Fox felt the hull of the team's carrier shudder as it finally touched down, unseen hydraulics in the landing feet dampening the impact of the ship's full weight as it settled on one of the airbase's particularly large landing pads. If there was one thing he still had to be thankful for, it was the Great Fox 2's retained ability to make planetary landings, preventing Star Fox from paying a hefty fee for docking and getting their equipment and Arwings packed and shipped down one of Macbeth's few remaining orbital elevators.
The entire airbase was a massive tarmac and concrete compound, built on one of the edges of a small mesa a few miles from the nearest settlement. A large runway jutted out from one edge, sticking over the small cliff and providing a substantially long landing strip for craft that still needed it, few in number as they now were. A central command building and control tower dominated the rough center of the compound, surrounded by smaller supporting structures, equipment, and a handful of landing pads meant for space-capable ships.
"Touchdown, powering down landing thrusters, connecting to shore power," ROB's voice echoed through the hangar's intercom, the droid fully capable of piloting the ship himself. It allowed for the team to already be in the airlock as they landed, and it wasn't long before the exterior door rolled open and the boarding ramp lowered.
The chilly winter air was already biting at Fox's exposed face, but it seemed like only Falco was bugged by it.
"Shit, forgot how cold this place gets!" he complained, zipping up his previously open jacket and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Too late ta' go back, ain't it?"
"Come on Falco, don't you remember Fichina?" Krystal eyed the avian. "Right, you were in your cockpit the whole time, weren't you?"
"Hey! These feathers ain't made for 20 below, and neither is that outfit you like wearing all the time!"
Fox sighed, closing his eyes briefly as the team started walking down the ramp. "Cut it out, please." Falco did have a point; Krystal's rather form-fitting blue bodysuit left little up to the imagination, and he already spotted a nearby worker eyeing her from the cab of a small utility vehicle he was driving by.
"At least she's got her coat on," he reasoned, trying to get his mind off it. The four reached the bottom of the ramp, and found there was already someone waiting at the bottom. A tall, armored Cornerian, dressed in a winterized set of armor waved them down, standing next to another small wheeled transport of his own.
"Commander McCloud! Glad you could make it on time!" he yelled, trying to project his voice over the ear-splitting roar of a shuttle taking off from another nearby landing pad.
Fox nodded. "Yeah, that's me alright! You?"
"Sergeant Connery, sir! I'd like to welcome you to Station 19! We're a little understaffed at the moment, but from what I've been told that's why you're here!" The dog's voice seemed young and held a hint of enthusiasm, no doubt due to the team's arrival.
"Yeah," Fox replied, nodding and no longer having to project his voice as far with the roaring shuttle getting further away from the base. "With any luck, we'll be able to help turn things around here."
"Glad to hear it, Commander!" The Cornerian gestured with a gloved hand to the small wheeled transport that was behind him, fitted with a few bench seats. "I've got orders to take you all to Commander Grey for a sitrep and to get your team settled here. Climb on, please."
Not having much more to say, Fox and his team took their seats on the transport. It wasn't long before the six of them were on their way, driving within the lines on a painted suggestion of a service road along the base's tarmac. Slippy seemed to be quite interested in the scenery as they drove towards the facility's main building, eyes darting between almost every parked vehicle. Falco found himself on his phone, expression twisted from the base's lack of a good connection. Before Fox could say anything, Peppy chimed in.
"You weren't kidding about being understaffed. I've seen barely half the usual personnel these places require to run smoothly. Equipment too; for an airbase, you've got an aircraft shortage."
"You'd be correct," the Cornerian replied, albeit reluctantly. "Well, I'm willing to bet you won't forward my complaints and get me reprimanded…" Slowing the transport, the vehicle passed by an unmanned security checkpoint, getting closer to the central building. "Station 19's been overlooked since the war ended; we've been what feels barely short of a dumping ground for old equipment."
Almost emphasizing his point, the group drove by a pair of landed VTOL gunships - older propeller-driven models to Fox's mild surprise. A team of flight technicians and mechanics was working underneath the belly of one, with the other looking like it was only being used for spare parts, missing an engine and a wing.
"Those old UT-90's?" the vulpine asked, watching the pair go by. "Haven't seen those things outside of a museum since I was… ten?"
