IC: Dangerous Game, Lions, and Tigers, and Mercs. Oh my! Options

[Rastus]

[Saturday, April 15th 2073, 0130 hours; Horizon-BBC World News archive nexi]
<Searching Directory: BBCWorldNews/Field Reports/>
<Opening file: MerodeRinguAttack-04/14/73.hvp>
<Loading Video...>

As the picture comes in, uniformed military personal wearing full chemical protection walk rural streets that are full of motionless bodies lying about. The scene remains eerily quiet until the british accented voice of a reporter speaks up. "Many parts of Africa have always been very familiar to warfare and mass murder due it's history, and last night was no exception. This town and it's large agricultural community in the area of Kaseke fell victim to massed artillery fire allegedly belonging to noted terrorist Merode Ngobobo, however this attack is notable for one small detail..."

The scenery changes from the soldiers tending to the dead to a pale-skinned man clad in navy blue body armor with PRESS stenciled along the helmet and vest, a finger firmly pressed against his earpiece reciever as he stands in front of a large town that is about a kilometer away. "As you can see behind me, the town is almost entirely undamaged and yet the clip we played earlier shows a rather high body count. The reason for this is because the shells fired were gas dispersal munitions filled with nerve gas known as 'Ringu'. This is a state-of-the-art colorless, odorless, gasous chemical weapon that is said to be so deadly that it can kill such paranormal creatures like lesser dragons with terrifying ease. Adding to this, it capable of eroding through typical protective measures such as chemical suits and even some forms of toxin filter augmentations, and it possesses no known antidote as of now. We do not have an official death toll yet, but authorities state that the only likely survivors are those who were well away from where the shells hit."

As the reporter continues to speak, the scene changes to archived footage of Merode Ngobobo's rare video apperances; mostly just him inspecting his troops. "Rebel General Merode "The CEO" Ngobobo is known to various authorities around the world as the leader of an eco-terrorist movement with an anti-corporate agenda. His movement is typically centered around Mount Nyiragongo with constant battles waged to keep control of what was Vurunga and and the Bwindi National Park, wishing to protect the mountain gorillas and various mountain spirits by doing so."

The footage being played changes once more to show corporate troopers performing peacekeeping duties and keeping watch on several captured rebel soldiers kneeling down in front of their captors with hands placed firmly on their heads. "Authorities state that this attack in Kaseke was a bloody reprisal against corporate and Congalese armed forces who were just starting to gain some ground despite the difficult terrain. This was later confirmed when Merode sent an audio recording out to several media outlets claiming responsibility, and insisting that this is not the last time Ringu will be used on towns and cities that quote: 'succumb to corporate greed' should they insist on opposing him, especially now that he intends to expand past his usual territory."

Finally the footage goes back to the reporter standing well outside of the devestaed town. "Although authories wish to move in and take Merode now, they are restraining themselves from more direct measures at the moment in order to avoid provoking Merode into attacking more cities, just in case his claims of possessing much more Ringu are true. In hopes of expediting the effort to bring Merode Ngobobo to justice regardless, the Corporate Court, UNATCO, and various governments within Africa have come to agreement in offering an open bounty of 50,000,000¥ for his live capture, with half offered if he is brought in deceased. There are also said to be many small bounties on any information towards his whereabouts. While the Corporate officials are confident that this will go a long way to solve this matter quickly and efficiently, many others living in Africa instead say that they are needlessly playing a dangerous game."

"From Bryan Stills in the Congo Tribal Lands, this is BBC News."

After that, the image and sound cuts out.

<Replay? Y/N>

[Nineteen days later...]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]
As the minutes tick by into hours, the blazing sun above the sky of Algeria begins to sink and it's light begins to dim. Unfortuntely, the temperature has yet to dip like the sun has begun to do, and it seems it'll stay hot for another hour if local weather reports are anything to go by, and thus it seems for another hour everyone suffering through the heat will have to suffer their every breath drawing in heated air without a hint of moisture. Though this could perhaps be seen as fortuitous to some; the predators of the night usually do prefer to wait for the heat to die down before venturing forth.

