APC Running Man in the dropship Crimson One
In the hold of the dropship, six marines were strapped into position within the APC. Naylor had slid the command seat into the area with the others, putting him at the head of the row. At the opposite end of the APC was a large screen edged with static. On its surface was the glowering face of General McGarrett. On a screen beside the general was a tactical map, in greens and reds, provided the only other light inside the APC. The whole ship rocked as it sped out of the moon base's atmosphere.
"Enjoy your nap, general?" Silvio quietly asked, which brought snickers from the marines. The general's face scowled, looking more and more like an angry pit bull each moment.
"Silence!" The general finally barked and the marines quickly hushed "Now, I'm sure that you don't want to screw things up on this mission, so I strongly suggest you pay attention. In seven hours you will arrive at the moon we have designated P-133," the tactical map lit up briefly as it displayed the flight trajectory from the base to the moon. A green arrow-shaped cursor, representing the dropship slowly began to traverse the curved path from moon to moon. "The pilots have the coordinates for your drop site. Just before you hit the atmosphere, the dropship will launch a probe to recon your objective area and relay it back to us. Once we've analyzed the area, your team will be inserted to disperse the predators and tranquilize one for the return jourey. Once you bag a predator, give the signal for the dropship to pick you back up." The general glared, "Make sure you have a live predator before you make the call, however."
As the ship heaved in the bounce from atmosphere to space, the general continued. "The APC is stocked with all the capture gear that professor Longman showed you, plus extra smart guns, pulse rifles with the appropriate tranquilizer ammo. There's also regular pulse rounds and grenades just in case of any extra trouble you have. You also have a plentiful supply of food, drink and medical equipment. Any questions?"
"Umm, yeah," Silvio stated dryly.
"What is it, Silvio?" Naylor prompted.
"Will I have time to go to sleep - as well as actually go through sleep, or will Stevenson have to shoot me too?"
A wave of laughter encircled the room. It seemed to echo through the general's skull, and it was obvious he couldn't take much more of the stupid wise cracks.
"Shut up!" He almost exploded with anger and the belly of the APC once again fell into silence. He composed himself and continued. "P-133 was once stationed by our forces - that was until the predators came and killed them all." Either the general failed to notice Naylor's glower, or ignored it as he continued. "So there is an atmosphere processor as well as a nice safe house for you. You will arrive at a drop pad at the processor's defense outpost, about fifty kilometers away from any predator activity. Once you are there, I will contact you again with the latest information we have, and you can then begin your assault at any time. Is that clear?"
At Naylor's unspoken prompt, they all piped, "Yes sir!"
"Good, I'd like to be very proud of you on your return." The general stated, and then added sarcastically, "for once." His final comment before his image faded into blackness was, "dismissed."
Naylor released the harness and wandered up and down the line of marines with his usual speech. It consisted mostly of slogging off higher powers and death threats if they didn't do their jobs; it went double for Silvio. Once he had finished, standing at the foot of the doorway that lead to the driver's seat, he leaned against the archway and asked, "Okay, who's the lucky person who's driving us into pred-land?"
Mager blinked. "Excuse me, sir, aren't you? I thought you would be in here monitoring…"
"I intend to be in the thick of this hunt. No screw-ups." Naylor retaliated. He looked over the marines a moment, then stated, "Okay, no volunteers, huh?" He then spun to Suzie. "Suzie, you're up. You have drive and monitor duty."
"Yes sir!" she replied.
"Okay then, get in there and move on out."
With no delay Suzie unbuckled her harness and took the driver/command chair. With a metallic swish, the chair slid into place at the driver's position.
As Naylor marched up and down the aisle, checking everyone's harness and pack, Silvio leaned towards Katie. "Hey, Katie." Silvio whispered.
"What assface? And why are you whispering?" She asked back.
"Could you put me to sleep with one of those darts like you did the general? I don't want to waste time…"
He was still talking when Katie pulled the dart out of her vest pocket that she had shot the general with. Before Silvio could flinch, she pricked the back of his palm with the dart.
