SG: WCD #47: Ahh! Panic! Snakes!

[Frobozz]

     Sparks kept a watchful eye on his displays. Nothing ever went exactly
as planned; and the idea of dropping the troops a bit further out to avoid
detection had been quashed when some odd looking pits in the sand had been
sighted on approach.   Hitting the command button, he began to murmur a
strange series of invocations through the commo net, "Pause... Forward 7.5
seconds... Center and enhance... Zoom to 300%... Enhance".

    British Airwave leaned towards the screen. "What the devil?"

    "Doodlebug" Sparks responded flatly. "Bloody hell(tm)."

    "An antlion?" Randall replied.  "But why the shift to landing site C?"

    "Check the image scale.  You are looking at a doodlebug about the size
of a humvee."

    "Ah, well, that makes a right bollocks of sites A & B."

    "Yup, and Aurora's finest would look like a chewed mouse before they
even got to the snakes."

    "Not to look a proverbial gift horse in the mouth, but is anyone
worried about the resistance -- or specifically the lack thereof -- we
have encountered so far?"

    "Maybe yes. Maybe no."  replied Sparks noncommittally.  "Once in a
while we're allowed to get lucky."

    Tonk coughed, "Lets not invoke Murphy till after the battle, shall we?"

    "We've got the transmission from the crew while on final approach,"
Sparks continued.  "Odds are, Clark trusted his gut and made the call.
With us trying to lay low for now, we can't chat with them about this.
They'll have enough to worry about with the recon pair that we saw coming
towards them from the base."

    "Captain, how soon before we can start getting telemetry from the
combat armor?"  Doc Sloan grumbled.  "State of the art combat suits and we
have to go silent."

    Tonk caught the annoyed undertone and the not too well suppressed glare
from the doctor, but decided to let it slide.  Things had not gone well
with the confrontation between his secret psi and Spectrum's fiance, after
which Miss Queen had locked herself in her cabin and refused anyone
entrance.  Tonk ruefully noted that this situation was far from resolved.
"Soon enough Doctor.  This gets hot, and we'll have plenty for you to look
at."

    "500 meters and closing." Sparks intoned.  "Let's hope they can deal
with these snakes before things get ugly."

***

WEST COAST DEFENDERS #47: Aah! Panic! Snakes!

Costarring Aurora and the West Coast Defenders

By Lawrence Brown and Chris Angelini (B.A. says they pity the fool!)

***

    Spectrum rechecked his onboard map and held out the display to where
Foxy could see it with him.  Holding her hoverboard under one arm, he
looked like a superdeformed Bulletproof about to go surfing.  He lasered a
comment to Clark, who was at the front of the dropship and on the far side
of the squad. "I'll swing around the east side, you recon the west and the
team quick-marches up from the south between us."

   "Right.  We're about to land at the new site.  Not our best choice, but
at least we won't have as far to march."  He leaned over to the heavily
armored recon armor trooper who would be sharing the deployment sled. With
helmet to helmet contact, he spoke, "Davis, get the sled ready as soon as
we land, but use the dropship as cover.  We have visitors coming in from
the north: a pair of snakes."

    Davis hefted a lethal looking sniper rifle.  Flipping on a commlink, he
queried, "You know I could drop one of those slitherers with this before
they could get close."

    Clark shook his head.  "We need to let them get close enough to be sure
to get a drop on them, maybe grab some intel before they blow themselves
up, and make sure neither of them gets a chance to radio back. Be ready,
but let's see what TDSM and the Nikon Ninja can do."

    Spectrum looked anxiously at Foxy for what seemed like the millionth
time since they boarded the dropship.  She leaned into him, hugging
herself, her brow creased in concern, but all attempts to suss out of her
what was wrong had been met with stony silence.

    He had returned from the card game to find her in the cabin quietly
sobbing in their bunk.  As Spectrum had drawn near she dragged him into
the bunk and buried her face in his chest.  She would neither explain nor
release him, and so he whispered to her to soothe her and gently stroked
her back and tail, until she shuddered and sighed asleep.  He'd awakened
to the alert klaxon and had no time to discuss things further with her, as
they had to both dash to ready stations.

    Opening his suit's faceplate, he whispered to Foxy softly.   "Honey, 
I'm not
going into combat without knowing that you and I are all right.   Did I do
something wrong?  What has got you so upset?"

    "Hush now, Sailor," she replied, touching a finger to his lips. "Let me
focus on keeping things locked down. If we get out of this, I'll explain
later."

    "If?..."

    Clark gestured for attention, snapping Spectrum out of his reverie.

