw and regroup. This is the second fucking trap we've walked into, and this one's got Imperial tech all over it."

More importantly, he brings up his rifle and starts scanning for targets. He's pretty sure "vaporize anyone in the caves" isn't the only plan.
punkey 2015-07-27 22:08:47
Gray Goo Scenario carefully steps up and over another rock, trying to stay as low as possible - which isn’t made easier by currently being seven feet tall. Its chassis is low enough to scrape a few rocks, but it knows it’s got it easy compared to the others. Hulor and Tarl are dealing with their loads easily enough, and Shenloma and Leaj’s carapaces and sleek metal carrying cases attached to their back are easily scrambling up and over rocks. It’s Danielsson and Kravitz that are having the hardest time of it - it can hear their heartbeats over everyone else’s, and if they weren’t within a kilometer of the target, it’d offer to put them on its back.

“Anything?” Danielsson cough-whispers. His lips are flapping much more than this, but in deference to noise discipline in enemy territory, he’s taken to merely mouthing out all his bitching, of which - to be fair- there is a lot of.
“Nothing yet,” Hulor grunts.
“Fucking sandbox,” Danielsson mutters.
“That’s Iraq,” Kravitz corrects.
“Fucking ‘stan,” Danielsson adds without missing a beat. “Fucking mountains.”
“Noise discipline,” Leaj sub-vocalizes through her carapace’s smallest speaker. Both her and Shenloma have their hoods down and their helms up, and shimmer in-and-out of visibility as they step around in a low-resolution cloaking mode.
Danielsson mouths “Fucking noise discipline”, earning a smirk from Boyd, but otherwise the brief conversation dies down again as the team creeps forward.

“Keep your distance,” Grey says over vox, two of its sensor pods looking ahead and behind for the members of its squad. The grid coordinate of the target lit up in green up the mountain ahead, and the silent impeller-propelled feed from Orphan Grinder up above is closely watched as well. “This feels like a trap,” Grey voxes to the others. “Too quiet, no sentries. Keep an eye out - especially Danielsson and Kravitz. You guys know this shit better than we do.”
“Watch for radio signals,” Danielsson voxes. “A small explosive above us could bring down a rockslide on this path. A frag mine in a shrub could shred us pretty good, too. And if anyone sees a crevice, watch the hell out - small ones could have a mine in them, big ones could be hiding a proper ambush. Overhangs, too, they use ‘em to stay out of sight from drones.” He thinks for a moment. “Well, that’s the obvious shit, anyway. Everybody got that?”
There’s a pause. ”Got it,” Hulor grunts. ”There are none of those.”
Danielsson waits for a moment to see if anyone will translate for him, but finally he grunts a simple ”Good!” into the vox and favors Leaj with a shit-eating grin. Leaj’s helm looks at him for a moment before a smiley face flashes over the active camo and turns away.

Even at the slow, careful pace the squad takes up the slope, they eventually reach the vertical rock face that is their destination. The limestone edifice is pock-marked with indentations carved out by wind and rain, but there’s one in particular that was obviously made by human hands, with tool marks around the edges and footpaths leading away from the entrance. Gray quickly signals with an arm to get on line in front of the opening, waiting for word from higher to enter.

----

When Tarl went off with his litter to be trained by the Narsai’i in the ways of war, it was a big honor. And Captain Verrill - no, Mr. Verrill - no, Walks-The-Fire (but really Hug’sh!) - did teach them a lot and keep them busy, and Tarl, lastborn of his litter, always made sure to pay attention and do everything he was told, like his litter-sister Khodash would want him to. But Khodash and Hug’sh aren’t here, just Hulor, and Tarl...well, he gets along with Hulor, but he’s just so...weird, and not much fun to talk to, and all this waiting around in the cold dark night with the wind howling through his fur is no fun at all. Worst of all, Tarl can’t even tell anyone how much not fun this is. Terrible. He feels a yawn coming on and tries to lock his jaw against it, just letting a muffled “Uargh” escape. His thumb taps against the receiver of his tenner. It’s not a toy, and he’d never play with the safety just because he’s bored, but...couldn’t they have put something harmless on there to fiddle with, just to pass a few minutes? Tarl thinks they could have. But he’s not about to suggest that, he still feels bad enough about bringing all that gear he shouldn’t have brought, and then they went and almost got too many spearbombs before Leaj stopped them, and why can’t they go into the cave now?