"Getting t.o s..l...e...e..."
Silvio's face fell into his lap before he finished his sentence. Mager, Stevenson and Drafe all smiled at her as she palmed the dart. Naylor made one last check, noted the sleeping Silvio, and shook his head. Katie shrugged as innocently as she could, trying to hold her laughter in as the others snickered behind Naylor's back.
With nothing to do but wait inside the APC, the marines drifted to sleep as they made the journey to the predator's moon. The two drop-pilots plotted the course in the computer and then switched to autopilot.
Seventeen hundred hours Drop ship Crimson One nearing P-133 - CockpitThe first alarms went off in the dropship cockpit, alerting the pilots of their approach to the reddish moon ahead. After a few switches were thrown, the alerts silenced themselves and the lead pilot flicked on the comm to the APC.
"Look alive back there, we're just about to enter P-133's atmosphere, brace yourselves. Over!"
It was the static that woke Suzie from her peaceful slumber. If the dropship pilot had spoken any smoother, she wouldn't have heard him. Once she was fully awake though, she turned on the internal speaker and announced their situation to the rest of the marines.
"Wake up people, we're just about to reach the pred moon, make sure you're in tight."
Naylor was the first to wake up and click on to the situation. He looked about and noticed that Silvio was floating freely in the APC's hold. He clenched his teeth. Katie or Drafe must have let him loose as a joke.
"2 minutes to entrance people! Over!" The dropship captain announced over the APC's intercom.
"Hell!" Naylor exclaimed, shaking his other marines awake. "Mager! Help me get Silvio back into his harness. We've got two minutes. Hurry!"
"Yessir!" Mager replied, somewhat groggily.
They both unclipped their harnesses and swam through zero-g to Silvio. Naylor grabbed the floating marine by his belt as Mager clasped onto Silvio's feet. A light rumble echoed through the ship as the first indications of gravity started to pull at the dropship. With his teeth firmly gritted, Naylor braced himself against the wall of the APC and pushed Silvio's body down into his seat with Mager's help. As Naylor held Silvio, Mager quickly strapped the marine in. As soon as Mager was finished, the marine swung himself to his own chair and started to strap himself in. Naylor gave Silvio's harness several tugs to ensure it was tight. As he finished, Naylor felt a familiar tug in his stomach. The pull of gravity was imminent.
"30 seconds," came the call from the cockpit. Naylor used the last bit of zero-g to hurl himself to his seat. He had barely pulled himself into his seat when he felt the dropship swerve to prepare hitting the atmosphere. A solid tug from approaching gravity pulled him down into his chair and he rapidly started tethering himself in. He had barely finished when he felt the dropship make its last turn to enter the atmosphere. A moment later, the ship hit the atmosphere with a thump, and then began to rock as if caught in a tidal wave. Metal screeched loudly as the ship forced its way into the planet's atmosphere, even making Silvio slightly stir in his unconscious state.
Gravity fell away again as the dropship dived towards the planet's surface. Quickly, the temperature in the APC began to rise, until it felt to Naylor that he was breathing in fire itself. Sweat pooled on the marine's faces and Naylor began to wonder if they were going to burn up in reentry. Luckily, after a few tense moments, the temperature began to diminish as the dropship's angle of decent softened into flight.
The ride became slightly easier. Naylor unclipped himself and switched on the monitor linked to the drop-ship's external camera. He gazed at the barren monster planet that he would be calling home until the mission was complete. It was almost completely red apart from some brown patches. The dropship sped past a huge atmospheric processor coated in red sand. He then spotted the abandoned ruins of the military defense outpost where they would soon be landing. As the ship neared, he could see that there were no natural windows and the pathetic green paint job was peeling and chipping. What was the military thinking painting the building that nauseous green on this red planet? He thought to himself.
The ship swung through the air for several more minutes, passing twice over the outpost before the marines felt the dropship connect with the ground below. A moment later, Suzie's comm came back to life.
