[center][h3][color=lightblue]Task Force Charlie: Recon Between Friends[/color][/h3][/center] [center][color=Olive]"Mission Charlie: the spaceport near the capital city of Balya Gora has been under the control of the NPDRE, but some transmissions indicate at least one DropShip has arrived from off-world since the coup. It is very likely that whoever the Crimson Fists are working for, they're also providing new hardware for the Espian Guards. We need to know what is coming off of that ship, and who is sending it to them. "Task Force Charlie will consist of Alley Cat and Desperado. The Raven can scout out the spaceport at range, with the Phoenix Hawk providing cover if needed. If a full scan of the spaceport proves not possible from a distance, or there is no approach without giving away your position, ditch the 'Mechs somewhere safe and approach on foot. Your priorities are to get sensor scans, photographs, captured documents, anything to give us an idea of who is supplying Federov and his cronies, and what they're sending against us. This is strictly reconnaissance, so do not engage the enemy unless absolutely necessary."[/color][/center] [hr] Approaching the first of the three large covered masses, Ziska noticed the pungent, oily smell that stung the nostrils, the tell-tale scent of jet fuel. At first blush, this wasn’t a surprise in and of itself– they were in a spaceport, after all– but most of the fuel tanks surrounding planetary DropShips didn’t carry combustible chemicals. Those ships typically used water as the reaction mass for their massive fusion engines; ethanol and other combustible fuels were typically reserved for atmospheric craft. Airplanes, then. But why were they being serviced here, and not at the airfield hundreds of kilometers away? Acting like she belonged, Ziska walked onwards, lugging the heavy toolbox with set gait of a seasoned MechTech, familiar with the burdens of carrying nuts, bolts, and heavy wrenches. Tarak looked onto the scene and thought about what could be being done. He looked forward and said in a tone only Ziska could hear, [color=gold]”Wonder if they are worried if that airfield will get hit soon. Either way, seems fun”[/color]. A quartet of NPDRE soldiers patrolled between the three covered planes, maked an approach difficult. Tarak watched their patrol pattern as he gestured to Ziska on an area they can both sneak into without being seen while they figured out the pattern as he quietly said, [color=gold]”We go there and maybe we can move around like we are some techs. They might just think of us as some eggheads”[/color]. Tarak said with a slight shrug as he began to wait for a moment when the guards were looking away and slipping into an area near the possible airplanes. Yet their movements were quite tight, enough so where there was no way to sneak in without being seen. [color=Maroon]”--will have your head on a [i]spike[/i] if these craft aren’t operational by sunrise! Is that understood?!”[/color] The voice was coming from the main path towards the planes, accompanied by the rhythmic tromp of heavy boots. [color=LightYellow]”Y-y-yes, ma’am,”[/color] whimpered the voice of a harried crew chief that followed behind. At the sound of the approaching voices, the soldiers patrolling between the covered aircraft all suddenly found themselves very motivated to continue their patrol as far away from the approaching footfalls as possible. A risk, but an opportunity. The once tight movements of the guards slowly fanned more and more out until it opened a large enough gap for them to sneak in. Tarak motioned for Ziska to go first, as he watched the patrols continued. They slowly shifted more and more, as he found time for himself. At last, Ziska reached one of the huge tarps, opposite from the raging voice that dressed down the humiliated crew chief. Ziska raised the tarp to look inside. Confirming suspicions, it was in fact an aircraft, and not just any. The main fuselage of the plane was narrow and almost cylindrical, with a pair of winglets flaring out from either side of the cockpit, and a pair of wide, flat delta wings spreading out towards its tail. It was an ugly, ungainly plane, one that looked like it had been built completely around a single gun…which it was. The sight of one of these things in the air was enough to make the hair of any Mechwarrior that had read their technical readouts turn white. A Mechbuster. They knew that the Espian Guards already had a squadron of Meteor conventional fighters, but