One such group of predatory individuals, a group of armed mercenaries, are currently hiding in the hills and mountains, braving the heat as they squat inside a series of trenches dug into the earth, while camouflage netting adorned with various bits of local flora and earth weaved into it is stretched above to conceal them from casual observance from the world at large. In this dug-in hiding place they have waited patiently, waited for two days and several hours to get a view of their purpose for being here: A lieutenant by the name of Laurent Tshombe, a man who is under Merode Ngobobo's command. This wait, however, has gone for one whole day longer than it was supposed to. The man recommending this plan of action to the other mercenaries, Chris 'Bazz' Maxwell, shows his annoyance at this turnout quite visibly, snapping at everyone who questions the idea of coming here and insisting that they be patient.

While they waited, these mercenaries have been far from idle. In the time they have been waiting, they have taken the liberty of observing the old abandoned private airstrip that lays just over 900 meters to the west of them, the location their target is supposed be at by now. From the looks of things, this airstrip was once private property of the wealthy, judging by the large house just a few hundered meters further off and behind the airstrip proper. The various structures lined up alongside the lengthy, cracked tarmac are mostly intact but they show much age. Whatever paint that was applied has been relentlessly worn away by high winds and course sands, and rust creeps from the corners of metal structures; though said rust is in minute quantities, no doubt because the lack of rain and open water in the area.

In their observance, they have discovered that this airstrip is not as abandoned as it first seemed. After about two days the headcount for these occupants seem to be about ten people; two in what appears to be an Air Control Tower, two people doing patrols around the area, and the remaining six ducking in and out of the large hanger standing at one end of the tarmac. They are all dressed lightly, to the point where they wear no clothing overtop their concealable armor vests; could it be that they are not completely used to this heat? They all seem to be universally armed with some AK-97's and what appears to be Ares Predator pistols holstered at their hips or under an arm; the only deviation from the trend is a Ranger Arms SM-3 sniper rifle belonging to one of the two men sitting in the tower. These guys are at least lightly organized, but their equipment and dress seems to indicate they aren't paramilitary, and they don't seem to be local at all. In fact, after the time spent observing them with whatever long range hearing equipment, they don't speak any of the two-thousand acknowledged languages and dialects within Africa, in fact, it sounds distinctly southeast asian...

These people occupying the airstrip are not the primary target, not even a local african faction, yet they occupy the area that the target is supposed to be in by now. Who are these people? Why are they here instead of Laurent Tshombe?

[Abschalten]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]
Addison "Cor" Wells rested on his stomach just below the rise of the hill that was his vantage point. The prickly brush that he'd chosen to conceal himself in itched like blazes, and yet he didn't dare scratch. He needed the concealment. Likely none of the mysterious men on the grounds of the mansion or airstrip almost a full kilometer away would spot him in the dark. Still, he didn't need to go shaking the limbs of this particular scrub, as if to proclaim to the world "Here I am, you tossers!"

He frowned, taking in the scene. His goggles did a magnificent job of bringing the distant panorama into view, the device periodically scanning his retinas in order to adjust the focus on the current objects of his study. Strange. These didn't appear to be locals, and they didn't speak any tongue he was aware of. They were ill-equipped and not used to the climate.

Around and around, his mind went in circles, always ending up at the question where he'd begun: Who in the bloody hell imported these wankers? And did they keep the receipt?

Cor knew good and well that these guys would be pushovers. At least that's what he'd been able to surmise in his study of them since they'd been camped in their current location. Yet, it was always the information you didn't have that caused good men to go early to their graves. And Cor wasn't about to let any of his current team do that.

<<Thinking we need some birds in the sky,>> he subvocalized across his unit's comm channel, a British pedigree obvious in his accent. <<We've let these fellows get cozy in that mansion, and I'm sure it's a hell of alot cooler in there than it is out here. If we can get some tactical recon and intelligence, I think we'll be sleeping in beds tonight. How's that sound to you guys?>>

Cor very slowly extricated himself from the scratching thorns of his concealment and crawled backwards down the slope until he was out of sight. He patted the inside breast pocket of his camouflage suit to make certain his cigarettes were in there. He would only indulge in that particular vice after the mission was done, of course. Still, it was reassuring to know he had some handy.