"We've landed and I'm reopening the barn door. We'll meet you inside. Over." The dropship pilot announced over the soft static.
"Okay, Roger that. Over and out." Replied Suzie.
The ramp dropped and Suzie stomped on the accelerator. The sluggish APC lurched forward, sliding out of the belly of the APC like some sickly birthed child. Suzie lurched the wheel hard as the APC slid across the planet's surface, avoiding the scattering of debris around the site, as each marine held tightly onto his harness inside. Suzie handled the APC expertly, quietly reliving her teen-age years that she used to drive on the sandy beaches of her home planet of Caltheon.
When the APC lurched to a halt, the marines pulled the harnesses free and grabbed a pulse rifle each, apart from Silvio, who was still unconscious. The rest of the squad waited for Suzie to unstrap herself from the driver's seat, as Naylor occupied himself trying to slap Silvio awake. When he received no response from Silvio, he gave a withering glare to his companions. Suzie, Stevenson, and Mager left as Naylor and Drafe unclipped Silvio and carried the unconscious marine towards the main bunker.
Suzie and Katie covered Mager as he carefully stepped in. Broken tassels of computer wiring dangled in the doorway, and steel plates lay rusted and dented all across the floor, ripped from their wall anchoring. It was difficult for Mager to not make any noise, and Suzie accidentally crumpled one sheet, causing the trio to freeze in place until they were sure all was quiet. They carefully entered the broken base and had a quick look around. Once it was determined the entry point was safe, Naylor and Drafe dropped Silvio and left him in a heap on the floor near the entrance. The marines walked around looking at the run-down, barren place that they would be staying in for the night.
"Hey, I found the power!" Mager shouted, and he raised the main power switch. After a shower of sparks cascaded down from broken light fixtures above, most of the lights and terminals in the place blinked into life. Stevenson made her way to the radio station amidst the base's control panels and entered Dengor base's frequency.
"Dengor base, this is Alpha package. This is to confirm that the package has been delivered. Repeat, Alpha package is delivered. Awaiting details and return payment. Over."
There was quiet on the radio for a few moments, and then a crackling voice came back. "Roger Alpha package, Junior is in transit. Over and out."
The two drop-pilots came in and shut the door behind them.
"Everything secure?" the copilot asked.
Naylor looked to his marines, who nodded assent. "Looks fine for now." He stated.
"What now?" the captain asked.
"You guys might as well get some rest." Naylor chimed. "We've got a fun-filled day planned at pred land shortly." As the pilots nodded, Naylor added. "Hope you're up for it." He thumbed back to the rest of his marines, "We're gonna psyche ourselves up with a good game of strip poker - after we recon the base."
"Oookay," the lead pilot stated in a bemused voice. As the two turned to return to the dropship, the captain caught sight of Silvio leaned up against the wall. Between his floating freely in the APC and Naylor's attempts to wake him, Silvio looked rather bruised. "Holy shit! What happened to this guy?"
"Oh, he'll be okay." Laughed Naylor. "He's a tough lad, like all good marines. He'll be up and ready for the mission, don't worry. You two get some shuteye. We're off to play. Let us know when you hear something."
While the two pilots pulled in a pair of cots to rest in, the other marines surveyed the base, and then reported to Naylor. With the initial work finished, Naylor led them to a secure, abandoned room with a dented metal table, rusty chairs and masses of cobwebs in the corners. They left the cobwebs where they were and sat around the table, beating the major dents out of it. Naylor took a pack of cards from his top pocket and started to deal.
"Okay, it's a five card draw. The juices are wild. Place your bets. I'm in, one boot."
Zero Eight Hundred Hours Moon P-133, Military OutpostThe head dropship pilot, Wilkins, opened his eyes and gazed up at the ceiling - or at least what was left of it. He had forgotten that he was in the run-down hellhole and thought that he was still in the paradise that he was dreaming about. He was wondering if he ever would get to go on that vacation he had been promised. Somehow, he knew better. The government never kept promises.
