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Snow, a destination. A potential ambush.
This is familiar.
Even if some things change, some proven strategies can remain the same.
The frame pulls to a halt, crouching down.
“Dismount. Head for bearing 15, about 5.3 kilometers. Find the beacon. Maintain contact reports.”
There’s a pause. Your limpets remain attached.
“What he said. Call, and we will respond.”
Your pilot reinforces your request.
The quartet drop from your back, landing together.
“Hey Lt, why do the mechies always send us in first?”
“Unlike you, Private, they’re worth a damn. Now quit your bellyaching! Sat, take left. Misty, right. Brick, sweeper.”
Arranged in a staggered triangle, with one hanging behind, they set out, legs pumping.
While they stride away, you fire up the Predator, choking signals coming in and out, blocking the lines that you aren’t using. An electronic blizzard, slightly more intense than the current light weather.
If there is anything here, it’s certainly going to announce your presence, but anything relying on open communications for coordination will be less effective. Except Dagger Squad, of course. You make sure to leave their channel open, quiet as it is right now.
Then, you start a wide circle. While Dagger squad heads North at the beacon, you will try to keep to the edge of any potential ambush.
“Beta. Plan?”
“They have a better chance at remaining undetected while scouting out B-23. We will locate the missing patrol.”
“And if you are making a mistake, and jumping at shadows?”
“The consequences of being wrong is more concerning than the potential of lost time. And I do not understand the second part of your phrase.”
“They’re called Idioms, but that’s not important. Lead on.”
—-------------
You find the first strider a mess. Half-melted armor everywhere, open wounds on the surface of the walker.
It was headed west, almost directly away from the beacon. Cooled metal slag marks every torturous footstep. The cockpit is fused shut, but that is no objection to your hand actuators. Upon opening, it is readily apparent that the cooked corpse inside is beyond medical care. The question is, what happened to the other…..
You are in progress with recounting the steps of the fallen one, when Dagger Squad finally reports something of interest.
“Cobalt, we’ve picked up sound from aerial contacts. It sounds like jet engines, and it’s approaching fast.”
“Copy that. Keep your heads down, Dagger squad.”
Sophie answers for you, while you try to focus your own audio sensors on the clouded skies.
>I need a Skill roll.
Base stat of 3, x1 for low-sync
So 3 rolls of 1d6
If I get a majority of people saying they want to push up to mid-sync in the next 3ish hours, you can push it up to a 1.5x modifier (So 4 dice)
For another Will test, needing just 1 success from your pilot.
