Elsbeth pulled the seat harness on, and braced herself for the ride.  She was actually pleasantly surprised at how smooth the ride was, of sorts.  Elsbeth had been in much choppier conditions.  Not that she would have complained even if the ride were really bad; in some ways, Elsbeth always figured that things could get much worse.

As their computers began to exchange information, she began to review the data.  While tactics were definitely not her forte, the added information from the Mech's central core as well as the additional CPU cycles allowed Elsbeth to make more sense out of the data dump than she would normally.  She watched the various numbers flash and scroll off in the periphery of her visor display.  The background tactical simulations began to crunch the data, and a couple of integrated displays began to pop up in view, overlaying population data and troop movement projections, which Elsbeth began to scan with some interest.  Elsbeth's training continued to force her to scan the horizon, even as she diverted part of her attention to the glowing simulation results.

The HUD display overlayed on the bleak landscape was an interesting juxtaposition.  But, once again, the stark contrast was only of passing interest to Elsbeth - the fact that there was high contrast, really only meant that it was easy to distinguish information types: the primary key to accurate and efficient data assimilation.

[OOC: 15:37, Today: Elsbeth rolled 19 using 1d20+2. Knowledge (tactics)/Int Check. - +2 from Tiny's DB not added]

   A quick analysis indicates that the forces encountered are larger than company strength. the mix of troops, drones and aircraft indicate at least a full strength battalion of Q'sa regulars with an air support squadron is present.
   A close inspection of the data also reveals a likely base of operations within twenty kliks of the crash site since the pilot and crew of the transport hadn't spotted the base it is most likely concealed or underground. the missiles used to bring the ship down were warship grade anti ship missiles. not the sort of weaponry usually carried by ground forces.
     it is likely an armed warship of corvette or frigate class is present or a HEAVILY armed merchantman class civilian warship. anything larger would be impossible to hide on the surface and anything smaller would have trouble taking down an armed assault transport coming in on alert.

John switched to the secure channel as he skimmed through the sensor data. "Where's the Colonial encampment, or were you planning on trying to steal their ship?" That would be fun.

He restored Tiny's functions as they hunkered down, waiting to figure out what to do.

"I only intend to attack the enemy ship, if you order it, sir." Elsbeth stated plainly.  The fact that there is no rancor and very little emotion in the statement, seemed to indicate that Elsbeth was either deadly serious or had the best poker face this side of the galaxy.  John could not see the shrug that Elsbeth gave to no one in particular.

Elsbeth pushed her topological overlay to Tiny, it contained the coordinates for the encampment that the 359^th had intended to use as their base of operations, as far as she knew from her initial briefing.  "This is all the information that I have from my original mission briefing." she noted.  Elsbeth continued to scan the horizon from her high vantage point, as she noted, "The main reason that I was going there was that as the 359^th is merely the expeditionary scouting force for the Colonial forces here, I had assumed that there would be other Colonial forces massing there by now."  Elsbeth paused for a moment, before she added, "I had also assumed that the chain of command would be restored once I got there.  As far as I know, there aren't too many other places to go..."

He stood near the top of a hill, eyes scanning the boulder fields below him. HE dropped to a knee his scope coming up as he spotted movement down below, his ghuile suit making him appear as a simple bush on the ridge line where seconds ago there had been none. He sighted down at the mech and its rider as the camo kicked on. He moved a few feet to the left his steps coming slow and steady as to not draw to much attention. Colonials? Could there be survivors like himself? He thought about signaling them but he could not see if there were any of the damn enemy patrols around.

The sunlight flared off his lens as he tried to pick out the mech again, and with a grimace he realized his mistake and made a slight adjustment. IF he could follow the mech a bit he might be able to get to a working comm and the rest of his team.


_{00:37, Today: Victor Grym rolled 14 using 1d20+12. Spot Mech w/camo.}
This message was last edited by the player at 05:38, Thu 08 Apr 2010.

OOC SPot checks all around

Elsbeth continued to scan the area from her electro-optically fuzzed vantage point.  However, trusting her in equipment's ability to hide her, she was more preoccupied with the data streaming past her field of vision on her HUD visor than her immediate physical surroundings.  As Elsbeth divided her attention between the various tactical displays, she failed to notice the sun glinting off of a man-made reflective surface for the briefest moment in time in the distance on the hilltop to her right.  Elsbeth also did not notice the extra foliage, that had not been there a few minutes before.

[OOC: 23:27, Today: Elsbeth rolled 7 using 1d20+3. Spot/Wis Check.]

