"But it won't matter much if we don't have something to show that we're a force to be reckoned with," Davis says, "something for people to rally behind besides just words. As far as ships go, the Imperium seems to be mostly focused on getting things through the orbital gates, and none of the Imperial ships we've come up against seem to deal with physical projectiles particularly well. We could probably take out their air forces with basic vehicle-mounted SAMs, and we haven't seen anything ground-based yet that could counter an Abrams or Apache effectively."
He rubs his eyes, still somewhat tired. "Really, General, if you want to get the real intel on the Imperium's capabilities, we have five experts right here who can tell you more than enough to plan for an effective assault."
"What it really comes down to is taking and controlling the gates as quickly as possible, Sir. We take the planetary gates, the gate on board the Needleship, the orbital gate and the outsystem gate, all at once...not necessarily with troops there fully in control, but prevent Imperial forces from using them to call for help, push some bombs through or something, even having it dialed and keeping them from shutting it down on their end.
It's as simple as that: if we take them all, we have all the time in the world to block them or use them ourselves, and from there on we just have to build a solid ground campaign against a planet that can't get any reinforcements and doesn't have much of a standing force to begin with. If we don't manage to take them all, they call for help and that help arrives before we have people ready to counter...we'll be crushed."
A short pause.
"Let's add 'How to take a needleship' to the agenda. We'll need one."
"Well," Davis says, "without knowing much about the design or crew of a Needleship, the best way that I can think of would be to capture engineering, cut off or kill everyone on the bridge, and then vent the ship. It's not a particularly nice way to do it, but it's fast and gets the job done. There's a few other options available if we can capture both the command area and the engineering area, like just locking down the rest of the ship and having reinforcements sweep the ship. They might be the same place, this is a space vessel so there's no need to have the bridge sticking out at the top."
"Needles typically do not carry Gateways," Jonnoperest says. "As for the crew, sunballs would work well but you'd need several detonated throughout the interior of the ship."
"Taking a Needleship is not the hardest of the objectives you've put forth," Onas agrees with Davis. "Those vessels are just small enough to pass through an orbital - if we could capture one, a skeleton crew could maintain its position and so effectively block an orbital Gate. Its own point defense would be proof against many attacks."
"But the outsystem AND the orbital Gates," Brinai argues. "One Needleship is daunting enough, but two? At the same time?"
"A Manta could carry several squads," Arketta offers. "They would be easier to commandeer, and with the right ECM support we could insinuate a boarding party with a minimum of resistance. Technical knowledge - engineering protocols, navigation, systems - those would need to be handled by the rebels' forces."
"I offer you Atea as a staging ground - her hangars are large and you can piece together whatever war machines you can fit through your Gateway here. We have some haulers that can transport men and equipment for a ground assault." Brinai looks to the Bashakrans, who nod in agreement.
"Why don't we just remove the personal Gate from the equation?" Sturgis asks. "Roll a nuke through and just worry about the orbitals?"
"Nope," General Hogue argues. "No nukes. We've got a direct link for reinforcements or evac as long as we hold the ground gate. Not gonna risk destroying that Gate or dropping my men into radioactive slag."
Hogue straightens his jacket, a sign that he's ready to move on and lay out the specifics later. "Verrill, what's the op look like for this Repository doohickey?"
"Well, this is all very preliminary," Davis says. "A lot of this operation depends on information we just won't get until we're either on-world or in the Repository itself, so we'll be flying blind for a lot of this. So far, the plan is for a team of twelve to be trained by Arketta to pass close inspection as a Turai quad, and infiltrate Napai through the main gate. Once they're on-world, they'll need to refine the plan of attack, fill in some of the blanks and work on figuring a way around some of the more problematic security measures."
"They'll then wait until two or three hours after the main attack on Boronai begins, where they will use the chaos and panic created by the sudden invasion to gain access to the Cortex, I'm thinking under the guise of guarding the Cortex from other attackers. Once inside, they'll have to reprogram the building's security system to ignore their IFF transponders and attack all hostiles that don't have the team's IFF codes, lock down all parts of the building that don't lead directly to the exit gate and start the upload of the secured parts of the Cortex. From there, they head straight to the Black Gate and enter it. We don't know where it goes, and probably won't until the team steps through it, but as long as the information gets sent out, the mission will be accomplished, and gating to some unknown location is better than being trapped and wanted dead in the middle of the Imperial capital."
Davis looks over to their Bashakran allies and waits for Luis to finish translating. "Have anything to add? Any intel is better than what we've got and as you can see, there's no such thing as too crazy an idea." He looks over at Onas and Jon. "I know how hackers and security people think, you can't look at something without thinking of some way of compromising it. Either of you daydream some crazy scheme or trick that we could use?"
