The Disappointed: 01: Reprisals (MFZ PBP RP)

[The Trilobite]

It is late afternoon when you find the boat in the glacier.

The 2nd Special Applications Squadron has been on extended patrol on the Cutbacks for fifteen days, looking for the rebel forces that attacked a UMFL outpost at Jacan Heights and slaughtered the personnel there. The majority of the UMFL forces are searching the volcanic highlands, far the to east; easier terrain, closer to where the attack took place. Your group has been tasked with working deeper into the mountains, searching out all the out-of-the-way, hard-to-reach places, using your superior piloting skills and sensors to look for any signs of the rebels or their collaborators.

Your old CO, Colonel Charles Mouse, was a good one. He understood what was important to actually run a unit like the 2nd SAS, made sure you had it, and shielded you from a lot of BS. He was on cadre duty at Jacan Heights, advising the local CO, when the attack came. Reports are that his railgun accounted for the attacker's point frame, but he was dragged from his crippled frame and executed by the rebels, his body left for the village dogs. Since then, Captain Donald McVale has been in charge.

Your marksman/spotter, Lieutenant Ethan Graves, is on detached duty with the regular forces, scouring the highlands for the SOBs who did this. He probably won't be back for a long time, if at all. Unit commanders love to take guys out of the SAS, trying to stiffen up their squadrons. But as Colonel Mouse used to say, "you can't stiffen up a bucket of spit with a handful of buckshot".

To replace him you've got the FNG, some 2nd Lieutenant fresh out of training who managed to qualify for the SAS and ended up with you. Headquarters has been whipping a lot of pilots through training lately, and your turn for one finally came around.

It's the new guy's sensors that ping the boat. You can see it there, sure enough: a 15-meter yacht. The orange and green hull looks like the shell of a hardboiled egg after it's been hit with a spoon but before it's been peeled off. The boat's at the front end of a rocky glacier, upside-down, trapped in ice and frost.

Captain McVale, who's spent some time in these mountains, is able to tell that it's covered in about six weeks of ice accumulation.

[Ced23Ric]

Ilka wasn't the average grunt, at least he thought that he wasn't. With unending serenity, he fulfilled his duty. When news of Mouse death reached him, he burnt a candle in rememberance, and he saluted his CO one last time, for a battle fought with honor and an ending worthy of a true fighter. He appreciated warriors with spirit. That made it easier for him to follow Mouse, despite his antics. At least the man has had an understanding for values. He kept a picture of Mouse with a short poem in his cockpit. It helped Ilka to focus.

Now, McVale was a good man. He was 2CO before and now he had to pick up where Mouse had left off. Ilka was on the fence about the guy, not because he didn't trust him, but because he figured him to be ... soft. The story of his missing Ijad partner, the way he looked into the sky at times, the suppressed sighs and the almost always present sadness in McVale's eyes made Ilka doubt the mental strength of his current CO. Not his physical condition. Not his vow to duty. Not his capabilities. But his will to fight.

>> Assuming perimeter watch position.

A short message to the squad channel, and he threw his Daisuke into gear, navigating the icy ground thanks to the spikes of his heel tires. With a sideswipe, he checked the chamber of the massive assault rifle again. Ice coating the mechanism was sent flying, shards of glittery white and powdery snow falling to the ground unheard in the wind. The muscle cylinders followed his orders to a tee, well trained and maintained from the prolonged time he steered the machine. "****" is what he called his machine, because it miraculously emerged from even the thickest fights in a condition that made repairs more profitable than scrapping. A fine steed for a disciplined warrior, mimicing his accurate and deliberate motions, as if they had merged.

[Otami N71]

<< Assuming perimeter watch position

Nudging his controls to do the same, Otami moved his frame quietly into a nearby thicket of trees. They had visual on the yacht, so he switched his sensors to broadband - more than making up for the minor visual impairment from the trees. He set his AI to alert him to any disturbances beyond the expected profiles of his new squad mates' frames. The slightest errant sound, vibration, or heat signature nearby and he'd know.