Connery nodded. "Indeed. We pulled them out of a mothball yard a few months ago; they're barely airworthy and we can't get any new parts for them, but we need all the firepower we can get. And I'm willing to bet those shiny Arwings of yours will be a sight for sore eyes around here."
Fox hummed in agreement as the transport picked up speed again, making a sharp turn and heading into a large parking lot in front of the central building. Most of the empty space had been repurposed for outdoor storage; a small armada of storage crates, modular containers, and other palleted and packed goods sat in nearly every parking spot rather than vehicles. A sea of olive-green and gray tarps had been stretched and secured over most of it, keeping the worst of the weather away.
"All of your supplies seem rather vulnerable, sitting out here like that," Krystal commented as the vehicle pulled up to the building's main entrance, similar to what a hotel would have. Brutalist concrete and durasteel made up most of the boxy structure's exterior, making the entrance ever so slightly less inviting.
"We don't have the space to store it all indoors, unless we start packing it into the offices," the driver replied, shrugging and dismounting the transport.
"Alright, this is the base's command building, if you would all keep following me…"
Not seeing any reason to object, the group followed the Cornerian inside. Fox instantly felt more comfortable with the lobby's internal temperature once the doors closed behind him. The heat wasn't the only thing Fox noticed; the entire interior seemed almost nostalgic, despite him never setting foot here. The interior architecture followed the same design as the old Cornerian Flight Academy; polished and patterned concrete floors, slightly stained metal-backed wooden walls, and a small hint of moldy carpet somewhere almost brought him back to those old days before the war.
Practically speaking though, it just meant the entire building was old. He figured the entire place was a good 20 years before his time, lacking little of the more friendly elements of modern Cornerian construction. The hallways lacked outside windows, just ones separating the corridor from what looked like administrative offices. Light foot traffic met them as they walked to a set of large elevators, controls still using an older style of physical button instead of the touchscreen he'd usually seen.
"Is everything here this old?" Slippy piped up, seeing the elevator. "I think I saw one of those old copy machines too!" It was probably a genuine question on his mechanic's part, but their guide didn't seem to take it that way.
"You try and secure funding for an entire backwater airbase. Our entire operation here barely has enough funding as-is, and we don't have enough to waste on junk like a new printer." The Cornerian's voice didn't show his frustration through volume, but the tone it carried was clear; he was getting tired of Star Fox's comments.
"Uh, sorry…" Slippy croaked, not seemingly being genuine with his apology. Either the dog didn't care or bought it.
The ding of the elevator broke the silence before too long, preventing things from gettingtoo much more awkward. "Base commander's office is on the top floor, minus the control tower."
"-do you mean, another riot? Do you have the situation under control, or do I need to send what little air power I have left? You know damn well if we lose that antenna we'll be cut off!"
Star Fox stood in awkward silence on the other end of a pair of thick wooden doors, hearing the base commander scream at one of her subordinates on the other side. They'd been instructed to wait until she was done, and Fox saw no reason to disagree, and the benches outside the room were mighty comfy.
"By Lylus, if it wasn't for the situation at hand I would've sent you packing back to that goddamn Papetoonian brothel you came from! Oh, you understand, huh? Then fucking shoot them if you have too! I don't care anymore, you already screwed our public image a week ago!"
Fox's ears perked up at the mention of 'public' and 'shoot them', quickly putting two and two together. Was this really who was put in charge of this entire campaign? Concern flooded his thoughts, and perhaps the others on his team who might've had the same conclusion.
"...Did she?" Krystal asked, looking at the doors.
"Yeah, I don't want to jump to conclusions though," Fox replied, whispering back.
Falco was next. "Didn't tha' report mention somethin' like this? Coulda' sworn I saw somethin' about riots or whatever'."
Fox, getting over the brief shock that Falco actually bothered to read the fine print in the mission details and contract, delivered a swift kick to the avian's shin.
"Hey! What was that for?"
"Sorry, I'm just worried that we might be the only one besides her that might know anything about that."
"With her yellin'? Nah, doubt it."
Fox couldn't deny Falco had a point, and he was tempted to bring it up when they finally spoke.
"Pep, what's your take on this? Should I confront her on this 'killing civilians' thing?" he consulted, hoping his mentor would have his own wise opinion on the matter.
The hare rubbed his chin for a second, looking at the thick, polished wooden doors leading to the office. His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes for a moment, then looked back to Fox.
