Chapter 7: Scattered Kindling

Ian Blackwood arrived at the conclusion he didn't care for Persica much, even in this short dealing she proved an uncomfortable reminder of events better left forgotten. In turn, Ian could feel himself slipping back into older habits. "Let me see if I am understanding this correctly. You deployed a Spec Ops team into extremely hostile territory with limited backup." Helian twitched to the side, and he made a note to apologize for what was likely to be a rather hostile conversation to come, but he wouldn't back down on this subject. "Not only that, but you didn't have an effective extraction plan for this team when things inevitably went sideways." He felt the desire to pace rising, but constrained to sitting, could only tap his fingers on the desk. "This team's objective is classified, as is detailed information on them. We know only that the team consisted of four members, all Dolls." It made a good place to pause his monologue, letting her confirm what they'd already gone over twice, and giving him time to reorder the next few thoughts, put together the next part of this little show.

"Yes." Persica took a sip from a coffee mug, and he tried to avoid a twitch, managing to contain it to a slight tapping of his foot, something invisible to both parties. Helian failed, her fingers curling and uncurling into a fist. Whether the emotion was directed at him, or at Persica, Ian couldn't say.

"I see." He made a show of pulling out a tablet, and tapping a few times to send a short message to Helian, asking belated permission to run roughshod over the proceedings, letting Persica assume he was in fact pulling up a file, or searching for something. Helian's eyes flickered to the side, and she gave a shallow nod. "And, I am correct that you want Sector 9 to rescue this team from said hostile territory? Explicitly, Sector 9." Helian's previous brief indicated that Kruyger recommended them, but that didn't mean Persica couldn't look to someone else, and more importantly, she should go looking for someone besides Sector 9.

"Correct, Commander." A half smirk started on her lips, and he bit down a curse of frustration.

It did not, however temper the reaction. "Respectfully, are you mad?" She opened her mouth and he kept right on going. "Sector 9 as of now consists of ten Tactical Dolls, and about twice than many human staff, the majority of whom have limited to no combat experience. Extra assets are limited to a few unmanned scout drones, three helicopters, more precisely, old Huey models that someone managed to buy off the Americans at some point that aren't intended for search and rescue, some light vehicles of civilian make, and that's about it." Quickly manipulating the tablet, he pulled up the area map, offering a short performative gesture to indicate the area at large. "Those limited assets would be asked to search an area of…" He did a quick mental double check on the math. "Oh, let's say five miles square, give or take, if we assume that thing went wrong exactly at precisely this moment." The likely search area would be wider, but it made a nice figure and he didn't care too much about the exact details when proving the point.

"Only five?" Helian chipped in, and Ian grunted, giving his Boss a sharp look, and she returned it. "That seems unusually optimistic for you."

"The actual figure is doubtlessly larger, but I'm working with quick round numbers to make my point." He suppressed the finger tapping, putting himself back on track. "Assume everything I say is a low estimate, and all events are substantially less favorable for us." He gave the map a few quick spins before carrying on. "Terrain is a mix of ruins, forest, and plains, which makes the searching slower, as we can't comb large swathes of territory via unmanned drones and AI monitoring. Due to this, I have to actually put boots on the ground, which we just established I do not have in quantity." Ian leaned back in his chair, doing his level best to project an image of calm annoyance, while watching Persica for some reaction, but she seemed content to let him finish his thought, taking another sip of her coffee, which did a good job of obscuring her facial expressions. "If I make the best-case assumptions, that the team stayed together, that they traveled in a purely linear way towards the safest location at the best possible speed, and we pick up some kind of trail as soon as humanly possible, it is statistically likely Sangvis is going to find them before I do. If we make more realistic assumptions, I consider it unlikely I will find them at all."

Persica blinked, mouth moving without the words really working their way out. Her eyes suggested he didn't catch her as flat footed as the rest of her actions, they practically screamed the question of why he thought any of this, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was being obtuse on purpose, surely even someone from a purely civilian background would see how this would end. But she didn't seem willing to say anything else at the moment.