    "Good news, bad news people," he began, keeping his voice low. "We're
touching down at the closest drop spot, just south of the base and east of
the big canyons edge, in a hollow that is west of the target insertion.
Yes, that's the good news.  Bad news is we will be landing hot with a
couple snakes en route to see us, and the canyon curves directly south of
our location, so retreat other than by the dropship is not an option.
Canyon drops almost straight down, and it's too damn deep to know what
waits below, and visibility in the canyon is terrible from the mists
coming up from the below, but the spill-over of that fog will give us some
cover in the hollow."

    He looked at the team.  "We hit the ground running and get clear of the
ship. Squads form up while Alpha and Beta recon," he gestured to Spectrum
and Foxy, then himself and Davis, "...will move off to the sides, while
Omega team," he gestured to TDSM and the Ninja, "...will deal with the
snakes.  I want them captured as quickly and as quietly as possible.
Primary objective is to try and get something useful from them, but don't
let them call for backup."

    He checked his display and all units keyed in their silent
acknowledgment. Eyes forward, tensed and ready to charge out.  He paused
to admire his squads' discipline, and wished he had time for a final word
of encouragement, but the landing thumped him into action as the walls
split open.

***

     H'ssah gazed across the trackless wastes of the Homestead desert and
proudly stroked his son's scales. His eggling hissed contentedly at his
father's attentions, quietly forgetting his nerves over today's hunt. The
time of the first shedding was nearly upon the child and whatever his son
could kill on this expedition would be what his son could devour once the
molting was done. It was a sacred time in any child's life, and having
insufficient nourishment after a shedding would affect the child
profoundly for the rest of his life.

One of a half-dozen other snakes was stationed at the tiller at the rear
of the payloader platform.  The machine hovered at a constant level above
the dunes, not responding to dips and drops below it.  Stable, slow, and
powerful, it would serve as a useful hunting platform.  Its crane arm
would also help make hauling the prey aboard an easier task. And with no
vibrations from the party slithering across the sand, their chances of
surprising the prey improved. So much easier than when he had been the
eggling.  Quietly they proceeded at a steady 10 mph as the sun rose in the
distance.

     As H'ssah's eyes flicked across the sands, searching for likely bug
nests to assail, he heard a most unwelcome sound. With a hiss of
annoyance, he lifted his communicator and answered its summons.
"-What-?" he demanded. He'd left instructions for there to be no
interruptions. "You realize that you contact me during my own eggling's
molting hunt?"

     "Sir," spoke the unseen snake in his race's usual sibilance. "There
is a craft on farseer."

     "Well naturally there is a craft, watchman S'thal. We are, after all,
a spaceport. It is in the nature of spaceports to occasionally have
dealings with spacecrafts. Would you next like to report to me that your
nuncheon is still wriggling?"

     "I beg forgiveness. But this craft is like none we know. It appears
skittish, like a sandrat hiding beneath the dunes."

     "Watch it then, for that is the way of watchmen. If it turns from prey
to predator, contact me at once. But most likely it is a lost sandwing
trying to decide if we offer succor or a hunt before they make to contact
us. And if you feel unclear on my instructions, and wish to contact me to
clear them up?"

     "Yes, sir?"

     "DON'T!" H'ssah hissed in his loudest voice, before slamming closed
the communicator.

***

    "And I'm telling you, that if you had not attempted to modify Commander 
H'ssah's heating unit, we would have enjoyed the N'tar celebration once he 
and
his eggling made their kills! Instead, we are sent out here to waste time
looking for a foolish sandwing."

    "What of S'thal?  He is not privileged to attend either?"

    "Was your egg cracked?  He is in mid-molt, which is why he chose to
take watchmen duty in the control tower, so that he can serve and yet
attend to his molt."

    "Truth Spoken.  Well, how was I to know it would set the Commander's
work station ablaze?  He said that he was cold."

    "Stub-tail!  We are all cold! We serve, though we shiver through the
nights. Daylight warms us in our rest time. Now help me find this smuggler
or whatever this traveler turns out to be and we can return to our
heaters."

    "What in the name of the pit mother would possess someone to wander
this far from safety? Do they not know of the sandjaws?"

    "Perhaps not.  Best that we help them before they find out for
themselves. Only a fool or a criminal would wander this far from
landport."

    The other snake made a reptilian snorting sound.  "It has been almost
two hundred hatchings since any race has dared oppose the mighty Nintan.
All are happy under our rule. There is peace. It is no doubt a fool from a
border world, hoping to save a few bars in port fees.  Let us help them
and return to our stations."

    The pair slithered forward slowly through the morning fog, until they
drew close to a small dune. In front of them, sat a strange creature,
dressed in grey with legs instead of a proper serpentine frame.  It
watched them, making no moves other than to raise its pair of arms up
slowly. As they approached it, it made strange sounds and flashed its
teeth.