Mechbusters were something else. While it mounted hardpoints for missiles, bombs, and other external weapons, the plane only carried one onboard weapon: a Zeus-75 Mark IX Autocannon, a beast of a gun equal to the cannon mounted on Merry-Go-Round. A single burst of fire from a Zeus-75 was enough to cripple most light or medium Battlemechs, and a well-struck hit could destroy one outright. If there was any saving grace, it was that Mechbusters were notorious for having precious little ammunition. Even then, it made for a terrifying dive-bomber. [color=Maroon]”--should already be bearing down on the Green Knights, not waiting for your pathetic technicians to keep fumbling about with assembly and complaining about ‘skilled labor shortages.’”[/color] [color=LightYellow]”Y-y-yes, Ma’am,”[/color] the crew chief sputtered, [color=LightYellow]”b-b-but the laborers being brought in from F-F-Fort Tie Shan haven’t b-been trained on this equipment! We n-n-need time to–”[/color] [color=Maroon]”Make another excuse, and I’ll hold you down and step on your face.”[/color] [color=LightYellow]”.....m-Ma’am?”[/color] Despite the voices, Ziska made no sudden movements to dart into cover of the shadows. Instead Ziska moved towards the voices. Moving just like she had seen her MechTechs Ziska raised the second tarp, finding another Mechbuster waiting beneath.The Espian Guard were a third string planetary garrison at best. Mechbusters. A pair of Mechbusters, fresh enough at a glance, were not something the Espian Guard were supposed to be able to field. Not without some serious help. And not without some real support by the way of under the table C-Bills. Tarak sighed as he quietly said to Ziska, [color=gold]”Seems like they have quite a trouble with these, how about I make it a little harder”[/color]. Tarak said as he began to open his tool box and began producing items as he said to her, [color=gold]”You go see what else they got, I’ll start fucking with this one”[/color]. [color=Maroon]”--don’t [i]care[/i] about your excuses, you simpering peasant!”[/color] roared the first voice, getting closer. The voice sounded oddly familiar. [color=Maroon]”The Crimson Fists have come to this world to bring an unholy wrath upon those we deem our enemies. And the more you test my patience, the more I’m beginning to see [i]you[/i] as an enemy. Do I need to explain what will happen to you if you continue to annoy me?”[/color] [color=LightYellow]”N-n-no, Mom– err, Ma’am!”[/color] [color=Maroon][i]”What was that?!?!”[/i][/color] [color=LightYellow]”M-m-Ma’am! I said ma’am!”[/color] Waving to Tarak, Ziska walked calmly forward, trying to get close enough to the third plastic enshrouded figure. The Colonel owed her, she decided. She was going to find out what the Espian Guard had acquired. He had asked for recon. And by the grace of the Magistrix herself, Ziska was going to deliver, come hell or high water. The third aircraft, still obscured by the tarp, had a different shape from the first two. It was wider, flatter than the two Mechbusters, and Ziska could make out enough of a profile to assume it was a flying wing. Moreover, the craft was surrounded by heavy crates, also covered by tarps and camo netting, though these tarps were festooned with warning signs suggesting high explosives. Along the ferrocrete deck, a thick fuel line ran underneath the tarp to a large water tanker. Unlike the two Mechbusters, this craft had a fusion engine. If Ziska could just get close enough to see– [color=Maroon]“You there!”[/color] Turning slowly, Ziska saw a woman in dark red military garb and a long black coat, the lower half of her face covered by a scarlet scarf. [color=Maroon]”Come here,”[/color] the woman said, her voice burning with a hateful cruelty. [color=Maroon]”I wish to demonstrate to our dear crew chief what happens to those who displease the Fire Witch.”