"I'd keep this under wraps for now, until we know more. Doesn't matter if anyone else knows either, but if we get orders to start strafing buses under a 'suspicion' there's rebels aboard, then we're done."
Fox held back a small gulp, nodding, and thankful for the commander's muffled screaming doing its job and distracting everyone.
"I don't trust this, Fox. I can't tell what it is I'm feeling exactly, but this entire base- No, more like the ground itself. It has this negative energy, of sorts." Krystal's innate telepathic ability bored into Fox's mind, something only she could do given the nature of her species. His own thoughts didn't mirror hers, but the recent development was starting to make him rethink it all.
"I don't know what it means yet, but I don't think we should trust a single word of hers, or perhaps anyone else's here. I feel as if they don't have current or correct information."
Fox only needed to think to respond; Krystal could pick up on anyone's thoughts, should she choose to do so. "What do you mean? There has to be someone here we can trust. Pepper wouldn't throw us into this mess if he knew we'd get lied to like this, or if something that's so critical would get withheld."
He could feel her sigh, almost mentally. "...Sometimes I think you're still a bit too naive, Fox."
"Yeah, it's not like I've got a few extra years on you. Noooooope." Fox joked. "Pepper's never given us-"
The creaky hinges of the office groaned in protest of the doors swinging open, almost as they were kicked ajar. Shortly after, the base Commander stepped into the waiting room. An almost freakishly tall wolf stood before them, almost glaring down at his team. She was dressed in a navy-blue Cornerian uniform, decorated with a small amount of medals and awards across the chest. Silvery, aging long hair brushed to one side and a holstered pistol completed the look.
"Team… Star Fox, hmm? Honestly expected you to be a bit taller, McCloud."
Fox stumbled over his words, a bit taken back by such a rude greeting and no longer feeling that being polite in return was the best thing to do.
"Uh… Yeah, that's us," he finally managed to get out, not bothering with a salute and only nodding. "And you are?"
"Base Commander Vanssea Grey. It's not an official title, but 'Rear Admiral' feels too good for this place," the wolf almost spat, grumbling something under her breath.
"Huh, can't say I've heard about her from Bill," he pondered, but he quickly figured her attitude was part of why his friend never mentioned having a sister, or whoever she was.
"Well, I guess you mercs need a briefing. Come, inside." Vanessa already sounded frustrated or peeved with Fox and his team for whatever reason, and Krystal's earlier words tugged at his mind as he stepped into the conference room. The space's interior was dominated by a massive wooden table in the general center, with a long, angled window overlooking the base's tarmac. Potted native plants and hung flags decorated the corners and walls. It was on the higher end for such an old building, and it reminded Fox a bit of the Director's office back during his academy days.
"Sit, all of you," she commanded, taking her own seat at the far end of the table in a large leather rolling chair, being the only type the room really had. Star Fox took their own on one side next to her, Fox himself sitting the closest.
"I'll keep things short, I've had a long day and my patience is running thin. It's reasonable to assume Pepper has already sent you all the details, but this is my operation."
Fox nodded, slowly.
"This is gonna be fun…"
"Now," Vanessa continued, ignoring Slippy's yawn and Falco's rolling eyes in the back. "You all might be independent contractors, but you will follow my orders to the letter."
"With all due respect, Commander… We've always operated better as an independent unit," Fox interjected. "I understand-"
"No, no. I can't have some rogue unit flying around and doing their own shit. You are the only bit of substantial air power I have now, and I'm sure as hell not going to waste it and let you fly off on your own accord!" The wolf almost threw her hands in the air, glaring at him. "Do you understand, or do I need to-"
"W-we understand, it's not a problem." Fox tried to defuse the tension, receiving a slightly-softer glare from Vanessa. He could've sworn he spotted the smallest of grins creeping on the edges of her muzzle.
"Good. Good, glad that you can see some sense. Now, inventory, what did you mercs all bring down in that mothball of yours? I need exact amounts for fuel, munitions, weapon systems. I can plan how to use you best with those numbers."
"Fox?"
Krystal's words creeped into his mind again. "Fox, don't give her the right amounts. The feeling I had about her before only grows stronger the more she talks."
"...Right, good idea." He mentally replied, trusting the Cernian with this. Even Fox was feeling it now, too, to some extent he couldn't describe.
