February 11th, 2013
Tuscon, AZ
United States Air Force Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Center
Altitude: 1200 meters
The first two nights had gone fine. Each time we'd gotten in and out, silently, with a full squadron of Tomcats tractored to the Sleipnir's hull. The stealth field was working perfectly, the ship was hovering and ready, and the sensor team was checking to be sure there weren't any wandering zoomies in the way.
'Be discreet', Caldwell had said. So instead of my usual management style, I was standing back and letting Elza run the show. That's Elza Rubenoth, at the time Captain of Sleipnir, nowadays she's... but I get ahead of myself. From the command station, she ordered, "Take us down another two hundred meters, and scan again. We don't want any - "
"I've got life-forms on the ground around the planes!" The sensor tech, Patty, was keeping a close eye out for any possible interruptions.
"Not another bunch of coyotes again," whined Rumy. Maybe I shouldn't have brought her in on this, but she was part of the team dynamic, and I did kind of need them.
"Not this time." Amy Bauer was just as young as Rumy, but far more mature and competant, thank gods. "Ten, no, twelve humans, no obvious biomods or cyber, no heavy weapons. Small arms only. No radiating sensor gear that I can pick up."
Rabby Newman, the first officer -no Marsden you will NOT think that stupid 'first mate' pun, Amy would kill you - sighed and shook her head. "Wonderful. Just wooonderful. And here I thought the bossman had it all sweet and neat with the Cranky Colonel."
"Take us down to one hundred meters," Elza snapped. "Amy, get me a visual."
"Working on it," Amy called back, as Lafiel and Jinto took the ship further down. We levelled off at one hundred meters, as specified, and the cameras started working on the image. "Got it," and then the air in front of the former tug's windows was filled with a pair of images. "Running intelligence matches... and we have a winner. Samir al-Muqtadi, wanted for questioning in relation to a weapons/drugs cache found in Florida. Iranian by birth, supposedly here in the US to attend... flight school."
"Riiiight," Elza drawled out. "Flight school. Bet he's not practicing too many landings. Alright, what've you got on his buddy?"
"Zhang Cao, Chinese national. Shouldn't be anywhere near an Air Force base. Supposedly a journalist, but he's on the Watch List."
"Which means he isn't supposed to be anywhere in the country, much less a military base," I had to chip in. "Damnit, it's my fault. If I hadn't asked for the planes, the zoomies wouldn't have dialed back their security."
Elza shook her head and peered closer at the screen showing the locations of the now-for-certain Tangos. "Don't flog yourself, Chris. You couldn't have known they'd be watching the place and getting ready to make their own run." She clicked on the intercom. "Lufy, are the drop teams ready?"
"Ready and rarin' to go, Skipper. We've been watching the sensor feed down here and we're all set to give the bluesuits a nice bit of payback for all those lovely planes we've been borrowing."
"Well, it's time you started. Zats only, no fatalities. This might be a sting."
"Roger. Drop teams... go!"
(OOC: BA; it might be possible. Rockhounds plans on keeping things kind of close to their vests until they're ready to lay all the cards on the table. On the other hand, once they've done so, mecha are pretty popular. They probably won't sell off any of the "live" Valks (the ones built from original F-14 hulls), but 'export' models may be made available. Any thoughts on if I should try to get some Alphas? There -are- a couple of hundred F-15's in AMARC...)
(OOC2: Whee! I wrote a story with more than one scene! Let's see if I can keep it up.)
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.
Tuscon, AZ
United States Air Force Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Center
Altitude: 1200 meters
The first two nights had gone fine. Each time we'd gotten in and out, silently, with a full squadron of Tomcats tractored to the Sleipnir's hull. The stealth field was working perfectly, the ship was hovering and ready, and the sensor team was checking to be sure there weren't any wandering zoomies in the way.
'Be discreet', Caldwell had said. So instead of my usual management style, I was standing back and letting Elza run the show. That's Elza Rubenoth, at the time Captain of Sleipnir, nowadays she's... but I get ahead of myself. From the command station, she ordered, "Take us down another two hundred meters, and scan again. We don't want any - "
"I've got life-forms on the ground around the planes!" The sensor tech, Patty, was keeping a close eye out for any possible interruptions.
"Not another bunch of coyotes again," whined Rumy. Maybe I shouldn't have brought her in on this, but she was part of the team dynamic, and I did kind of need them.
"Not this time." Amy Bauer was just as young as Rumy, but far more mature and competant, thank gods. "Ten, no, twelve humans, no obvious biomods or cyber, no heavy weapons. Small arms only. No radiating sensor gear that I can pick up."
Rabby Newman, the first officer -no Marsden you will NOT think that stupid 'first mate' pun, Amy would kill you - sighed and shook her head. "Wonderful. Just wooonderful. And here I thought the bossman had it all sweet and neat with the Cranky Colonel."
"Take us down to one hundred meters," Elza snapped. "Amy, get me a visual."
"Working on it," Amy called back, as Lafiel and Jinto took the ship further down. We levelled off at one hundred meters, as specified, and the cameras started working on the image. "Got it," and then the air in front of the former tug's windows was filled with a pair of images. "Running intelligence matches... and we have a winner. Samir al-Muqtadi, wanted for questioning in relation to a weapons/drugs cache found in Florida. Iranian by birth, supposedly here in the US to attend... flight school."
"Riiiight," Elza drawled out. "Flight school. Bet he's not practicing too many landings. Alright, what've you got on his buddy?"
"Zhang Cao, Chinese national. Shouldn't be anywhere near an Air Force base. Supposedly a journalist, but he's on the Watch List."
"Which means he isn't supposed to be anywhere in the country, much less a military base," I had to chip in. "Damnit, it's my fault. If I hadn't asked for the planes, the zoomies wouldn't have dialed back their security."
Elza shook her head and peered closer at the screen showing the locations of the now-for-certain Tangos. "Don't flog yourself, Chris. You couldn't have known they'd be watching the place and getting ready to make their own run." She clicked on the intercom. "Lufy, are the drop teams ready?"
"Ready and rarin' to go, Skipper. We've been watching the sensor feed down here and we're all set to give the bluesuits a nice bit of payback for all those lovely planes we've been borrowing."
"Well, it's time you started. Zats only, no fatalities. This might be a sting."
"Roger. Drop teams... go!"
(OOC: BA; it might be possible. Rockhounds plans on keeping things kind of close to their vests until they're ready to lay all the cards on the table. On the other hand, once they've done so, mecha are pretty popular. They probably won't sell off any of the "live" Valks (the ones built from original F-14 hulls), but 'export' models may be made available. Any thoughts on if I should try to get some Alphas? There -are- a couple of hundred F-15's in AMARC...)
(OOC2: Whee! I wrote a story with more than one scene! Let's see if I can keep it up.)
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.