They dock without challenge in the one port still open.
That's not proper protocol anywhere, no matter how lax the security.
Everybody knows it. Everybody's on edge, the calm controlled sort of on-edge that you get coming into a battle. Weapons and gear are checked one last time, and then the door slides cautiously open.
Trowa, eyes scanning the corners, slips through the door first.
Protocol has very little to do with the situation, however. It's hardly a covert insertion if you trumpet your arrival by hailing the satellite for docking permission.
Sally still gets a bit excited by field work like this, the rush of adrenaline, the way her heart beats faster and everything suddenly seems clearer. It's a very controlled excitement, though. She slips through the door after Trowa, swiftly and silently.
The gravity is a bit off, less than that of earth but not such that it causes problems. She scans the corridor, then motions the remainder of their small entourage through. They're all silent and patient as they muster and await their instructions. Sally quickly checks their location, then points to Trowa to get his attention.
They're more likely to run into combatants on the ground than anyone a rifle would be useful against. The small group follows Trowa, alert but not overly reactive.
Suddenly, Sally touches Trowa on the shoulder with two fingers to get his attention - a firm touch, not a hasty or panicked one - and signals to the group:
The resource satellite is by its very nature an industrial place, and somewhere nearby some mechanical process has just started up. It's very likely just some sort of automatic response of a machine to a timer, but it's best to listen for a moment. Not to mention pay particularly close attention when they're on the move again, given that it's close enough to efficiently muffle the sound of approaching footsteps.
Thirty seconds, counted mentally. The engine is still rumbling away at the same level. Some kind of machinery, not a vehicle; part of the ore processing equipment, maybe.
Better to be cautious anyway.
Trowa glances back at the rest of the group, meets Sally's eyes at the end, and signals:
They follow Trowa, Sally holstering her sidearm momentarily to pull out a small datapad. She checks the display, and then glances up. Normally she'd expect to be registering numerous outgoing transmissions. Currently, however, the display is only showing one, sending and receiving small and regular packets of data.
A system that is online, periodically establishing the validity of its connection, but not sending or receiving anything but the verifying pings.
The proximity readout suggests that they're coming up on the building. A quick correlation of the screen with the surrounding environment indicates that it's a nearby structure with a large sign that says, in large and easy-to-read letters, CENTRAL CONTROL. With only one communicating system and no explicit location given in Duo's request for help, it's their best bet.
She gets Trowa's attention, taps the device she's holding, and signals:
Sally divides everyone quickly and logically. She partners with the medic, while Trowa partners with the lowest ranking of the three remaining agents, and the highest and second-highest ranks make the third team.
In Preventer, unlike OZ or even the Alliance, rank is awarded for experience rather than bloodlines. Thus she's made the most even teams she can, with one particularly strong member and one capable, though less experienced, agent.
She waits for confirmation before beginning to move efficiently but cautiously around the building.
Trowa moves left, Agent Oak ghosting a few yards behind. She's inexperienced, but she has good instincts.
The rubble is only on one side of the building. The rest is intact. There are voices coming from within, faintly; Trowa pauses to put his ear to the wall, but they're too muffled behind the hum of machinery for him to make out any words.
At the end of the wall is a door. Trowa signals to Oak: Pressing his back to the wall, he pushes the door ajar.
Nothing.
Further investigation reveals an empty hallway, with one man unconscious and tied up on the floor.
Trowa's inclination, now and always, is to go on alone. He signals Oak back towards the rally point, instead, and follows after as quickly as stealth allows.
It's the tactically sound choice in this scenario.
Sally has a bit more trouble with her medic. Reed is better suited to office work, though she's qualified for field experience and scored very highly on proficiency in her qualification exams and practical trial. At the same time, she's been on few actual missions, which means that Sally periodically has to correct her actions, or pull her away from something she could trip over.
She'll have to talk with Zechs, about this. Reed seems fine in large groups while losing her cool in smaller ones. It may be best to have her assigned to the secondary roster, for mop-up teams and the like.
Her search turns up doors, but none have exterior access. She signals to Reed:
They make their way back to where Eagle and Spark are waiting.
