Shrapnel Is Making Music (IC MT Merc RP - Closed)

[Neu Engollon]

Noel continued to battle emotions and thoughts as he tried to stay on mission. He really wasn't even paying much attention to Major Friese anymore. He (and Koski) would continue to be the brunt of Friese's negative attention, but it just didn't matter to him in the moment. He was conscious of the Badgers up above and he was highly tuned to Friese prowling around the bodies of their fallen teammates, as his challenge to the Major revealed.

Heigen continued to pull items out of the snow turtle to join the pile that Jan and Liliha had also contributed. Ammo, food rations, bottled water and spare MG barrels, tripods and a cleaning kits, although he wasn't certain if they had recovered any of their MGs or would bother to tote them along. Some more RPG rounds that, again, he wasn't entirely sure that they had the correct RPG launcher to go with them, and some more blankets, first aid kits, flares and other odds and ends.

Meanwhile, he watched Koski dig through a box of actual paper leisure magazines (he couldn't see the images from his vantage point) that for whatever inexplicable reason had found their way onto the vehicle, despite the vast amount of other supplies that they could probably have utilized more, like bundles of Krona to bribe the local bandits. Noel shook his head. Koski was heading in the direction of making less camaraderie with the rest of the contractors, and Noel wasn't sure that he could repair that on his own. As far as he could tell, he was pretty much on the same plain with Koski as far as the team went. At this point, he considered Jan a friend after two Guild missions together, and some shared terrified fleeing inbetween from the FSIS hit teams and other possible pursuers. He could let a couple odd morbid humor comments slide.

When Liliha waved the grenade around, he shared,
"I think we need to get this stuff..." He motioned to the gathered salvaged supplies, "...further away from the vehicle, by sled or hand, and I think we might need to lace it with a few more explosives, but I really don't know what it will take to destroy all the electronics inside."

[Wandering Argonians]

Ragnar had kept his ears open, as usual. A life spent in reconnaissance units was all about the acquisition of information, and it didn't all come from electronic spy kit or long-range optics. The MK01 MOD 0 human aural receiver, commonly known as the 'ear' to laymen, was an often-overlooked piece of intelligence-gathering equipment...

"Thermite, if you have it. Otherwise, put a few rounds through the casing. Same as drilling a hard-drive to destroy data."

He'd had more than a few instances where he'd had to dump sensitive electronic equipment, for various reasons. He'd done hatchet jobs at Blackwood's behest on more numerous occasions. Quadrangle buckshot ruined electronics about as well as it did soft tissue, but the shape of the projectiles and the fact that it was a shotgun made it difficult to suppress effectively. Shotgun cans were large, and the guns they were hooked to were typically equally large. Cordless drills were just as effective, punching a big-bore hole in circuit boards without much noise. Thermite was the ultimate option, able to melt through armor plate and basically anything else commonly encountered at the cost of blinding light and solar-grade heat, little more than a welding torch in grenade form. Barring more conventional tools, a few high-velocity rounds made excellent field-expedient drill-bits. Last option was to simply throw the comms in the blazing inferno of one of the snow-turtles and hope for the best, but Ragnar would still pop a few rounds through them first.

His only concern was the heavily-armed militia force on the terrain feature above them, and their reaction to gunshots or deliberate destruction of sensitive equipment...

[Jathana]

"Right, right." Liliha nodded at Heigen and his proposal to move the supplies away from the snow turtle. "Me and Koski will pile the supplies onto a sled and move them down a bit. Heigen, search inside the snow turtle for any plastic explosives or thermite. Once you've found them, set them up and we can blow it once everything is out of the way." Liliha grabbed an arms full of items and loaded them up onto a sled, allowing Koski to contribute. Once the sled was at it's capacity, Liliha dragged it over about 100 feet from the vehicle and unloaded everything, then began the trek back to load more supplies. It took two trips to get everything over there, with the occasional straggler that toppled off the pile. Once she was done, she looked to Heigen.

"Found any boom booms?"

[Falkasia]

"Okay," Koski mumbled, trying to gather up what he had scavenged into manageable armfuls.

A part of him was a bit miffed by the fact a junior operator had been appointed to give him orders. Granted, she may have more experience in her relative military than he on a paper resume, but here she was the newbie regardless of how many other operations she had partaken in. On a grander level, it was a triviality he opted not to dwell on. Top already had it it out for him as well as Heigen, and any further beligerence regardless of how justified it may have been, would not be received lightly. Maybe once the Major got a little more mud on his spit-shined boots he'd loosen up to the reality of their situation. Doubtful, but still a possibility.

He marched over, making sure to lift his legs fully out of the snow to avoid tripping. With everything he was carrying, he was incredibly front heavy. The blizzard-like conditions did not make it easy, and a part of him worried how quickly he'd be covered if he somehow face-planted into the fresh powder.

"We've got blankets, empty magazines, and some MREs." He explained, laying them small trove out onto the sled. "It might be best if we rig a few more sleds out of the blankets. I doubt we can fit everything onto the few the natives brought with them, or at least not overload them to where they sink into the snow."

