1. I know, so "soon" after the last one? (Gasp!) Yeah, well, I -do- have a bit of a buffer, and I've been good. I've been trying real hard to get work on this done... in between BF2 sessions, that is...
(Sigh)
The good news, however, is that I got promoted! WOO!
http://bf2s.com/player/46291829/
2. I've been playing with this thing in BF2, and I'm rather fond of it.
http://world.guns.ru...ult/hk_g36c.jpg
I'm thinking about swapping Falynn over to one of these. She'd lose the underslung grenade launcher of course, which cuts down on her firepower, but seeing as how Minsc is toting one of these, they could probably still get by.
http://world.guns.ru...hine/mg17-e.htm
3. Short chapter, relatively speaking, but I think it gets the job done.
4. Lifted a line from Farscape.
Also, another bit of pseudo-stolen dialogue... see if you can find that one.5. "Man-hacks" are from Half-Life 2. Annoying little buggers, but thankfully, a good slap with the crowbar is usually enough to take care of 'em.
-----
Jaheira had to angle her neck up so high it hurt, just to see the ceiling of the room she and Falynn were now standing in. It was even larger than the entrance foyer they had found a while back, but unlike that room, which had been mostly empty, this one was practically filled, wall to wall, with all manner of supplies and equipment. In one corner were depressions in the floor that looked like the access covers for a half-dozen sheltered, high-capacity fuel bunkers – each bunker most likely filled to the brim with quality aviation fuel. Over on the other side of the room were tall, metal lockers, probably containing several tons of high-explosive ordnance. Assorted racks of small arms stood alongside – neutron carbines, laser rifles, plasma handguns, shoulder-launched anti-tank missile launchers, and a few boxes of Confed standard-issue fragmentation grenades.
Over alongside the far wall stood machinists tools - everything from simple kick-presses to high-velocity lathes. Diagnostic equipment, presumably for the vehicles that would normally be housed here, was everywhere, loaded onto wheeled carts that could easily be positioned wherever necessary. The monitors themselves blinked occasionally to signify their standby readiness. Finally, in the far corner was a large lift that sloped diagonally down, delving further into the depths of the complex. It was sturdy enough and powerful enough to support the weight of several multi-ton vehicles, and was covered in engine-oil stains, tire tracks, and the like.
“This place is enormous. It looks like some kind of hangar bay.”
Omega One tilted her head in agreement. “Probably is. Hardened fuel-storage cells, heavy-duty weapons lockers… you could cram enough fighters, bombers, fuel and ordnance in this place to take on an entire Dominion task force.” She frowned; suddenly, it was all starting to come together, and she wasn’t too happy about the conclusion it was all leading to. “A wing of strategic bombers in the hangar, and a bunch of eggheads cooking up bioweaps just down the hall. Cozy, little setup they got here. Now if only they had a whole bunch of disguised missile silos sticking out the side of the mountain a few hundred feet up, they’d be all good to go,” she grumbled sarcastically. “They probably stored the fighters and stuff here, then used those lifts over there to transit them through underground tunnels to an exit point some distance away from the mountain. More lag when it comes to actually launching their craft, but makes it more difficult to pinpoint the location of the base itself. Not a bad trade-off, I guess.”
Jaheira was fiddling with her tactical and communications headset. She readjusted the thin, boom-microphone and reseated her earpiece. The small device crackled with static, and her heads-up display flickered briefly, but then cleared up. She began scanning the tactical map, her attentions clearly focused on the here and now as opposed to the long-term implications of Falynn’s theorizing. Superimposed on the map of the complex were symbols of varying shape and color. “Where are Imoen and the rest of the team?” she asked, having a difficult time picking out the blips representing her friends from the other contacts reported by the base’s internal sensors.
“Looks like they ditched the patrols chasing them,” Falynn absently remarked, also doing her best to try and get a good handle on the tactical situation. The fuzzy sensor readouts she was being fed were better than nothing… but not much better considering their lack of clarity. “They must have found a maintenance crawlway; think it opens up all the way over on the other side of the level.”
“That’s a lot of ground to cover.”