That's not proper protocol anywhere, no matter how lax the security.
Everybody knows it. Everybody's on edge, the calm controlled sort of on-edge that you get coming into a battle. Weapons and gear are checked one last time, and then the door slides cautiously open.
Trowa, eyes scanning the corners, slips through the door first.
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Sally still gets a bit excited by field work like this, the rush of adrenaline, the way her heart beats faster and everything suddenly seems clearer. It's a very controlled excitement, though. She slips through the door after Trowa, swiftly and silently.
The gravity is a bit off, less than that of earth but not such that it causes problems. She scans the corridor, then motions the remainder of their small entourage through. They're all silent and patient as they muster and await their instructions. Sally quickly checks their location, then points to Trowa to get his attention.
Loosely translated.
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One quick glance around the doorframe. Clear. He slips forward, gun at the ready, and sweeps a look right, left, up and down. Empty.
He motions to the rest: At the next corner, they repeat the process, and at the next.
So far everything's very . . . quiet. Deserted.
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They're more likely to run into combatants on the ground than anyone a rifle would be useful against. The small group follows Trowa, alert but not overly reactive.
Suddenly, Sally touches Trowa on the shoulder with two fingers to get his attention - a firm touch, not a hasty or panicked one - and signals to the group:
The resource satellite is by its very nature an industrial place, and somewhere nearby some mechanical process has just started up. It's very likely just some sort of automatic response of a machine to a timer, but it's best to listen for a moment. Not to mention pay particularly close attention when they're on the move again, given that it's close enough to efficiently muffle the sound of approaching footsteps.
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Better to be cautious anyway.
Trowa glances back at the rest of the group, meets Sally's eyes at the end, and signals:
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They follow Trowa, Sally holstering her sidearm momentarily to pull out a small datapad. She checks the display, and then glances up. Normally she'd expect to be registering numerous outgoing transmissions. Currently, however, the display is only showing one, sending and receiving small and regular packets of data.
A system that is online, periodically establishing the validity of its connection, but not sending or receiving anything but the verifying pings.
The proximity readout suggests that they're coming up on the building. A quick correlation of the screen with the surrounding environment indicates that it's a nearby structure with a large sign that says, in large and easy-to-read letters, CENTRAL CONTROL. With only one communicating system and no explicit location given in Duo's request for help, it's their best bet.
She gets Trowa's attention, taps the device she's holding, and signals:
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Uh. Sorry about that.
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Then she looks to Trowa.
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This thought expresses itself as complete impassivity, however.
Trowa nods to Sally. Her team; she gets to split them up.
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In Preventer, unlike OZ or even the Alliance, rank is awarded for experience rather than bloodlines. Thus she's made the most even teams she can, with one particularly strong member and one capable, though less experienced, agent.
She waits for confirmation before beginning to move efficiently but cautiously around the building.
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The rubble is only on one side of the building. The rest is intact. There are voices coming from within, faintly; Trowa pauses to put his ear to the wall, but they're too muffled behind the hum of machinery for him to make out any words.
At the end of the wall is a door. Trowa signals to Oak: Pressing his back to the wall, he pushes the door ajar.
Nothing.
Further investigation reveals an empty hallway, with one man unconscious and tied up on the floor.
Trowa's inclination, now and always, is to go on alone. He signals Oak back towards the rally point, instead, and follows after as quickly as stealth allows.
It's the tactically sound choice in this scenario.
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She'll have to talk with Zechs, about this. Reed seems fine in large groups while losing her cool in smaller ones. It may be best to have her assigned to the secondary roster, for mop-up teams and the like.
Her search turns up doors, but none have exterior access. She signals to Reed:
They make their way back to where Eagle and Spark are waiting.
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Silence is no longer the highest priority.
So it's a good thing this team knows how to move quietly at speed.
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She holsters her sidearm and brings her rifle into its place as they run around the left side of the building, making almost no noise as they move.
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Accordingly, Oak meets her teammates almost immediately, with wide eyes and unnecessary signals towards the open door they're all running towards.
Trowa's already in the hallway, moving fast.
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