Far below the peaks of the southern Istal mountains, fifty kilometers south of the capitol city, the Symbiot army rode forth through the winding Istal Valley, gradually making their way eastward over the rugged terrain toward the Zos coast.

Above them, atop a high mountain peak, from a vantage overlooking the valley, a body of rock and dry brush detached from the surrounding ground and shifted ever so slightly. Its colors and textures warped and reformed to blend with its shifting scenery as the mass crawled up to the edge of the mountain peak and peered down below through a pair of high-tech macrobinoculars.

The image of the valley below magnified several times in the macro-screen until the view of the Symbiots became clear. The range-finder read their distance at 46.43 kilometers. They were moving fast.

Lowering the macrobinoculars from her eyes, Private Harper observed her environment. Daylight was fading. Her chameleon suit had kept her concealed from the Symbiots thus far, but she had to stay on the move to continue tracking their progress. Just then, her wrist radio's transmitter light flashed, signaling an incoming transmission.

"Ghost-Runner Four, come in." It was her Corporal.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:30, Mon 14 Apr 2008.

The radio's light winked; Chance turned her wrist inward, just in case.  The wink was for her; she didn't want some thing with good eyes to misinterpret the gesture and think she had an open dance card.  Chance had a type, and the type didn't include Symbiots.

For one careful second, she waited.  Looked around.  Up.  Down.  Waited.  Eased half a foot away from the rocky ledge.  These were probably the most excruciating moments for her contacts; she knew that they were excruciating for herself.  Would one second become two become three become a silence that wasn't ever broken again?  There just wasn't any way to know.  Until:

" - still running.  Me, and our friends.  They're moving fast.  Hey, think they run on ugly?"

Her voice was low, was quiet; no more than a thread of audial smoke.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:38, Sun 06 Apr 2008.

"Copy, Ghost-Runner Four." responded the Brother Battle Corporal. "Command is deploying an interception unit to rendezvous at your position. Maintain visual surveillance of the enemy's unit and continue updating coordinates and bearing. Remain in communications range, over."

That could have been music to Chance's ears. She had been scouting solo for hours with no backup or reinforcements. Finally they were sending troops to mount a strike. Now came the most crucial and demanding part of her job - she had to guide the strike force to a proper interception point and meet them before the Symbiots got there. That meant she not only had to stay on the move and keep sight of the Symbiots without being detected, but also had to project their course and destination, and provide necessary course-correction for the advancing strike unit. Everything depended on her calculations now.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:38, Sun 06 Apr 2008.

That could have been music to Chance's ears.  That should have been music to Chance's ears.  While not the most social of people, she did a damned good impression of it.  She even found that she missed (certain -- no, shh, not now) people.

There was another tiny disconnect between the corporal's information and Chance's response:

"Sparked, over."

Sparked, she said; she meant: got it, heard you, roger that, loud and clear, message received.  Then in the interim silence she pressed her wrist (radio) against her lips, the attitude not unlike prayer, it was so meditative, so focused, and she surveyed the landscape once again.  When it came to schemes, Chance was thoughtful.

She lifted her macrobinoculars once more and adjusted them on the Symbiot force.  Once she had them in focus, she tried to project their likely trajectory, as well as note any potentially useful land features.

He wanted her to choose a possible rendezvous point?  It would need to be a few things:  ahead of the Symbiot warpath, near a couple of decent ambush locations, the potential for flexible maneuvering.  Improvisation was the soldier's third best friend, after leave and alcohol.

The question was:  What was the most likely spot?  And what was causing them to move so damned quickly?
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:39, Sun 06 Apr 2008.

The Symbiots appeared to be following a straight path northeastward. If they continued in that direction, they would pass the city within an hour and eventually reach the Zos coast. From the coast they could potentially launch an attack on the starport from behind, which their defensive line would be ill-prepared to defend against presently.

The southern Istal mountains, in which Harper's current position resided, continued north until they tapered down to a wide delta which met the Zos Sea. From that delta, she knew of a narrow ravine which extended southwestward toward the capitol. The Symbiots would have to come through that ravine if they planned to attack the starport from the northeast. On one hand, the ravine would be a strategic advantage to the Symbiots if they mounted a surprise attack from it - but not if the Darmak forces got there first.