[Thanee]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Kerrigan was used to sitting still for hours and even days, that didn't bother her much. The heat was a bit beyond pleasant, but even that was bearable for a while. What she couldn't stand was the utter lack of a plan. They were here for this guy, Laurent Tshombe, who should be here, but wasn't apparantly. At least, there was no sign of him. And most importantly, they didn't know what to do with those asian-speaking goons sitting around the place, or even who they were.

<< [Lynx] Anything that brings us forward. We know nothing about them. We don't even really know what side they are on. Their own? Maybe it's a new player? Maybe the terrorists have made some new friends? Any ideas how we could get a reading of how many people are in that hut? Is it just the ten we know about or more? Or how about getting some close-ups of these guys and better voice samples, maybe we can find out who they are? And what do we know about that abandoned airstrip? Is it still in use? Are they, maybe, awaiting some kind of delivery here, that Tshombe is supposed to take in? These guys could be a forward team securing the landing site. Without knowing more, we cannot decide on a course of action. We need intel! >>

[pragma]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Irish brogue poured through the subvocalization: <<Don't strain yourself milady, we've only been sweltering here for one and fifty hours and I'm sahrtain we won't be budging without proper intel.>> Ace shot a sidelong glance at Cor and added <<I do agree heartily with the idea of bairds in the sky tho. Please contramand me, sahr, if you don't want me tah commence launching our favorite gaseous floating eyeball.>>

With that, Ace began zigzagging backwards through the trench network weaving his way towards the motor pool. Of course, the van and car -- he reflected again that his glorified suburban cruisers were not really warzone ready -- had to be parked farther away and covered better than their position, but the Renraku Stormcloud mini-blimp was charmingly easy to transport deflated.

As Ace went through the preflight ritual of activating the auto-inflater, checking the rifle and laser mic and ensuring that his prior maintenence hadn't missed gasbag holes, sensor blind spots or spotty wiring his thoughts wandered, as they often did, to William Butler Yeats.

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;

The drone puttered to life and Ace marveled at it as he did with any aircraft; a little miracle kicking up dirt in front of him. Ensuring there was sufficient brush and tree cover, Ace started the dizzying ascent of the eye-in-the-sky through AR. The thing wouldn't have a lot of hiding spots high in the air, but the underside was darkly colored and a speck in the sky rarely attracted attention. Hopefully that would be enough to stay out of sight of the current targets.

Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;

Of course he wouldn't fly over and risk blowing cover without order more direct than the one he manufactured. So he watched the drone spiral upwards, carefully reading his sensor suites, as the mini-blimp prepared for its upcoming fate and as he listened to the ensuing network chatter.

[Abschalten]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Cor grinned when Kerrigan followed him onto the comm channel. As he scooted back down the rocky hillside, he listened to her extended listing of observations, contingencies, and hypothetical situations. Cor admired this one, so similar to himself in many ways. While he didn't try to pry overmuch (some people were a little resistant to invasions of privacy, as he himself should well know), he still had enough knowledge of her to figure that she was, perhaps, Awakened. Not like a full-fledged magician, such as the ones licensed by Her Majesty back home, but perhaps more like him, where the effects were a bit more... subtle. If she wanted to balance those God-given talents with artifice, well, that was her business.

She was so gung-ho and assertive, Kerrigan was. Almost like she had something to prove. He'd picked up driblets of her history, and his heart was melancholy for the knowledge that gender exclusion kept promising young soldiers like this one from more prestigious service of Queen and Country. Maybe she was trying to prove to herself - and others - that she really had become the soldier she was always meant to be. In that case, she had absolutely nothing to prove to Cor. He knew talented soldiers at sight, and she was one such.

I'm damn glad she signed on with us instead of with some other company, Cor mused. Proudly.

When Ace came on the channel and put forth his plan of action, Cor looked over at the man, nodded, and made a forward gesture.