"Well?" the lupine snapped, affixing her returning glare on him.
"Right, sorry." Should he overestate, or understate what the team had in inventory? Overstating might make her unwillingly send them all into a horrible, deadly shitshow of a mission that would end up killing them all for all he knew. Not the best idea.
"We usually travel pretty light with how expensive market-bought munitions are. Our Arwings carry two heavy blaster cannons, two smart and nova munitions each, unless you count Slippy's with four. We've got enough for about ten resupplies for all of us, and enough fuel to last us a good three weeks."
Vannessa crossed her arms, leveling her glare at Fox again. "Hmm, figured the ones that apparently brought down Andross would carry more in the way of heavy weapons… No matter, I'll make do. That carrier of yours, I know those old models come equipped with long-range missiles. Please tell me you still have some?"
"Uh…" The vulpine looked down at the floor, as if it would somehow give him an answer. He couldn't really lie his way out of this one. "Correct. We've got some missiles still in storage. They're better for hitting-"
"Good," the wolf abruptly cut him off. "Your aircraft arrived by rail a few hours ago, I had my ground crews reassemble them and park them in one of the hangars. Your team has the rest of the day to prepare and familiarize yourself with the base. Any questions?"
"Good, can't wait to get out of this damn office," Fox mentally complained, Krystal being able to hear and agree with his thoughts as well.
"I have one," Slippy's voice piped up at the end of the table, earning another deadpan look from the Commander. "...It takes at least two days for me to look over our Arwings, especially after-"
"You have a day. Work into the night if you have too." She replied, not particularly caring for his comment. "I need those aircraft ready by tomorrow; I'm expecting an op in the morning and without your air cover it's practically guaranteed to fail."
"O-okay." Slippy croaked, his already distraught expression only looking more glum now.
"You couldn't have told us sooner, Commander?" Peppy protested, placing his hands on the table. "This going to be a theme, here? Just sending us out without any notice-"
"Relax, Hare. I don't know how your old unit did things 30 years ago, but this is always how I've operated. Don't like it? Then you can leave, nothing's holding you all here."
It was Fox's turn to get mad now, covering for the hare. He'd come too far to be treated like this, all of his team had. Understanding someone that wasn't a fan of mercenaries was one thing, but this level of disrespect was another. "Okay, really? For someone who says she desperately needs me and my team, you're not exactly making us want to stay. I get it, you're an officer and whatever; you're used to pushing people around, but we're not under any official orders to stick around, you even said it yourself."
The wolf didn't respond, only staring back with a blank, maybe a little stunned, expression.
"You keep treating my team and our equipment like this? Then yeah, we will leave, and you'll be stuck down here without the air support you keep talking about, again."
Silence filled the room, all eyes being on the base commander and face. She looked around the room, perhaps choosing to stuff away her pride for the moment and responding.
"...Your point has been made. Perhaps I should… Apologize for my actions, I can only blame my stress on the conditions here, and maybe finally having something working in my-our favor should help remedy that." She still deflected the blame away, but Fox felt like he'd accomplished something at least.
"Good." He continued. "Then it looks like we're all in agreement."
It looked like Peppy had more to say, but a quick glance from the vulpine told him to stuff it away for the moment.
"Is there anything else, Commander?"
There was another long pause before she got back to him. "No, no. Nothing, you're all dismissed. I'll inform you with whatever I can, should tomorrow's op be given the go-ahead." The wolf waved them off, quietly.
Fox only nodded back, unsure if she'd even seen him do so.
Quickly and quietly, Star Fox funneled out of the room, the wooden doors finally closing sounding like music to Fox's ears as they headed to the elevator.
"Anyone else got tha' feeling that is whole thing is gonna suck?" Falco mumbled, speaking out just about what everyone else was thinking, knowing it or not.
"I think we all got that the moment we saw her." Krystal replied.
"Yeah, you would know, wouldn't ya'?"
"Krys's right. And it honestly sounds like it would've been worse if I hadn't stepped in. I don't want anybody walking all over us like that… I'm sorry, everyone." He only felt it proper to apologize now, knowing what he'd gotten them into. "I guess I was blinded a bit by Pepper's offer, but I don't think he even knows what's going on down here either."
"It ain't your fault, Fox." Peppy spoke, giving his friend a small pat on the shoulder. "None of us knew. You both said it though; nothing's holding us here, and I'm willin' to bet a few of us would like to get the hell outta' here."
