| From: | "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Rescue |
| Date: | Tue, 23 Dec 1997 22:53:46 +0000 |
+++++relay via tacstation "Wolf Den"
>>>>>[We got them out. Including three out of four from Team Silver.
Report's late. Weather took out Wolf Den again, and Aden-42's choked
with corporate traffic. This is three days old.
+++++begin video
Lynch's eyecam, in the dark and crowded interior of a Hercules transport
aircraft: one full of armed, uniformed men and women, in three distinct
groups.
He and those near him are in Rebels disruptive-grey gear: along the
other side of the fuselage are Canis, distinctive in his wolf's head
helmet, and his team. Further forward are Imp's squad, in their
camouflaged hardshell armour. Down the centre of the fuselage are large
cargo pallets ready to be rolled off the ramp, and the soldiers all wear
parachutes.
All are quiet, though the noise of the four turboprops would make
conversation difficult in any case.
"Ten minutes!" the loadmaster shouts, picking her way carefully down the
fuselage and repeating the call to be sure all hear. Blade nudges Quinn
awake: Lynch leans over to prod Stephanie.
Everyone seems to have their own small rituals, in the last minutes
before the drop. Lynch carefully applies his camouflage facepaint, using
a small mirror to produce what would be warpaint if the colours were not
so subdued. Lilith loads one magazine for her AK-47, carefully wiping
each dumpy 7.62mm round - subsonics, you notice - with an oiled cloth
before pushing it into place in the curved magazine. Quinn takes off her
red beret, carefully rolls it, and puts it into an inside pocket of her
jacket: replacing it with the same issue helmet others are wearing.
Stephanie watches, amused, evidently not a believer in such foolishnes.
Above the rear ramp, a red light comes on, surprisingly bright. One
minute, and the soldiers stand., clipping static lines to the rail: the
loadmaster moves past, checking each is secure, as the ramp lowers with
a hiss of hydraulics and a rush of wind. Lynch, closest to the ramp,
adjusts his submachinegun on its sling as he looks down: it's dark, and
the Yemeni landscape seems a very long way below them..
The red light flicks to flashing green, and Lynch breathes hard: five
pulses of light, and then the loadmaster's shout of "GO!" sends him out
into the dark sky, freefalling for several seconds before a jolt and a
crack overhead indicate his parafoil's opened: a glance upward confirms
this, as he grabs for the risers.
The C-130 is still spewing paratroopers, though two simply free-fall
towards the ground. "I hope they're magicians..." the mercenary mutters,
as the falling forms vanish into the darkness. Releasing a clip on his
chest, a pack drops free to hang on a long strap: Lynch steers towards a
small strobe light that has begun pulsing in the darkness. Above him,
the Hercules returns for a second pass, this time dropping the cargo
pallets.
Rangefinders are handy for judging height in the dark: the one built
into Lynch's eye tells him he's now 434 metres above the ground, closing
nicely on the strobe. As he descends, more detail can be made out, and
he adjusts his course slightly to bring him down on the flatter, sandy
ground for an easier landing.
His kitbag hits ground with a gritty crunch, and Lynch is a second
behind it: landing well and picking himself up at once, quickly
collapsing the parafoil into a tangle of drab nylon and rigging lines,
bundling it roughly back into its pack. As he works, other jumpers are
landing around him, and going through the same drills.
With the parachute dealt with, he opens the kitbag and brings out his
web gear - heavy with ammunition and water - which he buckles on, before
picking the 'chute pack up and walking towards the strobes.
A dusty figure seems to appear out of the night, carrying an Alpha.
"That you, Psycho?"
"Yeah, Chang, it's me. How's it hanging?"
The Rebel - presumably a member of the LRRP that had scouted and secured
the drop zone - falls in beside Lynch. Dusty, worn, and exhausted, the
soldier still looks to be in good spirits. "Low and left, same same
roger. Looking forward to a shower and some real food."