"I think it's a good plan for the staggering risk we're taking," Jonnoperest says. "Defeating and controlling their network is the vital piece we cannot really plan for - and I'll need your best man versed in our technology. Either to get them better acquainted with our systems or to learn some kind of Homeworlder tricks I don't yet know."
"So we'll need Imperial disguises and training for a dozen," Sturgis sums up.
"We can provide those aboard Atea," Onas offers. "As well as a host of more mundane equipment. We have some manufacturing capability."
Luis nods, "That'll come in handy, for sure. As I see it, though, we'll be facing two main problems with Boronai: taking control of the Boronai spaceGates, and the Gate at the Spire. For the spaceGates, we'll need to be able to get assault teams to the Gates, able to deal with the weapons mounted to defend the Gates. That means ships, and AT-4s or something similar. Once we have control of the Gates, we'll need to block them. The way I see it, the most simple way to do it is to just have one Gate dial the other Gate. As long as they're connected to each other, no one else can dial in. As for the Spire Gateway...well, that's got me stumped. We have somebody who might be able to give us the dial code for it, but he probably won't be able to give us the security codes."
OOC: If the Agent can't translate for the General, Luis'll handle it. Also, I somehow got the impression that there are two Boronai Gates--if that's wrong, just pretend I didn't use the plural. Also, we'll need another way to block them up.
"We dial into the Boranai space gates," General Hogue offers, "and send our allies' ships through. These ships take out any defenses the Gates have while their originating portals remain active. Once we have those Gates secure, we use one to dial the other and we keep the connection going. Meanwhile, our ground forces hit the gateport on the ground and engage the Imperial forces in a holding action. As for the gate on the Spire, we need that open - as long as they have that supply line, we know where they'll be concentrating their efforts. They'll have an escape route... and they'll have a way to bleed off reinforcements from our main target, the ROBS."
"Unless they see defending Boronai as a no-win situation and just decide to blow the place up, General. Besides, the Repository is one of the most heavily defended buildings in the Imperium, not to mention in the middle of their capital. If we're pinned down there long enough to worry about reinforcements, we're dead anyway. I think it's much more important to shut down their access to the Spire so we can avoid a lengthy siege."
Davis again waits for the translation, then speaks. "Do you know what the Imperials are likely to do if we capture all of Boronai except for the Spire? Will they fight to the death to hold it or just roll a massive bomb through the gate and blow it, and possibly us, all to Hell?"
"Hard to say," Onas says. "I don't think they would destroy the Spire - it contains too much of the Keepers' research, artifacts, and secrets - but if they underestimate you as they have thus far, they might find themselves in a situation where they might destroy it to deny it to you."
"Thank you for the information, gentlemen, ladies," Agent Sturgis replies. He looks to the general, who adds, "I think that's all we need for now. Get some rest, God knows you deserve it."
(And we officially move into the NQOOC thread for planning; any IC stuff may continue here unabated)
Luis catches Sturgis before he can leave the room, "Listen, we suffered one fatality during the mission, Taylor. Our team was able to recover the remains, and I made sure they made it home with us. Could you make sure that the remains get treated properly?"
Luis sighs, and his mood darkens a bit. He turns to the remaining people in the room, including most of the Delta team. He scowls a bit, "I'm thirsty. Who's up for a drink?"
It's dark on the Gateship bridge. Ngawai sits on the deck, castoff shipchef accoutrements scattered near her. The soft blue glow from her vox casts flickering shadows across the stoic consoles.
The bridge suddenly flashes into daylight. Four men, all ammo pouches and NBC gear, breach into the Gateship. On the other side of the portal, Davis waves to Ngawai. Two more soldiers stand on the Earth side of the Gate, making sure Davis doesn't step through.
---
*Upper levels are clear, subject is cooperative.* The transmission crackles in the near-empty Gateroom.
"All right, you can talk now." The corporal hands Davis the radio. On the Gateship side, the sweep team leader hands a second one to Ngawai.
"Sorry about the search party," Davis says. "My bosses are a bit twitchy over all these new people coming through and are a little nervous about your refusal to come through."
Ngawai smirks. "You tell 'em they don't need to worry about me coming through?"
Davis returns the smirk and shrugs. "Yeah, but you know how military types can get. Anything that doesn't fit into their little boxes is suspicious. It's make it a lot easier if you just spent a few days over here, for both of us. I'm catching a bit of heat over bringing you in."
"Look, I'm sorry, but it just doesn't feel right. Maybe... let me speak to Dunamis. He's gotta be the worst-off of the ones who went through."
"Sure, no problem." Davis waves one of the guards over. "Get Dunamis from his quarters and bring him out here." While he waits for him to be retrieved, Davis makes small talk with Ngawai, mostly about what's going on in their respective sealed-off bases. It turns out Ngawai's been poking about the Gateship. Not too far; she didn't want to get trapped in some damaged section or get too far away she couldn't get back in case the Gate dialed. But she brings up an interesting point: They DO have an orbital gate at their disposal, attached inside the gigantic Gateship.