John was busy unlocking Tiny, and also was unlikely to notice a swaying bush.

You rolled 12 using 1d20+3 ((9)).

He took in his surroundings as he watched the two below him. He fought the urge to rapidly spin as he saw movement, a low flying drone. In the seconds he had he made a choice, lifting the newly acquired rifle to his shoulder and sighted down scope. He breath slowed as he strove to become absolutely still. He took a deep breath, exhaled, in that moment of pure calm he squeezed the trigger. With a roar the weapon spit, a few seconds later as he rode the recoil another shot rang out. He then quickly dropped to the ground only the barrel and his scope not covered by his ghuilie suit. He breathed as he waited to see if the shots would be enough to drop the drone.

---

 As The Mech works it's way through the boulder field a loud gunshot echoes across the field a few meters ahead their are two bright flashes followed by a muffled thud, and loud crash. almost as the first shot fades into the distance tiny rounds a corner and comes face to face with the remains of a Q'sa assault drone now reduced to a smoking wreck it's hull punctured by to fist sized holes.

Elsbeth's helmet and visor snapped around when the first shot rang out.  She cast about looking to see if she could discern its source, its origin.  Her brow furrowed, That was close. she thought to herself.  Elsbeth gripped the handles of the jump seat, tugging against the harness straps for reassurance.

As the mech continued on, Elsbeth continued to scan around them, about looking for the source of the shot the second one rang out.  She craned her neck to get a better vantage point - but it did not really help.

When she heard the crash before Tiny rounded the corner, she noted mentally, That was even closer.  Very close, in fact.  When they rounded the corner and came face to face with the smoldering wreck, she smiled slightly behind the visor and noted glibly to no one in particular, "And there it is.  You don't see that every day."  She added as an afterthought, "Sir."

[OOC: 23:56, Today: Elsbeth rolled 7 using 1d20+3. Spot/Wis Check - muzzle flash.]

"Non-com." John said, bending to examine the drone's remains. "Don't call me 'sir.'"

A slight smile played on Elsbeth's face, though, of course, John could not see it.  She tried to recall if she had seen the shoulder insignia of Tiny's driver on the transport, but she had never been close enough to recognize it off-hand.  And then she tried to recall, if the driver of the mech had actually introduced himself to her when they met after she had ambushed the Q'sa patrol.  She was pretty sure that he hadn't; so, left with no alternatives, Elsbeth asked simply, "Of course.  What should I address you as then, s-s."  She caught herself just before she uttered the honorific.

"Sergeant would work." John said, smiling despite himself, "Or Garrow or John. Given the circumstances, I'm not terribly picky."

He attempted to line up the shot that killed the drone with a growing sense of futility; the thing had, after all, been blown to bits and was flying. "Suppose we risk a blanket transmission?"

He laid in the dirt, his breathing slow as he watched the fallout of the two shots he had fired. As the Mech came to a halt he considered his options, make himself known to the two of them down there or shadow them, or even go his own way. He fingered the radio he had stripped of the soldier's body. He made sureit was on as he watched them through the scope of his weapon not moving a muscle that was not necessary.

Elsbeth shrugged, though again, John would not have been able to see it.  "Well, Sergeant," she noted dutifully, "it's your call, as the one with the highest rank."  She pursed her lips slightly, as she continued, "Though it is unlikely to be one of the 359th, since they would have made contact with us already.  Your hardware is hard to miss, even camouflaged.  Perhaps a key-worded or coded broadcast?"

"Or..." Elsbeth said thoughtfully, "we can either signal them with morse or leave our guardian angel a separate coded message here; one that they can peruse at their leisure.  Tell them where to meet us, Sergeant.  I would wager they are still watching us."

"No matter what, they are a crack shot from cover though, implying some military experience - a good sophont to have on our side, likely." Elsbeth noted off-hand.  She then paraphrased the first part of an old Terran proverb, "The enemy of our enemy..."

Elsbeth didn't finish the proverb, instead she switched gears, "Best to be moving on from here, though.  The shots and the drone won't go unnoticed for long."

He laid in the dirt barely moving as he watched the events unfold. So impersonal watching others through the scope of a high powered rifle. He waited to see what the others would do, he was no longer military and while the argument could be made he was helping them by shooting the drone, he could also justify it as helping himself. He wavered wondering should he throw his lot in with the marines, or stick it out by himself.