With another sigh, the Commander gestured towards the world at large. "This is for three reasons. First, Sangvis can simply throw more manpower at the problem. I'm stuck with two five-man squads, plus some drones. In contrast, SF could, if they so wished, march a single unbroken line of troops across the area until they found your team. And, more importantly, can throw substantially more firepower at any conflicts that arise than I can." He flicked his wrist, two fingers extended. "Second. Information. Sangvis knows the following things: First, where the last point of contact between themselves and the team is. Second, roughly which way the team would have traveled after breaking contact. Third, the local terrain and the presence of any unusual things." Starting to move on to the next point, then a thought hit him, and the man doubled back. "Oh, a fourth thing. SF knows that we are searching for them, and where we are searching, because it's quite well documented that Griffon teams are in the field, and have had contact with SF in the process, and SF is going to be able to work out where we have and haven't searched." Pausing for breath, he took a drink, mentally thanking Kalina for reminding him that he'd probably want something to drink as he spoke. "In contrast, I have some topographical maps from the War, which are well and good, but at least a year out of date, almost no information about the people I'm looking for, no information about possibly enemies, no information about the objective," Here, Persica's entire body tensed, her eyes darting left to right, something he filed away for future reference, "and finally, I'm behind the proverbial eight ball." Ian concluded his speech with a wry smile that drifted into the expression of a man who felt he held every card.

"If Griffon were able to allocate more resources to the situation how would that affect the odds of success?" Helian's eyes showed nothing about the woman's feelings, and Ian could not say at all how much of his diatribe she approved of, even accounting for the agreement that he could explain that this was a fool's errand. "I cannot assure assistance, but I could inquire with other Sectors." Probably favorable then, or at least, favorable enough the wasn't going to get reamed for this to badly.

This drew some life out of Persica, whose eyes narrowed on his boss, voice turning sharply, edged with a warning. "I would prefer to keep the matter as quiet as possible."

Ian only considered a moment before wading into that struggle, if only to hope a different train of thought might drive the point home, or extract the reason for Persica's reticence from her. "If the client wishes to keep things contained to Sector 9, there is nothing for it…with that said, Sector 9 needs at least three additional combat teams and support personnel for searching, and at least a pair of additional combat teams on standby to deploy if we get stuck into a battle. I could cut that down to two and one if forced, but that is the ideal situation." Persica's attention returned to him, expression returning to a carefully blank one, another sip of her drink hiding her exact feelings. "The primary issues to hand are my manpower and intelligence. Manpower is obviously not a problem that can be solved quickly." He let it hang, curious if she'd take the bait.

Persica didn't hesitate a moment to fulfill the cliché if accurate response. "Information about the mission is 'Need to know'."

"And I don't need to know, nor am I asking for mission objective details." Leaning forward, Ian settled into maintaining an uncomfortable level of eye contact. "What I need is information about the people I'm hunting. Personality, how they make decisions, equipment, and more importantly what sensitive items they are carrying, if any at all. If we find them, should we prioritize the items or the people, if we find them dead, what are we looking for. Should the items be destroyed if retrieval is not possible?" Again, he paused to take in Persica and Helian's expressions while he took another drink. Helian didn't let anything on besides a vague sense of approval of his questions, while Persica's expression, what he could see of it, seemed caught between annoyance, and a sort of grudging respect, and just for a moment Ian swore he saw her smiling. "I am familiar with being tasked to 'retrieve the object' without knowing what the object is, or however you want to phrase it. But, I suspect you both knew that part already." Letting that stew for a moment, he took another drink. "In my understanding, Griffon has accepted the job, so I am contractually bound to attempt it. What I am telling you is that, as the situation sits right now, if I do that, you should set your expectations accordingly, and those expectations should be abject failure. If you want to improve the chances that I can bring back one or more of your team, I need you to work with me." Stick, carrot. Given Helian's opinion of Persica, and what he'd observed so far, Ian personally doubted this approach would work. But, if he was going to go to Groza and FAL and tell them he got forced into a suicide mission by a delusional woman wearing cat ears, he wanted to truthfully claim he tried every option to get them out of it first.

