[adamu]

"Well, that sounds about right. Guess we'd best keep our eyes open then, leastways onna road back."

Al cursed under his breath as the rain extinguished another cigarette.

"Course, could jist be ol' Bit wants his toys when he wants 'em. Long as it's us'n what's out inna rain."

[Jack_Spade]

"Well, Bit pays us to do a dirty job. Nothing wrong with that.
But it's been a while since I hiked through this mud. Anyone got some fancy toys to navigate us through on the fastest possible path?"
asked Thorn

[Csjarrat]

{Escort}
Cog kicked the starter and the bike breathed into life. With his kit safely stowed on the rear racks he rode out of the camp and set out in the pouring rain towards the rendevous with the boat.
The bike's AR node linked in with the image link in his helmet  as he pulled the visor down to keep the rain out of his eyes. The sodden ground made riding hard work, his traction control system flashed and flickered in the AR node displaying just how often it kicked in on days like this.
The atmosphere sensor didn't show much hope of it lifting either and there was no sign of a breakage in the cloud cover. Cog was glad he'd had the foresight to pack the thermos, he'd be glad of a warm brew when he finally arrived

[adamu]

[Tech Fetch]

"Only fancy toys we need is right here," Al chuckled, tapping the side of his head. "Ol' Al's been out ta Mayday an' all through Hell's Kitchen here. Reckon' I won't steer us wrong."

He crumpled his empty beer can and tossed it aside. "Ain't none o' the ways is easy, though." He shrugged. "Like it says inna Good Book, more'n one way ta skin a cat...but ya still got ta skin a cat."

[Aria]

@Tech Fetch
[Friday December 13th, 2075; Hells Kitchen, Puyallup]

It’s bloody treacherous out here and several times you have had to skirt terrain that your Mule’s sensors indicate is far less solid than it appears.  At least it’s fractionally warmer out here, the dimly felt heat emanating from the glass like rock underfoot.  According to the GPS data Bit provided, and Al’s unerring sense of direction, Mayday field should be just ahead…

@Escort
[Friday December 13th, 2075; Dupont, Fort Lewis]

All quiet so far, having avoided the odd roving gang, rabid squatters and the Metroplex guard patrols you are feeling confident about your route and task.  Clock has been silent for most of the journey, slipping in and out of VR as he does whatever the hell it is he needs to do to prepare for whatever the hell you are all doing this far from home.  Nimbus hasn’t been forthcoming with much info and you haven’t asked, but your destination is within spitting distance as you drive past the NeoNet data farm on your right.

The terrain is not ideal for vehicles around here, the roads petering out before you reach the coast, but then you’ve driven through the barrens and this is nothing by comparison, decidedly civilised… the Sound is visible ahead of you, grey waters dimly reflecting the lights of the city to the north through the grey overcast…

[Jack_Spade]

Tech Fetch

One step after the other - that was the whole trick. And not straying from the group. Thorn was pretty certain that that was all it took to get from point A to point B


Supporting Survival: 4d6t5 1
+1 limit +1 die from me

Fatigue Damage Soak:
Fatigue test: 12d6t5 3 [12d6t5=4, 2, 5, 4, 3, 2, 4, 6, 1, 4, 2, 5]

[adamu]

[Tech Fetch]

It had been a bitch of a hike. Up until a few months ago, Al wouldn't have made it. Now - recently and finally on the mend from a nasty bout with VITAS five years back - he just barely had enough juice left to maintain his sunny disposition. He congratulated himself on his preternatural resilience in the face of hardship and suffering.

Now, with the field not far off, he ventured, "So seein' as how we's pickin' this thing up from smugglers, which I reckon is a subcategorization of, well, criminals...not ta judge my neighbor or anthin'...ya reckon we oughta send someone ahead, scope things out? Or else ol' Al could set up with my Remington on those rocks yonder, keep an eye on y'all..."

[Csjarrat]

{Escort}
Cog pulled to a halt as he stared over the smooth descent down to the coast and mentally dictated a message to Nimbus;
//I'm at the sound now, not far out from the co-ords. What kinda craft we looking for here? Who's the contact?//.
The grey waters of the sound were vast and filled a huge chunk of his vision, the wind and rain turned it into a dismal sight though, the chop of the waves wasn't going to make for a comfortable boat ride.
He dialled up the image enhancement in his contacts and scoured the visible coast for a craft.
perception test (including -1 for rain)
(dwarf;thermal vision as well if helps) (10d6.hits(5)=3)

[Jack_Spade]

[Tech Fetch]

"Well, since I'm very bad at fire support, I wouldn't mind taking point if you others got my back. But fair warning - I don't do pretty talk. So if one of you things he's a better diplomat - he is most likely right", Thorn clarified.

[saithor]

[Tech Fetch]

"Maybe one or two of usss at bessst ssshould approach them. The othersss can hang back and keep an eye on the sssmugglers. Worssst cassse ssscenario, sssomeonesss going to get a little ssshot-up. But I have sssomething that can help with that." Gunther said. The alchemist hoped that he would be chosen for the support role. Some may call it cowardly, but it had kep his skin ontact over the years, and he wanted that skin intact for several more.