Davis talks about the base food and actually missing what little non-synthesized food they had out on the mission, and about the Gateship idea. Dunamis comes up soon after, flanked by two soldiers. He's been fed, allowed a shower, and sports grey sweatclothes.
Davis talks to him before putting him on the radio. "How's your stay been so far? The guest quarters may not be some fancy suite, but they sure as hell beat the prison cell. We'll get you out and moving about after we start moving forwards, maybe even more if you want to pitch in."
"You gotta do what you gotta do," Kon says. "They ain't been bad to me so far, and probably at your worst you ain't as bad as the Imps can be. What, am I up here to coax Holoni through the gate?"
"Yeah, we tend to frown on removing the limbs of our prisoners," Davis says. He nods to Dunamis' question. "No need to sell it that hard, just tell the truth." He hands Kon the mic.
"All right. Ngawai, they ain't the Imperium. Far as I can tell they search ya, give ya clothes, food, a room, and guard you. And you're on their side, so you'll probably come off better than me."
Ngawai radios back. "No... experiments?"
"Nope."
She looks from Dunamis to Davis, shifting her balance as she does so. Finally, she sends, "All right, I'll come through."
"Perfect, we've got a lot to go over," Davis says. "Alright, let her through," he says to the guards.
"See you in a few hours," she says with a smile.
Davis smiles and gives a sharp wave. "Talk to you then." The portal winks out and the two sides - Diego Garcia and the Gateship - begin their slow dance of authorization codes. It is just about an hour later when the sweep team dials back into Diego Garcia. They come through with Ngawai, who handles the transition from starship to terrestrial world a lot better than the sweepers. Davis can tell their battery of medication is struggling against the shift in environments.
"If I'm here, might as well sample the local cuisine," Ngawai says.
"Mess hall's this way," Davis says.
---
Cut to Ngawai, mood not improved by quarantine and decontamination, spitting out a half-chewed greasy cafeteria french fry.
"I think I've been tricked", she says, then laughs.
"We save the knockout meds for the desserts usually," Davis says with his trademark smile, and slides her a bottle of ketchup. "It's usually better with some of this on it. We'll have some time to kill after this, I cleared my schedule for today because of the time difference between here and the gateship. We can head topside and take a look around. Diego Garcia's actually a very pretty place.
She tries the ketchup, rolls the crimson-slopped fry around in her mouth, makes a noncommittal shrug, finishes it up, and pushes her plate away. "Let's go up now, then."
---
Well, the sun's definitely a shock. Davis lucks out - it's a clear, sunny day, and Ngawai takes several minutes in the shade, covering her eyes, before she can take in the view. Davis is secretly very glad the base is on the tropical Diego Garcia, not the Arizona desert.
"Vidas fucking Lam," Ngawai says softly, looking around at the brilliant blue ocean and swaying lush vegetation. "This is where we come from?"
"Well, a part of it, at least. Not all of it's as beautiful as this, but it sure has hell beats some most of the Imperial backwaters. There's enormous mountains, massive deserts, all different kinds of forests, cities filled with millions of people..." Davis' voice trails off a bit. "And the Imperials want to burn it all down just to have it for themselves. I think that's something worth fighting. Right?"
A pause, then Ngawai finally agrees. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."
Davis lets Ngawai's statement hang in the air for a minute, as the ocean breeze blows past. "Before we start planning our next moves, I want to apologize for something I said on the Morningstar. I shouldn't have approached you and made such...personal advances. I had a personal crisis before being sent out on the mission and I displaced my feelings from that onto you. It was unprofessional, and I'm sorry."
A Humvee rumbles past outside the fence. Ngawai looks at it with another trademark smirk before turning back to Davis. "Fact is, we shoulda been on the same side from the start. I don't know what your local equivalent is for my job, but we aren't the most trusting people."
Davis nods. "I understand. When you're out on your own, you live and die by your wits, and paranoia is what gets you through the day." He puts a hand on her shoulder. "But we're not in this for fortune and glory, like they are. We're just fighting to stop the Imperium from crushing us, like they've done over and over before. You can trust us, Ngawai, and trust me."
Davis can almost see the weight lift off of Ngawai. "I think I can do that."
Davis smiles, but this one is subtlely different than his standard, practiced grin, seeming far more real somehow. "Good, because it's not going to get any easier from here."