He was familiar with the Cutback region, having partially grown up near it, and recently graduating from the ACT program which spent more than 6 months in the region. Being redeployed here as his first assignment in the 2nd SAS was mildly relieving. Familiar environment would mean he'd have to shift his mind less to get into the swing of things.

>> Wide-band sensor sweep active. All quiet.

Otami didn't know Colonel Mouse, but he did know what true respect looked like. He'd seen it in every action taken by his squad mates since they deployed, and that alone was worth honoring his memory. Even if it wasn't his to remember.

[randolph]

Boat. Just a boat. John didn't like being out in the open like this. Exposed. Watched. A half-recognized image flashed through his mind, gone before he could identify it. He shook his head involuntarily to clear it, the elements on his HUD shifting to accommodate the gesture.

<< Assuming perimeter watch position

Lt. Harumoto's Daisuke sliced a thin spray of ice and snow as he skated off. John watched the glistening particles as they resettled near the incongruously large frame tracks. SWK 448s, self-sealing. Weakpoint along outer wall, assuming even wear. The voice in his head chattered on as he looked up to where Don was inspecting the boat. Ice, water-based with minor impurities. Impact here would crack off a two-meter sheet. Sure, he thought at himself, but I don't want to be here when that brings down the rest of the glacier. No response. John sighed mentally. Civilian yacht, unknown make and model, 15-20 meters. I'm talking to myself in my head, but I'm ignoring me. Easy rupture points here, here, and here, when not filled solid with ice. A brief pause. Exposed. Gleaming metal. Easy targets. He clenched his jaw and sent a transmission.

>> Going dark, still receiving

John crouched Clarity behind a nearby boulder, then rotated his right wrist slightly, a gesture Clarity recognized as stealth mode activation. Cockpit lights cut out immediately, tweaked from the standard gradual dimming that gave human eyes time to adjust. The background thrum quieted as non-essential systems powered down. From outside, Clarity would seem to have vanished into thin air; it could still be detected from the emission of certain exotic particles, but scanners capable of doing so and specifically calibrated to do so were hardly commonplace, given how new the S9 technology was.

John looked at the boulder. Too obvious. Slowly, deliberately, he walked Clarity backwards in her own footprints until she was beside a smaller boulder near the cliff face. He reached out with Clarity's arms, gingerly testing the boulder's balance. Felsic, igneous rock. Granite. Impact here, here-- Shut it.

Gripping firmly with Clarity's manipulators, he leaned forward and tucked his chin, causing Clarity to roll - slowly - up onto her hands, then - slowly, very slowly - flipped her legs over and onto the boulder in a crouch. I hate waiting.

[Forged]

McVale shifted uncomfortably in his harness and wished that he wasn't the one giving orders. A month ago the hardest decisions he had to make were which rations to eat first, command had a way of making every descion into a big one. Like this **** boat. The only thing of interest he had seen in weeks, and it was making everyone jumpy. It's frozen, and had been so for a while, it has no obvious tracks around it. It could be a trap, it could be a listening post, it could be a hidden supply stash. It could be an old boat not related to what's going on. McVale wished he was still Ijad, then he would have another opinion to work with.
He toggled his mike on,

>> We need to find out what's in here, if this is a trap, we probably are already caught. If this boat isn't just random debris, then it's either supplies or a listening station. John, get your ass here, I want you to cut the boat open on my mark. Everyone else stay alert and be ready to bug out the way we came.

Donald eyed the terrain, looking for a good vantage point for his cannons. Seeing a descent position he drove his frame into place and began to deploy. He worked the pedals letting his frames legs flex, pulling the wheels off of the ground and planting its heel spikes into the ice and snow, giving a firmer hold in case he had to use its cannons. Not the best position for a fast getaway, but he had a perfect shot at the boat, and could shell anywhere Otami pointed.

>> Long Crab is deployed, I've got you covered John.