He sat up and looked at the empty makeshift bed beside him. Where was his co-pilot Grant? He swiveled round on his buttocks and spotted him at a terminal over the other side of the room. He stood up, dressed, and made his way over there, making sure that he stepped over the still unconscious body of Silvio.
"Hey man, how long have you been up?" Wilkins asked.
"Couple of hours." Grant replied, continuing to tap on the keyboard. "I was bored and decided to check out these control buttons." He motioned to the panel of multi-colored buttons with smeared labels beside him.
"Yeah? So what do they do then?" Wilkins asked.
The co-pilot pointed to the top row of buttons, there were only two rows remaining, each one consisting of three buttons and a large space was taken up for a very primitive looking radar scanner.
"This row activates what there is of the security systems," Grant replied.
The comment interested Wilkins. "Such as?"
"Exterior turrets - but they're out of ammo," Grant sighed. "Alarms - but the wires are severed, and laser barriers." He glanced up at the pilot. "We don't have enough power to use them, though. Just enough to keep the lights on."
"Great. So that row is pretty much useless then, eh?" Wilkens observed, running his hand through his stringy black hair.
"Well...Yeah. Pretty much." Grant conceded.
"What about the second row?" Wilkins asked, pointing to the row with one flashing button.
"Coffee machine - I have no idea where it is," Grant commented about the flashing button. He pointed to the second, "Security camera - the lens is cracked. You can still make some objects out, though. The last one activates the radar - and it works!"
"That's a lot better. Anything happening then?" Wilkins asked, leaning forward.
"No. It's pretty much dead out there," Grant stated dismissively.
"Oh. So all-in-all this terminal is useless then, eh?" Wilkins frowned.
"Well, no. All we have to do is find the coffee machine," Grant countered.
Wilkins rolled his eyes and he sighed. When they came back down, a completely naked Naylor wandered into the room followed by a similar stark naked Mager. Before Wilkins could speak, Katie wandered in, her arms tucked across her naked shoulders. At the sight of her, the lead pilot's hand slipped off the console and he nearly fell to the floor. A similarly naked Susie followed Katie. The white-haired beauty nonchalantly followed the other three, seemingly oblivious that the head dropship pilot was staring at her, his mouth agape. She seemed to be looking for something to cover herself as the copilot reached over and gently snapped the pilot's mouth shut.
"Damn Drafe and his luck!" Naylor hissed.
"Cool down Naylor, it's only a game," Suzie remarked.
"Yeah, Q's right." Katie chirped. "Save your energy for the mission ahead - not trying to get back at Drafe."
"Yeah. You have to take the ups with the downs," sighed Suzie. She glanced at Naylor, then down. "And an up certainly seems to be the word for you at the moment Naylor!" She giggled
Naylor quickly glanced down at his speedily rising tackle and tried to cover himself. Rather immaturely, he retaliated. "At least I've got one, right Mager?"
Mager looked hollow for a second before cracking into a smirk and laughing at Naylor. Naylor had told the marine what he had said to the general back on Dengor, and the two chuckled at the inside joke. The two pilots stood there watching the naked spectacle until their attentions were diverted back to the door as a heavily clad Drafe walked in, dressed in all the other marine's clothes. Sweat pooled on Drafe's forehead, who was obviously overheating in the multi-layered plunder he had won. The head pilot couldn't stay quiet and eventually asked Naylor.
"Did you lot have a good game?" Wilkins queried.
"Oh, shut up!" Naylor ribbed, "You're here to fly. Not talk!"
"Sorry. By the looks of it we shouldn't be disappointed that we didn't play." The copilot stated flatly.
Drafe turned to them, gloating. "Ignore Naylor, guys. He's just sore about losing to the better man." He turned back to the other marines. "Say, you guys want your clothes back? I'm boiling under here!"
"Yes! And hurry up - my nipples are erect!" Suzie pouted.