<<I'll not contramand what is a wise course of action. My only concern is that the tower they're in is more than just decoration. They could have radar or other gadgets in there, and I worry they'll pick up our floating friend. Get as close as you dare with it, though, and see if you can get a sound feed with that microphone of yours. If you can pick up voices, patch them through to me. I'll try and figure out what they're saying.>>

Another good soldier, this Ace. Maybe not a proper countryman, given that he was a Tir ex-patriate... but close enough. He lived up to his nickname with his drones, and he was a bit of a tinkerer to boot. Cor reckoned that all that aptitude went to his head at times, for Ace had cultivated a rather healthy self-esteem. Even so, a competant and self-motivated soldier was worth his weight in orichalcum. Especially this one, who didn't fall into the usual pitfalls of specialization, and could hold his own on the ground with or without his toys.

I do wish he had more discriminating taste in music, though, Cor thought with a grimace.

[Thanee]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

<< @Ace [Lynx] No worries, just offering some thoughts on the situation. Apparantly, things aren't quite as straightforward here as we thought, so we got to see how we can make the best out of it. >>

<< @Cor [Lynx] Absolutely! It must be our first priority to remain undetected, because if they realize someone's here, whatever is going to happen here, won't be happening anymore. >>

Of course, everyone knew that already, but it never hurt to repeat some really important details.

[yoippari]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Hatfield lay in the trench watching the other foreigners guarding the airstrip. Why would a native warlord hire outsiders to do anything? Especially what should be guard duty. At that they could even be doing the same thing we are, just dumber. Bah, no use guessing, we need something real to go on.

<<Has anyone checked on the house? I haven't seen anyone around there but that doesn't mean much if the goons are all working out of the hanger.>>

This group seems to know what they are doing. Professionals all if a bit eccentric at times but then again, most hundred percent sane people don't choose this life and they all seem to have chosen it. Whats that say about moi'?

He switches over to astral again to see if anything has changed on that front. Judging by the state of these yahoos they probably don't have any astral security at all but just in case I'm glad for the foliage.
Astral perception


[edit addition due to lack of time this morning]

[Doc Chase]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

There's a grin on the lips as Lynx starts to bitch to the Captain. It's all the things he's heard before from someone anxious to get waist deep into the action, even if the girl sees the world through a set of crosshairs. Perhaps it was time to stop looking to see if the hibachi had been set up yet and get to work.

Sleepin' in a bed sounds right nice, actually. A quick sub off, and--

<<Simmer down, pet. 'M tryin' to listen in.>>

The voice is unabashedly British, deep, and slow. It belongs to an Ork that looks like he's sleeping in one of the camoflauged trenches, a modified assault rifle laying across his chest, and goggles over his eyes. A shock of black hair can be seen underneath his Kevlar helmet - one of the old style they don't use anymore, that one could pick up for ten nuyen at a surplus store. The commlink on the Ork's wrist, however, is one of the new Battle Buddy Basics - custom fitted with an OS, stocked with programs, and in Sniffing mode. Most telling is the shit-eating grin on his face; someone should not have that much fun needling their fellow employees.

Especially if they've got a long range rifle.

From Loony's - that's the Ork - perspective, the harsh desert and scrub took on a deeper twilight hue. He was busy looking at the ivory streams of data that signified wireless transmissions, from the ones he designated coming from the rest of the PMC- Bazz still hasn't set up that damn hibachi - to the ones from the area he'd taken to calling Charlie Zulu. He'd been watching the transmissions for a few days now, little blips he could only assume were 'All Clear' in not-English, longer blips that he could only assume were 'It's fucking hot' in not-English, and lengthy blips that he enjoyed assuming were 'Goodbye, everybody / I've got to go / Got to leave it all behind and face the truth.' Again, in not-English (though whoever was on imaginary guitar was sodding fantastic). There hadn't been a terrible amount of traffic from these amateurs - which is what they were, only two men and a sniper/spotter on three-sixty overwatch? - and to tell the truth, Loony had been bored.

