On request of an earnest friend >[Beginning cold start....] >[Flashing hardware BiOS....] >[Retrieving system defaults...] >[......] >[......] >[Core boot successful...] >[Toggling main power supply; (Custom hardware detected: RaiTech Ionic Pulse micro-reactor.)] >[Executing custom boot program: KickStartMyHeart.exe ...] >[System Mainframe warranty voided, are you sure you wish to proceed? (Y/N)] >Y >[......] >[!system power over rated capacity by 150.54%!] >[Attempting contact to Buzzcorp tech support....] >[!err!: WARRANTY VOID; MERC-MOD CLAUSE] >[......] >[Chassis scan report; all systems go....] >[Proceeding with boot, loading core OS runtimes....] >[Loading ballistics prediction engine (V 8.35.599.18732.)....] >[Loading gravimetric/atmospheric analytics package....] >[Loading "trigger finger"] >[Loading core loyalty programs....] >[Loading moral compass.] >[!err loading moral compass!: unknown] >[Initializing SaOS; pattern alpha...] >[Unit: Simo coming online.] >[....] >[Retrieving SaOS memory file 'Newbie'....] >[Beginning playback.] >The heat is baking in the sun, doesn't bother you, doesn't bother the small reptilian sunning on the rock opposite you either. >If you don't move it seems to accept that if you don't bother it, it won't bother you. >You're a veritable diplomat, if only treaty with sapients was so easy. >Maybe then you wouldn't be here, but again you'd also be out of a job. >At least one that doesn't seem so grimly noble. >Hunter doesn't have quite the same aplomb to it as Sniper. >Hunters bag animals with an IQ quotient below room temperature, you solve problems, practical problems. >Problems like where your partner is. They were supposed to be here by now. >Their GPS isn't built in but that's not much of an excuse. >Something is approaching from the east below you. >Humanoid, and not greatly concerned with concealing their presence, judging by the footsteps. >You've been camped on top of this bluff for hours already, unmoving, watching. >If it is one of them, they don't know you're here. >The chances of that are less than 5%. >You glide forward on your perch, careful not to scrape any sand and gravel down the ramp of sunbaked rock in front of you. >Not even the native reptile seems perturbed by the movement. >You slowly swing the mass coupled to your arms into position, it's awkward, you'll have to eyeball this one but that isn't a problem. >What rounds the corner is a Lupiform, wolfish muzzle peering around cautiously in every which direction. Her peripherals haven't seemed to have taken verticality into account so she hasn't spotted you. >She's wrapped in the typical stealth bodyglove, a dark, hardy material designed to blend in. The only embellishments present being dull orange stripes and the corp badge. >Pinned against her chest is an XS pattern accelerator rifle, also done up in Starfire colors. >This must be your partner for the assignment. >She pauses directly below you, still peering around anxiously. >Recalling her name and profile as they were given to you before deployment there's no doubt this is her, that pelt was unmistakable in alternating between snowy white and dusted tan. >It's of note however that this is her first real field assignment. >You pick yourself up and slide down the rocks to make introductions. >The noise finally makes her aware of your presence, especially by the way she jitters as you come to a halt in the gravel in front of her. >The rookie seems to take a few seconds to fight with her own instincts concerning her weapon before her brain finally catches up to her eyes and registers recognition of a friendly. >"BY THE LORD!... Shit! Don't sneak up on me like that!" >If she's done fooling around, you have work to do. "Operative Schivna. You are approximately twenty minutes late to rendezvous." "And may I suggest you keep down the volume." >"And you." She bounces a paw off your chassis, the blow only recoiling off your frame and causing her discomfort. "Must be Simo... *ow*." "Are you ready to begin mission brief?" >"Look, I only took so long getting here because I didn't want to be seen! and.. yes." >Why was she acting so strangely? Perhaps the heat in combination with the stress of a first assignment is affecting her neural processes. Regardless, you have a contract to fulfill, and the starfire corp prides itself on a high contract completion rate. >You would not be the reason for a drop in completion rate. "Situation is as follows; local mining consortia have come into conflict with heavily armed pirates. Consortia security overwhelmed and unable to secure all threatened facilities. Pirates have raided facilities, capturing material and consortia employees as hostages." >"And why can't they handle it?" "Consortium marines unable to effect halo drop. Direct orbital deployment would result in hostage executions prior to landing. Conclusion; more subtle assault mandated to ensure hostage survival and material recovery." >Her muzzle twists with confusion. >"So you and I are going to do what a gaggle of corporate marines can't?" "Correct. Limited force approach will fool pirates into believing they posses high chance of victory. Hostages too valuable to throw away on a whim." >"I... guess that makes sense." >You're pleased to see that she is learning. >"But, wait? Won't any