The stare down between them dragged on for quite some time, her expression growing more inscrutable as time went on. Eventually he yielded enough to raise a brow in question. Persica looked away, and he saw the muscles in her arm tense, a clenched fist the sure first sign of movement, for good or ill. "I see why Kryuger recommended you, Commander." Helian coughed, getting a glare from the researcher. "All four members of the team are to be retrieved alive." Problematic, but workable. "They should be traveling in your direction, based upon my last contact with them, and were still together at that point." Her eyes drifted out of focus for a moment. Before Persica could say more, however, a klaxon rang, and she jumped a good three inches, Ian's eyes snapping to the side. "What is that?" Helian, from the corner of his eye, motioned for him to go.

"Attack." He stood, chair slamming into the wall, as he palmed for his service pistol, and started for the door. "Shouldn't be Sangvis, so I suppose bandits, or maybe a stray ELID made it this far. That last one it mostly assuredly was not, but he didn't care, the excuse to leave the room sounded superior to anything else anyway. "I will endeavor to resolve this as soon as possible.

"Squad leaders, status." He threw the bulky uniform coat mandated by meetings to the side as he entered the room, pulling on a headset. As the system connected his ear filled with static, before resolving to the voices of his subordinates.

"Ready." Groza.

"Standing by." FAL.

The displays lit, information coming in bursts, Echelon information, scouting details, and Ian bit his tongue when he read the description of the 'attackers'. "Light hostiles, Designation Scout, Prowler and," He stumbled for a moment, "Dinergate." Apparently, that really was the name given to the tiny little things, and not just someone wanting to fuck with him, a problem filed away to handle at a later date. "Thirty-six contacts, potentially more." Instinct told him there would be more than just those, but that same nagging voice told him that Sangvis Ferri didn't behave as a standard commander would. "Approach 077 and 113."

Unsurprisingly he'd made it to the command room first, but the remaining staff the base had were trickling in, a Comms tech, the UAV pilot, and a tiny Kalina hologram appeared in the corner of the table. In spite of the circumstances, she seemed to be fairly relaxed. "Fleur is with me, and all Echelons are ready to go."

He hadn't considered that detail, and mentally thanked Kalina for the reminder, before setting it aside for the immediate problem. "Understood." Turning away he glanced about the room, meeting a flood of semi-anxious eyes. "Get more drones in the air, I want a better picture of this mess."

-Faded Glory—

"98, get yourself a vantage point, 39, cover her. PP-2000, OTs-12, with me." Groza settled her grip on her rifle, and took the small luxury to mentally curse whoever planned this surprise attack. They didn't have time to change from civilian clothing, hastily strapping on plate carriers and gear, leaving Groza in her usual sweater and civilian boots, neither of which were intended for combat, and made the lightly forest area around the base truly obnoxious to navigate. Putting that thought aside, she opened the channel to the Commander. "Anything I've missed?"

"Take the hill five hundred meters ahead of you, use that for now. You've got eight minutes until Scouts hit. FAL will take the eastern group." Even the grainy radio failed to hide the curt delivery, and Groza could imagine the man pacing before the battle map, muttering imprecations about getting surprised. "I'll let you know if I get better intel."

In other words, they didn't expect a bit of this to happen, and were completely blind to what was happening, and by the sounds of it, he liked it as much as she did. "Understood."

SV-98 broke the radio silence first. "I thought Sangvis wasn't operating in Sector 9?"

"Ballista and I spotted a few Scouts, but not enough for something like this." PP-2000 offered just a hint of hesitation in the words. Groza made a mental note to ask about that later, but she trusted PP-2000, and Ballista's, judgement on the matter. "When we told the Commander, he said he'd keep an eye on things, but it's only been a day so I'm not sure he'd have had time to change things."