Fox sighed, looking at the ground again in thought; Peppy was right, leaving was probably the best option for the team as a whole, in terms of survival. They could always find another contract to limp along with the payments eventually anyways. Part of him still wanted to try, though. None of them actually knew much about what the battlefield conditions were like down here, and they hadn't really tried to find out either.
"I think I want to stick around for the moment. But the second she tries to pull something like that again, or something horrible happens out there that puts our lives at risk, we're gone, I promise."
Falco and Slippy seemed to groan, if quietly. "You so sure bout' this, foxy? I don' think you trust a word outta' that bitches' mouth, do ya'?" The bird replied, spitting out a bit of food Fox didn't know he was eating.
"Not really, no. But I'd like to find out things for myself, part of why I lied about our weapons too; if all else fails, we'll just shoot our way out, just like old times."
"Eh, guess I can't argue with dat'. Gives froggy here something ta' do, too." Shrugged the avain, sticking his tongue out at the toad.
"Falco!"
"Krystal, thoughts?" Fox looked to her, hoping her abilities would pick up on something new that the rest of the team never would.
She crossed her arms. "I think you already know how I feel about this, Fox. I'll still follow you, but I expect something that I can't foresee to happen, and I'd like to be long gone before then."
"It'll at least give my new shield tech a field test, I think." Slippy added, reminding Fox again.
"Right." Fox stood up. "We'll play along for now. Let's get our stuff ready, should help us get our minds off of things for the meantime."
Macbethian High Orbit
ACI Stealth Corvette High Roller
-"Five minutes to drop, Captain. Rough projected ballistic trajectory should put you within 30 kilometers of the mission's AO."-
"Good enough."
The large Fichinan pressed his cigar into the wall of the cramped drop pod, putting out what was left of the stump and letting it fall to the floor. The pod was single-use here anyways, so a bit of litter wouldn't matter.
-"That stuff's gonna kill you one day, Captain."-
"Nothing else has yet, figured I'd go on my own terms."
The ship's CO didn't respond, letting the tall canine savor the last few wisps of the cigar before the filter cycled it out, leaving only the stale aftertaste of recycled air left inside.
-"You sure you don't want us closer? I can reposition-"-
"No."
-"...Acknowledged. Remember, this whole operation is going to be a bit-"-
"Yeah, I know, short on time, whatever. With all due respect, we're going to take exactly as long as we need, specially' with intel this sparse. Could take us weeks for all I know."
Without another word, Sven reached down, grabbing his armor's helmet and slipping it over his head. It powered and booted up shortly afterwards, linking with the rest of the suit and beginning to pressurize around his head. Most of the helmet was taken up by a large, open-face visor, providing superior visibility combined with the HUD overlay now loading in directly in front of his eyes, displaying data readouts, ammunition counts and equipped weapons, alongside various suit and body vitals- Most he'd started to ignore out of instinct and the fact keeping track of everything at once was effectively impossible. The suit would tell him in a more obvious manner that he was about to die anyways, or something similarly critical.
"Fireteam, check in." Sven keyed his helmet radio, wanting to make sure the other four members of the small squad he'd handpicked were ready for the drop.
-"Echo 1-2 here, always ready, you know me."- His second in command answered quickly, a small lemur going by Anna. He always thought seeing her in armor might look a bit silly to someone who didn't know what she was capable of, but Sven found the small simian had used that to her advantage more than once.
-"1-3. I'm good to go, Captain."- A bearded dragon, going by Xaiver, replied coolly. -"Can't say I ever liked drops, though."-
A thick, accented voice spoke next, one that Sven would recognize just about anywhere. -"Afirm, Captain. 1-4 is green."- It belonged to an absolutely massive grizzly bear, Sergeant Seymenov, the team's resident heavy weapons operator. The massive blaster cannon he always brought along took up what little space was left in the bear's drop pod, not that the professional ever seemed to mind tight spaces, commonly finding himself more dangerous to everyone around him the more enclosed they got.
Sven's last teammate spoke up, in order as they'd be trained to do. -"1-5. Yeah, I'm fine, let's get this started. I already hate Macbeth enough, not looking to stay down there long."- 1-5, a Cornerian mutt named Carter, serving as the small team's medic.