[Csjarrat]

{Escort}
The reply from Bit came through swiftly
//<<Bit>>Its a samuvani, Nothing else in the sector so don't worry about stepping on anyone's toes. Good luck out there.//
Seeing the rest of the sound empty as far as his vision mods could pierce the sheets of rain, he flashed the boat several times with the headlight of his bike and headed down the treacherous slope to the beach where it was moored.

[ChromeZephyr]

[Friday December 13th, 2075; Dupont, Ft. Lewis] {Escort team}

Scrapheap swore viciously as the back end of the Triumph slewed hard to the right as he rounded a corner trying to keep Cog in his sight.  The heavy bodied hog didn't handle as well out here as the offroad bike his teammate rode, but Scrap had enough experience riding through the ash-choked wastes of Puyallup to mostly compensate for the difference.  He caught up when Cog pulled to a stop before the descent to the Sound and the waiting Samuvani, then kept as close as comfort allowed down to the beach.

[ScytheKnight]

{Escort}

The good side of a medical cyberarm and only using pistols is the lack of needing a heavy pack. The bad side is, it can sometimes result in being treated like one.

Ratchet approached the gate where the rest of the escort team was gathering. She was glad for the goggles to keep the ash laden rain out of her eyes and the respirator to keep it out of her mouth as she slogged through the soggy courtyard. She didn't see many vehicles, just a few bikes. She was contemplating what to do next when Little Cog, a fellow dwarf and one of the tribe's scouts, unceremoniously hauled her onto the back of his modified growler and told her to hold on.

[Friday December 13th, 2075; Dupont, Fort Lewis]

Ratchet clung on miserably to the back of the dirt bike, her only real soles was that it was modified for dwarves making it reasonably comfortable. When they stopped overlooking the sound she spent a moment to look around, making sure everyone was there and getting a lay of the land. She also tried to ignore the rain seeping into her clothing, the duster was good protection and great at hiding things, but wasn't the best protection from rain like this.

[adamu]

[Tech Fetch]

Al nodded thoughtfully at Gunther's suggestion.

"Shee-it, kids, don't look to ol' Al ta decide nothin'. Comes to a dust-up, they ain't no ace inna hole like a good rifle on high ground. Then again, with jist the four of us, ain't no damn good can come o' splittin' up."

He'd been trying to get a smoke lit as they stood in the rain, but gave it up in disgust, tossing the soaked cigarette to to ground here in the world's largest open air ashtray.

"Been a few months since I's been here. S'posed ta be a pretty functional outpost, place where folk can do biz, cuz no one gon' come trade if they hear deals go sour. So maybe we all jist go in an' find who we's lookin' for. Might even be able to make a deal fer somethin' hot ta drink. Plus side there is, we ain't carryin' they payment, so they got no reason ta bushwhack us." He shrugged. "Other side of it is, ol' Al never did put much trust in this whole criminal utopia crap, where ever'thin' stays all peaceful cuz they's all rational actors an' know which side they damn bread's buttered on. That only works amongst folks with a lick or two o' good sense, an' that ain' exactly how I'd describe a bunch o' layabout barrens rats don't know how ta work fer a livin'. So maybe me an' Gunther climbs yonder rocks an' watches y'all's asses, leastways till ya give us a thumbs up."

He turned away to go take a piss. "Cozy inna tent hands 'round a warm cuppa, or lyin' inna puddle o'fash mud squintin' through a scope, all in a day's work, I reckon."

[Aria]

@Tech Fetch
[Friday December 13th, 2075; Hells Kitchen, Puyallup]

Mayday field is a bright spot of colour against the drab and oppressive ash waste around you.  Despite, or perhaps because of, the lateness of the hour the place is busy, with two Tbirds arriving in the space of time you are deliberating your approach.  You manage to pick out the bird of your smuggler, the Flying Dutchman is off to one side of the military wreck that serves as the central hub of Mayday field…

@Escort
[Friday December 13th, 2075; Dupont, Fort Lewis]

As you approach the Otter a rather disgruntled looking orc waves you in and shouts over the noise of the rain

“Crappy weather for a ride, you sure you wanna go out in this?  I’m Feathers, Nimbus said to expect you”

With some distaste you wade out to the craft, thankfully it’s a shallow draft and moored quite close to the shore but it’s no joke wading up to your privates (or higher for some) in the choppy waters of the Sound.  It is going to be a colder and wetter ride out to the mysterious rendezvous than you had appreciated.  At least Feathers is gracious enough to pass round a flask of something warming and intensely alcoholic to take the edge off.

A short and bouncy ride of twenty minutes or so, twenty painful minutes where you try not to lose your last meal over the side, and Feathers reduces power to the outboards and the Otter comes a stop, more or less

“This is it, GPS puts us within thirty meters of the rendezvous point, guess we just wait…”

Whilst you may suspect the nature of your meeting, nothing prepares you for the sudden loss of noise as the silence envelopes you, or the behemoth that rises from the grey waters cloaked in that absolute silence.  The conning tower dwarfs your vessel and the barely seen hump of the hull stretches many meters in either direction.  A hatch opens and an ARO hails you in the absence of speech

<<Come on board!>>