[Ced23Ric]

<< Wide-band sensor sweep active. All quiet.

Ilka took a long and deep breath, filling up his lungs with recycled, climate-controlled air that tasted like stale bread. Nevertheless, it was air. His mind envisioned the situation their newest squad member activated his sensors on wide-band. A little pebble, falling into a still and even lake. When the tiny rock broke through the surface, concentric circles appeared, flowing away from the point of impact, modulated as waves. Now they had announced their presence to any ambusher. Not that Otami was to blame, he had to use his sensors. It was simply ... a fact. He let the air out of his torso and relaxed again. A quick glance over the MFDs quickly confirmed his gut feeling - everything was humming at peak condition, waiting for him to unleash the power of the Daisuke B.

<< Going dark, still receiving.

John vanished from his visual and sensorical perception. All that remained was a spot too empty for Ilka's taste and sense of order. He had grown to like the deranged man, because Ilka had seen how John behaved during combat. It was like a cleansing for him, the adrenalin helped him to think straight and shake of his demons for a while. Ilka wouldn't call his fellow squadmate lunatic. Just plagued by bad spirits of the past. Sometimes, he tried to get John to come with him when Ilke burned incense and practiced his breathing techniques, but usually - out of the cockpit, that is - John was too distracted, bound by his past. Nevertheless, when combat arose, the blades of the man struck true. And Ilka appreciated an able warrior.

His thoughts about John were interrupted by McVale sorting the situation and giving his assessment and orders. Ilka was not too fond of the tone of voice.

>> The soldier with his back to the wall fights hardest. A caged snake is still venomous. We are armed and prepared, Captain. Expect nothing less than excellence from us and yourself, and you will be served well.

His calm voice poured wisdom like that into the comm channels at times. It was a reflex, based on his own teachings. It wasn't so much that he tried to instruct the others, it was more like he tried to ... ease their minds up. Tension wasn't good for rational and clear thought. And especially McVale. If he radiated stress, it would touch the men, propagate and cause a drop in efficiency and awareness. Unacceptable. The heart of a warrior must know peace in order to fight for it.

[ferrelferret]

>> Copy that, Captain.

Andren had an uneasy feeling about this 'boat', and he was sure the rest of the squad did too. His Daisuke had its optic camouflage engaged, and was in a prime position for fight or flight.

Personally, he was still wrestling with the loss of Colonel Mouse. But there was a mission to perform, so Andren bottled his feelings and stowed them in the correct mental compartment like he always did with the many others of life's problems. Most of the squad felt like he didn't care about the death of the Colonel; "Except for Ilka." He was the only one that Andren felt understood him. "Enough of this 'pity party', Andren! Get it in gear!' He snapped himself out of the tangent as he watched Donny head toward the boat.

"Mila, have you calculated possible enemy placements?"

Mila was the name Andren gave to his AI. He programmed her himself, but she was more of a voice activated user-interface than what they write about in the pulp novels or those classic Earth movies. Andren dabbled in personal programming, and had been trying to create a more personal way to interact with his computer. Colonel Mouse was the reason he was able to have Mila installed on his Daisuke, Kite. Mouse pulled some strings and got Andren an 'Okay' over the engineers protests. For that, Andren would be forever grateful.

"Affirmative, Sir. All possible enemy positions are on your HUD. Currently, 65% are in firing range. 12% are not in you LoS. 23% are to your rear."

"Great, I'm prime position. But for me, or them?"

"Sir, even in the best positioning, this isn't going to be good." He knew he was stating the obvious, but that is what Andren does the best, and with squad knew it.

[The Trilobite]

As Anders moved closer to the upside-down racing yacht, he could see other debris in the ice as well. Composite fragments, laminated and carbon-bound. Most common in hybrid airships used for heavy lifting and mining operations. More debris, most of it small fragments, are scattered up the slope of the glacier in a broad trail that leads to where an outcropping vesicular olivine basalt. Volcanic origin. Lack of ice due to post-glacier formation and unusually dark coloration shielded a saddle in the ridge two kilometers higher up.