At the bar,(or as close as they can find) Luis, Mellish, and anybody from the Deltas Luis can persuade to come along sit, waiting on the order of a variety of garunteed-lousy bar food. The food here isn't great, and neither is the drink (secured only after providing sufficient proof that they aren't expected to return to duty before the hangover wears off), but it's 100% Earth, and 100% comfort food after the team's days of eating wierd Imperium junk. As the first round arrives, Luis raises his glass, "To Chuck Taylor. A decent soldier, a great storyteller, and lousy card player, and an excellent friend." He downs as much of the glass as he can in one go, then follows it up. with more. He doesn't normally drink a lot, even on this kind of bar trawl, so everything after the third drink is pretty hazy. What does stick out is being carried home half-awake, drunk as a skunk. He remebers thinking it's odd--normally he's the one doing the carrying. Then everything goes blurry again...
...a flash of memories...
*...a six-year-old Luis, telling his teacher wat he wants to be when he grows up. I wanna bea spaceman on weekdays and a army guy on the weekends...*
*...a ten-year-old Luis trudging home from the bus stop to his house, his blousy report card in his backpack (again), his dreams of space slowly shattering...*
*....a sixteen-year-old Luis, talking after basketball practice with the Franklin High coach. "You always warm the bench, Stanhill. Let me move you to JV, you'd be able to play more there. Look better, get the ball to the hole more, all that." No, Coach. I don't care about scoring more points more as long as I help the team....
*...a twenty-year-old Luis, facing his parents as he tells them he's dropped out of pre-med at University of New Hampshire. His parents, exchanging looks. It's the same speech as when he dropped out of comp-sci last year, and engineering a year before that...*
*...a twenty-years-and-six-months-old Luis, telling his parents he enlisted on an impulse, as they exchange the same look as three months ago. His dad, "It won't be glamorous, son. Only dead people get to be heros." I don't care about getting credit, Dad, I just think I've found where I can help the team. ...*
*...a twenty-two-year old Luis, stopping over at his parents house on his way to Mesa Negras. His parents exchanging the same Look they always do now, and deliberately avoiding the elephant in the room as they talk...*
...Mellish, half-carrying a twenty-three-year-old Luis Stanhill back to their quarters. As he helps the Doc back, he catches snippits of the mutterings. "...team needshme...guesh wha mom, gunna be a spaceman...jus like I said...." Mellish shakes his head, shoulders a bit more of Luis' weight, and continues back to the main base.
...Ugh...somebody turn down the sun. Luis wakes up in the morning with a pounding in his head. The light through the window is too goddamn bright. Somebody tried to draw the shades, probably whoever helped him back last night ...Gotta thank whoever it was... and he tries to close them a bit more, get a few more minutes before he has to face the world. He stumbles, misses. Pulls the cord the wrong way. He groans, mumbles. "Might as well get up, get to work." No doubt stuff has happened while he's been gone, and he wants to get on top of it. Can't let the team down, after all. Can't drop the ball.
That evening, Hugh's in a steakhouse, slowly eating a ribeye with a big jug of beer and a baked potato, but he's not in a good place. Eating, drinking, paying - all mechanical. A short drive home, a shower, fall into bed, still nothing in his head or heart. Exhaustion drags him under after a minute or two.
---
The next day, Hugh briefly wonders how he got into General Hogue's office. Still on autopilot. He hears himself speak.
"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"
Hugh thinks he sees the General nod or hears him say yes. Either way, he goes on.
"I feel that I'm in way over my head, Sir. I'm just a regular infantry Captain, I don't have a special ops background or even a Ranger tab. We've had some really close calls out there and when Delta veterans start looking in my direction to pull their fat out of the fire, I start to wonder whether I'm the guy who should be in charge out there.
I just want to make sure I'm not the weak link out there, and I thought that maybe the situation could be improved once you've been made aware that it exists. "
Angel walks along the rather empty corridors of the base, the reassuring taste of beer and actual, genuine meat still in his mouth. His side aches from what the doctors tell him is phantom pain - bullshit - seeings as the hunter's knife blade didn't do anything good old fashioned modern medicine couldn't fix. Luis' weight didn't help, but seeings as Taylor's death seemed to hit him like a cement truck, it seemed proper Angel help carry him home. Besides, leaving a man behind in a bar muttering about spaceman is generally a shit idea.
The scout stops to rub his toe in the dirt, grinding blades of grass down with his foot. For the first time in a long time, Angel can't sleep. Its not the alcohol - Angel didn't drink much once he started down the Army path, the fussy feeling left him uncomfortable. And it wasn't Taylor's death...the odd separation between a unit and the sneaky bastard in front went both ways.
No, it was something else. The feeling of suddenly being in a giant fishbowl, the dominant American military paradigm staring down the barrel of a galactic Empire. And those damned suits - Angel had coped so far, and had a good three of those psychotic bastards under his belt, but odds are that's how they had felt until he had killed them. And they had tech on their side.
Just not right...
He wanders back inside, and makes on of the duty techs jump out of her seat when she realizes he's there.
"S...sorry, didn't see you there." she stammers, before Angel grins and waves it off.
punkey