It was a decent plan, in theory at least. Provided the blankets were in good condition, and none of them required warmth at least for the next day or so, they could be used a skids to glide the lighter material across the fresh snow. Once it had the opportunity to re-freeze however, it would be like pulling sandpaper across sandpaper. Best they use the weather to their advantage as long as they could.

[Shalum]

A decade ago, when Lockhart had been inducted into the armed forces of his beloved Empire, it had been preached time and time again that soldiers needed not worry about the dead. Once they had passed on, there was nothing that could be done for them; it was time to move on and focus on the next objective, lest he join them in the afterlife. It wasn't to say that his people didn't believe in mourning, that was far from the truth, but duty came before all else. When he returned home when his proverbial shield, he could weep then; if he came home upon it, then he could join his comrades at the bar before the devil even knew he was dead.

On paper, it all sounded well and good, poetic even. There was no doubt in his mind that some commissar was out there, thinking up some way to use it in his next morale-raising speech. In reality, though, Bastiaan had a hard time keeping his expression impassive as he moved through the wreck, gathering what supplies hadn't been immolated by the ambush. Weapon clattering against his vest, he shivered a bit and pushed a dead body aside so that he could properly loot what there was. The operator couldn't remember the last time he had been surrounded by this sort of death and total destruction, but it had been some time. It was one thing he loved about private work - the jobs paid a hell of a lot more, and were far cleaner more often than not. The lack of camaraderie was a small price to pay.

Returning to the group, Lockhart was quiet but serious, the lines of his mouth thin as a cool gust of wind whipped around him. He hadn't been afraid to get his hands dirty, but he had still stayed clear of his friend's remains. Perhaps, one day, Dietrich would get the burial he deserved; it wouldn't be today, though. "This is what I managed to scrounge. Not much, I'm afraid, but better than nothing." He said as he deposited MREs and some spare ammunition that some of them may have been able to use. "I'm willing to give those blankets a try if you want, better than nothing." He shrugged at the both of them, resting one hand on his hip near where his pistol was holstered.

[USG Security Corporation]

Friese was still fiddling with equipment, the com's system and keeping one eye continually hovering from his own crew to their erstwhile, on-the-fence allies that had guns trained on them from above.

"Yes, thermite! Christ on a fucking popsicle! Have you all never spiked vehicles before?! Get it done now! We're running out of time!"

Liliha hadn't possibly done this kind of task before, but Heigen and Koski were former USG and Heigen was now again. It was ridiculous that he had to be this specific with contractors who should know better.
Friese had no more attention to give to the matter as his full attention swung to the ridges above. He was beginning to detect a lot more frantic movement.

"Lockhart! I need you back on overwatch! Let tweedle Dee and Dum handle the gear recovery. Eyes up! We might have company. Hold fire on my mark. We need to keep them friendly if we can..."

[Neu Engollon]

Noel continued to haul stuff further out from the third, operable snow turtle.

When Lockhart began to pitch in, he paused as they were even with each other, each hauling cases of ammo and rations, respectively.
"Hey, um, I'm sorry about your friend Haegler...er, Dietrich? Seemed pretty cool. Wish we'd gotten a chance to know him better....That...That was a fucked up way to go out. We're gonna get our revenge on those Holy cocksuckers. Count on it."

He returned for the next load. As Liliha was asking, he coincidentally was discovering a crate that he couldn't identify.

HAR HITI! ÞÖRMÖSKJEI!

He pried open the lid and pulled out gun metal grey grenades.
"Shit! I think I actually found the thermite! What are the fuckin' odds? Hey Karjulski! What's this crate say? I can't even read this out loud."

[Glisandia]

The young Glisandian corporal scooted over in a hunched crab walk to within viewing distance of the crate.

"Yeps. These are the thermites. High heat thermites, it speaks."

Heigen let out a soft whoop.
"Woohoo! Sometimes you win a few. Awright Liliha, let's get ready to blow that shit box!"

They all looked up at the Major's warning. A cautious line of well spaced Badgers were making their way down the gully walls. They were much more agile than Friese had been traversing the slopes. The lead one, presumably the Badger himself, held a white rag in one hand.

Friese had run out of patience in equal measure to the Badgers. Time had run out.
"Do it now! Torch that vehicle, Heigen! Liliha!"

[RP Credits to Neu Engollon and USG Security Corporation]

[Falkasia]

As the operatives stood back and watched the vehicles light up in a display worthy of any fireworks show, Koski leaned in close and whispered into Heigen's ear.

"How long before we snuff French Fry over there?" He asked, his voice barely audible over the din of vaporizing metal. "I realize he's our employer, but he seems overly tense... sort of like there's something else going on that he isn't letting on to? You follow?"

A large explosion from the interior of the front-most Snow Turtle pierced the frigid air, separating what remained of the roof and collapsing it inward as the thermite melted through the final steel retaining bars of the superstructure.

Behind them, the Badgers' cautious advance turned into a full-scale charge as they tried to rush forward.

"I could be wrong... but we literally did just drive right into an ambush with an enemy we have yet to identify."