The ice and the boat split easily before Clarity's coherent-energy blades. Steam rose in jets on either side of the cut, whisked away by the wind even. Inside the boat was chaos. There was a spacious living area which had been fully stocked. Furniture and fixtures remained in place, but everything else had come loose and now the walls, ceiling, and floor were a wasteland of shattered cookware and bottles and food, all thoroughly mixed and completely frozen. Fuel and coolant from the huge engine compartment to the rear were splattered everywhere, and the huge tropical terrarium on one wall had burst open, adding soil, plants, brightly colored birds, and en enormous lizard to the mix. Pattern indicates forceful impact preceding a random-tumble fall of between five hundred and seven hundred fifty meters, followed by impact on this point. There was no sign of human remains.

[randolph]

No remains... The inner voice trailed off.

"Sheathe." The glowing planes of light hovering millimeters from Clarity's forearms faded in intensity as she cut power to the energy projectors, then winked out as she released the shaper field. "Disengage haptics." John felt the joysticks stiffen under his feedback gauntlets as Clarity resumed intermediate movement translation.

John passed Clarity's sensors across the wreck and trail of debris for the recorder again. Forceful impact preceding a random-tumble fall of between five hundred and seven hundred fifty meters... Black bag op? Disable vessel, pick up survivors. Voluntary extraction unlikely... people like their pets. Either way, somebody around here was shooting down ships.

John walked Clarity within 20 feet of Captain McVale and keyed up a directional tightbeam, aiming it directly into the Long Crab's sensor cluster; the low-powered signal wouldn't pass through the frame's mass - an eavesdropper would need to be directly between them to intercept the signal.

>> They're here somewhere; someone didn't want to be found. If we haven't been detected yet, I'd prefer it stayed that way. Sir.

[Forged]

<< They're here somewhere; someone didn't want to be found. If we haven't been detected yet, I'd prefer it stayed that way. Sir.

McVale linked Long Crab's tight beam to Clarity's. This was turning out to be a good day after all.

>> Not only are they nearby, they didn't have the manpower to clean this mess up. You and Lt. Hite have camo, so you get to follow the debris, find out if it leads somewhere. We will follow in doing a wide sweep.

McVale paused for a second,

>> And disregard the next order I give on the comms

WIth that McVale shut off the tightbeam grabbed his Frame's controls. He pulled it out of the snow and into it's more mobile configuration. He slowly made his way to the rest of his squad and relayed the same message via tightbeam. He then opened up his comm channel. The others were far more paranoid about comm silence and what could be overheard, so hopefully the misdirection would be appreciated. Either way his frame had some of the most basic comm and sensor systems onboard, he relied on Otami and the others to tell him when was a good time to shut up, and when it was safe.

>> Nothing here guys, Were heading East. Move out!

He dropped his frame low and locked it into a driving position. He made the sign Jouh had taught him for luck, he hoped he wouldn't need it.

[Ced23Ric]

Harumoto fired up the muscle cylinder motivators. With a whince and a low hum, the power of his 'frame became awake again, for him to steer. With a shallow breath, he set the machine into motion, holding his rifle in a relaxed patrol carry stance.

>> Copy orders, CO. Moving east, assuming diamond formation.

Ilkas voice carried nothing but servitude. His mind, on the other hand, was flying. An ambush, with a wreck that was halfway buried under the little white death as a bait - unlikely. How were they supposed to find it? Who would wait for hours in these conditions? And then again, who would execute a worthy enemy without any honor and class? Ilkas fingers quickly slapped a few controls, and Shi-To began scanning for heat signatures in the snow. All responses, so far, appeared friendly.

His 'frame started to move in a sloppy stride, leaving his prior position. As Ilka moved, he started shutting down system after system, until every display in his cockpit went black, save for his HUD. Close to an ice formation, he hunkered down and cut the power to the main motivators, reduced the temperature control and assumed a new stance - leaning against the ice, the rifle leveled in the 'frame's hands, ready to boot up again should the need arise.