"I, uh, noticed that, Q." Drafe sniggered as he started to remove his extra layers.
"And you didn't say anything?" Suzie stated in mock surprise.
"No! Of course not. I was having way too much fun!"
"Just give us our clothes back, pig." Katie hissed at him.
"Okay, okay. Keep your knickers on," Drafe smiled. Mockingly, he added, "Oh, sorry you can't!"
The two pilots broke into fits of laughter before being silenced by the naked Katie's cold stare. Once Drafe had off his extra layers his gaze happened to fall across the still-sleeping Silvio. He turned back to Naylor, who jerked his pants from Drafe's grasp.
"Hey. Shouldn't we wake sleeping beauty now?" Drafe asked.
"Yeah. Go ahead. It's about time he knew we were here." Naylor replied, still slipping his trousers on.
"Y'know, he's going to hate having missed last night's game," Mager stated.
Drafe strolled over to Silvio and squatted beside him. He turned to make sure that everyone was at least half dressed and then began slapping Silvio on the cheek. Silvio rolled round for a few moments grumbling to himself, and then he finally got himself to his back and opened his eyes. He gurgled for a few seconds and then finished his last sentence.
"...p."
He rolled his head slightly to his right and looked at the fuzzy face that reminded him of a muppet, which was arched over him, and listened to the mumbling coming from it.
"Hm mmm. Hmmm m mckk mo meh mmmd ff ee mming."
Silvio thought for a second and then decided that it wasn't worth trying to work out what the face said so he just asked.
"What?"
It came slow at first, but he soon caught up with the words. "Hey man. Welcome back to the land of the living."
Silvio blinked a few times and finally managed to focus on the face hovering above him. "Drafe?" he asked groggily.
"Yeah man. Good morning. How do you feel?" Drafe replied with a smile.
"Okay, but my head is killing me! I don't normally get jet-lag," Silvio replied, rubbing his temples.
Naylor and the others turned and exchanged smirks before they turned their attentions back to Silvio's questions. He rolled his head to the right and left then sat up.
"Where are we?" Silvio finally asked.
"We're in the old military installation on the Pred moon." Naylor announced, just having finished putting on his shirt. He glanced over to Suzie, who was adjusting her breasts. "We should be getting mission details soon, so hurry up and get yourself awake."
"Oh, hi Naylor." Silvio rubbed the back of his head for a short while just to see if it would cure his headache. It didn't. "Anyone got something to wake me up?"
Grant was the first to speak up. "I managed to turn on a coffee machine. But wherever it is in this place I don't know."
"Great, thanks!" Silvio growled. "I'm asleep for hours, I wake up on a moon that I don't know and the first thing I gotta do is find the Holy Grail coffee machine. This sucks!" Silvio then got to his feet and started staggering his way around the ruins looking for the long lost coffee machine.
"Does anyone want to remind him that there's stuff in the APC?" Katie asked.
"No way Katie!" Drafe interjected. "Anyway I didn't notice any coffee in there when I went to get the snacks for the poker game last night."
"Oh. Did you see anything else that might do the same thing?" Katie asked sardonically, knowing the dropship had been stocked with injectable stimulants.
"Nah. Only some coffee flavored chocolates." Drafe replied.
"Just let him find the damn machine." Naylor stated.
"Okay boss," Drafe sighed.
Suddenly the radio by the co-pilot crackled to life. "Dengor base to Alpha package, over?"
Katie took the radio and spoke back into it. There was tense moment of silence, and then the unwelcome voice of the general crackled over the comm.
"Good morning, marines," came the dour voice of General McGarrett.
"Morning general." They managed to mutter without much enthusiasm.
"You all sound a little unenthusiastic!" General McGarrett's crackling voice stated sardonically.
"Sorry general, I'm finding my surroundings make it a little hard to be positively motivated." Naylor replied.
"Very funny Naylor. Now, for the orders." The general began.
"Hang on a minute, sir." Naylor interrupted calmly. Then, over his shoulder, he shouted "Silvio!"