[Jathana]

"Thermite! Nallatāṉa, Heigen, Mika nallatāṉa!" Her foreign tongue slurred the words of the Dravidian Jathani language, and her voice had a ring of excitement. "We're almost done sir, no worries!" She had been snapped at by superior's before, but Friese had an anger boiling inside him that Liliha didn't want to see. She set off the thermite charges within the bowels of the snow turtle, causing it to quickly catch fire, the heat swept in waves over the biting winter air.

"It's done! Vehicle is toast!" She quickly ducked behind cover, to avoid both the snow turtle's likely imminent explosion and any possible gunfire that may ensue. Liliha slung her rifle from her shoulder back into her hands in one fell swoop and was ready to fight should the need arise.

[Glisandia]

As the last snow turtle began to go up in flames and thick smoke, the line of Badgers sped up their pace down into the gully. Djorlin Rasziski led the charge, and when he got down to the bottom, he threw down the white flag. He angrily cursed and waved, intermittently pointing at the burning snow turtle, then he had an old Makarov pistol out, quickly drawn from the pocket of his parka. The rest of the bandit group didn't have their firearms raised, however. Assault rifles of various models remained firmly pointed at the ground. The team that were known as 'Garden' kept a wary eye but didn't react, as Friese did his best to talk them all down over the comms from firing on their captors/erstwhile rescuers. Not all were dialed in or had working comms, but he had trust that Snyder and Nielssen could read the situation correctly.
"Hold! All units hold! No one fire. We need him alive. We need to keep working with this guy. Hold fire!"

Rasziski continued to rage,
"That was ours! Whats are you doings burning that?! Who the fucks do you thinks you ares?!"

Silence greeted him and he kept shouting:
"Fjandinn! Hreindýr fukkar! Boltinn sleikir asnar!!"

Corporal Karjulski, their last surviving Glisandian 'terp' and Spec Ops guide, provided running translation that Friese's comms picked up.
"Fucks! Reindeer fucker! Ball licking assholes!"
The young Corporal said it matter of factly, with no emotion and no sense of shock.

Finally, the man known as The Badger lowered the Russian pistol, having exhausted himself of any more epithets. He smirked, then he began to chortle, then cackle hard and uncontrollably.
"Ah, you gots me good Major! You gots me good! Allt í lagi! Alright...Okay. That's hows it's going to be, ya? Saddle up now. We goes now!"

[USG Security Corporation]

"Hold! Hold fire!" Friese repeated forcefully. Despite a crazed, bearded Glissie swinging a pistol all around at them and cussing in Glisja. He appreciated the Corporal's translations, but they weren't really needed. The feeling conveyed was enough.

Danny Friese knew that everyone was itching to pull those triggers. He couldn't blame them. He wanted to, mission be damned. There was also the fact that they would be cut down in a vengeful fusillade of fire by the Lead Badger's men if he were to get stitched with led.
This annoying shit felt entitled to their last surviving vehicle because...why? Well, he knew why, but still, the Badgers were acting less like temporary allies and much more like conquerors. Friese felt a grim smile as Rasziski lowered the pistol and followed his gaze to the still blazing snow turtle. There was nothing he could do about it now.

"Ah, you gots me good Major! You gots me good! Allt í lagi! Alright...Okay. That's hows it's going to be, ya? Saddle up now. We goes now!"

None of Garden moved. They remained planted (pun intended).
Friese's smile grew. He still called the shots, not the Badger.

"Let's move out! Koski and Heigen on sled duty. The rest keep intervals. Eyes, ears and boomsticks! Let's do it!"

That kicked them into motion. They headed forward, escorted by the Badgers with the rest on overwatch. The ground sloped up and eventually, the gully walls began to shrink and become level with their path until they reached level ground again. Looking out, they saw two similar staggered lines of Badgers, with some staying in concealed cover, arms pointed outward if the thrandee should be sending reinforcements. Similar crevasses and gullys in the surrounding tundra landscape meant that no one had a direct path to them via fast attack vehicles.

Rasziski moved in closer to Friese. He no longer looked frustrated and in fact had a rather thoughtful look on his face. A bandit leader like him surely was used to having prizes slip through his fingers often enough and was used to having to snap back and move on quick. He looked on the verge of saying something.

[Wandering Argonians]

Ragnar remained the impassive giant he was as insults were thrown around and the sole-surviving local SF trooper attempted to keep pace with translation. That, in itself, was slightly amusing. It satisfied Ragnar enough that they were angry enough to throw insults but not to hurl lead in their direction. You were either in a mood to kill, or not. They were outnumbered, true, but it wouldn't be a one-sided firefight. No longer caught off-guard and within spitting distance of their foes, there'd be a lot more bandit corpses scattered in the snow once the last of 'Garden' fell. There was a grudging respect they'd earned from their new 'friends', apparently.

