[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0effdb4a-c331-4f93-8463-8aee19d76375.jpg[/img][/center]

[center][h2]Raider's Base[/h2][/center]

After setting the loop requirements, Rave had pulled up a chair and sat down, waiting. And as a sniper, one would think that his patience levels would be legendary, but that was not the case, as after around twenty minutes, he was already restless. A lot of it had to do with the current situation, with their only knowledge of the lay of the land being what they can see and feel safe scouting. The light scouts would hopefully alleviate some of that, since their armor allowed them to move faster in a shorter amount of time than what even the Spectre could do, but not knowing where they stood in regards to their enemies or potential enemies made him unnecessarily nervous.

After thirty minutes, he radioed one of the starports to get a medivac prepped for departure to the northern border after confirming that Hellion and Predator patrols were beginning to reach out that far. In fact, there was already an outpost being built there with some of Stetmann's new camo netting, which would allow the scouts and marines posted there to remain out of sight unless whatever they spotted was practically on top of them. The news was reassuring to the Spectre, because it meant that anyone who might arrive after the psion left that day would have someplace to stay until he arrived for more picks ups the following day.

As the clock hit the forty-five minute mark, at which point Rave was too restless to stay any longer, an answering call came in, from perhaps the last person the Spectre had ever expected to hear it from. "This is .... This is Operative X41822N to Raider transmitter," came the stammering reply "Requesting extraction." He turned to get coordinates to the calls position, which were promptly handed to him by the gal in charge of Coms for the day. Reading them over, he then answers the wayward Ghost.

[color=SteelBlue]"Copy that, Miss Terra. Remain where you are and we'll be there to pick you up in twenty mikes. Over and out."[/color] Rushing out of the command center, he gathers up a small team of three marines, a Ghost and Spectre, and a couple of marauders, ordering them to the medivac. He then set out to acquire one of their few combat medics. Their training was somewhat different, as they were not only given their standard medical training, they were given training in sidearms, revolvers, and how to use their shields as makeshift bludgeoning weapons effectively. It took another five minutes of arguing with the Lieutenant in charge of the combat medics before he had permission to take one.

Once he had the rescue party gathered, the medivac was in the air and en route to Terra Nova's location. [color=SteelBlue]"We're in route, Terra. Pop flares in two mikes so we know where to land."[/color]