"What?" Came the slightly confused reply from the bowels of the base, echoed by the same sentiment from the General's crackling voice.
"Mission details get here now!" Naylor shouted
"Hang on almost done!" Silvio called out from deeper in the base.
"Hurry up!" Naylor roared.
The loud clump of boots grew louder and Silvio rounded the corner with a cup of grayish muck that he referred to as coffee. He sat there drinking the disgusting mess throughout the briefing.
"Can I continue?" The general sarcastic requested.
"Go ahead." Naylor replied unenthusiastically while at the same time cutting Silvio in half with his gaze.
Silvio only shrugged, wondering what he had done wrong.
"Thank you. Anyway, a search probe we launched earlier has reported that one hundred kilometers in a northwesterly direction from you is your objective, in the main military base. We made out the half-buried outline of a Predator ship near it, and as we suspected a hunting party of predator warriors using the moon for a base. Your job is to infiltrate it and retrieve one alive. We only need one, so make sure you use that equipment we gave you. Is that simple enough for you?"
Quietly, Suzie asked Naylor, "I thought he said fifty klicks earlier."
"Military Intelligence," Drafe replied with a shrug.
Naylor did his best to ignore the conversation, and replied to the general, "Pretty much."
"Good. Any questions?" The general's static-ridden voice asked.
"Yes sir." Mager said aloud. Naylor's head drooped. Here it comes…
"Why is it whenever I ask that question around you lot I always get a yes? It better be a serious question for a change. Go ahead, errrrr."
"Mager sir. And yes, it is a serious question."
"Well, what is it then?" the general asked.
"How many preds can we expect there, sir?"
"From the information sent by the probe we can tell there is no more than twenty," at that, Drafe's eyes went wide, and he met Naylor's concerned gaze. There was a pause, and for a moment it sounded like someone was whispering something to the general. Then McGarrett stated, "they could be spread across the planet, looking for suitable hunting spots," there was more static - or was it whispering - Naylor wasn't sure. The general added, "or they may be hunting as a group." He paused, seeming to contemplate the statement, and added, "Or it could be a lone predator. We do know that there are some there," he paused, and then stated, "When you get there have a head count and kill the ones you don't need."
Katie turned and walked away from the radio as she muttered to herself. "Fat load of help that was."
"I think I would've been better off not knowing," Silvio stated, sipping his coffee.
"Remember marines," the general stated, "We want a predator alive and as unhurt as is possible. Kill the rest. Over and out!"
The radio then clicked off and the room fell silent. As usual, it was Naylor who broke the silence.
"Okay, you heard the bastard. Suit up!" Naylor spat.
"Hey, can I finish my coffee first?" Silvio asked, pointing to the half-finished cup of gray liquid.
Naylor looked down at Silvio and smacked the coffee out of his hand. Silvio looked down at the fizzing puddle made by it and started to sulk. Unperturbed, Naylor walked to the APC, ignoring Silvio's sour face. Silvio stood and thought aloud to himself.
"I'll take that as a no then." He rose, and followed the sergeant back to the APC along with the others. The two pilots followed, unrolling a map of the site they were heading to, freshly printed from the recon the probes had sent to the dropship. As they neared the dropship, they held it against the ship's hull and debated their approach. They were still discussing the approach when Naylor and the rest of the marines came back clad in heavy armor. The two pilots looked up and noticed that Naylor looked more than a little grumpy and decided to ask Mager.
"Does it fit okay?" the captain asked sardonically.
"Just feel lucky you guys don't have to wear this stuff." Drafe replied "It's more than a little uncomfortable, but – it's better than dying."
"Okay," The captain replied, seeming satisfied with the answer. "Anyway, all of you gather round. We've drawn up a flight plan for getting you guys in." Once the marines gathered at the side of the dropship, looking at the printed map, the captain pointed to a red circle the two had marked on the map. "From what we saw of the probe's maps, this is the only safe approach to the predator lair. Most of the way is rough desert dunes, hardened by the planet's torrential rainfall. The APC should be able to handle it, as well as use it for cover to approach unnoticed."