Sleds were a much more useful option, and Ragnar was happy that these were becoming their vehicle of choice. He'd begun to lose respect for their assigned CO, however. Friese was in the thick of it with them, true; however he seemed to be on the edge of losing his professionalism completely. He was supposed to be the definition of the professional warrior. Soldiers in national armies were in the profession of arms, but only for their homeland. Freise was a professional soldier for whomever paid his wages, which meant he was held to a higher standard. His own kind had a term for his profession: Varangians. Translated into the common tongue it approximated to "those who travel, united in the common pursuit of profit". It was a fitting comparison, and one that came with perks in Gungiri culture. So long as one followed the path (working for a recognized company) one could hold multiple passports under different names, complete with differing social identity numbers and birth dates. Once one retired, these documents had to be surrendered to the Gungiri government, but it was a handy perk when one traveled the world and might need to assume a different identity.

He wasn't fully aware of where Freise had come from, in terms of what national military had shaped his personal ideology, or what the USG had done to hone that edge. What concerned him was that edge was becoming ragged, and Ragnar would not follow the orders of someone out of his right mind. To be mad with bloodlust was one thing, it was even revered his own culture, but those men were never given command of anything but their own. He'd keep an eye on the issue, but his years of work in this profession had attenuated him to the subtle emotional ques of his team-mates and it was clear he wasn't the only one with misgivings.

He mounted a sled without a word, however. They had a mission to complete...

[Falkasia]

"Pack mule..." Koski groaned as he hefted a reign over his shoulder. "I never thought I'd be a pack mule..."

With a quick tug, the severely overloaded sled began to slide forward over top of the dense snow. It was clear it has thawed and refrozen even in the brief time they had been outside, resulting in a thick and unrelenting sheet over which to walk on. It would travel easier, albeit falling and finding any semblance of cover harder. Granted, in his position he'd no doubt be the first to take a bullet seeing as he was demoted to expendable caravan animal.

As Heigen approached to grab the reigns of his sled, the Falkasian looked down to avoid having his lips read. "Did you think about what I said?" He asked. "From some of the looks I'm seeing, both us and them, I think French Fry might be a bit... frizzled? Any idea when he was in the field last?"

Maybe it was nerves, but an operator's gut was arguably the single-most critical weapon in his arsenal. Well-trained, well-experienced individuals could just tell where a situation was going to end up without knowing anything. It just happened, just existed. In this case, the proverbial artillery was going off inside Koski. Perhaps it was the weather and situation and unannounced departure of several of their friends, but Koski's gut screamed to be wary. Something wasn't right.

[Neu Engollon]

Noel had already begun preparing to head out before Friese even gave him the continued sled duty, apparently as some kind of punishment. At this point, he wasn't even sure what he was doing wrong. He figured he'd done his penance in their just previous firefight, but...

Oh no!

He checked his comms gear, which Friese had returned to him. He read the panel and breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't on open transmit.
Then he continued with his task. He had fashioned a harness, or yoke, if you would, out of para cord and carabiners. He attached his two sleds together, connected by straps and ropes. The trailing sled had less important items: gear that wasn't necessary food or ammo. If they had to cut weight fast, that one could be cut quickly and halve his load.
Another well tressed series of ropes and paracord led to his harness, which would ride down on his chest, underneath his arms, strapped around his shoulders to keep it in place. As he began to tug, the sleds caught momentum. He had his NEG 26 cradled in his arms at battle ready. This was something harkening back to his Alpen regimental training and it had all clicked into place.

As he pulled parallel with Koski, the Falkasian mumbed at the ground,
"Did you think about what I said? From some of the looks I'm seeing, both us and them, I think French Fry might be a bit... frizzled? Any idea when he was in the field last?"

Noel Heigen sighed. He knew his comms weren't transmitting to the whole team, and he hoped and assumed Koski has checked his. He bowed his head to the ground as well, mimicking Koski's position. It was natural considering the effort they had to put in to pull the sleds.
"Ya know, I've been trying not to think about it, Jan. I'm not fragging our CO. I've had a colossally shit year. I think you have to. What you're suggesting could blow back in our faces in a big way...Not to mention that it would probably cut the mission short. Grannarssen then Friese? Ya, they'd scrub this. We would get paid the minimum instead of the full purse for the aborted mission. I don't know about you, but I didn't come all this way, to see Stevie and Dietrich and those Glissies get wasted...to not accomplish anything and get paid dick for it. So...Nah, count me out."

He continued to pull, as they passed Badgers and their own comrades on perimeter security. He kept his breathing pace as he waited for Koski to continue to try to sell him on a bad course of action.

[Jathana]

Liliha trotted along when ordered to move, occasionally glancing towards the bandits and her allies. Only her eyes were exposed through the dark grey skull cap and scarf she had wrapped around her head for warmth. She also thought this made her more intimidating. In the Jathani military she served with a Jathani Muslim woman named Mahdokht. Mahdokht wore a hijab with any uniform she wore, excluding her sleepwear. Sometimes she would wrap an additional scarf around her mouth and nose when in combat, for various reasons. Mahdokht's hijab combined with her facial scarf made her look like some sort of modern ninja, sleek and dangerous. Liliha was good friends with Mahdokht, however Liliha hasn't seen her ever since she was honorably discharged upon taking a bullet to the neck. She survived, at least, Liliha thinks she did anyway.

