NationStates Jolt Archive

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Sshrrakaa was sitting in her bedroom of her new residence, and reading some ancient human verse. This Lewis Carroll has been eating too many wild berries for certain. She was awaiting news of her next assignment after graduating from Hreer Academy.

Due to her performance in extracting the Dread Lady of the Dominion, Nathicana, as well as Emperor Devon Treznor and her friend Cadet Timofeyev Bodayehr of the Federated Segments of Scolopendra, she was awarded a medal of Service in the Name of the Empire Above and Beyond the Call of Duty. Normally, this would make that individual a revered being, but she had nothing but dread, and felt some light reading would distract her.

The last she saw of Admiral Shaar, her Sire, the Admiral was in a righteous rage and nearly foaming at the mouth. Threats of court-martial, being drummed out of the I.S.N. and even exiled were made. Even the threat of 'breaking my leg off in your ass' were made, which added a personal touch to the withering verbal barrage.

So Sshrrakaa waited. And waited.
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Admiral Shaar of the I.S.N. was livid at her hatchling's actions. However, it was discussed and reconciled that an Honor Debt had to be paid, and the fact that two of the heads of the Triumvirate were saved, calmed down the Admiral afterwards. Her dewlap would show purple for a week, though. Shaar may seem made of stone to many in the I.S.N., but her hatchling was a soft spot for her. The fact that Sshrrakaa could have been killed weighed on her. The fact that her hatchling wasn't, was a testament to her training.

But another reason that he Admiral decided to be lenient, was that it showed a weak point in the Imperial Stellar Navy forces. The military was a bit too focused and specialized. Its ships were spectacular in space, and the GroPos were good at their jobs on terrain. But put the GroPos in armor in space, and they flounder. The ships, also, faired incredibly poorly in atmosphere.

So it was decided amongst the brass in the I.S.N. that some manner of Jack of All Trades military class had to come into being. Data was gathered from all departments of the Imperial Military, and collated. The findings showed that a new branch agency of the I.S.N. would round out their combat effectiveness over-all dramatically. Research notes and findings from the TYCS Joint Ship Effort were compiled, and the latest in tech was added to the findings.

Making it a universal ship was a low priority, though, so more of the Empire's technologies, such as the organic neuro-shunt interfacing helmets and the organic variable-plating would come to bear. Now they would have to scour the lands, and the roster of the TYCS, for candidates for this new agency. The call was put out to the TYCS Command ,and to the ISN command.
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"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy."

Sshrrakaa shut of the display scrolling the literature. Definitely on drugs. She stood and began making her way to her oil bath, when a pinging sound came from the monitor. A message indicator blinked, and she opened it up.

[code:1:699e8168ff] Re-Assignment complete. Report to Hreer Military Complex, Section 5 Tier 7, and meet with Commander Ooraah to discuss your new assignment.[/code:1:699e8168ff]

Sshrrakaa took less than five minutes to get in her regulation cadet's fatigues, and bolted out the door. Oh by my Ancestors! I'm probably going to be assigned to Sslaa 8, building habitat domes with the ISN Engineers!
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Meanwhile, construction of the new Ranger ships, code-named Arclight has begun. The call for applicants is sent.

[code:1:699e8168ff]Greetings, prospective candidate

The ISN is forming a new military branch, Jheer's Rangers, named after the first Sakkran to take to artificial flight. The Ranger will be a master of nearly any terrain imaginable, and will have access to equipment and training not found in military regs. If you are interested, please report to Hreer Military Complex, Section 5 Tier 7, and meet with Commander Ooraah. Your qualifications will be discussed, and an interview will commence if you pass the trial stage, which is a written test.

In advance, we thank you.
Hreer Military Complex Commander Ooraah[/code:1:699e8168ff]

Cadet Sshrrakaa arrives at Hreer Military Complex, a sprawling stretch of land. No fences or walls are visible, and structures on the surface are nearly non-existant. What is telling that she has arrived are the presence of a few bunker-style domed buildings and the heavy presence of MAU-Minion suits and TacSoft Troopers.