"Pilots? Drawing attack plans? Are you sure?" Drafe muttered, looking to Naylor.
"Yes, Corporal Drafe," the captain interjected. "We may be pilots but we did take a few tactic classes back academy-side." He turned back to the map, stopped, and then turned to face Naylor. "Before I start, we haven't been properly introduced. I know who all you are, and I am Captain Wilkins. This is my second in command for this mission, Flight Officer Grant."
"Hello," Grant spoke, sounding just more than a little withdrawn. He did not seem to be happy with Wilkins's introduction, but said nothing else.
"What exactly are we looking at here?" Katie asked, tapping the pilot's map.
Naylor tilted his head left and right and had difficulty sorting out the details. It was a sloppy map that looked more Rorschach test.
"This, Sergeant, is an aerial map of the surrounding area of the base we are going to attack," Wilkins stated proudly.
"We?" Naylor asked as his brow rose a notch.
Captain Wilkins bobbed in acquiescence, "Okay you are. Just listen."
The area fell into a silence and Wilkins continued "This mark over here in the bottom corner is where we'll be flying in from. We will land here," He pointed to a distant mark he had made a quarter of the way into the map "about two kilometers away from the base, without lights to avoid drawing too much attention."
"What then?" Naylor asked with a grunt.
"Take the APC through these canyons to here. It's a longer route, but you won't be seen by anyone at the base. The probe's scan confirms there's a weak wall here – weak enough to drive an APC through with minimal damage." He pointed to a section of the western wall of the base, which was visibly cracked. Wilkins continued, "There you can start a full blown attack. This part's up to you - but let me give you some advice."
Naylor reflexively rolled his eyes and he sighed. "What?" He asked, sounding more than a little annoyed.
"Well, my understanding is that predators fight for stature, not for each other. So they work better on their own than in groups. Keep them tightly bunched together and they'll be almost useless. Their weapons are potent, but you might have the advantage if you can get them into a crossfire position where they risk shooting each other."
Naylor squinted at the pilot, holding the other man's gaze for several seconds. "Where did you hear that?" he asked.
"We've done several jungle insertions in the past," Wilkins stated, pointing to himself, then to Grant, who grunted. "Predator hunts. You hear a lot of tactics being talked on missions like that."
"Oh, really?" Naylor asked, with mock surprise. "Do any jungle extractions?"
Wilkins sighed slightly. "Yes."
"Were they alive?" Naylor asked.
"Mostly…no," Wilkins admitted.
"I'll keep your advice in mind," Naylor stated. Naylor then rubbed the new stubble growing on his face, and then sighed. "You're right, though." He finally admitted. "They do fight for stature."
Wilkins beamed at the admission. "Shall we get moving then, sergeant?" Wilkins said rather cockily.
"Okay. Get the dropship started. I want to talk to my men then we'll be along."
Wilkins nodded, "Fine. Come on, Grant."
Both pilots left. Naylor organized the others into a straight line and strode up and down the line, checking their gear and talking at the same time. "Okay guys. I want no heroics. You do as I order when I order. I will be carrying the snare and Drafe will have the disrupter. We'll both pack the tranq guns. I want you guys…," he paused, noting a bit of hurt creeping into Katie's face, "and girls - to be packing the real stuff. If you need help or have a pred down call for us and we'll break off from what we're doing to try and help you. Okay?"
"Yes sir."
He smiled. They were a good team. But he warned them. "And don't get killed."
"Okay let's go." Drafe shouted, clapping his hands together loudly.