"Long overdue. You and your guys did real good, Chang. _Real_ good."
"Heard we lost Silver." the reconnaisance trooper says, as Lynch drops
his parachute by the strobe light, amidst a growing pile: presumably for
later collection, they're expensive items. The force is forming up
around them.
"Yeah. No information. Hopefully captured rather than dead, in which
case if we're lucky we're about to bust them loose." Lynch shrugs,
expressively.
+++++sequence edited
Imp's unit have moved off to make their attack on the small airstrip,
and V-12's borrowed drones have scattered to their duty positions:
scouting the roads to warn of reinforcement, supporting Imp, ready to
assist at the camp. Canis has led his troops around to the south of the
camp: and Lynch and his group are lying behind a ridgeline, looking down
at the prison camp in the pre-dawn twilight.
It looks like a conversion of an Army barracks, rather than a purpose-
built facility. The guard towers look much newer than the rest of the
buildings, and the fence that seperates part of the camp is noticeably
different. There seems to be no movement or activity, except a curl of
smoke from the cookhouse chimney and the purr of a generator.
"Okay." Lynch says softly. "For once we go with Plan A. All set?"
Stephanie and Quinn nod, and a moment later the group seem to vanish;
Lynch kicks in thermal and their warmth can still be seen, as Quinn says
"Anytime."
"By teams, then." Lynch, Lilith, Quinn and Blade simply stand up and
walk towards the camp, with no reaction visible from the watchtowers.
They cover the cleared killing zone without any alarm being raised, and
as Blade begins to cut a hole in the fence, the rest of the group -
Stephanie, Irish and Shadowfox - join them.
Ducking through the hole, the suppressor on the muzzle of Lynch's MP-
5PDW tracks his eyes, as he moves in short, quiet rushes from building
to building, pausing by one in particular. Like the others, it's a long,
low stone barracks: unlike the others it has heavy mesh nailed over the
windows. The door opens easily: a quick glance back shows the other team
preparing to enter a neighbouring building, similarly modified.
"Dropping the spell." Quinn says quietly once all four are inside, and
they are suddenly visible to the eye again. They're in a small anteroom,
the stout double door to the barracks barred and bolted: Quinn and Blade
remove the bar, and Blade oils the bolts before withdrawing them: Lynch
and Lilith raise their weapons (her AK with a foot-long suppressor on
the muzzle, his MP-5PDW) as Blade oils the hinges and he and Quinn pull
them back.
Inside, the room is spartan: bare walls, concrete floor, rows of triple
bunks the only furniture. Its occupants are a crowd of tattered, bruised
prisoners, and one guard: oddly, the prisoners are awake and on their
feet, and the guard shows no sign gof alarm at the intrusion.
"Forty-one here." Midnight says calmly. "Forty-six in the other
building, including the new arrivals.. That's all."
"New arrivals? Four-man team?" Lynch asks.
"Brought in two days ago in a bad way, and been getting some pretty
harsh treatment. I was able to keep the wounded one from dying."
"Outstanding." Lynch goes to radio. "Stephanie, you okay?"
"Forty-six prisoners, surprised as hell, glad to be getting out." she
replies over the link. "Any time."
"Okay." Lynch switches frequencies. "Canis, you're up." He turns back
to
the prisoners. "Another team are going to hit the guards in their
quarters. We'll cover you while that happens. Then we beat feet out of
here. Everyone okay with that?"
A chorus of general agreement, before a Rebel says "Sir? Some of us
aren't in the best of shape for a hike."
"Yeah, I know. We'll use captured mech transport as much as we can, and
our ride out's bringing a couple of trucks." The Rebel nods, and the
windows rattle to the sound of an explosion: gunfire suddenly can be
heard. Lynch moves to the door, he and his group spreading out to
protect the prisoners.
+++++end video]<<<<<
-- Lynch <22:52:34/12-23-58>