She heads for the fifth bunker back, each one divided by about 500 feet of space, and presses her hand against the imprint-pad next to the door. The massive Resin and titanium door slides open, and Sshrrakaa enters. Several soldiers are present, and the cadet salutes. The soldiers and the sentry salute, and the sentry presses a button on a column next to him, and a lift-tube ascends and opens.

After boarding the tube, the cadet finds herself lowering into the ground. The scene that unfolds is a massive underground complex. Display screens line the walls, with data system-wide shown on the hundreds of screens. Every populated section of the Sol system, and some that aren't populated, is monitored and displayed.

Tier 7 is reached, and the tube opens. The cadet steps out and heads for the offices of Commander Ooraah. Coming to the door, she enters and stands at attention. "Cadet Sshrrakaa reporting to Commander Ooraah for assignment."

The administrative aid at the desk blinks for a second, and then nods. "Have a seat, Cadet. The Commander is expecting you." A button on a comm-unit is pressed. "Commander Ooraah. Your appintment is here." A muffled sound comes from the comm. "Show her in."

The aid motions toward the door, stands and salutes. The cadet salutes back, and marches through the door. Oh by my Ancestors! I'm going to be sent to the saltmines or something. She enters the darkened room and stands at attention.

The door shuts, and the lights come on. Before her, in a semi-circular table, are General Gaarm of the Imperial Defense Corps, Commander Thress of the Skeen Counter-Espionage Department, Commander Ooraah of the Ranger Patrol Services, and Admiral Shaar of the Imperial Stellar Navy. A group of the most powerful and influential military minds of the Empire.

If Sshrrakaa could sweat, she would be drenched. As it is, she visibly shakes, her tail twitches erraticly at the tip, her neck continuously makes gulping motions, and her dewlap recedes fully. She snaps a salute swiftly.

General Gaarm speaks, and the voice sounds like the grinding of tectonic plates. "Cadet Sshrrakaa, you are here for your assignment. We have reviewed your career with us, including the most recent chain of events." A pause in his speech as he rifles through a datapad with one eye on the cadet.

"We could easily strip you of any medals of honor, assign you to infantry as an enlisted soldier, and send you to the Asteroid Belt for sentry duty. You realize this?" The cadet swallows visibly. "Y-yes, Sir!"

"Rrrmmm" The General looks down at the pad again. "You had an accomplice aid you in your 'activity'. ISN Cadet Kheel." Oh no. I hope Kheel can get out of this without mishap! "I did, Sir."

"Well, Cadet. Whatever your fate is will be shared by Cadet Kheel. Tell us, why did he aid you?" The General Steeples his fingers, and leans forward. "Sir, Cadet Kheel felt he owed a debt of honor to me for helping him pass his final exam for Vehicular Engineering. I stated to the Cadet his aid in this activity would settle that debt."

Commander Thress then speaks. "I see. So you strong-armed him with guilt. Hrrmmm.... we at the Skeen tracked your crafts during the extraction process. Your maneuvers were very unconventional, and did not follow the protocols set by the various military doctrines of the Empire. Why did you perform these maneuvers as you did?"

"Sirrah, I read and analyzed the doctrines, and found that to apply them to this instance, and please forgive me, would be inefficient, time consuming and ill-suited to this instance."

"So you jury-rigged your own maneuvers, put them into action and accomplished them within the space of 30 hours? You do realize just how risky this was, yes? You could have embarrassed the entirety of the Empire!"

Sshrrakaa lowers her head, "Yes, Sirrah."

Admiral Shaar chimes in. "Stand at attention, Cadet!" The cadet snaps back into position. "Now, then. We have here a letter from the Dread Lady of the Dominion, Nathicana. Also one from Emperor Treznor. Both plead your case, and detail your actions during the extraction."