The path the Symbiots were following suggested they were attempting to circle round the city to the other side. Harper was no tactician but even she knew that strategy was only effective as long as the target remained unaware of the attacker's movement to a rear position. The success of that kind of maneuver depended upon two things - that they remain undetected for long enough to avoid being intercepted, and that they move faster than the target can reposition troops and defenses.

That perhaps explained why they were moving so fast. It also suggested they thought they hadn't been detected yet, which would be a fatal error on their part - but understandable, given that their forces had just attacked the southwestern side of the capitol and left the human defenses weakened; perhaps they believed the humans would be too busy recuperating from the attack and repairing defenses to send out scouts and patrol units into deep territory this soon afterward.

But if so, they had underestimated Master Claudius' forces. Claudius was a shrewd general and had dispatched scouts to both the southwest and southeast regions before and during the earlier attack. He wanted to prevent missing sight of any additional Symbiot strike forces while they defended themselves at the cathedral. And because of that foresight, Private Harper and other scouts had sighted the enemy's movements, and warned the Darmak command before it was too late.

Now that they were aware of the moving Symbiot force, they had a chance to head them off. If the Brother Battle strike unit was able to secure a position at the ravine northeast of the city and set up a hidden ambush before the Symbiots got there, they could beat them at their own game: they would have the advantage of surprise and higher ground on their side, and with the confines of the ravine's choke-point, the Symbiots would be walking into a trap not unlike their own infamous guerilla methods. Additionally, if worst came to worst, they could stall the Symbiots' advance long enough for the starport's forces to reorganize a strong defense at the northeastern perimeter, and then fall back to the cover of home turf.

It could work if they coordinated their units properly - but they had to act quickly. They needed to secure the ravine before the enemy reached it and the Symbiots were moving fast on beast cavalry. Fortunately, their forces were closer to the ravine than the Symbiots and unlike them, they didn't need to sneak around the capitol at such a distant radius to get there. If they made it in time and set up their units, the Symbiots would have a big surprise in store for them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:40, Sun 06 Apr 2008.

Chance lowered her left hand (and the macrobinoculars) down to her thigh.  The sun's light was still as red as blood, as red as rust.  Then she took her wrist from her mouth and said, "Bouncing those coordinates, sir."

There was no likelihood of mistaking her attitude for prayer now.  She proceeded to give the humorless Brother Battle (<--why not just think Brother Battle, Chance darling?) Corporal coordinates to the only piece of land that held any promise at all.

But damned if the ravine didn't look like a gash, a ghastly wound, in the dusk.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:40, Sun 06 Apr 2008.

"Roger that, Ghost-Runner Four." came the Corporal's voice.

Then, after a few moments, she heard the Sergeant announce, "Ghost-Runners One, Two, Three, Four, proceed to rendezvous at twenty-one, twelve, sixteen south, fourteen, thirty-nine, forty-six west. Report on arrival."

"Ghost-Runner One, proceeding to mark." came one of the other scouts' replies.

"Ghost-Runner Two, proceeding to mark." followed another.

"Ghost-Runner Three, proceeding to mark." answered a third.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:42, Sun 06 Apr 2008.

It was good to hear the other scouts. It meant they were still alive. Even if their voices did sound disembodied - ghostly - through the radio. It meant that, sure, Chance was still alone, but she wasn't alone on her own. The other 'ghost runners' were still around.  And, who knew, stranger things could happen; there was something about the Istal Mountains, about Stigmata, that made superstition breed.

"Ghost Runner Four," Chance echoed, a good little scout, "proceeding. Meet you there."

In the space between the corporal's voice and the sergeant's announcement, Chance had decided to move again, and then she acted on the impulse - forbid she waste the light. The going had to be good, and the ways she took had to be clever; they had to have cover and good vantage. The mountain didn't just roll such paths out for the asking; they required work to find, and practice to take. Work, and practice, and knack, and luck.

And so, she left her present vantage and proceeded back up the mountain northward, radioing in her updates of the enemy's position every few minutes. She held the advantage of being situated at a far greater height, and thus able to survey the landscape beneath her regardless of obscuring land formations. That, coupled with her chameleon suit's exceptional camouflage, made her both more mobile in navigating terrain, and virtually invisible to the enemy below. She was able to make swift progress over the sloping hills and highlands, tracking the Symbiots as she did so.