[/color] The Fire Witch, the pilot of the [i]Longbow[/i] that had nearly destroyed Ziska’s [i]Raven,[/i] approached Ziska, reaching into the inner pocket of her coat. From it, she pulled a length of cord, about two feet in length tipped with a metal ball. With a flick of her wrist, the cord began to buzz with electricity. A neural lash, one of the most barbaric forms of torture in the Inner Sphere. Even owning one was considered a war crime in most civilized nations… Summoning a face of careful fear, Ziska resisted the urge to reach for the pistol she had shoved into the toolbox. She approached meekly, timidly lowering her head, letting panic seep deep into her throat. She had seen a neural lash before. She had felt the sting as her nerves burned with lightning. What did some soft Inner Sphere mercenaries know about cruelty? She had seen worse. Periphery pirates were not known for their compassion. But she had to pretend. Information was more important. Ziska would kill. Ziska would shoot without hesitation. A pirate for a mech commander. Not a bad trade. Not a poor exchange in most circumstances. However, the Green Knights desperately needed information. And the Colonel needed intelligence even more. She wouldn’t make it out of the spaceport if she started blasting. She couldn’t be Ziska. She had to be someone else. Someone afraid. Someone unimportant. She was nobody. A civilian mech tech. Afraid. Uncertain and completely terrified of the woman standing in front of her. She had heard the stories about the Crimson Fists. And she knew the rumors. [color=Maroon]“This is the sort of miserable lot your planet has to offer?”[/color] the Fire Witch jeered, her voice thick with contempt. [color=Maroon]”It’s no wonder your crew is late getting the planes airborne. Had you done your job properly, we would be raining death on the Green Knights’ hideout this very minute. How many days do you expect the delay?”[/color] [color=LightYellow]”Th-th-three days, Ma’am.”[/color] [color=Maroon]”Three days,”[/color] the Crimson Fists’ lance leader growled as she toyed with the neural lash in her hand. [color=Maroon]”I believe one for each day should be plenty.”[/color] Before Ziska could even see she had moved, the Fire Witch struck with a backhanded blow from the electrified lash. The steel ball on the end of the cord caught the pirate across the eyebrow, splitting the skin of her forehead. In the split-second the lash made contact, it made an angry crackling sound, pouring hundreds of volts into her victim, and sending Ziska crashing to the ground with a pained scream. [color=Maroon]”Take comfort in small blessings,”[/color] the Fire Witch mocked at Ziska’s agony. [color=Maroon]”A few millimeters lower, and I would have taken your eye. Now then…”[/color] As the enemy Mechwarrior raised her arm for a second strike, the crew chief spoke up. [color=LightYellow]”W-w-ait!”[/color] he spouted. [color=LightYellow]”I c-c-can’t stand to see my workers punished for m-my responsibility. If you’re going to p-punish someone, p-punish me.”[/color] The Fire Witch regarded him, then lowered her scarf to spit at the ground in front of Ziska. Even in her immense pain, Ziska saw something…[i]off[/i] about her face. The scar running down over her eye looked appropriately fearsome, but it quickly tapered off, and she could swear she saw a seam at the bottom… [color=Maroon]”Thank your chief for his sacrifice, worker,”[/color] she said as she quickly covered her face again. [color=Maroon]”However, I expect the planes to be operational in [i]two[/i] days now. Otherwise I might not be so merciful.”[/color] As the Fire Witch turned to storm away, the crew chief lingered behind for a moment. [color=LightYellow]”Sh-she’s not k-kidding,”[/color] he said to Ziska. [color=LightYellow]”For the n-next two days, it’ll be d-double shifts for……wait……who the hell are you?!”[/color] Pulling herself onto her knees, Ziska looked up at the crew chief, letting herself shake with a deep series of sobs as heavy tears ran from her eyes, “I- I’m not even supposed to be here. I was just on leave. I was just supposed to grab some more supplies and then they told me they needed every technician. I told them! I told them I was just a civilian, but they didn’t care.” Burying her face in her hands and channeling all the terror she could imagine, Ziska cried for a solid minute before looking up again, making sure that her hands were suitably streaked with blood. “Please, I need a med kit.” The crew chief frowned; changes in the roster were supposed to go by him in advance, especially around the valuable new air assets. It had to have been Nizitsky, grabbing one of the conscripted civilians so he could slack off. He’d make sure that slacker had hell to pay for it on the next shift. [color=LightYellow]“You stay right here,”[/color] he told the injured civilian before turning back to the Fire Witch. [color=LightYellow]“Err, Ma’am, her injury does look severe. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll head to the infirmary to grab a medkit.”