Sshrrakaa looks wide-eyed for a moment What? I had two world leader's lives in my hands? "Cycle down, Cadet!" Sshrrakaa realizes that she had just taken a step back. "You mean you did not know the nature of your passengers?"

"No, sirrah! I performed the extraction because I owed a great debt of honor to Cadet Bondayehr, who was in a grave situation and needed my aid."

The heads of the four come together conspiratorially, and then they resume their seats. "Yes, the Scolopendran human Cadet who attended Hreer University with you in an exchange program. It seems he has been making quite an impression in the world leader circuits. We are aware of him."

"So all this. The planning of the extraction, the strong-arming of assistance, the racing into hostile territories, the extraction of two leaders of the Triumvirate, the TYCS escort back home. All this to aid a friend?"

Sshrrakaa gulps visibly, and her eyelids close briefly. "Yes, Sirrah."

Admiral Shaar leans forward, looking unpleased as her eyes widen and her dewlap pulses. "And if you knew the consequences of your actions beforehand, would you perform those same actions again?" Her eyes lock onto Sshrrakaa's.

"Without hesitation, Sirrah."

Admiral Shaar settles back into her chair. "We have all the information we need. You may return to your quarters. We will contact you soon with your next assignment. Dismissed!" Cadet Sshrrakaa salutes, then toe-turns 180 degrees, and leaves the room. I'm DEAD!

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After the cadet leaves, the four members if thr tribunal talk amongst theirselves.

Gaarm: "That girl is a credit to your line, Admiral. You did well raising her."

Thress: "Indeed. Intiative, intuition, inventiveness, adaptability under pressure, creative solution finding. She is exemplary."

Shaar: "Rrrhhh. She is too head-strong and stubborn. She is willing to risk much for a goal that does not warrant it."

Ooraah: "Yes, reminds me of a certain Admiral at that age, if I remember correctly. She is definitely her sire's hatchling."

Shaar shoots Ooraah a look that would make stones melt, but seemingly does nothing to him as he chuckles audibly. She then settles down. "Yes, I suppose you're right. So we're in agreement?"

Gaarm: "We are indeed. Commander Ooraah, you are still willing to lead this new agency?"

Ooraah: "Of course. Now more than ever. Having met the cadet, I know great things will be born. Adapt or die, after all. The situation, not just here but throughout the known systems, is becoming more unstable with each cycle. We must begin immediately."

Thress: "Then it will be done. Her associate, Cadet Kheel, will also be assigned to the new agency. The call has been put out amongst the TYCS for applicants to fill the ranks. Have you come up with a name for it, Ooraah?"

Ooraah: "I have indeed. In honor of the first of us to experiment with artificial flight. Aeronaut Jheer. It will be called Jheer's Rangers."

Commander Ooraah arrives at Guaah Armor Works, where he meets with the CEO, Ggaan.

Ooraah: "I've been wondering how the new armor design we've commisioned from you is coming? We're about ready to start our 'program' and need an update."

Ggaan: "Bah! You military types are too impatient. 'I want my new toy now!' Aah, you make me nuts! But we've just completed testing on the final prototype, and you can inspect it yourself. Comes in human mod as well, as you requested."

O: "Good, good. I'll ignore your little tirade back there. Otherwise, i'd take my business to your competitors. But enough of that. I'll inspect the armor."
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OOC: This is OOC info, and not known to the general populace.
http://www.5amfunnies.com/sakkra/weaponry/sakkranger.JPG http://www.5amfunnies.com/sakkra/weaponry/humanranger.JPG
Stats on the Ranger Suit Hazardous Environment Powered Armor...