"Confirmed." Sven muttered. "Seems like we're all ready down here. Let us loose on your mark."
The prowler's CO didn't say anything, only replying with the small countdown timer popping up in Sven's HUD, starting from 30 seconds. Looking down and out the pod's tall, narrow window, the Fichinan could spot the dull whites and grays of surface cloud cover, with the landscape poking up between holes in the puffy water vapors, if barely. Being this high up in orbit gave him a lack of surface detail, but the forested continent below was all he needed for the moment; they'd be down there shortly.
-"Good luck down there, Captain."-
Sven only grunted in acknowledgement, seeing the timer tick down to zero. He braced himself against the seat's restraints, hearing the release clamp above detach and letting the pod fall like a misplaced brick at a construction site. The fall was mostly silent at first with zero atmosphere to cut through at their current altitude, only the sharp plinks of micrometeorites bouncing off the pod's hull could be heard, if one didn't count Sven's quiet and steady breathing. He'd gone though this over a dozen times now, training or not; none of this phased him.
It wasn't long before the flames of reentry started licking the underside of the pod as air resistance built up, giving each one the appearance of an incoming meteor destined to burn up from friction. The Fichinain's vehicle began to rattle as they plunged deeper into Macbeth's upper atmosphere, tiny puffs of reaction control thrusters and airbrakes pivoting to perform precise course corrections in order to keep on target. Sven's view out the window constantly shifted as the entire pod rolled, making him close his eyes for the moment and take deeper, long breaths.
-"And this is exactly why I always hated this shit."- Xavier complained, probably doing the same. -"Couldn't have taken a dropship, you always-"-
"Can it." Sven cut him off, opening his eyes as Echo breached into the cloud layer, their pods still falling like deadly pianos in an old silent film. Tips of snow-capped mountains and hills peaked their stony tops through the layer of ground-fog, with a larger settlement's buildings and its orbital tether doing the same hundreds of miles away.
-"Forecast should be clear for the next few days, minus that fog."-
-"Lovey, gonna make those thermals I brought feel riiiiiight at home."-
-"Must you all talk so much?"-
Whatever conversation Sven's fireteam started to have was violently cut off as the dog was slammed into his seat, feeling the pod rumble as the single-use landing thruster fired and expended all its fuel in a single, rapid burn. The fall was slowed enough to deploy a small parachute; not enough for a soft landing, but just enough that the thing and its occupant wouldn't get pancaked on impact.
He didn't vocalize his complaint though, they'd all soon be back on firm ground anyways. The canopy of trees that blanketed the landscape came into better view, wisps of fog interwoven between the pines. Having aimed for a small clearing in the forest, the guidance computer precisely steered their formation into the patch of damp grass and soil with a hard thud. Calmly, and forcing any thoughts of his spine being compressed, Sven grabbed his plasma carbine off the wall, checking the gun's power cell. Satisfied that the landing hadn't ruined his gear, he grabbed the door's release handle, taking one breath before forcing it downwards.
A series of explosive bolts holding the door closed detonated, sending the piece of alloy and transparisteel flying forwards at speeds fast enough to kill somebody. The armored Fichinan stepped out shortly after, leveling his carbine and sweeping the treeline for anything that might've noticed them landing. Nothing jumped out from the bushes as the rest of his fireteam did the same, thankfully.
"LZ… Clear." Sven looked around for a vantage point; he wanted to get above the fog, and away from the pods before their failsafes went off. The five drop pods would leave a sizable crater as the powercells were set to overload in a few minutes, leaving behind no evidence that something had landed here, and survived impact.
He quickly spotted a nearby hill, with a rocky top mostly free of trees. Perfect.
"Hilltop. 300 meters." He pointed. "Roll out towards it, standard spacing."
Without another word, Sven's squad fell into their standard diamond formation, with the Captain himself in the front leading the group. They advanced into the treeline, quietly pushing aside spindly branches and low plants blocking their path.
"Can't say I've been out here before, nowhere near as dense as Fortuna." Carter said, vaulting over a fallen log. "Kinda peaceful, though."
"Got a feeling it won't be after we're done here." Anna replied from behind, getting a snicker from the team's reptile.
Sven would allow the small-talk for the moment. None of them were under threat, nor were they actually within the AO yet. The top of the hill came into view, being a rocky clearing with minimal plant life having decided to grow among the stone. Evidence of a small campfire and an overgrown trail leading down the other side indicated this was a campsite at one point, one that hadn't been visited in months from the looks of it.