sort of attack risk the hostages?" "This is an acceptable risk. Contract mandate is elimination of pirates. Hostage casualties will be unfortunate and undesired, but ultimately acceptable." >"Sooo, save them if we can, but if the pirates cap them anyway we still fulfill the contract?" "Correct." >She turns, a frown dressing her snout. >"Well that's grim." "Shall we cover the layout of the enemy facility next?" >[Playback paused....] >[Fast-forwarding to time code marker 'the good part'....] >[....] >[Playback resuming.] >The compound was an odd mish-mosh of civilian and military engineering, most of it stolen or pieced together, as is the pirate way. >If anything this place was a quiet village before the pirates arrived, scared off or killed the populace, and then erected a wall of salvage. >A single street gathering of wooden frontier homes. While charmingly rustic, basically defenseless. >Of course the pirates probably added the command bunker, launchpad, fuel depot, and generally scattered fortifications. >Notably the concrete block-house solar farms, which looked hardy at first glance, but sat practically right next to a open bank of capacitors. >The pirates were at least clever enough to understand fuel tanks have a nasty habit of exploding or burning things down when introduced to inclement gunfire and placed them at the opposite end of the compound from their bunker, yet no one seems to have told them that a loaded capacitor, especially at industrial size, could produce a similarly volatile reaction. >It would take a minimum of effort to cut their power. >That meant no long range comms, no scanners, no auto-defenses. And the detonation would likely immolate the line of technicals parked in front of the power bank. >Then there was the hostages, over a dozen employees and security personnel held together in one place under guard. >A wise move on their captor's part, if not for their prison being a wooden cabin rather than anything fortified. >The heavy anti-material rifle you carried would punch through the walls without complaint, neutralizing the civilians' captors before they could act. >Your wide spectrum optics packages would make it laughably easy. >Between your briefing and patient hours of observation on multiple bands, the plan was for the newbie to use her lighter, much quieter rifle to take out some pirates in key vantage points, while you ensured the hostage's safety and sewed general chaos. >With all the confusion, mopping up a lot of resistance should be straightforward before the strikeforce arrived to clear the place out proper. >The conglomerate didn't see the point in endangering more of their own as long as they were paying for mercenary services, so it was more of your own people poised to knock down the door. >For now you were just waiting on the newbie to scale the bluffs into her position. >The geography gave you both good sightlines into the courtyard/street dividing the place in half. High mesas in all directions made sure that as long as you could mask your silhouette so as not to be picked out against the sky you stood a good chance of remaining undetected. >To be safe on that you marked out a pair of spots a fair distance away from the pirates. You maintained watch to the south under the shade of a young arid tree at around 700 meters. >The girl was posted similarly east of the compound at a distance of roughly 600 meters, a classic crossfire. >If all went to plan, things would be wrapped up in short order. >"Hrng... How do you... urrg. Manage this all day?" >Your com unit crackles with the rookie's complaints, you answer it with but a thought. "My locomotion is not dependent on easily fatigued muscle fibers. Perhaps you should invest in.. 'getting swole'?" >The pause over the comm is audible. >"Was... *huff* Was that a joke?" "Perhaps." >Her response is distinctly sardonic. >"I can't believe you right now tinman." >Turning your attention to her position, she's finally made the climb and is crawling on her belly to get into a good spot. >She understood the risks of framing her outline against the sky like any trained riflemen did, but today would be her crucible. >Could she put theory into practice? Could she draw blood, if even from great distance? Could she keep herself stable? >These were the questions you had to answer to your superiors. >Whether or not she would remain with the Starfire corp depended on your assessment. >She makes herself at home in a patch of yellowing tall grass, careful not to expose even her rifle to direct sunlight. >Good, at least she's remembering the correct techniques. >"In position." >And now the show begins. "Excellent. Begin with the perimeter guard. May I suggest the rifleman in the watchtower first? If and when they are made aware of our presence I will neutralize the hostages' guards." >The pirate's lookouts were exposed from your vantage points and didn't have many eyes on them. Perhaps she could take care of them with the interior garrison remaining unawares. >The 'Watchtower' was more of a repurposed comm-mast torn from a civilian ship with a riveted carousel welded at the top. >Between the glass and the spotlights it must be fashioned after a prison guard tower, undoubtedly the pattern its creators were most familiar with. >You focus in, observing