In Liliha's mind she wanted to be like Mahdokht. Mysterious, intimidating, and ruthless yet still cunning and intelligent. Not to toot her own horn, but she believed she had most of the attributes, to some extent anyway. When looking at the bandit soldiers, she tried to make herself fierce.

[Falkasia]

Koski immediately had to suppress a laugh coming from deep within his body. Their conversation was meant to remain incognito, and at the angle both of their heads were, the chuckle came out like a series of hacking gags. It was a fortunate fluke, but it nevertheless left him and his compressed airway gasping for breath.

"No, no, no," he sputtered, a mix of emergency reconciliation and desperate breathing, "I'm not suggesting we do that. Hell, I'm not sure there would ever be a situation to do that. One, it leaves us without direction. Two, it just ain't cool man."

He paused, looking forward as stars began to descend at the corners of his eyes. He quickly opened his mouth and inhaled a deep, albeit wheezing breath.

"Listen," Koski offered, glancing down again to hide his lips and face from view. "What I'm saying is we just watch him. My sixth sense could just be on a hair-trigger. Or it could be real. I dunno anymore to be honest."

He grunted as the rear sled clipped and lopped over a concealed stone. The ropes across his chest immediately pulled tight unexpectedly, nearly yanking him down and off his feet.

"At least he ain't Hutanjian... I hate dealing with Hutanjians," he gritted his teeth, muttering as an after-thought.

[Glisandia]

Rasziski pulled even with Friese. They walked silently for a few steps, then the Badger leader spoke,
"You probably won't tells me, but I wonders who knew about your journeys out here."

Major Friese looked at him while he adjusted the sling on his AR, but said nothing, as predicted. Rasziski smiled, nodding. They kept walking almost in synchronized step.
"Ya, you sees...The Thrandee...The HD...Theys don't throw this much ammos...ordeenunz?...At normal ambush victims. Maybe you don'ts know, but theys don't have many friends outsides Glisandia. For thems to waste this much heavy AT and RPGs on your convoys, well...this is ammos they cannot easily replaces. They must have knowns you were coming. Someone tolds them. Something you had or somethings you were going to do was so bad that theys had to stops you. So yous are just after stolen jewels, ya?"

Friese stared at the ground for a few more moments as they all trudged along. Then he looked back to his crew who were just behind him, then back up to Rasziski.
"I appreciate this info. Thank you for telling me that. I hope we can continue to work together and we can compensate you and your men for helping to rescue us."
After that, Danny Friese continued to stare at the horizon in front of him, sparing glances at the Badgers on the periphery and those that continued to leapfrog into cover positions just ahead of the main column.

Rasziski shook his head. The mercenary officer was under the influence of the RGA. He'd seen it often enough and it was a good part of the reason he wouldn't work within the RGA structure, even though he despised the Holy Domain and their thrandee thugs. There was so much corruption and so many moles within the command structure that the RGA was backstabbing and defeating itself without the HD barely having to lift a hand. The true patriots, those like him and his group that were labeled 'bandits', were the ones doing the real fighting against the genocidal fanatics of the HD. Just because they wouldn't take orders from Rikijdrottin didn't make them traitors, at least in their minds.

As The Badger was contemplating this, one of his men came up fast on skis. It was one of the picket scouts that had been out on their flanks. He spoke urgently and in Glisja:
"The thrandee! More are coming. A lot! They are on an intercept to our path. We have about ten minutes at the most."

Rasziski thanked the ski-borne scout, then sent him back to his roving post on the right flank. He turned back to Major Friese and relayed in English what he'd just heard,
"There is a large force of thrandee coming up that will overtake us in about ten minutes. We are in this together, Major. We must rely on each other to survive for this upcoming battle."

[Neu Engollon]

"No, no, no," Koski sputtered, a mix of emergency reconciliation and desperate breathing, "I'm not suggesting we do that. Hell, I'm not sure there would ever be a situation to do that. One, it leaves us without direction. Two, it just ain't cool man."

Heigen shook his head,
"Oh, well...Man! I thought...Shit! Never mind."

"Listen," Koski offered, glancing down again to hide his lips and face from view. "What I'm saying is we just watch him. My sixth sense could just be on a hair-trigger. Or it could be real. I dunno anymore to be honest."

Koski grunted as the rear sled clipped and lopped over a concealed stone. The ropes across his chest immediately pulled tight unexpectedly, nearly yanking Koski down and off his feet.
Noel reached out a hand to help steady Jan and keep him upright.

"At least he ain't Hutanjian... I hate dealing with Hutanjians," he gritted his teeth, muttering as an after-thought.

They trudged on a couple more steps while Heigen thought of a way to couch his response. He saw the Badger, or the lead Badger, or whatever the hell he was going by - Rasziski, pull even with Friese and have a low conversation. Noel wished he could hear what they were talking about, but either the receiver on the Major's borrowed comms weren't working or he had intentionally turned it off. Something important was going down.