Echo team's leader found the area safe enough for a momentary stop. "Team, gear check. Drop was hard, if anything's broken I wanna know sooner rather than later. I'll keep watch, we ain't stayin' too long so don't get comfy."
Most of the team took a small space for themselves, pulling off various bits of equipment and supplies from their packs and chest rigging. Sven didn't need to watch them, more focused on the surrounding, distant rolling hills. The ever-persistent fog cover kept most of the ground hidden from his gaze, but the tiny speck of an artificial structure sticking out from the moisture caught his eye.
"Xaivier, got something for your scope."
"One sec."
The dragon joined him momentarily, bringing his long designated marksman rifle along. The gun was a beefy version of Sven's carbine, featuring a rather lengthy barrel, heavier stock, and one of the reptile's customized thermal scopes screwed onto the top rail.
"Where?"
"Down there, cross' that river." Sven pointed a finger across the valley, guiding the reptile's scope.
"Aha… I see now…" Twisting a few knobs on his optic and shouldering his rifle, Xaiver sent his scope's video feed to his CO's helmet. The visual feed made out details that Sven couldn't; the tall object he'd first spotted was a radio tower, cable-stayed and topped with various antennas and receivers. Smaller buildings could be seen now too, looking like a small industrial establishment with sloped metal roofing, and a small mountain of stacked logs off to one side of the compound.
"Looks like a sawmill. Hasn't been used in ages; all the trees around are grown." Xavier said, sweeping his view across.
"Switch to FILR."
The small video output was bathed in a wash of flat gray. Anything giving off a remote amount of heat showed up in a bleedingly-obvious white in the scope, piercing the fog.
The sniper smiled, seeing the readout. "Ohho, now what have we got here…" Harsh, blocky shapes of vehicles stuck out now, radiant heat from recent use bleeding off from warm engines. This wouldn't be anything noteworthy in itself, but the lone armored personnel carrier tucked in between two trucks was enough to show this wasn't the usual logging setup. Abstract figures of personal walking and standing around, most looking to be armed, completed the picture.
"Looks recently built, there's zero intel they set up so close to our LZ and this far out in the region."
Sven focused on the radio tower, thinking. "Looks like we've got ourselves an opportunity…" He trailed off, turning around and looking at Anna. The lemur looked to be currently checking something on a datapad, holding it up to Seymenov's cannon.
"Anna, got a radio tower, looks rebel-built. Think you can tap it?"
"Shouldn't be an issue." She quickly replied, not looking away. "I'll need to get up there and out without catching a lick of attention though. Any suspicion that it's been compromised and my work will be useless."
"I'm aware. Get whatever equipment you need ready, we'll be doing that tonight." Sven asserted, looking back across the valley. "Tapping their comms should secure us some obvious advantages, and where to snoop around next."
"We still only here for recon, or have our plans changed again on the fly?"
"Depends on what we find. If this group's operating alone and without any outside support, should be pretty run-of-the-mill to dismantle with the right equipment. An assanation there, a mole here. Usual crap. Got a feeling this ain't gonna be, though."
Xavier lowered his rifle, switching his optic back to visual light. "What should we be expecting, Captain?"
"I'm asking myself that too. If we're dealing with the Venomian Remnants I'll ask for permission to escalate our objectives. Until we find out, we're keeping this op just to recon this whole Cornerian shitshow."
A distant pop of a denotation washed through the forest below like a wave on a beach, with a rippling pressure wave following behind, shaking the plant life as it dissipated. It meant their pods had successfully destroyed themselves, covering their tracks for the time being.
"Think they're gonna come looking? They probably heard all that." Echo's sniper mentioned, looking over at the small fireball and smoke cloud now popping over the trees."
"Yeah, we're leaving. Seems we'll all be busy tonight, anyways."
A/N: Yup, still alive here, just busy with other stuff. Yes, I know, having a character with a Russian name is perhaps in bad taste to some people considering current events, but Seymenov was created years before any of this happened, and he was picked for Sven's squad months before it too. The other project I mentioned long ago is sorta in limbo right now, but I wouldn't say it's canceled or anything, just on hold until things become more stable for me and the guy I'm doing it with.