the ratty vulpid on station lazily scan towards the roads and open desert far to the northeast. >The 'fennec' subspecies if you were judging by his short, emaciated stature. >"Okay, just a little bit..." >The rookie must be taking in windage, gravity, velocity, all calculations you can capably run in the back of your head, but are more present and demanding for an inexperienced pure-organic. >"Think I have him.. taking the shot." >You hear nothing under the wind, the suppressor and lighter caliber of her rifle at work. >The watchman flinches, an arterial spray misting the nearby window with red. The plexi-glass managing to catch the round in a dense spider's web of white cracks after it was slowed by bone and tissue. >The window fails to crumble to pieces, but the pirate isn't so lucky. His body dropping limply onto the catwalk. >A clean kill, executed by the book. >None of the other brigands below take notice of this. "Adequately done, Operative Schivna." >Her response on the comm is a sputtering gust of air. >"*Huuuooo*, I thought I missed him for a second... alright, next one the joe behind the bunker." >You tune your optics over towards the figure in question, standing at post on the wall behind the above-ground command bunker. >Calling it a wall was a disservice to professional military engineers everywhere, it was half composed of wrecked car frames and plywood. The important thing was the sentry wasn't easily visible from ground level, at least judging by how you could really only spy his shoulders up from your view, but the rookie had a better sightline on him from her position. >With luck, none of the pirates on the ground could even see him. >A few more moments hang in the air, before a brief flash of sparks erupts from the buccaneer's rusted helmet and he drops much like the previous opponent. >"Score!... *phew* okay, think nobody's watching the guy in the back near the fuel." >She just might have some talent afterall, but her confidence doesn't need your help right now. >The grunt she described may perhaps be a trickier shot, as the gunman in question is lazily walking the wall on the farside of the compound. >There was also the matter of this particular lookout wearing some heavier equipment, including what looked like a salvaged plate coat. >Even when she hits, it might not be a kill. "Remember your range tables, operative." >"I'm not in basic anymore, I know what I'm doing." >What is undoubted, but does she quite know *how*? >You could easily blow the scav's head off his shoulders but of course the noise would set everything in motion. >For now you defer to Schivna's subtler arsenal. >A longer pause than previous, you begin considering if she's still lining up the shot, before the sentry jerks backwards. >His hands shoot towards his shoulders and he teeters erratically. A shot straight to the collar if you had to guess. >You consider following up with your own rifle and begin zeroing in, only for the marauder to panic and topple off the catwalk into the street, screaming at the top of his lungs. >He lands on his neck, the weight of his body and equipment silencing him forever, but already the figures gathered in the open are scattering and the gruff commotion of confusion and barked orders slithers across the air. >"sss-SHIT! They heard that one." >The rookie was close, but a miss is still a miss. >Still, this part was inevitable. "Going loud." >As many targets as were in the open, priority one was safeguarding the hostages. The Corps' reputation and bankroll depends on these things not ending up horribly botched. >Zooming in towards the house come prison, you flip your optics through the bands until you can pick out the glow of various figures within. >A cluster of bioforms sit huddled in a large room, while three signatures stand taller, one in the room with them, another near the door, and one that appears to be behind the house entirely. >The guard in the room with them needs to go immediately, before they register they're under attack and start shooting. >The calculations run through gravity, wind, and distance near instantly, your trigger finger acts in concert. >Within moments a high velocity tungsten capped penetrator flies with the boisterous bark of a heavy rifle, smashing through wood and drywall before careening into the form in your optics. >In time with the echo of your shot ringing around the sheer stone walls on the terrain, the form splays into the ground, already growing cold. >More noise, more scattering. They know something out there wants them dead now. >The brigands have no time to ration a response before you acquire the form in the front room and fire again. >Its confused searching is ended quickly, as the top of the signature is torn free of the rest of it by another round sailed through the baking desert air. >Acquire, calculate, fire. >It's a carefully honed technique, for a rigorously tuned machine. >The third scrambles for cover, unsure of where the shots are coming from. >Its movement is no great obstacle, you've trained with this rifle since your manufacturing date. You know every ammunition type, its velocities, payload, weight, and behavior by core. >A mechanical click, a cacophonous boom, more cold death shocked into being by a warm immolation. >The figure topples, reeling onto