<<Goin' to a bit of cryptoanalysis on one of these lads. Someone be a dear and leave out the lead pipe in case we have to do it the fun way, yeah?>>

Time to get busy. Sunk into VR, Loony unpacks a virtual butterfly net and a lead pipe, searching to Capture a Wireless Signal and then Decrypt the little bugger before sleazing his way onto their little network.

I see a little silhouetto of a man...

[Rastus]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2056 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

((@Hatfield)): Shifting over to the astral plane, the dimming light of the mundane world gives way to the soft glow that the manasphere radiates. It doesn't take a skilled observer to see there's a lack of true magical activity within that airstrip. No spirits(outside of the odd wild one that passes by in a flash), no active wards or spells, and it doesn't look like any of the people within this airstrip that you have observed for the past two days show any magic talent. Almost seems odd, anybody who was planning to secure this place for a long period of time would at least rent a few spirits if they didn't have a mage amoung them...

After a few moments of matrix chatter, Bazz pipes up, his scottish accent filling the airwaves: <<Oi, ya people need to be calmin' down a tad. We been here two days and ya frettin' like we just walked into an ambush. I be sayin' it all again in that I know intel is light on this one, but before we started searchin' none of ya had an idea of where to look.>> The scottish man peeks his head up from the trench to take a look at the airstrip in the distance, <<Though I give ya one thin', it does seem might bit strange that these people are just standin' around waitin'. I too wonder if they be waitin' for our man.>> After ducking back down in the trench, he notices the glances given to him by Loony. "Hey... What are ye lookin' at me like that for..?"

((@Loony)): After launching your programs at the first signal you see, it doesn't take long before any encryption is soundly beaten and you have a captured signal. You've only got the signal from one commlink of theirs, but as luck would have it this guy seems to be in the middle of a text chat, which reads out like so shortly after you copy the text:

<<紅色五>: 在哪裡這個人？應該昨天在這里。>>

<<紅色一>: 說它是引擎。 那這不好。>>

<<紅色五>: 因此他不去來這里？>>

<<紅色一>: 不，他來這里。 應該在所有分鐘現在飛行。>>

Fascinating! Though you still have no idea what they are saying. At least you got some text, maybe it could somehow be used to figure out just what bloody language these wankers are speaking.

[Doc Chase]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2056 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Scaramoush, Scaramoush, will you do the Fan-dan-goooo...

Loony knew it - not-English. It was just long enough to have the right lyrics as well. He reviewed the texts, his battered lead pipe left onto the virtual landscape where it rolled back into his bag in a swarm of pixels. The butterfly net did the same.

He reached into his virtual bag once again and removed what looked to be a small Yorkshire terrier. It wagged its little tail and yipped in delight and glee.

"Awright, Saint Crispin. Go fetch what language this is, and we'll work in a translator on the fly so I can see what's goin' on, yeah? Daddy's got a commnode to break into."

The Yorkie looked at him, yipped once, and said, "You're not the fuckin' boss o' me."

"The hell I'm not! Get your arse to work, boy!"

"I can't get to the Matrix from here!"

"BUGGER ALL!"

With a growl, it was gone - Loony blinked from VR to AR, then sat up to fire off a sub.

<<Makes me want mu shu. Think they're from the Chinese mainland, lads. Gonna need a fucking signal repeater to pirate a translator program. Get me a spool of copper wire, an antennae off one of the cars, and a battery. Gonna extend my range to town, I am.>>

[pragma]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2056 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Ace crawled back into the trench network, set his rifle across his chest and laid down in the same culvert as Loony, his eyes shut and suddenly his body was abdicated and a tiny Wright Brother's biplane zipped into the matrix. Before docking in the Stormcloud's node, Ace carefully inspected the local spectrum. Sophisticated energy detectors and decorrelators multiplied matrices of dizzying size at rates he could only perceive with his brain directly supplemented by no less than three different computers.

As the radar and network scans came back to him he subvocalized <<Eye-in-sky going live. Do watch my back digitally, physically and astrally.>> while carefully maneuvering the drone between the airfield and a wispy cloud with its bottom shadowed by the setting sun.