[/color] The masked Mechwarrior nodded slowly, still toying with the neural lash. [color=Maroon]“Tend to the wound enough to ensure she is not rendered useless, but make sure it leaves a scar. I want everyone this woman works with to see the price for shoddy work.”[/color] [color=LightYellow]“Y-yes Ma’am,”[/color] he nodded. [color=LightYellow]“D-don’t go anywhere,”[/color] he said to Ziska as the two turned and walked away. Ziska waited only until she was sure she was alone to stop her sobbing. Practically jumping to her feet, any hint of fear or sorrow was gone, instead her eyes glittered with cold anger. Blood ran slowly down her face. The Firewitch had made her bleed. She’d made her bleed again. Faced with thoughts of vengeance, Ziska retreated to icy professionalism. Lifting the tarp, Ziska repressed an unwelcome laugh. A gull-winged aerospace fighter, heavier and far more armored than the fragile Mechbusters. A Shilone, a deadly aircraft that any experienced MechWarrior could recognize. The bunker buster bombs arrayed neatly next to it, ready to be loaded, promised nothing good for the Green Knights or anything else that they hit. Satisfied, Ziska moved quickly away from the three unveiled aircraft. She retreated into the shadows, heading back towards where she had entered the spaceport with Tarak. She had no intention of being there when the crew chief returned. Her story wouldn’t survive any serious investigation or probing questions. She trusted that Tarak would manage by himself. His sabotage mission was his own. She couldn’t help him. Time was up. She had learned enough. It was time to get back to the Green Knights. Tarak had spent much of this time under the tarps of one of the planes. He had spent a majority of the time rigging the plane for when it was to fire their guns. The electrical signals will be instead routed to ignite within the fuel lines. Tarak hoped that when they tried to take off, they would crash and burn with the pilots. A dream for sure, but it should buy time with one of the planes being down, they’d need to take a serious look at the engineering crew. Once Tarak finished rigging the first plane he had slowly crawled out from under the tarp and slowly moved between the planes. He saw the scene unfold, as Ziska was bashed in the head by this witch. Yet he could not respond, him being seen is the worst case, as once he made it under the next plane, he tried doing the same thing before, but began to hear the conversation wind down and knew he didn’t have the time. He decided once a panel was open, to shove one of the repossessed tools into a cramp set of wires and pipes, and try to wrench out as much he can to damage what he could. It was a small thing, but it would at least make them second guess what they were working on. FInally once that was done and he heard the final remarks of each person, Tarak slowly came out of the tarp. He looked to Ziska and said, [color=gold]”What we got….oh boy, now that is a fun thing, Colonel will love to hear this”[/color]. Tarak sighed as he thought for a moment, he knew he didn’t have enough time to jerry rig something, and knew he couldn’t get enough time to do anything without being seen, it was Ziska who broke the silence as she said, “We got the info, no need to start some fireworks”. Tarak sighed before agreeing. With the assistance of Tarak, Ziska moved quickly as they began to backtrack. They needed to move fast, and little time could be wasted. Their get away was nowhere near as smooth as their entrance, yet that wouldn’t matter within moments. They had to move quickly, and slightly without worry. Tarak was approached a few times by security, he had used his larger body and suppressed firearm to quickly deal with them, not worrying too much about the bodies left. For Ziska, she was able to sneak by because of her injury, using it to excuse herself from the multiple guards moving. Once they had made it back to the maintenance shack the two grabbed their gear they stashed and began to make their way back to their battlemechs. Once they were able to mount up, the race was on. The [i]Phoenix Hawk[/i] and the [i]Raven[/i] were both extremely fast mechs, yet they couldn’t fully use it without giving themselves away, so they had to move quickly yet quiet. They had little time before the base would know that an intruder was once there, but it was enough time for them to get away. It was maybe 20 minutes when they began to enter traveling speeds and began to head back to base. During this escape a direct pulse transmission came through to the [i]Raven[/i], [color=gold]”I think we did okay”[/color].