"Perhaps they noticed you." OTs-12's suggested, although the turn of her voice made it clear she didn't believe it herself. "Or do you think it has to do with what the Commander is meeting with Miss Helian about?" Groza's gut told her that OTs-12 might have hit on something, but she wasn't going to voice that opinion for now.

Groza vaulted a fallen log, stumbling as she landed, cursing her uneven footing. "For now, we focus on dealing with the immediate problem, then let the Commander sort out the reasoning."

"Yes, ma'am!" Came the instant reply from the entire group, and the rest of the sprint carried on in silence.

The hilltop the Commander suggested offered a decent view into the small valley below, with plenty of brush for them to hide behind, and considering the terrain, offering them a relatively wide field of fire if they needed it.

Groza took a few seconds to commit the area to memory, pulling the mental construct up in her mind's eye, before starting to issue orders.. "Tiss and I will take cover here. 2000, see if you can locate the enemy, don't engage unless you have too." She took a pause, adding SV-98's position to her mental image. "98, clear shot?"

Her second took a while to reply. "Clear enough. Range is long."

"Understood." They'd passed a few points that Groza considered reasonable fallback positions if needed, and if SV-98 didn't like the shot, Groza didn't mind having her wait to shoot. "Be conservative for now." A grunt answered her, and Groza rolled her eyes, watching PP-2000 pick her way down the hill, shifting from cover to cover. She flipped radio frequencies, isolating the SMG. "2000."

"Er…yes?" Groza could see she almost stumbled, the blonde SMG's own footwear somehow worse than Groza's boots for woodland fighting, something Groza made a note to account for when ordering her to fall back.

The next words had to be chosen carefully and Groza took some time to consider exactly how to word her question. "What exactly did you spot while you were with Ballista?"

PP-2000 dropped to a crouch, bringing her weapon up as she peered around a rock. "A few Scouts. The Commander said the drones spotted at least one Sangvis patrol, but they were staying far enough away from the base he could ignore them."

"I see." Strange then, that they'd have this many units attacking, but it was possible the group spotted the previous night was intended to gather intel for an attack.. Before she could put more thoughts together, PP-200 hissed in a breath.

"I see them!" A pause, Groza could see her hands shaking. "Nine Scouts, uh…" Another second passed. "Twenty-seven Prowlers! Advancing as a group."

Groza blinked twice, already shifting to open radio again. "Commander. We have more than thirty contacts." She heard him swear in two languages. "Primarily Prowler type."

Despite the earlier curse, the reply came without hesitation. "Understood. Engage at your discretion." A beat. "FAL also reports more contacts than expected, be advised you aren't likely to get friendly help from her direction."

"Sir." Groza flicked her safety off settling into a firing position. "2000, how many do you think you hit with a single grenade?"

"Four? Maybe eight?" As the words passed, the first Scouts came into view, if at quite long range. Groza took aim at the leading one, and thermal imaging showed the

"Hit the Prowlers with the Grenade. 98, hold fire. Tiss with me." A chorus of affirmatives followed, PP-2000 pulling a grenade, then a pin, holding it tight at her side. "2000, we go on your cue."

The SMG threw a surprised look over her shoulder before nodding at the spot Groza knelt.

As the Scouts continued moving, Groza frowned. They weren't moving directly towards the base, instead on a diagonal line that, if extended, would pass a few hundred meters north of the base itself. Close enough to trigger an alarm, but it wasn't a direct attack. PP-2000 gave a grunt, and the grenade's gentle arc brought it down at the front of the newly arriving Prowlers. Groza fixed her sights on the Scout once more, and, trusting OTs-12 to target the rear one, she fired a three-round burst into the leading Scout, as the crack of the explosion filled the air, and shards of metal went flying.

Information flooded her. PP-2000's grenade destroyed six of the Prowlers, and damaged at least one more, the SMG doll already moving backwards as fast as she could. Groza dropped another Scout with a quick burst, OTs-12 taking two with a longer spray.