He turned his head back down, but focused towards Koski,
"Of course I'm watching him, Jan. He's dogging me as much as he is you, if not harder. He has my attention. Look, I dunno...I've seen this before. It may sound weird, me defending him through all this shit, but...The mission is going to shit and he's not handling it so well. I don't know about you, but when I was in the USG...previous to now...I heard about this guy. That he was the shit and a good commando operator. I think part of the disconnect is he's used to working with a team that he's bonded and trained with over time, not some random free lancers like us. He didn't seem real excited to be taking this contract. As to something nefarious going on...I don't see it. I think he's been just as much taken by surprise as the rest of us. Our hosts are...sketchy, to put it best. The mission didn't really take all the details of our opposition and environment into account, maybe...I dunno. That's all I got. And yeah, I agree - 'Hutties are fuckin' nutties', as they used to say back in the Hut."

Noel turned his focus back to Friese and Rasziski as he strained to keep the sleds moving and even. A skiier scout was coming up and said something urgent and hurried to Rasziski. Immediately you could tell the tension changed. Some of the Badgers hunkered down further and some that had been marching with the Garden team split off to find cover. Something was going down.

Rasziski spoke loud enough in English that they could all hear down the line, confirming what Heigen suspected:
"There is a large force of thrandee coming up that will overtake us in about ten minutes. We are in this together, Major. We must rely on each other to survive for this upcoming battle."

Fuck! Not again!

[Falkasia]

It didn't take a mind reader to know what was about to go down. The "bandits'" body language said it all. They were about to come under attack.

"Ah fuck," Koski mumbled under his breath, effectively cancelling out anything he was planning to say to Heigen.

Immediately he threw down the bracing assembly interlaced across his chest, releasing the sled behind him. With a quick side-step, he was free from the reins and rolled backwards.

"Where the fuck did I put my rifle?" he groaned, desperately and frantically searching through the piles of blankets and food.

Concealed among a pile of like magazines was his a small sliver of dilapidated W-2 PDW, secured snugly by a bit of cordage. Of course it was buried underneath a few hundred pounds of haulage.

"Heigen... I think we've got tangos coming down on us. Keep me covered if you can... Captain Dumbass over here buried his rifle," he jested darkly, pointing to himself with his free hand. "Should only take me a minute to get it."

As he rapidly began cutting ropes in a flurry of activity, his mind began to drift towards more tactical matters. Here they were, essentially exposed in post-whiteout conditions with little in the way of cover save for a few exposed rocks and stumps. As much as it pained him, their best way to survive would be to circle their sleds up defensively like a wagon train, and use the supplies they had just gathered as soft cover. It wasn't good news by any means, but to the Falkasian it seemed the only chance for them to put up any kind of real fight.

[USG Security Corporation]

Major Friese took it all in and immediately reacted.

"Garden, let's be ready. Find cover. Let's get some of that heavy artillery out, Heigen, Lockhart, Koski...Drop the sleds for now and get some grenade launchers and RPGs ready."

Friese knew that some of his condemnation of Heigen and Koski was a bit divisive to the team, but he wasn't sure how to walk that back at this point. He was also well aware of their grumbling, if not the exact substance of the conversation. The insubordination wasn't helping the situation. Best to let them prove themselves and deal with it later, one on one. He followed the Badger and found an outcropping of iced over rocks near the bandit leader.
"Let me call back to base. I can get us air support. If this thrandee force is as big as I'm imagining, we could lessen our casualties and squash them a lot quicker with air support."

Rasziski shrugged.
"I don't cares. You want to call them in, just make sures they don't shoots us too."
If the Badger was honest, they might need all the help they could get. He'd lost two of his own in breaking up the earlier thrandee ambush and wasn't keen on facing the enraged reinforcements that the HD was sending to follow and clean up what the first force couldn't accomplish.
"...at the firsts sign they shoots at us...We shoots them down. They trys to picks you ups? We shoots them down. Got it?"

"Got it. Deal."

Friese was already dialing them in on his borrowed comms set. He was also simultaneously checking the GPS that was built into his watch.
"Archway! This is Garden. Do you copy?"

....

"Archway, come in. This is Garden. Do you copy?"

"gzzzzgggz....den! Where have you been?"
It was Singh's voice through the static. The contract support team had made it to Frardjol.

"Archway. No time. Large HD force. We are with allies. Bravo Tango Alpha..." Singh would know the code meant they'd met up with the Badgers. "...We need air support."

"..zzzggz...en we do not copy, zgggz-den. Repea-zzggz..."

"Say again, Archway. Send air support to these coordinates..." He read them off.

"Roger th-gzzzzssshhhzzzzzz, Gard-gzzzzgggzzg...Stay open. Gzzzggggzzz... me see what we can do. Standby."

Rasziski sat with raised eyebrows.
"I hopes they understands you. Bad connects. Remembers what I says."

The Major looked around as his team was preparing for the worst.
"Yeah, I 'remembers'".

[Wandering Argonians]

Thankfully, the monotony of the foot-trek was broken by another enemy contact. While no stranger to long marches, Ragnar had always found them incredibly boring, as much of a test on his ability to remain alert as it was on his physical conditioning. Without a word, he secured a grenade launcher and a metal can full of appropriate ammunition marked with the local equivalent of "40MM HEDP LV" before securing a favorable position behind a piece of 'micro-terrain'. Little more than a small depression in the local landscape layered with snow, Ragnar wedged himself into as much cover as possible before familiarizing himself with the leaf-sight on the launcher and making mental estimates of range along the expected approaches of their foes before assigning those estimates to local terrain.