    "Have a care S'rdshrt.  From what world is this creature?"  The pair of
snakes pointed their weapons at the figure but it made no attempt to flee;
speaking instead.

    The closest snake holstered his weapon, and pulled from his belt the
scanner/translator device.  The snake slowly waved it toward the figure,
as he pressed different studs.

    "...guess they aren't going to kill me right away. Lucky me. I don't 
know what that widget he is waving around now is but--"

    "It is a translation device, creature.  You have illegally landed in a
non-secure zone and per our Nintan code authority all your base belong us
to cargo will be seized until you have been inspected and fines have been
offered submission."

    "You sure are packing more heat than the meter maids back home."

    The snake glanced down at the translator device and waited as it
offered a couple suggested translations. "I do not think you mean to
suggest I am an egg layer or a workspace warmer. Perhaps you have never
been fortunate to meet a Nintan warrior as majestic as we are. You will
now lead us to your ship.  Or S'klbrg shall send you to your final coil."
The other snake cocked its weapon to accent the point.

    "Okay, don't shoot me. Hey, can I ask you if you have ever seen one of
these? Here." The biped crouched and slowly rolled a small ball to the
snake.

    Several things seemed to happen all at once.  The scanner device
flashed an alarm, almost at the same moment as the ground erupted around
the snake with the rifle ready and the ball exploded with a dazzling
flash.  Partially blinded, the snake spun around to watch some terrifying
creature drag S'klbrg under the sand. Whipping back around, he grabbed the
commlink from his belt and was about to flip it open when a blur of grey
and a flash of silver flashed in front of him, and suddenly his arm and
the communicator his hand grasped lay in the sand.  His body felt
strangely numb as he hissed in terror, grasping the bleeding stump.
Another flash of silver, and S'rdshrt turned his head all the way around, 
to
stare at the space where his partner had stood.  The world wobbled and he
gazed up at the sky, as his own body fell upon his severed head.

     A minute later the ground disgorged the other snake, completely
cocooned in webbing except for its agitated hissing head.  Dark shadows
emerged from the fog as the Nikon Ninja finished cleaning his sword, then
picked up the translation device.  TDSM hauled the snake up into a
vertical position and held the captive firmly with several of its arms.

    The snake looked at the approaching bipeds all around him.  "Truth
Spoken, I am molting without newskin. I am mated pair to a skr'sslor."

    The translator device quipped, "Screwed am I."

***

    Clark's message flashed on the screen.  "Two targets encountered.  One 
terminated, one captured intact.  Translation device recovered. Op secure.
Intel en route."

***

    "We've got data incoming!" Sparks yelled, turning his seat towards the
others. "Looks like Clark's group got themselves a non-splody prisoner!"

    "Aces!" replied Tonk. "Forward biological information to the good
doctor's station and have them focus interrogation efforts on weaponry,
defenses and stockpiles of beer. In
reverse order of priority."

    "Aye cap'n," replied Sparks, looking rueful as he began to multitask...
conveniently 'forgetting' Tonk's alcoholic order.

    Dr Sloan leaned over his station, glad to have something with which to
occupy himself other than worry over Queen. To say that Tonk had handled
that badly would be to say... well no. Time to put that out of his head
and focus on the data received. It was time to be a professional and try
to improve the troops' survival odds by as much as he could.   He wished
that Tornado armour came with better sensor equipment; he'd shave his
mustache for a bone density scan. But Tornado scout armour had decent
enough a package to give him -something-...   Images of the slaughtered
snake gave him a crude but effective view of the internal cross-section of
the snake's body.

    "Note to self-" Tonk muttered. "Do not make TDSM angry."

    "Actually, TDSM's target was completely uninjured.  That was Nikon
Ninja's target."  Randall leaned over the display. "A professional piece
of sword work, that."

    "I can't believe he just stood there while the snakes came to him."
Sparks opined. "It was either madness ...or brilliance."

    Tonk replied. "It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide. "

    "Captain," said Slone, looking up from his investigation. "I can
confirm. Our enemies are cold-blooded ectotherms and bear a striking
biological resemblance to Terran suborder serpentes. No venom to speak
of." He frowned. "Honestly, there's nothing here I can learn from a fast
scan that we didn't already know. So... why are they so deuced worried
about our getting ahold of bodies?"

    "Could be that they have something to hide that T-armour won't pick up.
Tell the troops to stow that prisoner where they can get him. I want you
to do a thorough examination once they get back."

    "Yes ma'am," replied Sparks, moving to relay his captain's order to the
ground forces...



WILL OUR HEROES COMPLETE THEIR MISSION AND LIVE?

DOES THE N'TAR CELEBRATION INCLUDE RUM?

WHAT IS THE NINTAN'S SECRET?

---
-Chris
frobozz at eyrie.org
http://www.eyrie.org/~frobozz

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