2Lt Arturo Maxwell - The Forest Moon Hike Pt2
Iain Turnbull
((Esh-O VII Forest Moon, SAR Team, USS ‘Oumuamua))
Pointing across the camp towards one of the covered stacks of crates, Max looked around the group.
Maxwell: Rope and climbing spikes. We go up the auld-fashioned way. ::To O'Reilly:: Positive on the cover up there, aye?
O’Reilly: Yes sir, that position will work as well. (beat) What can we expect of the targets?
That was the real question.
The target drones were out of their hands, running to their own tactical programs and search patterns. Information about which had not been provided to any member of the exercise.
Winters: The drones are on their own time table. We have no control over when they act.
Almost perfect realism.
Alpha and Bravo would have zero clue as to where the units were, what they were doing or even if they were lining up an ambush, counter-search or all-out assault against the SARS teams.
The thought of ambush foremost in his mind, Max looked up from the notes he was scribbling.
Maxwell: Everybody buddy up wi' somebody. ::He glanced around them all again:: Nobody goes anywhere alone.
O’Reilly: Will we be expecting any environment cha ::He stopped short:: Yes sir.
A little more back and forth and the huddle broke up, various members heading for their bedrolls or opening up ration packs. Max continued to scribble some notes before putting the notepad and pencil away and ripping open a ration pack of his own.
One meal later, Max lay his rifle close alongside his bedroll before he stretched out and put his head down onto his pack. Lay on his left side with his back towards the crates, Max's sidearm remained where he could immediately grab it from the holster at his right hip. Before closing his eyes, Max silently slid a short serrated blade underneath his pack where it too was within instant grabbing range.
((Several hours later))
Max had risen earlier than needed, readying his weapon and kit whilst taking regular bites from a protein bar. The sun was bright and clear as it eased its way up from behind the mountains, the promise of its warmth seeping into the chilled air. Winters was stood by the edge of the camp with her rifle raised into her shoulder.
He watched for a moment, chewing thoughtfully as he did so.
After a short while, she lowered the rifle and returned fully to the camp circle.
Winters: Bravo team, you have the ascent and lead. I want you moving in five minutes. ::looking to her team:: Alpha, prep for overwatch and gear up. We are behind them in fifteen minutes.
Moments later, Max was up on his feet with his rifle clipped to his chest harness. His bedroll was already rolled and away and the blade retrieved from under his pack. The pack itself was up and onto his back, the shoulder straps and waistband tightened in a matter of seconds.
Maxwell: Alright Bravo, you heard the L-T. Five minutes.
O’Reilly: Response
Sh’shelor: Acknowledged.
Max waited as the members of Bravo pulled their weapons and kit together, before nodding at Winters and indicating for his team to advance.
Maxwell: Bravo team, move out.
O’Reilly: Response
As Bravo made their way through the trees, rifles tracked back and forth across arcs of fire, Max was impressed with the Security staff mixed into his Marines. He rated Security officers highly, but even so they weren't trained to the much higher combat standards that Marines were.
Even so, they had blended in to the point of being almost unnoticeable.
Sh’shelor: That might be a good position.
The indicated point was a pretty good one and Max indicated the team should head directly to it.
As they reached the point of ascent, ropes were unspooled and climbing spikes were readied. Rifles were slung across shoulders and the climb began.
Maxwell: Keep your spacing, no bunching up.
Bravo began their climb, playing the ropes out below them and driving anchor spikes into the rock at intervals as they went. Despite the sharpness of the climb, the going felt fairly easy and Max paused for a moment to look down. The small bud in his ear buzzed lightly.
Winters: =/\= Alpha team in place. Bravo, report. =/\=
Maxwell: =/\= Sixty metres up. Five metres tae a lip in the rock.
Sh’shelor: response
Winters: =/\= Understood. =/\=
As Max reached the lip, he gripped the offered hand of the Marine already up there. Hammering in a spike and securing himself to it, Max turned to offer a hand to the next person to reach the rest point.
Maxwell: Gotcha. Get secure, we'll take five here and continue.
Sh’shelor / O’Reilly: response
Winters: =/\= Max, eta to target? =/\=
Tightening his grip on the line, Max leaned back slightly and looked up the rockface.
Maxwell: =/\= Ledge looks tae be another eighty metres. ETA thirty minutes.
Sh’shelor/Winters/O’Reilly: response
Max set himself a punishing pace of climbing, tearing up the metres as they went. As the distance to the edge dwindled, Max caught sight of something further along the rockface.
Maxwell: =/\= Alpha, Bravo. Got something up here. It's no the probe, cannae tell what it is frae here. Should we check it out? =/\=
Sh’shelor / O’Reilly: response
Winters: =/\= Negative Bravo. Stay on mission. =/\=
Maxwell: =/\= Copy. Continuing ascent. =/\=
Sh’shelor / O’Reilly: response
Continuing the climb, Max hammered in another spike to secure himself. As he began to move his hand away from the spike, he narrowed his eyes as the tiny feeling of discomfort disappeared. An instinctive feeling burned through him and he released his grip on the line. He called out even as he allowed himself to fall several metres.
Maxwell: Incoming!
The rock to the side of his spike spat dust and fragments from a phaser hit as Max hauled his line and came to a jarring and painful halt. He dangled for a moment as he regained his footing and then began to climb rapidly.
Maxwell: Move, Bravo, move!
Sh’shelor/Winters/O’Reilly: response
He didn't fancy any of the team being hit so far up the rockface as even a mild stun would make them a dead weight to haul up. It would slow down others, leaving them to be picked off in turn.
Maxwell: =/\= Alpha, Bravo. Taking fire! =/\=
He hadn't noticed any more impacts, but with his focus on climbing as rapidly as possible without pitching himself from the rockface he would probably have missed shots landing right beside him.
Sh’shelor/Winters/O’Reilly: response
--
2nd Lieutenant Arturo Maxwell.
Marine Officer, 4/73 Marines.
USS Oumuamua: NCC-81226.
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