the ground and squirming before shock buries in its fangs, and the man dies. "Hostages secure." >You wish for the miners to see good sense and stay hunkered down in cover, for now you have to begin dismantling the camp with the aid of the pirate's carelessly ramshackle architecture. >Already a group makes way towards the technicals, but you already have the capacitor dialed in, they aren't leaving. >As they pile in close to form a response party, you fire. The shot easily buries itself into the sensitive inner components of the industrial scale battery, and sure as you predicted, causes catastrophic failure. >That much energy, now presented with a path out, is lethal when released in such a short timeframe. >You have to dim your optics as the crackling maelstrom, buzzing like some titanic insect, is brighter than the daylit sky. >What little you can see of the dark shapes engulfed by the electrical fire quake and seize, throwing themselves out of control in random directions as massive electrical shock ripples through muscle, and boils neurons. Their minds erased and their bodies ruptured by the escaping gases of soft tissues vaporizing. >Not a pretty way to go, but the pirates are now down close to a dozen personnel and their vehicles are disabled by electric surge, or burning. >The flare from the impromptu plasma reaction fades, and you are met with the reports of the rookie's rifle far off to the northeast. >You can't quite draw a bead on what she's shooting for, but the noise tells you she's bought the accelerators on her rifle out of subsonic mode. >"shit.. SHIT... SHIT!" >Her shots are quick, half aimed. You finally manage to trace towards her target, another pirate closer towards the fuel depot, scrambling in a panic as shots skip off the ground around his feet. >Another shot, which manages to bury itself in his hip as he falls to the ground clutching at the wound and bellowing. >But before the rookie can deal the killing blow, the pirates survival instincts kick in and he scrambles out of the way, limping feverishly for some sort of raised mesh platform. >You're busily re-orienting your stance to shift your rifle that way. >"nononoNO!" >Another crack before you can commit to changing your arc of fire, and the next shot finds its home in the brigand's guts, his legs lock up and he falls. The rookie celebrates with a sighing cheer. >That was... distinctly amateur. "Operative Schivna, need I remind you to keep your fire discipli-." >"That guy was going for an auto-mortar sir! If he'd got there we'd probably be under fire." >Checking ahead, you note an armored pit suspended in the middle of the platform, and you can just barely make out the snout of something metallic sheltered inside. >You hadn't even seen the artillery emplacement, but now that piece of architecture connects that what you were staring at hours ago was in fact a mortar pit. >In such a case it seems her panicked volley could be excused. The artillery could even have presented a serious obstacle to the rescue team. "...Nice catch, operative." >Checking back in on the hostages, you find another pirate making his way towards the house, and flipping through the bands greets you with the fact the civilians have made the wise decision to keep their heads down in place. >You scope in on the rogue, even with the heavy armor he's adorned in, it won't help him. >The rifle barks again, the bolt slamming back into position with a hollow clack. The penetrator meanwhile bores through the pirate's backplate and erupts his chest in a squall of gore, the brigand's corpse leaving a violent red streak across the sand. >That makes five shots, you need to take a moment to reload. "Operative, cover the civilians position while I reload." >"Got it." >For now you have to take your eyes off the battle as you reach for the first of your spare mags. The discordant chatter of gunfire continuing below. >The pirates were more shooting out of pure speculation, hoping a few rounds in the zipcode will keep your heads down, rather than any sense of where you actually are. >Digging the box off your equipment belt, you set it aside for now and pull the bolt back into position, releasing the empty with the toggle. >The spent magazine needs a little help to come free of the magwell which takes you another few precious moments. >Schivna's rifle cracks at something. >"Got one." >You shunt the fresh ammo into the receiver, tapping it until you feel the weight of it lifted off your palm, a simple rotation allows the bolt to slam back into position. >Ready to go. >Already you see another pirate sprinting towards the hostages position. You begin running a fresh set of calculations to narrow in but just as you're about to consider pulling the trigger a crimson spray leaks from the back of their helmet. >"There's another." >Perhaps she does have some talent. With the threat to the hostages cleared, you turn your attention towards the fuel tanks to make more noise. >You scan for anything that looks particularly explosive, i.e. some form of pressurized gas as contrary to popular belief punching a hole in an oil tank just results in a leak without an incendiary to ignite it. >You narrow in on what you believe to be a propane tank, perfect. >The sharp crack of the rookie's rifle sounds in tandem with