“This sucks,” Shenloma says over the vox. “When are we going in?”
“Again, when we are given the command,” Gray replies.
’Blue 2, this is Blue 7,’” Gray hears over the Narsai’i frequency - that would be the gunnery sergeant they put above him.
’Blue 7, this is Blue 2, go ahead,’” it replies.
’The whole line is cleared to proceed,’” the sergeant says. “’Proceed with caution - remember that you’re not alone on this, the whole force is moving forward. Watch your fire.’
’Understood, Blue 7,’” Gray replies. Even Gray wishes it had eyes to roll at that moment. “’Blue 2 out.’ All right, we’re moving!” it continues over the vox. “Move forward and clear the caves.”

Ten Tons doesn’t need a lot of further encouragement; its accelerators extend and shift into a wide-angle firing position as the shell crouches down and squeezes into the cave entrance just ahead of Hulor. Boyd takes a moment to raise the Star of David pendant from his neck to his mouth, then flips down his night-vision goggles from their helmet mount and clicks his weapon light to UV mode. Behind him, Shenloma takes a moment to steady himself - old gatecrashing habits die hard - and then climbs in after them. Danielsson takes the opportunity to scan the dark night one more time for anyone trying to bring down the cave on their heads once they’re inside, but finding nothing again, he also clicks on his weapon light before getting Tarl’s attention with a low whistle; momentarily, the Army Ranger begins his own descent with the Wherren warrior breathing down his neck. That just leaves Leaj to bring up the rear, though not without one last motion to reach for her pantiki and her knife; finding both where they should be, she enters the hole and hopes for the best.

The best is, in this case, roughly 200 meters of more cave. The good news is that the cave shows clear evidence of more human influence further inside, with battery-powered mining lights attached to hooks in the walls while particularly narrow passages have been widened through presumably back-breaking manual labor. Still, it’s slow going particularly with Sheen war shells and Wherren in the mix; even the human members of the group struggle to maneuver along the path without dinging their gear against everything. Thank God for helmets, heavy-duty gloves and knee protectors - or full carapace, depending on the member of the squad.

“Hold up,” Ten Tons voxes from the front, and the line stops moving quickly; those with the room to take a knee and siddle up close to the cave walls, those that don’t brace themselves against the tunnel as best they can, and Leaj turns around to keep their rear sector covered.
“What is it?” Gray sends back.
“Got something weird - radiation or energy spike or some shit,” Ten Tons replies. “Looks like an Naranai’i power cell hooked up to something, but A: that’s nuts, and B: can’t tell what. Move forward with caution?”
“Everybody got earpro?” Danielsson voxes. “Keep your mouths open, just in case.”
”In case?” Hulor asks.
“In case it’s explosive,” Boyd says. “Move over, big guy, I’ll take a look with Ten Tons. Could be radiological.”
“You gotta be shitting me,” Danielsson mutters. “Don’t fuck this up, Boyd.”

Ten Tons creeps forward cautiously, paying more attention to its geiger sensors than its opticals, but Boyd only has his opticals to go on - and the monochrome tunnel vision of his NODs isn’t helping. Reasoning that he’d rather get shot at then blown up, he disengages the goggles and clicks the weapon light to regular flashlight mode. Fuck light discipline - the beam shows, well, some interesting molds on the cave walls, but all that’s a sideshow compared to the wooden crate left in the middle of the cave. It’s an eyecatcher for sure, but the metal box and oval on the ground aren't much to look at -
"Oh, fuck me!" Ten Tons shouts, loud in everyone's ears. "Sunmine! That's a fucking sunmine!"
Boyd doesn’t know exactly what the prefix “sun-” means, but he speaks “mine!” fluently. “Everybody clear the cave now!” he hollers.
"Back to the entrance!" Gray orders, and the whole squad starts booking it.

Boyd has to hand it to Hulor; the big lug’s just as quick on a retreat as on the advance, with years of hunting in the brush leaving their mark on his ability to squeeze his bulk through tight spaces with utmost efficiency. Still, that doesn’t help when it’s really everybody that’s now ahead of Hulor that needs to motor, and seeing that the route ahead is jammed up, Boyd stops for just a moment and turns around, shining a light at the matte shape of Ten Tons’s war shell - and then there’s another light behind the Sheen’s bulk, an impossible light shining through the wall. Boyd’s brain has just enough time to think “Oh, that’s the ‘sun-’ part” before his eyes squeeze shut and he flinches away from the sensation of cold heat that washes over the right side of his body. By the time he hits the damp cave floor, he’s already out cold.
punkey 2015-07-27 22:26:28
Angel's transmission has just enough time to register on the Narsai'i broadcast network and raise a storm of confusion (tinged with Imperial-accented panic) before he feels a wave of pressure blast out of the cave - and even though he hopes he's imagining it, a tingling wave with it.

