The Extraction of Juan Romero: Plan B
NorCal CBT
The Extraction of Juan Romero: Plan B
March 11, 3065, Dropship Dotted Line, orbiting Alarion near Port Sydney , 17:35 local time
Dmitri Mordvinov’s voice was strained, but still calm despite the situation. “This is Duvol. We are taking heavy fire from all directions and no longer have transport for the VIP. We are pulling out. I repeat. We are pulling out. Mission abort. Mission abort. Proceeding to extraction point.”
“Damn!” Miss Black shouted as she slammed her fist down on the console next to her tactical display. The impact caused the video feed from XO Thames and their client, a secretive woman known only as Doge to wobble slightly.
“Well, Stygian,” Doge said, narrowing her eyes, “I don’t suppose you have a way of salvaging this?”
“The only way to get Dr. Romero out now would be an orbital drop, but without a contract…” Miss Black’s voice trailed off as an epiphany came to her. “Doge, Bian Lian, I’ll call you back,” she said quickly as she cut the call.
Ioto Galactic Enterprises Port Sydney Facility Research and Development Offices, 17:40 local time
Keemo Pons had managed to get the crews from the two destroyed vehicles into the relative safety of the building, but he wasn’t sure what to do next. That strange Marauder seemed to be keeping the enemy mechs’ attention, but there was no shortage of security teams to fend off. They had just finished dispatching the latest one when his suit radio chirped in his ear.
“Sergeant Pons, this is Miss Black. Is Dr. Romero still with you?”
“Affirmitive, Miss Black,” Pons responded.
“Good. Give him your helmet,” she commanded.
“What?” Pons asked, confused.
“I need to speak to him, Sergeant! Do it now!” Miss Black shouted.
“Yes ma’am,” Pons replied as he walked to the corner of the room where Dr. Romero was anxiously pacing about. He twisted his helmet to unlock the neck seals and then lifted it off his head to reveal his rough brown face, curly black hair, and brown eyes. He held out his helmet to Dr. Romero, who was observing him quizzically.
“It’s for you,” Pons said.
Dropship Dotted Line, orbiting Alarion near Port Sydney, 18:24 local time
“Launch them as soon as they’re on board and tell them it’s going to be a rough ride,” Miss Black ordered before cutting the line to the boarding crews. An incoming radio call cut through the noise on the command deck. The voice was gruff with a heavy German accent.
“Dotted Line, this is Captain Müller of Alliance Navy dropship Unbreakable. I demand to know why you are preparing an orbital drop over an active conflict zone.”
“Captain Müller, this is Colonel Veloso of Acme Amalgamated. Some higher-up at Ioto Galactic Enterprises is shitting his pants over whatever’s going on down there and I have a valid MRBC contract for his extraction. My team will be in and out before you can even finish reviewing the paperwork, but you’re welcome to it if you like.”
Miss Black held her breath, hoping she’d come off nonchalantly. The twenty seconds that passed waiting for a response felt like an eternity to her.
“Very well, Colonel Veloso,” Captain Müller replied. “See to it you don’t interfere with any LAAF operations. Best of luck to you.”
Miss Black let out the breath she’d be holding and swore to herself that she was going to make Mordvinov and the rest of that mission team reimburse her for all of this.