[The Trilobite]

As Anders and Hite moved forward, careful not to reveal themselves by leaving tracks on the surface of the glacier, the debris trail continued. Mostly it was unrecognizable, save as laminate fragments, maybe from some aircraft. But as they progressed up past the first kilometer of the climb, they began to see larger fragments, and some recognizable items: a packing crate, a sweater, a seat cushion. To Ander's critical eye, it seemed like a proper distribution, nothing false about it. Hite's wilderness training told him that this was what a crash site, or the area around it looked like, and that the items here had been here for weeks.

As the pair neared the ridge, aircraft fuel and oil began to splatter the ice, weirdly opalescent under the layers that had been laid down afterward. Coolant fluids and antifreeze had eaten into the glacier, creating bizarre spiraling patterns.

Finally the two reached the ridge. Carefully peering around, they saw it. A hybrid airship lay in the saddle beyond the ridge. Its huge body, shaped like a pumpkin seed, filled most of the shallow valley. It had been a vivid blue, but ice dulled its colors It was crumpled against the face of the peak opposite, where it had struck and then slid back down. Talus and scree partially buried the blunt forward end. Most of the rest of the hundred-and-sixty meter body lay in a shallow, ice-over tarn, the massive aircraft dwarfing the little lake. Tremendous letters, each as large as a frame, spelled out "McGregor" in stylized script. McGregor was primarily a mining concern, but also dealt in logistics.

It was hard to tell what could have brought the enormous heavy lifter down, but there had clearly been survivors. On top of one manta-like wing, a patchwork of packing foam, seat covers, foil, and other bright or reflective materials had been glued down with expanding foam, spelling out "SOS". Several shrubby little pines nearby had been cut down. A short distance from those trees are three long piles of stones. Aluminum shafts have been pounded into the frozen soil at their heads, and red and orange plastic banners fly from the head of each one.

The sun is going down, deep verdant shadows seeming to well up from every crevice, and the two's sensors told them that temperatures were dropping sharply.

[randolph]

Mu... John's mind was deluged with images as the panorama before him forced reconsideration of every aspect of the scenario. Well, we can rule out ambush - for small fry like us.

"Prepare a tightbeam to Hite, targeting sensor cluster, do not send. Message as follows: 'Report civilian survivor camp to Cap, zero hostiles evident, need better eyes.' End message."

John released a breath while eyeing the crash. Am I too paranoid, or not paranoid enough? Paranoia is heavily influenced by anxiety or fear, often to the point of irrationality and delusion. If the subject is experiencing non-violent paranoia, interrogation can proceed by leveraging a combined strategy of-- John clenched his jaw, ignoring the voice.

"On my mark, thermal imaging pulse cascade to target Hite, 5 meter initial radius, and fire tightbeam... mark."

[ferrelferret]

'Report civilian survivor camp to Cap, zero hostiles evident, need better eyes.

"Mila, create a tightband message confirming receipt of message, 'Copy, heading in direction of team.' Send to origin of incoming message."

"Message sent," Mila replied in return.

Andren backed Kite up, being careful to stay in his old traks. After he concluded that he was a safe distance, he turned and headed in the direction of his squad, travelling as fast as possible in stealth mode.

Once in range of the squad, Andren radioded in.

Captain, civilian crashsite found. No sign of hostiles. We need better eyes in this. Please advise.

[Ced23Ric]

He sighed, then he fired a tightbeam message to McVale.

>> Captain - we command firepower that is to behold. We are well-trained and disciplined. Requesting permission to move out and stop chasing phantoms. Sensor sweeps at your order. We are neither blind, nor weak.

There was nothing here that was detectable by the sensors and Ilka was starting to resent the current bogging down of their advance. Holding without reason only resulted in slower movement speed, longer mission time and lower efficiency.