The rifle remained close at hand, ready to be snatched up when his meager ten rounds of HEDP ran dry. He slotted a fat-nosed round into the breech-loading weapon with practiced ease, shucking the tube closed with a satisfying metallic 'clack' and tucking the stock into his shoulder. They had enough riflemen around to pin the incoming hostiles in place, but he hadn't seen any belt-fed weapons in the hands of the bandits. Rifle suppression was never as effective (both physically and psychologically) as the staccato bark of a pair of crew-served machine guns with overlapping fields of fire. Keeping their heads down would allow himself and others packing explosive ordinance to take more care aiming and hopefully inflict multiple casualties. His comrades were all well-trained and efficient killers, comfortable in open combat, operating as part of a 'short' squad to fix and finish opponents. He wasn't so sure about the bandits, however. Hurling an excessive amount of explosives and gunfire at a slow-moving vehicle convoy was one thing. It was very hard to mess that up, unless you counted expending too much valuable anti-vehicle ordinance. Operating as part of a cohesive infantry element was something else entirely, and he was certain there would be a few hiccups. It was why he'd picked up a launcher in the first place; he didn't want some trigger-happy bandit dropping a grenade too close to himself or another member of his team.

It'd been a while since he'd played grenadier, but it was easy enough to walk fire onto a suppressed target. Dropping low-velocity grenades on a moving target was a bit more difficult, but grenades were a forgiving munition. As an afterthought he scooped a bit of snow into his mouth to keep his breath from misting and hunkered down further into his impromptu hide site to wait for their unknown foe to initiate contact with the picket elements the bandits had deployed ahead of them...

[Glisandia]

The Thrandee Heilari, (Holy Domain elite force Major), in charge of the pursuit of the USG led mercenary team and their bandit group escort was not by any means a tactical genius, but he didn’t have need to be to conduct the attack when his force caught up with them.

The Thrandees had numbers, and they were on an intercept, able to take a quicker route to cut off the Badger bandits on their trek back to their base. The Heilari sent out two flanking attacks, with the classic anvil of a stationary force to the West of their quarry. The Northern flank force was larger, as that was the one expected to bound ahead and complete the encirclement, closing off escape to the East, towards the YSR border. The other flank only had to hold the south and enable the link up with the other flank, heading around the north and wrapping around to wall off the East.

In theory, it was a sound battle tactic, but it depended on the Northern flank force being quicker than the Badger picket force and gaining the upper edge. Right away, they ran into problems as the Badgers were ready for such a move and had men spread out towards the northeast. Two heavy machine guns, along with strategically placed sharpshooters, held off the larger Holy Domain force as they tried to press the attack.

Meanwhile, Garden team, along with the main body of Badger bandits, had settled into the best cover they could find, or dug into the snow and tundra in order to make foxholes. They had a view of the enemy to the West and northwest, but could only hear the mass of gunfire to the northeast where the thrandee were trying to outflank them. A few groups of HD attackers ventured out, but were quickly dropped by Garden and their nearby Badger allies.

Major Friese had read reports that the Thrandee used the Guthrakin, or regular rank and file HD fighters, as cannon fodder in such attacks. In some instances, they even used prisoners, sending them out with sticks in their hands to get shot down and draw fire away from a true Thrandee attack. Their choice was to be shot by the enemy, or tortured in a grisly manner later. So there really was no choice. Watching these HD fighters run and the survivors get to ground as soon as they were well away from the thrandee line of fire convinced him that was what they were seeing now.

The sound of engines could be heard in the distance and then far off, through binoculars, they could see what was making the noise. They appeared to be some type of technicals - heavy duty, one ton civilian or commercial trucks modified for battle. These had tracks put in place instead of tires, some all around, some in the back with snow tires in the front, and long poles in the back beds of the trucks, instead of your typical heavy mounted guns that were typical on most technicals. The way they rode around in the snow, it was obvious that they had rugged, well built suspensions. Friese squinted, trying to focus his field glasses on what the black poles sticking out vertical from the beds were, then as they came in focus, he swore.

“Fuck me!...Those are mobile mortars! Big mothers...At least 81s, maybe 105s.”

Rasziski was still near Friese and nodded.
“Yes, these are bads news. We calls thems ‘Kartöflur vörubíla’. Potatoes trucks? We haves some.”

“Well, shit!! Where are they?! Now is the time to put them into action, Badger.”
Pre-emptive counter battery fire would save the day, for sure.

The lead badger smiled and shook his head.
“Theys are guardings our bases. We haves families theres, ya knows?”

It was then that they heard the first of the dreaded sounds. The mortar trucks had gotten within distance, halted and dialed in their first bracketing rounds.

FWOOOMP! FWUMP! FWOOOMP!

Shouts went out in Glisja down the line.
"Komandi!!"

Before huddling down, the USG Major hollered out:
“INCOMING!!”

[Shalum]

“Incoming!”

