Clusterfrag

Val nods soberly and suppresses a half-relieved, half-apprehensive sigh.

"Yeah. That first scratch in the paint job is always the most painful. I'm all game for saving it for another day."

Preferably a day when I'm not riding in the damn thing, Val amends silently.

Val calls up an AR window and subscribes to the Hound's control node in what will, without a doubt, be the easiest subscription attempt he'll perform all fragging day. He downloads the chopper's Vehicle ID and files it away for later use. The wind tousles his hair through the open visor of his helmet as he turns his head to look out the open window at the BioDrive facility and waits for Doc to set them down safely.

Val's AR window fragments into boxes and the animations jump around like they're seizing. There's definite interference coming from the facility.

Sitting in the chopper, "I'm going in for a closer look, be right back."

Tyros' features relax as if in sleep as the big troll suddenly goes limp.

Tyros is floating a short distance from the facility, it's features indistinct in the astral plane, but the auras of the surrounding living matter stand out like rainbows. The big troll is dressed in stylized plate armor, with a tartan kilt hanging from his waste to his knees. His massive claymore glows softly, and seems weightless, as he holds it lightly in parade rest.

Making a quick circuit of the facility, Tyros notes all the astral signatures that appear, but is careful not to go into the building itself lest he been see by one of the mages who happens to be using astral vision.

Muttering to himself in frustration, Val runs his ECCM program and calls up another AR window.

Sinjin's earlier playfulness seems to have dissipated, replaced by a stone faced cool as contact with the enemy becomes more imminent. He begins prepping his gear for deployment, checking the pins and fasteners of various grenades, whetting the edges of gleaming knives, and ticking off a checklist of infiltration equipment that includes wire cutters, restraints, cutting torches and everything in between. Sensing the nerves and pre-combat jitters of his companions, he gives Val a reassuring nod.

Adams keeps the helicopter low to the deck as it circles around behind the ridge. He scans the back of the hill for a place to touch down.

Val momentarily reduces the opacity of his AR window so he can look at his teammates.

"Be advised. There's a fragging military-grade jamming signal or some other sort of inconceivably potent interference coming from the facility. I'm trying to break through it with ECCM, but we may have to revise our plan. Just give me a minute to either break through or confirm the futility of trying to hack the SAM battery."

Val probes the facility with his wireless signal over and over, yielding no results. The only obvious conclusion he can draw is that something is projecting an EM field preventing signals to and from the interior of the building.

Adams taps the control stick with his fingertips as he maintains the helicopter's hover.

"Okay, as I see it, we have three options: A- we set down behind this hill and hike in. B- We hop out here, peek over the top of the ridge, and try to take out that SAM with small arms. C- We pop the chopper over the ridgeline, and try to take out the SAM with our main guns before it has a chance to break through our signature mask and ECM to get a bead on us."

Val squeezes his eyes shut and wipes a frustrated palm down his face.

"Much as I hate all three of those options for different reasons, I'm gonna say A or C. If we start taking pot shots with small arms, we're risking detection with little chance of it paying off. If someone's monitoring that SAM on a security console, they'll see the node drop off and they'll be able to get men on the roof before we even spin this chopper back up. At least if we go in with Vindicators blazing, we can likely take out that SAM, touch down, and establish a perimeter around the chopper before a response team can investigate. This chopper's probably got a better chance against that SAM than against a bunch of pissed-off mages hurling fireballs. If we're gonna kick the anthill, let's kick it fragging hard."

Val is mildly surprised at his own last statement. He peeks out the window at the treacherous ridge wall leading to the rear of the facility and smiles wanly. "If we don't want to blow cover, I'd suggest we hike in, but I might never forgive any of you for that decision."

Max rubs his chin and says,

"No way are we getting in there quietly. I'd say we proceed however we're most likely to take out that SAM. Tyros, you just need line of sight, don't you? Does that mean you can destroy it from here, outside of its range? Maybe just cast a few of those nifty spells of yours until it disintegrates."

