2.2.0 Literary Adventure - Training day Pt 1

<div id="i4c-draggable-container" style="position: fixed; z-index: 1499; width: 0px; height: 0px;"><div data-reactroot="" class="resolved" style="all: initial;"></div></div>There's a thump and a whirr as the APC passes into The Deep Roads, the precisely sized durasteel door closing behind us as the air is pumped out. The craft slots neatly into the rails lining the zero atmosphere roof and cleanly accelerates to a preposterous velocity. Not orbital but easily in the single digit km/s.

I look around the interior. We've ten people in total, six troopers, I haven't been told their names, just their numbers. They sit silently, checking their weapons carefully. Lieutenant Terra sits in the co-pilots seat, navigating for the pilot as the other man dials our destination into the craft computers.

The pilot is no one special, just some poor sod who was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time near the vehicle pool when the captain was looking for volunteers. He didn't seem overly disappointed at the prospect of getting out and about which was all the captain needed to reassure himself that he made the correct choice.

I don't even know the mans number, he's just some dude in a white helmet.

The last two here are, of course, me and my diminutive apprentice. Chanim's checking her pistol and helmet carefully. I likewise have all of the gear we'll need out on a blanket on the floor of the APC, my own stuff checked exhaustively for function and accuracy before we embarked.

"So Scavenger." Terra sneers. "Are you finally ready for the briefing."

"Yeah. Lookin' good over here Terra. Let's get this party started." I say as Chanim places down her pistol and pulls her hold out blaster and gives it a quick check over.

The officer gives a sigh before standing. Today he's wearing an officers breastplate with a helmet strapped to his belt at my insistence. The actual chances of the armour being necessary are pretty slim but when it's necessary it's necessary.

"Troopers. Today marks the last day of our subterranean training. A final test before we embark on our first operation. The mission is find and secure. Our objective is a large XJ series loading droid traced to the former James Jupiter Junkyard in Napoleon Sector, our guide" I wave "located the objective recently and deemed it too hazardous to secure alone. We are here to provide that security. In actual operations guides may be considered expendable or unreliable but Alexander has the Captains favor. Trust him with your lives if you want to live through this." I give everyone a thumbs up from my location in the back of the APC I can practically feel the bucketheads scowl. They actually trust me a bit, not as much as I'd like though. I've been feeding them information through the Lieutenant most of the time, the troopers aren't usually let in on briefings so most information comes through 'intelligence sources'.

"Intelligence Sources have identified a sizable bounty on the target, Prefect Zeus of Nova sector has become enamoured of XJ series droids and has a sizeable bounty for the recovery of a functional example. Alexander's contacts have already recovered enough resources to completely refurbish the machine if it proves to be nonfunctional, An original frame has thus far been beyond his reach. The recovery of the frame will provide a bounty of no less than twenty thousand credits, to split evenly between the recovery team, bonuses will be payed for further functional equipment. Each of us should be walking away today two thousand credits richer, providing everything goes well."

"However as this is a rehearsal for an operation below the level H processing plants where considerably more dangerous creatures lurk our ROE is restrained as if we were operating in the depths. First, we're running creature stealth, No lights, No noise and No Smell. Radio only until we're back on the transport safely." The troopers know this, they've been issued enhanced sensor helmets for precisely this reason the inbuilt night vision goggles and aural tracking systems somthing usually seen with special forces. More than a little bit of bribery was likely involved to get requisitions to release them.

"Two, we're on filtered air, filtered in, filtered out. The air below G isn't breathable in it's natural state and anything we breathe out can be used to track us easily by the things in the depth, likewise you've been issued chem rated undersuits. They are somewhat more bulky will stop scents and are even vacuum rated for up to thirty seconds, treat any puncture as a class three hazard. You should all have sealant packs." The bucketheads nod, a couple absentmindedly fingering one of the pouches on their belt.

"Final nonstandard ROE is threat escalation. Treat all threats a two categories higher, intelligence suggests that in the deeps you can expect threats to be at least one level higher possibly more. If I asses the treat level to be too high I will scrub the mission, The objective isn't going anywhere. Be prepared for failure, be prepared to retreat if the situation calls for it." Each threat category is is equivalent to quadrupling the mass of a target for reference, taking into account the target's nature, natural armaments and tech. Two threat categories is roughly the same as treating a cat like a tiger, a tiger like a mammoth and a mammoth like a T-rex. I know for a fact that the creatures of the deeps are at least four times as bitey as things up top and usually twice as large. It'll give us the chance to practice our teamwork as well which is always a nice change.

"Any questions?" He asks, casting an accusing eye across the troop compartment.

There are none. None from me, hell, I wrote the answers the young man had been studying from. The troopers don't ask either.