“Yeah, I know… and I’m not sure what kind of hostiles we’ve got down here, either.” She shook her head. “We’ll have to link back up with the rest of the team as soon as possible. I don’t like being split off like this.”
Three made an exaggerated flourishing motion with her hand. “Lead the way.”
“Right.”
-----
Two was busy sifting through the tactical information plastered on her HUD. She frowned and scratched the back of her neck as she tried to analyze all the incoming data. “If I’m reading these schematics right, they probably exited through this maintenance hatch. It’s where I’d go if I were being hounded by a bunch of Dominion patrols. Anyway, that would put them all the way over on the other side of this level… probably in one of these giant hangar bays.”
There was some muffled clattering from behind as Nalia finished crawling her way out of the ventilation shaft. She stuck her arm out; Valygar grabbed her wrist and pulled. Once she had her feet back under her, the ensign stood up straight and brushed the dust off her uniform. Some of it got into her nose, causing her to sneeze. She sniffled a couple of times. “How can we get to them?”
Imoen turned towards her and shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. Standard procedure in places like this is to lock the entire complex down tight in the event of an attack… which is exactly what the base’s personnel did. It’s a bit of a double-edged sword, though. Splits you off from the rest of your reinforcements, prevents you from linking up and mounting an effective strongpoint defense action.”
Valygar nodded in agreement with that assessment, but offered up some further analysis of his own. “But it also means that the Dominion basically has to fight room to room, throwing their resources away for each and every centimeter of ground that stands between them and their objectives. Each individual cell of defenders can’t hold out for very long, but what time they -can- buy helps delay the overall enemy advance.”
Nalia understood where this was going. She frowned. “So with the entire place in lockdown, there’s no way we’re going to be able to take the most direct route between Major Llyr, Lieutenant Marael, and us. Isn’t there any way to circumvent all the security procedures that have been put into place?”
“Not really,” the Lieutenant replied with a shrug. “Wouldn’t be very secure if we could, right?” She scratched the side of her neck as she thought the situation through. We’d need all kinds of stuff to get past that pile of countermeasures. Access codes-”
“Which we don’t have,” Valygar threw in.
“Retinal patterns…”
“Which we can’t fake.”
“Authorization from the Security Officers on duty…”
“Which we’re not going to get…”
Imoen nodded sadly. “Yeah. Which means the only way through this mess will be through side corridors, air ducts, maintenance tubes, that kind of thing. It’ll definitely be slow going, but it’s all we’ve got… and-”
“And, of course, all those routes will be heavily defended,” Spectre commented. His customary frown seemed even moodier than usual.
“Sure. Confed’s not -that- stupid.”
“Well, I’ve got a question: defended by whom?” Nalia asked. “I thought you said there probably weren’t any ConSec personnel left on this level.”
“There probably aren’t, but credits to crullers, this base has some really nasty static defenses set up. It wouldn’t make sense -not- to have them in a place like this.”
Sergeant Corthala gave an affirming nod. “I think that’s a fair assumption, Lieutenant. We’ll most likely have to deal with several layers of defensive emplacements. Automated turrets, laser grids, motion sensors, micro-pressure plates, static-disruptor fields… come to think of it, I wouldn’t be surprised if the maintenance hallways themselves were full of man-hacks.”
Harlequin winced, the term bringing up all manner of unpleasant memories for her. She let out an anxious breath, trying hard, and barely managing, to keep her cool. “Wouldn’t surprise me, either.”
Cipher raised a hand. It was slim and pale with thin, clever fingers, and, surprisingly enough, was still well-manicured. “That doesn’t sound good,” she said, chewing nervously on her lower lip. “What’s a man-hack?”
Imoen turned her head to the side and flicked her answer backwards over her shoulder. “You know those little remote controlled helicopters kids play with? They’re kinda like those…”
Spectre continued on with the explanation after Imoen had trailed off. “Only replace the plastic rotors with ultrite blades capable of slicing through a human sternum.”
Nalia blinked. “Oh.”
Imoen smirked. “Ayup.”
“Guess that means the odds of us getting through there in one piece are… ‘not good’?”
Imoen shrugged, then broke into a wry grin. “Sorta. But then again, ‘not good’ 's pretty much the best odds we ever get.”