(( If you CAN hit it and we're outside of the thing's range, it seems like you could cast a few low level powerballs or something to take it out without really risking any drain. ))

Tyros comes back to life as his astral spirit returns to his body after having made a circuit of the facility. Tyros takes a second to gather his bearings. Retiring to the flesh is always a bit disturbing, as he swaps the weightlessness of astral space for the mass of his body.

Listening to the teams discussion, Tyros gets out of the chopper and walks up to the ridge line to lay eyes on the SAM. "Yes, I can hit it. It's a mobile SAM so it should be relatively flimsy. Let's be ready to fly in as soon as I take it out."

Taking a pitcher's stance, Tyros hurls (centering) a small, pulsing blue sphere at the SAM (powerball, f2; just doing some damage to it should be enough to make it non functional)

(( Check out the rules on non-living objects, you won't be able to channel energy to the SAM without a higher threshold. ))

Tyros gathers magic but feels the astral dissonance caused by the inorganic SAM turret.

Adams can see that something is not right. The pyrotechnic display that Tyros has exhibited on many other occasions suddenly fizzles out around him.

He grits his teeth, and comms,

< Okay, folks. We're doing this the old fashioned way. >

Releasing the controls, he closes his eyes and jumps back into the mind of the helicopter. Status readouts become minor aches and pressures, felt rather than seen. The thrill returns.

The signature masking already running, he mentally switches on the vehicle's state-of-the-art ECM, blasting every frequency in the spectrum with a shrill screech of garbage data. The anti missile defense system begins it search pattern as he tenses up the knot of muscle that is the helicopter's engine, and tilts the blades down, pulling the machine into the sky.

The top of the ridge drops below him just as he pops off a round of chaff from the lock-on countermeasures, and begins a fast, steep glide toward the landing pad. There it is, he thinks, spotting the SAM battery. Both vindicators spin up and Doc sends a wall of lead at their target.

Max grits his teeth and digs his fingers into his seat's armrests as the chopper closes in on combat. The massive engine roars inside the belly of the mechanical beast which the team rides. The WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP of the blades overhead is deafening. Max has a hard time accepting the moment because he realizes that his life is completely in the hands of his teammate, but the experience he has with this group of men allows him to relinquish control. The elf relaxes into his seat and does his best to trust Doc.

((I was able to blast walls and stuff before? What do you mean I would have a higher threshold? Could I have used lightening bolt instead?))

(( Check out SR4, page 204. Direct combat spells against non-living targets. ))

The Hound thunders through the sky, leaving naught but a contrail of heat-distorted air in its wake. The vibration from the rotors is visceral; a perfect staccato to compliment the team's frenzied heart beats. Details of the facility roof come into sharp relief remarkably fast. A hundred square meters of flat ferro-crete rises up to greet the assault. At the center, a reinforced heli-pad stands on titanium risers.

The SAM reacts quickly, a small green box mounted on a coil of actuators and power cables. It swivels, hesitates momentarily as the targeting computer makes calculations that would take an eon with a slide rule, and emits a single puff of smoke. The anti-aircraft missile moves too fast to be discernible. It's simply motion. Doc banks hard, the G-force pounding the team like a body slam.

Missile #1 encounters the chaff, finds nothing, sails past. The Hound moves forward, nose down.

The Vindicators reach their nominal RPM. Suddenly the roof top is all dust, rubble and flame. The path of destruction traces its way along the ferro-crete as Doc drags the nose. The SAM is lost in the chaos.

Adams doesn't wait.

The blades of the main rotor flatten out as the chopper bleeds off altitude at a stomach-fluttering rate. The bottom-mounted visual sensors make lining up the landing almost too easy.

The pad rushes up into one of his fields of vision, and he pitches the rotors down again. Gravity returns with a vengeance as the helicopter slows its descent just above the pad, blowing away the smoke and dust from the brief exchange, and laying bare the chewed remains of the roof and missile launcher.

< Tyros, can you levitate down the landing pad? > He comms, barely able to keep the exhilaration out of his virtual voice.