For a good four or five seconds, the Sangvis units continued on their path, seemingly ignoring the violent attack, before abruptly jerking, and turning to engage. The delay cost them, another grenade landing amidst the Prowlers. Groza retargeted, caving in the leading Prowler with four quick shots, before the others unleashed a hail of fire in the general direction of PP-2000, who lost her footing and fell behind a tree, but not before getting off a few rounds in retaliation.

"Groza!" The Commander's voice rang in her ears, pushing back against the sounds of combat. "Fall back, now!"

The somewhat frantic nature of the order took her by surprise, as she hit another Scout, the floating machine listing and slumping to earth. "Commander?" She ejected a magazine, fumbling with her gear as she fished spare. From somewhere in the group of Prowlers, a bright yellow bolt jumped up, landing a few feet to Groza's left, blasting a sizable hole into the earth and showering her in dirt. A second yellow bolt landed closer, and Groza scrambled to the side, the third shot blasting a hole exactly where she'd been, the rocks pelting hard enough to hurt. "Commander!"

"I did not know they had that." A low growl, as another yellow energy blast sailed over the hill this time. "Alongside the heavier resistance than expected on FAL's end, there is a third, new group moving on a vector directly between the two of you." The information flashed behind her eyes, along with the details about approach and speed. "I have a few theories, but right now you need to pull back."

"Understood. We will withdraw as best we can." The updated order hit the others right away. "2000, swing wide, meet up with us farther south. 98, cover Tiss and I, 39, move up to assist 2000." Another high energy blast tore a tree in half a few feet to her left. "Tiss, cover to cover."

"Got it!"

Another grenade kicked up a nice cloud of dirt, as PP-2000 took off at the best sprint she could manage, the thermal picture revealing machine gun fire chasing behind her.

Groza didn't wait, already sprinting over the crest of the hill and behind the nearest sturdy object. Gunfire sounded behind her, the high-pitched whine of a bullet snapping by her ear as she ducked behind a good sized rock. Another dull thunk of an explosion sound from the left.

"Groza, move, now!" SV-98's voice cut off the assessment of the state of the battle, and Groza dove, a clumsy instinctual motion, just before the rock she was leaning against vanishing a shower of debris. "What the hell is shooting those bursts? I've seen tanks do less damage!"

The Commander took the time to interject. "Unknown. We're working on it." Groza hated that answer 'we're working on it', even if she knew it to be the truth. Scrambling back up, she kept running, occasionally firing a shot when there was a chance. She glanced around cover, trying to find a target to shoot. Eight remaining, all targeting Tiss, but what caught her attention was in the center of the machines. A small black object jumped up, glowing brilliant yellow before the bolt streaked out another tree smashed clear in twain. In the same breath, SV-98's next shot dinged off the object, sparks flashing. It spun, firing wildly into the dark.

"New contact, type unknown!" SV-98 started rattling off details, while Groza resumed the run.

Dimly, Groza could tell the Commander ordered FAL's team to move into a position to try and buffer the new attacking force. "2000, meet up with FAL's team." Groza cut in during a brief moment of respite. "Commander-

A crackle, as the gunfire rose more violently with the introduction of yet more combatants. "You're about fifty meters off FAL's position, multiple contacts in between." The network information followed quickly, FAL's echelon's hastily found positions, the advancing enemies starting to circle around the flanks.

"Understood." Another burst whizzed past her ears, and a lock of hair drifted down her front, that bullet from a new direction, as the outer edges of the third group turned to engage her. "FAL."

A brief moment passed, and Groza managed to clip a Prowler's leg with a shot before the drone flunk another energy blast over her head. "Marking." And her mental battle-map dropped several points to dive into for cover. "Options for the drone?"

"Multiple hits, grenades, direct sniper hit." SV-98 rattled it off quickly. "It would need to be dead on, it seems well armored."

Groza ducked behind another tree. "I'll see what I can do."

"Groza, if you have an idea, carry it out quickly." FAL cut onto the line, the sounds of gunfire loud in the background. "We can't hold if that drone is on us as well."