[Forged]

> Captain, civilian crashsite found. No sign of hostiles. We need better eyes in this. Please advise.

This is Hutching great... McVale though as he heard the transmission. The mission was to find the rebels, but these civilians need rescuing. He geared down his frame, to try and give himself some more time to think. If he helped the civilians, any evac would either delay the search or alert the rebels. But if he didn't help the civilians....

>> Captain - we command firepower that is to behold. We are well-trained and disciplined. Requesting permission to move out and stop chasing phantoms. Sensor sweeps at your order. We are neither blind, nor weak.

McVale smiled a bit, Haramuto had a way of making everything seem so clear cut. He activated his open communications.

>> This operation just became a rescue mission. We are going to move in and make contact. Ilka and John, maintain a perimeter. Lets lend a hand here.

He gunned his frame into a higher gear and began to head straight towards the wreck.

[randolph]

<< This operation just became a rescue mission. We are going to move in and make contact. Ilka and John, maintain a perimeter. Let's lend a hand here.

Rescue mission. A wide, smoke-filled hallway, lit by fire, panicked screaming and stinging in his eyes - just a flash of memory, already fading. John blinked and widened his eyes in confusion. What the hell was that? No response.

John frowned in thought as he steered Clarity towards his perimeter position, still camouflaged. "Create personal file, maximum encryption, record-once, read-only, no-delete, authorization Alpha-Niner-X-ray-Four. In case of pilot death, broadcast to Captain Donald McVale, voiceprint authorization decryption." He paused, considering. "And Lieutenant Ilka Harumoto." Just in case. "Begin recording cockpit internal audiovisual and pilot vitals to file."

A stray thought struck him, causing him to grin perhaps a little too broadly, a manic gleam in his eye. Hope I don't die looking really silly.

[The Trilobite]

The bulk of the massive heavy lifted filled the tiny valley. Only moments ago, it had been evening, but night had fallen with the suddenness characteristic of the Cutbacks. The sky was indigo, the band of the Milky Way like a broad swath of glowing silver paint. The misshapen tiny lump of the moon was rising in the west, clearing the nearest peak with with slow but visible speed.

The wind rose, causing the wreck to shudder, groaning and whimpering like a dying beast. Frost was forming on every visible surface. The perimeter was quiet, with no sign of activity.

As McVale closed, he could see the little valley was littered with wreckage which had sprayed from the lifter on impact. The tarn was full of it, too, and when he got closer he could see why: the belly of the aircraft was split open in a long diagonal cut that ran at a shallow angle from the right rear of the craft up to just under the left side of the nose. The opening was clearly not the result of the crash, though that had doubtless widened it; rather it had the distinctive evaporative neatness of an attack by a coherent energy blade.

[Otami N71]

Following McVale in a loose chevron advance, Otami kept his eyes on his sensors. He kept sweeping through the terrain readout in the valley, looking for likely artillery positions. This might be a rescue operation, but he'd seen multiple scenarios in ACT training where an SOS was just another ambush. Frame's aren't cheap. Certianly not the kind afforded to the 2nd.

"Ambush - kill the meat, spare the metal." He thought. Artillery was key to this tactic. They didn't have to aim at us, just where they knew we'd be heading - straight for the SOS. "But why go through all this trouble with the airship for the chance to acquire a handful of frames?" He shrugged mentally... "Maybe the two situations aren't connected. Looters, with a bit of an imagination. Easy enough to prepare, if they'd been tracking us through the Cutbacks. They'd know we'd find this. Score of a lifetime if their plans worked out."

Perhaps he was paranoid, but he'd rather be paranoid and prepared, than dead in the Cutbacks.

>> Captain, there are roughly 14 prime positions for artillery surrounding the immediate valley area. Sensors haven't picked anything up, yet, but I'll keep scanning.

[The Trilobite]

While there was no sign or heat or motion inside the hull, Otami's LADAR system detected motion near a break in the high rock face opposite their advance: a snow leopard crept up to the edge of the cliff, peering down at the group.