The chopper landed on the roof, Max steps out quickly with his shotgun raised and trained at the roof access door. There are going to be hostiles, and they're going to be coming fast.

His heart pounding in his chest, Val begins to unfasten the harness strapping him to his seat with a speed borne of adrenaline-fueled necessity. He grabs the frame of the chopper and plants his feet at the edge of the open door. He surveys the wreckage that was once the roof, though he can only make out the details within a few meters of the chopper.

"That was..." Val licks dry lips and clears his throat. "That was fraggin' awesome."

Ferrocrete dust and small particles of debris lick up in a dervish around the chopper's radius, as if inside a great centrifuge. The landing skids touch down on the titanium diamond-plate. The only cover on the small landing platform are the titanium riser arms that hold the pad 2 meters above the surface of the roof.

As the dust begins to settle, the team can make out a group of figures rushing up the ramp that leads into the facility's top floor.

Adams spools down the helicopter, leaving only an oppressive silence on the landing pad that's only broken by the occasional desert breeze. He disconnects from the helicopter, leaving the machine's computer and sensors active.

Damn, we're a far ways from everything, he thinks, gazing at the empty horizon.

He sets the computer to comm him if the exterior sensors detect any movement. Sliding out of his seat, he frees the light turret from its straps on the front wall of the passenger area. Extending the legs of the tripod, and setting it down in the middle of the helicopter's open door, he says, "You know the drill, General, don't shoot us, and don't shoot anyone who isn't armed. If they attack you or the chopper, they're fair game."

He grabs the new armor suit's helmet, and pulls it over his head. The seals hiss and click as they engage. He opens the visor and hops out of the Hound.

An explosion of glittering violet flame slams into the side of the elevated heli-pad. The men on the roof are spreading out, some seeking cover behind the ferrocrete hood over the ramp and some charging straight at the team. There's no doubt that these are the eco-terrorists in the surveillance video.

[ Doc = 53 ]
[ Max = 45 ]
[ Terrorist 4 = 45 ] < cover
[ Terrorist 3 = deceased ]
[ Terrorist 2 = deceased ] < cover
[ Terrorist 1 = 37 ] < cover
[ Val = 36 ]
[ Terrorist 5 = 34 ]
[ Sinjin = 31 ]
[ The General = 22 ]
[ Tyros = 15 ]

The titanium risers are the only suitable cover to be seen.

(( And another change! ))

Adams curses and dives behind one of the risers. He tries to call up the Hound, but the EM interference is too strong. He draws a bead on Terrorist 3, and fires a burst of AV rounds.

((Jesus, the posts are moving fast today. I didn't even have time to prepare for combat!))

Max dives for cover with his compatriot and, using his flexicam, fires on the first terrorist he sees.

(( Gunning for Terrorist 3 here. Also, I'm aiming for good cover-- not just partial. ))

(( 13P DAMAGE! ))

A whiff of blood fills the air as Doc's burst stops the charging man dead in his tracks.

Max is short of his mark and tucks back into cover.

(( 6P DAMAGE! ))

Doc feels searing pain as he's engulfed by a green fireball.
(( 3S DAMAGE. ))

Terrorist #2 points a finger (( centering )) at Max.

"Bang."
Max leaps away from the riser as a bolt of lightning slams into, sending sparks flying in a dizzying plume.

Terrorist #1 lets out a hoot and fires on Max's position with a rifle.
The first shot ricochets off of a riser.
The second shot embeds itself in the armor plates of the Hound.

(( Val's up. ))

Val squints his eyes as Doc is momentarily lost to sight in a blinding flash of green light. He can feel the static charge in the air from the lightning bolt which narrowly avoided hitting Max's position. He forcibly switches his racing mind off, draws a bead on Terrorist 5, and sends a burst in his direction.

(( 10P DAMAGE! ))

Val's burst scores a serious wound on the eco-terrorist.

(( Just a reminder that you guys need to take a simple action to get to cover. Val, you still have one left. ))