Just need to get close enough to shoot the mic ... the blimp drifted artfully across the sky.

[Rastus]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2056 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

((@Ace)): As the drone ascends, your pre-flight scans for assorted wireless activity report no hidden nodes. All detected nodes seem to be either active or passive; these guys must really not be expecting interlopers at this time of night to be for them to be so sloppy. There also seems to no radar pings coming from the tower or anywhere else within the airstrip, meaning the Renraku Stormcloud is unlikely to get detected through that method any time soon. Furthermore, no active drones are detected, meaning they really have none or they are all turned off for whatever reason.

With this information in mind, the approach to the airstrip goes on without too much trouble. It was a bit shakey when you were getting close, but thankfully nothing happened that would encourage people to look up and see the miniature blimp hovering above them(no doubt thanks to the mostly silent propulsion) and you make it into range of the laser microphone after a short wait. Your quick glances about the area through the optical sensors of the drone confirm that nobody seems to be aware of the Stormclouds presence as of yet.

The attempt to listen in on the tower works flawlessly, not only did you manage to get a clear reception, you could almost hear the individual breaths of the two occupants whenever they were not engaged in idle chatter. Unfortuntely, you still cannot quite understand the exact words they spoke, but it still got recorded into the drones data storage for you to translate later on.

Attempting to eavesdrop on those within the hangar didn't go quite as smoothly, but you still managed to listen in through use of the fiberglass skylights. What you receive sounds a bit distant, but you nonetheless manage to make out some conversations. But as luck would have it, these guys are also speaking that chinese nonsense that seems so popular with this group, but regardless the sounds are recorded just in case.

[Thanee]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Listening to the chatter on her com, Kerrigan remembers the mods made to her Growler, in order to make it fully operationable in remote spots. If there was no proper Matrix connection available here, the satellite uplink should certainly be able to provide one.

<< @Loony [Lynx] I might have just the right thing for you. My bike has satellite communication installed, that should give you a decent connection to wherever you want. Go ahead and use it, I will open it up in a sec. Just leave it where it is, please. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif) >>

Activating the camo tech on her suit, Kerrigan carefully heads back to the bikes, in order to set up the satellite uplink and then opens up a channel for the team to make use of it.

[pragma]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

<<@Team: More of the same ladies and gentlemen. At least we've got a closer look at any surprises they may try to plan. :Tower_Chatter.audio,Hangar_Chatter.audio>>

After ensuring the drone was well positioned to avoid being spotted and to continue microphoning the structures, Ace started planning the proper ways to take rifle shots at the tower while leveraging his digital speed to ask

<<@Team: Thoughts on how to move forward captain? We're quite able to storm the place, but until we know what they're saying I don't think it will do us much good.>>

[Thanee]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

<< [Lynx] Heck, from how it looks I could do that alone. But I doubt that storming the place would help us at all. If we take these mooks out, then whoever is going to do whatever it is here surely won't show up anymore. No, I'm afraid, we have to stay reactive rather than proactive on this one. Best we can do from my perspective is figuring out from their gibberish what they might be waiting for. >>

[yoippari]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2056 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Staying in astral for a while just in case something new pops up Hatfield misses whatever is sent over text. Even knowing to look for it the blimp is almost invisible in astral. I wonder how close Tucker could get to that house... No, I still don't like that house. Maybe there is something else around, something more native. He looks around for a small animal, a bird maybe. This many people around probably not but they might be use to us being here my now.

[Abschalten]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2056 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Cor frowned when he heard Ace refer to him as "Captain." Some wounds never truly healed properly. Oh, he was certain that Ace and the others meant it in a respectful way, but Cor felt as though he had no right to that title any longer.

I've left that old life behind me. There is nothing to be done about it, and so I move on.

With a shake of his head that brought him back to reality and the mission at hand, Cor began subvocalizing to his team.