   From his vantage point Grym can sea the entire boulder field, among the boulders he spots a patrol, led by a hulking combat machine he is unfamiliar with the design seems alien, bio-mechanical in design and painted the same dirty gray and brown as the Q'sa armor. Behind the combat machine a platoon of Q'sa infantry are moving double time in two rows. weapons ready visors down and almost directly toward the site of the skirmish with the now deceased infantry squad.
   With little trouble it would be possible for Grym to guide the marines out of the boulder field into a position where they could either escape or dig in and engage the enemy unit.

He took stock of the coming force, how easy it would be for him to slip away while the two marines were left to fight. That was their job right? To fight and die for people like him? The morality of the issue raced through his mind as he watched the opposing force grow closer.

He finally reached for the radio, and broadcast over a wide spectrum of channels. "Marines, if you value your lives at all you better get moving. Make a choice dig in and fight or escape and evade. I can guide you from my vantage point but you have to act quickly. Grym Out." He ejected the mag he had used before and slid a fresh one into the rifle. Odds were they would fight and they would need the cover fire. He waited to see what channel the responded back on, his mind already looking for a possible way out or in the least a good defensible position.

"Interesting." John muttered, gearing tiny up for flight, "At least we know our sniper's name."

"Tiny, give him a rendezvous point and upload it into our nav." He gunned the flight rockets momentarily to give warning to their passenger, "Time to run."

Yessir! Tiny warbled cheerfully.

Grym would hear a pseudo-mechanical voice over the comm, broadcasting on exactly the same frequencies as he did. "This is the Marine Mech. Rendezvous at..."

She gave a position away from the search patterns, at an easily defensible position. "...if you require our assistance. If not, thanks for killing the one. I suppose."

Elsbeth nodded as she gripped the crash bar for the jump seat just a little bit tighter, "Roger that, Sergeant.  Let's beat feet."  She started to scan the horizon for any signs of an Q'sa approaching force, as she noted in the corner of her eye the display for the placement of the rendezvous point and estimated positions come up on her tactical display.

"Sergeant," she noted flatly as she craned her neck to try and give the external sensors a better triangulation sequence, "now that it has been mentioned, I am seeing some dust churning in the direction of my previous ambush site.  Must be a relatively large force moving with impunity."

He listened in and taking a quick look over the terrain keyed the mic back up. "This Grym, my squad used to call me Reaper. I know its your whole thing to fight and die honorably and all that crap. But in this case it is a load of crap. Now I see some strange bio-engineered monstrosity and a full few squads moving in your direction. I suggest you attempt to escape and evade. From my vantage point I can guide you but you are going to have to follow my orders to the letter and trust me." HE whispered into the mic, still sighting down the scope of his rifle.

He waited for an answer already plotting a possible escape route for them. He was also looking for any way he would be able to move and circumvent the enemies possibly leading them away from the two marines to but them some time.

"The current plan is 'run like hell' I believe." Tiny replied testily.

---

That's right, isn't it? She asked John.

Yes, yes it is.

---

The mech suddenly took to the air and began moving away from the approaching group, keeping low to the ground. "Guide, then."

  As the Mech moves out, the hostile patrol reaches the scene of the skirmish. moment slater a dull thud, and cloud of dust comes from the area. The first muffled whump is followed by smaller explosions and gun fire as ammunition and grenades carried b the dead Q'sa cook off and the patrol fires in random directions to suppress the "ambush" they had walked into. Grym has a ring side seat to the chaos, caused by Elspeth's hidden surprise. the Q'sa are slow to recover, the Mech leading them pointing and shouting in a guttural clicking popping language that carries well aided by the loudspeakers on it's hull.
    Grym can spot two easy routes out of the boulder field leading the Mech to his position or one close enough for him to move to without revealing his current position. with the confusion behind them it is unlikely the enemy patrol will mobilize for an pursuit for some time.

[Private to Victor Grym: range to the Q'sa is 1200 meters, a long shot but you might be aable to pick off a few, or spread more chaos in the ranks.]

"Alright you need to start bearing..." He started walking them through the boulder field along a path that would allow them to meet up without giving his position away. As he did he sighted down the scope of his rifle and knowing that at such a long range he had nearly no chance of hitting any of the aliens he still slowly calmly pulled the trigger. The loud retort of the weapon resounded across the field. He watched the round missed but hopefully it would give the them pause about attempting to follow the fleeing Marines.

[Private to GM: 23:28, Today: Victor Grym rolled 10 using 1d20+8. Shot at Soldier.]
This message was last edited by the player at 04:32, Wed 21 Apr 2010.