----

Hunter, Zaef and Hale hear Angel's call to evacuate just in time for...something to happen inside the caves. A belch of dust rolls out of the cave and then dissipates a moment later. "Vidas fucking Lam," Hale says, and leaps to his feet - but stops after taking a hasty step forward and looks back to Hunter and Hale. "Rav-Samal, Mr. Utari, I highly fucking suggest we ignore the Narsai'i orders and get into that fucking cave, right now."

----

Arketta's already on her feet and shouting orders over her external speaker when their internal radiation alarms flash a brief warning and a puff of dust exhausts from the cave - nothing hazardous, but definitely enough to confirm that something very bad has just happened. "Vidas Lam," she whispers, stunned - but only for a moment. "Okay! Samal, I want one quad keeping security around the vehicles, the rest on me, we are going in there!"

----

The forward JTOC erupts in noise at Angel's call, but only from one half of the room. The Bashakra'i and Sheen burst into action, enlisting Wherren aid to dispatch warnings as quickly as possible - but the moment vox connections go out, the Bashakra'i cogitators erupt in radiation warnings from their Turai's carapaces, and there's a pause as they all hold their breath. The ripple of neutron storms passes - most are fine, but too many are pinned at impossibly fatal levels. There's a collective instant of mourning that passes over the Naranai'i. The next, the calls and coordination resume

The Narsai'i, though, choose this moment to recover enough to wonder what the hell is going on. "'Stop!'" Keating bellows. "'Stop, I haven't ordered you to do shit!'" He turns on Onas, Gunny and Hug'sh. "'Goddamnit, tell your people to fucking stop and tell me what the fuck just happened!'"
"'You just lost a good chunk of your men, that's what fucking happened,'" Gunny replies. "'Sunmines don't fuck around.'"
"'What the blue fucking blazes is a sunmine?'" Keating shouts, turning bright red and his voice jumping a half octave in rage.
"'Radiation bomb,'" Onas says, his hands a blaze on his holodisplay. "'Imperial tech.'"
"'No!'" Keating shouts. "'That's impossible.'"
"'And yet,'" Onas says.
"'Tell your people to fucking stop, all of you!'" Keating shouts. "'Something has happened, and I need to know what - and you are not pulling back until I know!'"
skullandscythe 2015-07-27 23:20:33
Zaef's actually gotten further ahead than Hale, when he too stops suddenly, just a couple steps ahead. He opens a channel to the Samal.

"Samal Akor, I want two quads staying here to guard the servers and supplies. Everyone else is going in to find any survivors they can and keep them that way. Rav-Turai Hale will be joining you," he adds, as Hale seems to have finished his outburst.

Zaef turns around and walks back towards Hunter. "Angel said that was the second trap. Do you think those sunmines were like the rockets - or like the truck?"
Gatac 2015-07-28 11:49:31
A wave of orange ripples through Hug'sh's fur as he stands up, picking up the too-small headset from his table and patching in to the command channel.

"Climber X-Ray to all units, copy reports of sunmine detonations," Hug'sh says, loudly enough to interrupt the chatter and shouting in the JTOC for a moment. "Stand by for orders."

He lets go off the transmit button, then turns to Keating and holds out the headset for him.

"If you want to lead, General," Hug'sh barks, "then lead."
punkey 2015-07-28 14:05:25
(Keating Will: 2d8.hi = 6 vs. 1d8 = 2)

After a moment's translation, Keating snatches the headset from Hug'sh's hand. "'Maybe I fucking will,'" he says with a sneer, and drops the headset over his ears.

(Keating Tactics: 1d8 = 4 vs. 2d10.hi = 8 )

"'All units this net, this is General Keating - I want you to charge back into those fucking caves and shoot the bastards until they are dead,'" he says, glaring at Hug'sh and Onas. "'Make them pay for this.'" A chorus of "oorah"s echo from the Narsai'i, and from over the radio. Meanwhile, Hug'sh sees Onas' hand snake towards the pantaki on his hip, and with a swipe of his finger, moves the retension strap aside.
Gatac 2015-07-28 14:15:53
Hug'sh subtly maneuvers himself out of Onas's line of fire, but a quick pulse of blue on the side turned to the Bashakra'i operative tries to tell him to hold back. He grabs his board and starts scribbling on it before showing it to Keating.

Weapons like the Imperium used to breach your gateway at Mesas Negras. Why are they here? We are heading into a trap.
punkey 2015-07-28 14:23:16
(Hug'sh Talk: 2d10.hi = 5 vs. 2d8.hi = 8)

"'That is an excellent question, Walks-the-Fire - we'll be sure to ask any of the enemy that manages to survive,'" Keating snaps. "'Until then, these are my men dying out there, and I am in charge here. I would recommend you know your place.'"