Despite the bitter cold that engulfed him, Operator Lockhart was no less sharp as the cry of warning rose up from the major. Years of training, piled upon more than enough actual combat experience, took over. Without a second thought, muscles coiled and then reacted, allowing the Imperial contractor to quickly bury himself in the thick snow. As he covered his head with hands clad in insulated combat gloves, the first volleys found their mark.

The Shalumite didn’t pay attention to whether or not the enemy had hit their intended target, instead more focused on his own survival. Though none of the explosions were what he would have considered to be close, he still felt each and every one of them, his bones rattling as dirt and debris rained down over the local area. He stayed put for a few seconds longer, making sure that the worst of it had passed before he pushed himself up off the ground.

With his entire body covered in a fluffy white that clung to his uniform, Lockhart would have blended in perfectly had he laid down on his back. Shaking himself off for a moment, he reached up and brushed his face clear of any excess, before he began to fumble around for his rifle. It had gotten a bit buried, but it was easy enough to find the brown stock that stuck up from the ground. “Is everyone alright?” He called out to the comrades around him, before he began to scramble forward towards a fallen tree that would provide some modicum of cover.

Peeking up for a moment, he couldn’t help but grimace. The enemy was here, and in force at that. Compared to the professional contractors, they didn’t strike him as much more than rabble - but that didn’t make them any less dangerous. Lockhart didn’t even care if anyone out there had been pushed into service - an enemy was an enemy to him. War was the sort of thing where two went in and one walked out, and he had a family back home who was expecting him back.

Shouldering his kalashnikov, he leaned against his cover and took aim at a distant enemy combatant. It was time to get to work.

His finger depressed the trigger.

[Neu Engollon]

Noel burrowed in further into his cover. He was nestled up on a ridge of ice with snow sloping back, supporting his torso and legs. He had his AK-74 out, the NEG 26 slung for now. He had an RPG launcher he’d scrounged from the snow turtle with some rounds in a heavy duty bag off to the side, as well as some grenades on a towel that had become like a frozen board, on the other side. He was as ready as he was going to be to take on these holy fuckwits that were determined to chew them up.

The rest of his compadres in Garden were preparing to do the same. The badgers also were digging in and moving into position for a sustained defense. He couldn’t see anything right away, then he did. He saw them. Small specks, shadows moving. Despite wearing white camo they couldn’t fully disguise their shadows on the sun reflecting snow. Especially those wearing white bed sheets, the poor man's arctic combat camo, which tended to billow and move counter-intuitive to the rest of the surrounding environment. Then the HD fighters were running, several groups across the new front. Leapfrogging, but generally in a raggedy disarray that made him think this wasn’t the top of the line... Thunders?...Thrambers?...Thrandee. That was what they called themselves.

He drew a bead as one of them that was the nearest in line with his field of fire got within the farthest range of his Kalashnikov. He blew out his breath and stroked the trigger dropping the HD fighter, who went spinning and kicking up a cloud of snow. He didn't see the rounds strike, but was pretty certain they had. The rest of them went down the same, victims of skilled shots by his Garden squad mates or badgers. The survivors went to ground and took cover in the no man's land between the two forces, looking to be in no hurry to pull back and rejoin their lines. It could just be his imagination, but it seemed like they were in as much fear, looking backwards, as they were from fire at their front.

He had felt like he was in sound deadening bubble for a few minutes, but then he began to become aware of his teammates and the badgers, who were also waiting for the ‘other shoe to drop’, as the saying went. Lockhart was nearby, and he was dealing with it as they all were. Koski was close, having ditched his sled close to Heigen's. The Neu Engollian and Falkasian may need to act as gophers, running to the sleds to resupply Garden, but then again, why did it fall on them and not any of the other members of Garden?

Further out, he knew were Snyder, Ragnar, and Liliha, although he couldn't see all of their forms due to their chosen cover. He didn't see Karjulski, the Glisandian spec ops corporal, but was sure he wasn't too far off, either. Doubtful he had any tight friends among the badgers, who had likely traded shots with units of the Royal Glisandian Army on at least as many occasions as they'd been on the same side.

He saw the trucks as soon as Friese did. Mortar technicals. Not impossible, but not common, as you needed crews that were deadly accurate and a truck heavy duty enough to take the recoil and shock. Plus, drivers that could stop and start very quickly. All that was running through his head as the trucks had pulled up to the distance they wanted and the first rounds were off and away.

Heigen scrambled down and tucked in. Some of the rounds impacted up further north, along where they were try to break the badger flank and encircle, but some of them landed quite nearby. One hit between two badger bandits, shredding one and flipping the other back and tumbling, blood spraying in his wake. Pink snow and green-black hunks of tundra rained down around them. Heigen had his mouth open, equalizing the pressure from the nearby impact. He also felt the blast thumping his chest and vibrating his body.

It was evident, at least to him, that depending on how many of these rounds the HD were willing to expend to stop Garden and their allies, they could be in for a brutal world of hurt. They may have just enough to grind them up before sending in the shouting fanatics. Considering that they went balls out with the AT and heavy RPGs earlier, it wasn’t far fetched. If the good guys ever desperately needed the cavalry, it was now.