The sun soon fell beneath the horizon and the last remaining vestiges of daylight faded to blackness. It was the new moon; starlight was the only illumination now. But night was no enemy for Harper. At the touch of a switch, the light amplification optics in her goggles activated and the landscape came into focus once more, glowing brightly in the ultraviolet spectrum. She continued up the mountain toward the rendezvous point, which was centered atop the northernmost crest of the Istal mountains.

The strike unit would be approaching the rendezvous from the west; they were coming from the cathedral in the southwestern tip of Darmak City, which was northwest of her current position. She was closer east to their destination, but the unit, in turn, was closer north. She estimated that if she maintained good speed, she and the other scouts should arrive at the rendezvous just before the traveling strike unit.

Midway up the mountain, she found a suitable outcropping from which to check on the enemy's progress. Bringing her macrobinoculars up to her eyes, she scanned for a few moments before she caught sight of the Symbiot cavalry moving in the distance directly south of her. Sure enough, they had passed the city and were already heading over the southern slopes of the Istal mountains on their way east. She herself had just passed the city on her way north, using the remote lights of the western starport to help orient her.

She had begun her trek toward the rendezvous with a long head-start on the Symbiots, but that advantage was steadily diminishing as time went by. She, the other scouts, and the strike unit all had to arrive at the rendezvous point before the enemy reached the coast, or the Symbiots would cross through the ravine before they got there.

Looking west across the hillside, she saw the other arms of the mountain extending down from the northern peak. Somewhere northwest along one of those arms, she knew, was one of the other Ghost-Runners, though she could not see him. Farther north and west, respectively, were the other two. All of them, spread out and isolated. The only signs of their existence were the occasional updates they each provided on their shared channel, confirming the enemy's location and bearing from different angles, along with their own updated positions. Beyond that, the radio chatter was kept quiet, each scout operating independently in silence.

She had to get moving. Checking her compass for bearings, she resumed climbing the mountain, moving steadily farther and farther north. At certain open stretches, she was able to cover some distance with running. In steeper areas, she had to navigate vertically. Little by little, she made progress, tracking the Symbiot force as she went along.

Finally, after hours of climbing, jogging, and hiking up the sloping mountain, she reached the rendezvous point - a flat highland crest overlooking the east canyon, sitting atop the northernmost height of the Istal mountain range. The other three Ghost-Runners had already arrived slightly before her, having previously announced their arrivals over the channel.

She couldn't see them; they had taken up positions of concealment on the crest, obscuring themselves while they waited for the strike unit to arrive. It was standard Ghost-Runner procedure - taking every precaution to avoid enemy detection, lest their whereabouts become known and their tactics be compromised. "The hills have eyes", as the saying went, and this was especially true on Stigmata. The Symbiots were capable of converting not only humans, but animal and plant-life as well, and there was no telling whether a passing bird or wandering mountain scavenger might in fact be a Symbiot spy scouting for trespassers. The best precautionary measure a scout could take was concealing herself amongst the surrounding terrain whenever possible, and lying in wait until reinforcements could arrive.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:15, Sun 27 Apr 2008.

When the blood of dusk was gone, it was almost pitch in the Istal mountains; the stars just didn't shine very brightly, even up where the air was thin and clear.  Maybe they had, once, but they didn't any longer.

The going was arduous, was exhausting, but weariness was a human foible that she just didn't feel she had the luxury of having.  The going was punctuated by the voices of the other Ghost Runners as they arrived, one by two by three, and when Chance finally arrived, she slipped [like oil] into a rocky crevice that was all shadow, that was all but a shadow.  For a few moments, she had patiently, but also intently, looked for signs of the other scouts' presence.

Then she radioed the other scouts and her corporal with the information that, yes, she was on mark.

Harper settled into her crevice, her suit making her appear as one with the rock. And as the minutes slipped by, she began to feel as though she were becoming just that: part of the terrain. Her long-cultivated talents allowed her to relax her form, melding with the rocky surface against her body. Her heart rate calmed, her breathing slowed, and she began to rest comfortably in silence.

Absolute stillness set in. The crest was quiet, save for the soft rolling wash of the wind atop the mountains, and the distant croak of a highland raven.

Time passed. And she rested. A ghost lurking among others, all hidden from each other, and yet, all sharing the knowledge of one another's silent, invisible company.

Together, they watched. And waited.