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[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HOsIF00LnlA]Three kilometres above the combat zone[/url], Private Caroline Lidmann lay crouched in the corner of a metal box.  Strictly, the box was part of the [i]Ramon Alcaraz[/i] below; a portal, pressed up against the angled surface of the inner side of the point of the prow, effectively transported the surface as high up as she wanted.  She’d got herself there by agility, safely and rapidly conveying herself with an initial portal across the deck of the [i]Alcaraz[/i] and then swinging through this one, using the portal’s edge and the virtual edge of the prow through the portal to lever herself up.  The result?  On the reverse side, only the dark and empty skies as seen from aboard the ship; on the obverse, a crow’s nest from which to scan the battlefield, one from which Callie could see nearly to two hundred kilometres away if she projected her night vision goggle-enhanced sight past any interfering cloud with Charter.

She scanned across that distance with practised efficiency.  The soft, cold, familiar pull on her stamina and the resonances from feet scrambling across the deck only emphasised that her time up here was limited.  Already, she knew the situation directly below her was dire; every second gained her more information but took lives in trade.  Callie grimaced, pushing down the guilt and the bile – the [i]Supply[/i] and the [i]Stalwart[/i] were the priorities.

What she saw was…  Odd.  She leant into her radio, sending her intel down to the others.  [color=f7941d]“Got a scattering of a half-dozen small craft, spread in a rough line from hostile base to a couple hundred clicks northeast,”[/color] she intoned, careful not to give away her [i]own[/i] position in case there was someone else listening in who’d broken their encryption.  The ‘hostile base’ was Mischief Reef, itself a couple of hundred kilometres to the southwest from her – Callie had [i]barely[/i] made out its shadow at the edge of her vision, even with Charter’s aid.  She frowned, looking at the boats, seeing the shapes of people moving aboard but…  [color=f7941d]“Crewed, but look dead – no wake.  Two more groups of heavier vessels, too – fifty clicks east southeast of base and a hundred clicks north-northeast of base.  Northeast group heading southeast; other isn’t moving.”[/color]

Now for the more pressing matter; she zoomed away, to the ominous shape looming above the ocean.  [color=f7941d]“Also, hundred clicks northeast of base and couple up – hovering antique craft.”[/color]  ‘Antique’ – either the product of a Noble Arm or one itself.  [color=f7941d]“Headed southeast, fifty clicks ahead of northeast group, closing with Snapper.”[/color]  The codename for the [i]Stalwart[/i] and [i]Supply[/i]’s group.  Callie pressed her lips together, turning on her goggles’ thermal imaging, scanning the deck.  [color=f7941d]“Got dozens aboard – possible AMs.  Looking –”[/color]

She winced as her image suddenly shone bright, rapidly bringing her hand up to [i]switch the thermal imaging back off again.[/i]  [color=f7941d]“Antique just opened up.”  [i]And God, it’s got range for something that old-looking – must be 30, 40 miles off…[/i]  “Requesting conveyance orders and permission to target VIPs on antique.  Recommend engaging as ordered.”  [i]Can’t throw ourselves in close to that flying ship – don’t know what it or anyone aboard can do yet,[/i][/color] she thought, even as another part of her mind cursed the fact that she was forced to use this imprecise half-jargon lest her military ‘inexperience’ be revealed as the mirage it was.  [color=f7941d][i]Better to hijack the corvettes and turn their firepower on their allies.[/i][/color]  Pre-emptively, she affixed Charter to her rifle.  [color=f7941d][i]I, on the other hand, can test it.[/i][/color]

Many Arms Masters wouldn’t [i]die[/i] from a bullet to the head, projected across one hundred kilometres of space – but it would still probably [i]hurt like hell[/i].

[@Letter Bee] [@QJT] [@Sniblet] [@Gerlando] [@Creative Chaos]