They all hustled into the APC in single file, pounding up the ramp and into the APC. Once inside, each marine strapped themselves in place, with Naylor checking everyone's harness before Suzie took the helm. No sooner than Naylor had slammed the door to the APC shut and took his seat that Suzie brought the engine to life with a roar. Slamming the gas, Suzie brought the APC about and backwards up the steel ramp into the drop-ship. With practiced precision, she brought the APC to a dead halt in the belly of the dropship. In the cockpit, Wilkins motioned to Grant when the APC was in place. Steel clamps rose from the base of the drop-ship's hold and locked the APC in place. With another flick of a switch, Grant brought the drop-ship's ramp up as Wilkins grasped the controls of the drop-ship. The heavy ship easily slid up and away from the ground and within moments the whale-shaped ship was hurling across the planet's surface at break-neck speed only a dozen meters from the surface. For the first 30 kilometers the atmosphere inside the APC was incredibly quiet and uncomfortable, then once Naylor finally finished thinking out his battle plan he spoke.
"I'm gonna fire the SADAR out the door."
Uneasy expressions spread across the marine's faces as they first looked quizzically at each other, then at Naylor.
Naylor continued, "After I've done that we shut the door to make sure the fumes don't get in and put our masks on."
Mager caught on first, and he quickly nodded his understanding. It took Katie a moment more to understand, and as she glanced at Drafe the latter marine suddenly understood. Silvio, however, continued to look puzzled.
"Oh!" was Suzie's response from the cockpit as she caught onto the plan.
"Then we re-open the door. Mager, Katie you two guard the doorway and pick off the ones who don't seem to be affected. Mager, you take the smart gun and Katie you take the pulse rifle. Make sure you evade any incoming fire."
"Okay sir." They both replied in unison, half-smiling at the last comment.
"Why are you going to fire the SADAR in the dropship?" Silvio finally asked. "You still ticked about what the pilot said?"
Everyone glared at Silvio, who just shrugged his shoulders, then sat back to listen. Naylor continued, "Just kill as many Predators as possible, and let me and Drafe make sure that one survives."
"And Taki, I want you to stay in here and man the turret on the top. Drafe and I will be trying to bag a Pred while Suzie will take up a position over the other side of the room and wait for us to get back."
Silvio's face visibly dropped at the command. He was about to balk, but seeing the serious expression on Naylor's face, he merely replied half-heartedly, "Yes sir."
In the cockpit Wilkins and Grant were discussing the coming marine's mission.
"Do you think they'll do it?" Wilkins asked, turning his head to gauge Grant's reaction.
"Damn Wilkins! Keep your eyes on the terrain!" Grant warned. Wilkins quickly adjusted and managed to get his bearings before they hit a rather large dune.
"Sorry. Anyway. Do you?" Wilkins asked, no longer turning to check his co-pilot's expression.
"They might," Grant stated cautiously. "I've peeked at their record. They're a tough bunch." The co-pilot paused, and guardingly stated to Wilkins, "You know the orders though. If they don't succeed then we're supposed to follow up and bag one ourselves..."
"Geez Grant. What do they think we are?" Wilkins shivered, daring to glance over at Grant. "Last time I used a gun was when I had to qualify with my 9mm. If they can't do it, we need to just get out of here ASAP and try to think of some excuse."
Grant shook his head. "We've got orders."
"Fuck orders," Wilkins spat. "I'm not into suicide." Wilkins was now concentrating on his flying that he didn't notice Grant's grimace.
Wilkins continued to fly the ship, staring at the terrain. It was unlike anything he'd seen before. Many of the dunes were larger than hills and in some places, they weren't even dunes - just large columns of sand, like great pillars. He could not help but think that something was wrong about the planet but he could not quite place what. He continued to pilot the ungainly dropship in silence and tried to concentrate. Only ten kilometers to go - not long till the mayhem would start.
The dropship flew as close as it could to the terrain as it undulated. The ship wasn't particularly maneuverable, and every once in a while it would graze the top of a tall sand dune, causing a jolt to ripple through the whole ship as it tore the soft sand at the peak away. It was a long, uninteresting trip offering very little intellectual stimulation apart from the odd alien insect flying into their window. Strangely, it never failed to raise a smile from Grant's mouth.