the bassy pop of your own as your round finds home in the target tank, and... >... *Kra-FOOOOM* >The rear corner of the base vanishes under a fireball, the pirates again scattering for cover. >Just in time as a new noise makes itself known in the cacophony, the roar of an engine. >The rescue team is just about here. >It could scarcely be believed that two riflemen could cause this much damage, but credit was more owed to the pirates' shoddy understanding of things like 'safety' and 'sound construction'. >If it wasn't for the hostage situation this would be a milk run for the corp. >The distraction was doing its work as it didn't look like a great number of the pirates realized they had incoming, all but a few. >One scrambling along the forward wall has something large and bulky slung over their shoulder. It's without thought that this one is your next target. >The APC shuttling the rescue team roars down the road from the north, your rocketeer also sees it, but he won't get the chance to line up his shot. >Your calculations are already done, and you send another round downrange. >It strikes true, the threat's head turning in on itself in a violent red crater. >Just to be sure you line up the other sentry to make the other team's entry safe. >It's a hasty shot for your taste, but you can't argue when the brigand's lungs are blown out their back. >The APC rumbles up to the gate, and a squad of Power-armored troopers hustle out of the back ramp. >They take a second to form up before the apc guns it, smashing down the crude gate keeping them out. >Now obviously the stunt of gatecrashing attracts attention, so what pirates are around immediately open fire on the armored hide of the new threat in panic. >From what you remember that model can take anything up to a 40mm autocannon. So really they're just staying put to be picked off. >The rescue team sweeps in, dropping bandits like flies. Between their technicals being put out of commission, the panic, and the corps superior armament, what little resistance they can put forward is quickly shattered >A beefier pirate makes an attempt to rally the troops as the APC crawls up the road towards the civilians. >You end the attempt with another messy headshot, and heavy machine gun fire mops up the handful of combatants that coalesced near him. >The APC swings to a stop outside the house, and soon the civvies file in. Meanwhile the assault team turns in towards the bunker where the rest of the pirate force is, and likely where they're keeping the stolen materials. >With the rescue boat roaring out of the camp at speed, taking the pirates would-be bargaining chips to safety, your attention turns towards the fight at the bunker and helping your team get inside. >They're facing a stiffer resistance between a squad of less shabby fighters and a pair of pillboxes built into the structure of the bunker. >You can't get a good angle on the machine gunners as they're buried under concrete, but you can help out by thinning out the more stubborn enemies. >A pirate gunner catches one in the throat from the rookie, you follow through on another by blowing out his lungs. >Now to reload again as that makes five shots by your count. >Drop, bolt, mag-tap, charge. >A thankfulness settles over you that the enemy never identified either of your positions, if for the rookie's sake. >You were quite literally built for this, but she was a different story. >Focusing back in, you find the last of the raiders being mopped up by a well placed grenade from the other team, which now storms in the front door, MG rounds scattering off their pauldrons. >They get inside and the sounds of combat grow distant, can't do anything for them in there. >But a team of eight power armored stormtroopers in a confined space should be just fine. >It's not long before the shooting stops, and the mission coordinator chirps in everyone's ears that the op is complete. >Barely a scratch on the consortium's employees other than blood spatter from a certain pirate, and with the assault team locating the stolen material, the consortium was reportedly 'very happy'. >Code for actually paying the corp what they agreed on, plus a little something extra because your kind of trigger finger gave even corporate marines pause and they'd rather keep that pointed at the gutter trash. >Everyone was getting a bonus in their pay. >You didn't exactly have a wealth of options to spend on in your mindset, but nonetheless a satisfied feeling occupied you from currency well earned for a job well done. >On her part, Schivna wasn't a prodigy. But, she did show promise if her more nervous habits could be abated. >Picking yourself up and slinging your rifle, you begin clambering back down from your mesa perch. "Operative, do you care to join us for extraction at the compound?" >"Phew... I think I'll stay here a bit and just bask in the sun." >[Playback stopped....] >[Compiling file....] >[Adding to dossier; "Schivna"] >[Sending updated copy to network; 'Starfire Corp'; network user; 'Maj. Rattick, Head of Recruitment.'....] >[File sent!...] >[....] >[Reply recieved!...] >[Query: Personal recommendation? ] >[Sending reply; Yes ] [---------------------------------------------------------------Fin-------------------------------------------------------------------]