<<We're going in there tonight, but we are still going to take our time. Let's use the next few hours to gather intel. I want as much of a layout as can be had from the environs. Ace and Loony, patch through any and all feeds you are getting from these blokes. Let me worry about trying to understand what they're saying to each other. It'll take me a few hours so keep the lines up. And see if between the two of you if you can find any sort of security systems on the premises. I'm assuming Hatfield is a bit preoccupied as of yet, so we'll let him get back to us with an astral report. Kerr--, erm.. Lynx: I'm going to be distracted with trying to break this language barrier. Assist our mates in coming up with a plan of attack. You're a more seasoned combatant than I am so you know how to crack nuts like these, as soft as this one may be. And I don't need to say it, but I will anyway: everyone be on your toes. Something seems amiss, and until we have all the pieces let's assume we know bugger-all.>>

[Thanee]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

<< [Lynx] The question we need an answer to is not how we get in there, but why we should be getting in there. I still don't see how it would benefit us at this point. Unless they happen to guard something in there that would be helpful to us, all we will do is alarming them and thus prevent Tshombe from coming here at all. As far as I can see, there are three things that could happen not including the option of them spotting us, that is. Nothing, then we could still decide to get in there later, but have more time to gather intel. They pack up and leave, at which point we can still stop them. Someone arrives, who might be Tshombe or at least someone important enough to know something about him or what is going on here. >>

[Doc Chase]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2056 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

<<That'll do the job. I've got Saint Crispin takin' care of the translation, I'll be patchin' in their network.

Sah, I've got translatin' covered. 'Leastaways I hope I do.>>

As fast as Lynx had gotten the satlink activated, Loony sent his Yorkie up the pipe to find and translate the communications. The very moment the agent had departed, Loony turned his attention back to the signal he'd been drawing from, following it to the source.

Out of his bag came a set of lockpicks, a magnifying glass and a top hat, which he then fashioned to look like an asian peasant's hat - his miraculous disguise. He started examining the commlink for a way inside - he had an hour to sneak on in.

[Rastus]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2122 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

((@Loony)): It wasn't long after sending out Saint Crispin that he came back in posession of a basic, freeware linguasoft for Mandarin-Chinese. With this new 'soft in hand you and everyone else are finally able to make sense of what these guys are saying... Though the translation is pretty rough; most of the sentances make sense but the words are placed in a very awkward way that almost requires a person to read things twice to understand.

For the most part, all the recently captured chatter between these guys indicates that Tshombe was supposed to be here yesterday, but for some reason was forced to delay that. The chinamen have been complaining ever since, wanting nothing more than to do their deal with Tshombe and go back home, though they haven't yet mentioned what this deal is or where specifically from China they hail from. Tshombe is supposed to arrive tonight, but they don't seem to have an exact time.

About twenty-two minutes into your probing attempts, however, a burst of chatter from your captured wireless signal gives you the idea that Tshombe's arrival is getting close to about now:

(The following text messaging is translated with care by your new freeware linguasoft))
<<Red1>: Got message. Man come now soon. Patrol, throw flame on landing belt.>>
<<Red5>: Obtains it. Now goes.>>

Regardless if they are listening to the matrix chatter or not, everyone in the trench can easily see that something is going on for sure. The two-man patrol that's been going back and forth now runs to a certain spot on the runway and starts pulling out a number of flares, lighting them, and tossing them onto the ground in a rough X-pattern before retreating a short distance to one of the scrap piles that sit close to the runway.

Something wicked this way comes... Likely from the sky, no less!

[Thanee]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2055 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

<< [Lynx] Alright, guys. This looks like we might be having our beds tonight, after all. Get ready, as soon as we have visual confirmation, that the target is, indeed, there, we can begin our approach. >>

Kerrigan heeds her own advice and prepares herself for the arrival of Tshombe.

[Doc Chase]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2122 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Not long after Loony had picked up the freeware linguasoft that Saint Crispin had brought back (tail a-wagging), he'd distributed amongst the team's links as the captured signal continued to stream gibberish - as well as the translation if he'd wanted it - to Cor. Figuring they had at least a dozen other lads and ladies to monitor the communication and were bored enough to do so, Loony busied himself with poking into the commlink firewalls.

At 2122, Saint Crispin started yapping incessantly as a coded burst was captured, decrypted, and translated.