I know for a fact that the Captain chose these troopers because they were the most squirrely in his company, more than a few disciplinary problems by buckethead standards. Nonetheless the curiosity's been beaten out of them and they are, frankly, green as grass.

Same as the rest of his company.

"Alexander." the lieutenant snaps.

"Gotcha Lieutenant." I say, giving a thumbs up. "Alrighty then, What I've got here is a few things which will help us today, it isn't vital equipment but everything I've got here has gotten me out of a tight spot more than once in the past. First order of business is these."

I hold up the soft, rubbery black slips.

"Fuzzy booties and dampener strips. The booties stop you stomping and the dampener strips stop your or my armour from clanking. These things are waterproof, high grip and practically silent. Dead useful. there's enough for everyone, take one and pass it on." I pass the booties to Terra who takes a pair and passes it to the first buckethead in row.

"These are decoys." I say holding up one each of the piles of disks I have on the ground. "The blue ones are holo projectors, they pop up a simple hologram with noise, lots of light, lots of noise, garbage quality, attracts lots of critters, particularly the stupid kind. Ideal for setting up ambushes or distracting a predator. You all get one each. The red ones are Aural, they've got a dozen settings, troops marching, a gunfight I recorded and all kinds of shit I got off the hypernet, these are particularly good for attracting smarter critters. Without the holo light to distract them they'll try to get to the noise, or they'll lay low because it souns like trouble is on the way they're super useful. Both have a time delay feature so you can get away before they go off and I got my supplier to add a socket for a standard class C grenade on the bottom in case we want to get creative. Three each. Don't hesitate, every second a critter spends confuse is a second it spends doing something other than eating your face and those seconds count altogether too much."

"These are remote monitors." I hold up the device in my hand, it's a small circle about two inches across and five millimetres thick, the "Sprog-monitor" logo clearly visible on the front. "Baby monitors, they have motion detectors, microphones and cameras. They cost a little under a credit each if you buy them in bulk. Chanim, my assistant will be monitoring the channels, making sure that nothing sneaks up on us. Ten each, don't be stingy with them."

"The last goodies I've got here are Flashbangs and Stinkers. Most things in the deeps hunt either by smell or sound, a vanishing rare and dangerous few work by very, very sensitive sight. Flashbangs will mess most of them up quite badly, almost certainly put them out of action. The stinkers likewise are excruciatingly painful, particularly if you have a sensitive nose. One of each per person. As an aside both I and the LT both have a nullifying agent if anyone needs to use a Stinker. Don't take your helmet off if someone set's one of these off until we nullify the scent.... Just don't, you'll thank me for it later. All of these deployables also come in a handy dandy harness, designed to fit stormtrooper armour with a pouch containing all relevant safety and operation information and available to purchase on request. If you send your orders through me I can guarantee a ten percent discount particularly if you buy in bulk. Take one pass it on and tell your friends." There's a slight chuckle from the troopers as they pass around the harnesses.

Terra slides on one of the harnesses and clips it around his torso. It isn't actually designed for stormie armor but the adjustable straps and buckles allow it to fit snugly with almost no effort.

"Troopers, I expect you to all read the operations manual for this equipment. It is here to keep you alive and keep this mission as successful as possible. Neither you nor I can accept casualties in such a trivial task as this. Once we secure the target location we will call in the transport and extract safely. ETA is One hour five minuites, ensure you are ready to act when we arrive. Am I Understood."

"YES SIR."

"Very well, Don't disappoint me." he scowls, heading back to the Co pilots seat.

I slide my helmet on to check it's diagnostics on final time before we arrive, A channel opens on the command frequency.

"Your intimidating speech is pretty good Lieutenant."

"I've been practising" He responds tersely.

"It Shows. What do you need?" I ask cheerfully.

"Where did you find all of these things Alexander?" The Lieutenant asks.

"mate, Most of it's just shit I order off the hypernet. Specific tools for a specific job, The Stinkers? They're fumigation juice packed into a class C body. Flashbangs are usually sold to the police, the rest of this stuff is off the shelf. Hell, I haven't even scraped the logos off the baby monitors."

"Major Jefferies lead an expedition to the lower levels this time last year, came back with only half his men. He wasn't half as well equipped as this."

"Shit... Well... Eighty percent of the job is planning mate. Back when I was an engineer we'd spend days preparing drawings, buying parts so on and so forth all for a single day of work onsite. Here it's even higher stakes, especially for jobs in the deep In the future if you need something specific for a job or even just a consult you do have my details. If just one extra trooper comes back alive you're saving money. Remember, Discounts if you buy in bulk."

"Laying it on a bit thick there Scavanger." Terra asks with a wry chuckle.

"Man's gotta eat Terra. I provide many services, sometimes I even get paid." I quip.

The Officer allows himself a small chuckle and the channel goes offline.

I allow myself a smile as I pull my second holdout pistol and give it a once over.

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