Groza gasped out an affirmative as she found herself kneeling next to PP-2000, the SMG fumbling to reload, a thin line of black running down her arm, and quite a few knicks and cuts in her clothing.

"I got the last Prowler, it's just the floating thing left." A shuddering breath, PP-2000 looking up, pupils wide. "Can we…?"

First rule of thumb, be confident. "As long as someone gets a clean shot, yes."

"I just need one of you two to stand out in the open with a big 'shoot me' sign." The squad sniper declared. "Specifically, right about…here." A mark highlighted on Groza mental map, before being scrubbed almost as fast. "That should line it up nicely."

That if they didn't stop the thing now, they'd end up surrounded while getting shelled by said drone went unsaid. Groza took a breath, checking her weapon. While PP-2000 could probably make the run, she seemed unsettled enough that Groza would prefer to avoid asking that of her. Further, asking PP-2000 to trust SV-98 to actually make the shot sounded like a recipe for trouble. The flickers on the tactical map around FAL's position grew more intense, and more dirt fountained up around Groza and PP-2000.

She directed the next word at SV-98 Groza made up her mind. "Understood." Groza tapped 2000 on the shoulder. "Stay here, I'll bait it." PP-2000's eyes widened, she started to object, reaching to stop Groza from running, but Groza vaulted the cover, already running for the indicated spot.

"Groza, what the hell are you doing?" FAL's voice rang in her ears, but she ignored that, peaking out to verify the drone's location.

"Be ready." No reply.

The floating drone spun as it tracked, Groza doing her best to avoid stray shots from other enemies as she moved it into position.

"Three feet left."

Groza rolled, the smell of burning hair filling her nostrils, before metal met in an ear splitting crack.

"Target destroyed." Under the cool disinterest, Ballista's voice shook. "May I advise not charging into danger in the future?" That line appeared to be directed squarely at Groza, and she realized a moment late it was a private line. "I do not enjoy the thought of explaining to FAL that you committed suicide by drone."

"Understood." She let her breath slow to a more measured state, then selected FAL. "Status?"

"Clear. They lost coordination, and the remaining units are falling swiftly." A beat, then another. "Do you believe the drone you encountered to be a control node?"

"Hard to say." If what FAL said held, then it would make sense, but Groza hesitated to make such a claim without more information.

"Drones are doing one more pass, but it should be clear." The Commander's declared. "Standby for further orders."

By sunset, most of the chaos died down, although Groza's nerves remained frayed, as it seemed did all the Dolls, hands lingering near weapons, weapons that hadn't been returned to the armory. After the attack, and the confirmation that everything settled down, the Commander had been called away to report to Helian, leaving FAL and Groza in charge of the Combat Teams, while Kalina handled the rest of the base, which also gave them both plenty of time to stand, and stare menacingly at the command table, reviewing the information from the battle.

"The more I stare at this, the more I feel they didn't intend to attack." The random thought from the battle returned with a vengeance, and Groza finally gave it voice. "They're moving in lines, across the area. I'm not sure they would have encountered the base if we haven't intervened…"

"The Commander said something to that effect as well." Her eyes snapped up, landing on the grizzly face of Aleksander, communications technician. "That and some curse about old Soviet battle tactics right before ordering you to fall back." He glanced from Groza to FAL and back again. "When he left, he kept muttering about someone being an idiot and how they should have known better."

"And has anyone seen him since then?" FAL's arms crossed, her expression torn between deep annoyance, and resignation. "It is rather unusual for officers to disappear for hours on end without so much as a word." A sharp, challenging question.

"Nope." The man rolled his shoulders, before dropping into his chair. "We've gotten one call from HQ, and nothing beyond that. The Commander is in his office…I'm fairly sure on a call the entire time." Groza and FAL traded a look. "You two know what that meeting today was about?" Another quick look between them, the question of how much gossip they should indulge being asked and answered, one Aleksander obviously caught. "That doesn't encourage me."