<<Get your head out of your arse, you sad tosser! They're making the road pretty!>>

<<It's not a road, you git. Tell the others-no, I'll tell the others, you'll just muck it up. Keep an eye on the Chinamen.>>

With a graceful log-off, the starry night of the virtual reality coalesced into the starry night of the Algerian landscape. Loony strained his precious ears to listen for the telltale drone of propellers - this was Africa, after all - or for the whooshing thrust of turbojets to signify a more modern vehicle. Maybe even a T-bird. That'd make Ace squidgy with glee.

Lynx was already chattering on the line to get folks ready, and Loony wasted no time chiming in.

<<Way I figure it, sah, we can nab us a sweet aero ride with a little airstrip to handle care and feeding. Trouble is if we kill those Chinamen, an hour later there's gonna be more. Reccome-Er, I mean I'll be on the lookout for wireless traffic. Figure the blimp might be able to get eyes on our aircraft before it comes in. Also figure when they light that strip up, they aren't going to be able to see a thing. Give the word when you want me to start jamming and try to hack their weapons.>>

A half-tick of thought caused a quick message to be sent to Bazz.

<<@Bazz:How'd you find this bloke anyway? Do I need to be worryin' about another tactical net to break into besides this cheap Chinese knock-off?

Sod it all. I'll look anyway. I'll ask about it later when we've got the hibachi set up down there.>>

Now awake, Loony checked the loadout on his rifle one last time before casting out a quiet scan for wireless signals not belonging to the company.

[yoippari]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2122 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Seeing the commotion on the air field Hatfield abandons his search for a little aerial scout and drops out of astral. He catches up on the texts quickly but reading through the translations a couple of times. Backing down below the line of sight to any one on the field he begins his precombat rituals setting his Increase Reflexes spell on it's little grass stalk poppet with a red cross marked doughboy helmet and going over his AK, which he notes ... is much better than the Chinese POS's those grunts are lugging around.

Trying to plan the next half hour or so, because while plans will always fail, planning is essential, (he can't remember if that was from the military or just something he read somewhere) he comes up with a couple of options that will affect everything else.

<<When do we move boys? When the plane is taxiing into the hanger or after it is already in? We have to assume they have vehicles in there.>>

[Rastus]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2122 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

While everyone else is discussing their intent to think of a plan, Bazz tosses a few loaded AK clips to the troops that were hired to bolster the numbers of the company and watch your backs. <<[Bazz] Wha'? I jus' asked around with some people, some of which are under the lot of ya'folks speed dial. Learned about this place rather easy all things considered, but we ain't been bombed yet so it be no trap. As for their tactical networks... Uh... I dunno! I mean, these sods are prob'ly straight out of the jungle, meanin' low tech and minimal wireless chatter to track, but we cannae rule out the possibilty that our man may 'ave brought in some boys trained and equipped for urban assault.>>

It's not long before everyone can hear a light hum belonging to large twin-propeller engines in the distance. After a second, Bazz looks over to the airstrip and speaks up over comms, <<Oi, are you sure that drone is hidden from view of an incomin' plane, Ace? There be no tellin' how they might react if they spot it floatin' about during this nonsense. Prolly lose our element of suprise at least.>>

[Aria]

[Thursday, May 4th 2073, 2122 hours; approx. 14km South of Illizi, Algeria]

Although he knew he didn’t look it, Requiem felt old and jaded next to these youngsters who were so eager to go down there and get shot at. He’d spent the last two days more or less alone with his thoughts and trying to ignore the growing niggle that was his need for an escape into Bliss. Whilst the immunity to pain might be welcome before tonight was done the loss of edge would be unacceptable.

Now that there was a promise of action the slough washed away and he felt the first tingling of pre-combat adrenaline. He revved his wires experimentally to check that the bloody things weren’t as creeky as his bones should have felt and checked the AR diagnostics on his suit and weapons getting a solid green light response.

<<If that plane doesn’t taxi inside do we want to disable it to prevent our target rabbiting? Something that can be easily rectified in case we want to borrow it?>>