All attention returned to the man, now sitting in his chair again, arms cross. Groza felt her guard rise. "What doesn't encourage you?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Those looks you're giving each other. I've been around long enough to know the 'should we or shouldn't we' look, and it never means good things for us grunts, hell even for you lot."

Groza's lips twitched at the implication. "I didn't think we qualified as officers." He made an effort to shrug and gave up halfway, but the look in his eyes said he didn't agree. "Regardless, neither of us are completely certain. We believe some major assignment is coming, but have no real guess as to what it is." She pulled up the battle again, staring at the SF units. "Sangvis search parties at odd intervals, a strange new Drone…."

"Why would Sangvis be searching this area?" FAL threw out a generalized gesture to the area at large. "Every description of Sector 9 I can find refers to it as a backwater without anything of value and the only notable Sangvis presence is the occasional Scout. Yet, we just fought nearly a hundred assorted autonomous units, a force larger than ever thrown at this base, unless there is something I haven't been told?"

Groza had no easy answer for that, shaking her head to indicate that no, FAL wasn't missing information. The Belgian's eyes narrowed yet more, and she leaned over the map again.

Behind them, the door hissed, both Dolls and Aleksander spinning to face the newcomer. The Commander strode into the room, missing his uniform coat, but carrying a half-eaten sandwich. He gave all three of them a nod, before taking another bite. Swallowing, he nodded to Aleksander. "Dismissed." Groza's stomach sank just a bit, a feeling of impending doom starting around here.

"Sir!" The man offered a hazy salute giving Groza a smug look when the Commander couldn't see and leaving the room in a slouch.

The Commander took another minute to finish his meal. "That sucked." Both Dolls jumped, not having expected him to speak, or how blunt he was. "Good catch on the patrol patterns by the way, I didn't put together that all of them were on that same sort of search vector." He started to manipulate the table, changing images and files rapidly. "Made my job a bit easier." A map of Sector 9, zoomed out to the highest level appeared.

"How did-" FAL bit down, cutting off the words, until he waved for her to go on. "How did you know we came to that conclusion?" The Commander nodded to the abandoned comms chair, and Groza felt her respect for the grizzled technician rise a tad. "Ah."

He nodded, loading a few more files, lines and overlays starting to appear on the map. "Surprised the hell outta me, when I'm in the middle of dressing down someone for having the gall to imply they knew how to do my job better than I did, and this message 'FAL and Groza think SF is running search pattern, not an attack?' appears, and trying not to exclaim in delight proved rather tricky." Standing to his full height, the Commander's lips twisted, a slow, controlled way, not quite a smirk, not quite a sneer. "And I will apologize now for what is coming next."

"Meaning?" FAL's voice lost all emotion, and the pit in Groza's stomach grew heavier.

The Commander looked between them both for a few more seconds before his eyes dropped. "Meaning, despite my best efforts, we're about to get fucked." He tapped the command table, and the map spun, zooming in to the north. "I'll brief everyone tomorrow, call it…" He stopped, glancing at the time. "Call it 1200 even. I need time to go over information being sent over by the client, and catch up on a few hours of sleep and food, so I can figure out how unpleasant this is going to be." His eyes lingered on the map. "Either of you two know much about search and rescue?"

"No…?" Groza made a note to ask the others on her team, although she knew SV-98 didn't either. FAL merely shook her head, presumably speaking for her entire squad.

A blink, just a bit longer than normal provided a clue as to the joy that answer brought him. "Splendid." A dismissive nod. "Get some rest you two, I need you on top of things when the real fun starts."

AN: Ayyyy I'm not dead. I'd love to manage an update schedule better than once per major event, but we'll see how that goes. Everyone wants my time, and I don't have enough of it, so goodness knows when next update comes. Branded will threaten me with death if it takes this long again though.

Thoughts, reviews, questions etc are always great, and remind me to keep up on this thing when I'm losing my sodding marbles. Until next time, and 100% less suffering.