Features: The Ranger Suit Powered Hazardous Environment Armor is hermetically sealed and pressurized when the helmet is locked in place. It allows the pilot to operate at full capability without tiring for 12 times as long as normal. The armor is powered with servo-motors and light hydraulics with an on-board CPU for reading and predicting body movement. The suit also increases strength, allowing the pilot to lift an additional 1500 lbs on top of their own strength. Agility is also improved, as the onboard CPU reads where a loss of balance takes place, and adjust accordingly for maximum agility. Fully articulated and light, movement is not hampered by this armor. Musculature is supported by elastic Kansee-vines attached cybernetically to the armor, that expand and contract automatically to the wearer's shape. Models come in Sakkran and humanoid modifications. Both mods are for comfort. Performance is not changed by the modifications.

Height/Width/Weight: Additional .75' to the pilots height. Additional 1' to the pilots width. Weight is 200 lbs.

Speed: Running, 75 kph tops. Limited flight is 500 kph for an hour of flight in atmosphere. Small wings in back fold out for maintaining direction. Has balancing thrusters for space flight. Flight pack is detachable, and has an independent lithium/tritium power supply.

Leaping: 20' high by 30' long. When running, can leap 30' high and 45' long.

Armor Plating: Light camo-organic plate. Chameleon ability is a chemical process, so EM signatures would not be emitted when mimetic camoflauge is active. On-board CPU reads light levels, direction and environmental factors when camoflauge is active.

Sensor package: Radio receiver/transmitter, UV light sensors, nightvision and thermo-optic camera.

Mini-radar with a 5 mile range can track 15 simultaneous targets.

Power Pack: Miniaturized Kastaa Power Lithium/Tritium battery power supply with a 7 day life-span. Needs replacing or recharging every week. Can be substituted with an electrical battery pack, but no limited flight with it. Also expect a 12 hour life before it needs recharging.

Armor has numerous compartments for storage of supplies and materials, depending on mission.

The Ranger Suit P.H.E.A. utilizing magnetic seals, becomes completely air-tight when active. Open areas on armor, when deactivated, have plates that slide out, sealing all open areas.

Capable of being used under-water, in hazardous environs and in space equally well. The armor is impervious to small-arms fire up to 45 calibre rounds.
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O: "Looks mighty solid to me. I'll requisition 100 of these units. We're expecting 100 trainees, and i'll expect delivery by the end of the month. No back talk!"

CEO Ggaan opens his mouth to protest, and closes it with an audible *clop* "I like you, Commander. You'd do well in business. Very well, by the end of the month. Shipment will be sent when half the funds are received, the other half on completion of the transaction. Good?"

O: "Very good. Now I must return to Hreer." He turns and walks off. CEO Ggaan mutters under his breath as Ooraah leaves. "Arrogant vrelte-eater."
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In the meantime, Sshrrakaa has been literally chewing at the bit with worry. I see it now! Sentry duty in the Asteroid belt. Nothing to see but rocks, rocks and more rocks! She paces about enough to start wearing a groove into the floor, when her messenger pings a received message. She opens it up and reads.

[code:1:9303bcf6f7] You have been hand-picked by the Imperial Military Tribunal to under-go training in a new force for the Empire. The training will be hard. Harder than any training known, but your qualifications show you MIGHT survive it. Report to Zzaaud Training Grounds at 0800 in two cycles time to begin. Congratulations. You are now a trainee of Jheer's Rangers.

General Gaarm[/code:1:9303bcf6f7]

Sshrrakaa blinks, and rereads the message three times, then blinks again. Finally the realization dawns on her, and she bounds out of the room whooping all the while. Until she runs smack into Kheel, doing much the same.

Kheel and Sshrrakaa speak simultaneously. "Did you get the message? It's fantastic! I thought we were dead! Whoo hoo hoo! I gotta get packed! See you tonight at the cafe!" They then turn around and sprint off in separate directions.

((OOC: *tag!* Hope I'm not butting in here too much. Just gimme a shout in IRC and I'll fix it if I am =p))

Ytorla Military Base, Reploid Productions

"Hmm... a special operations unit?" Two gleaming red eyes, one oddly larger than its companion, scan the message that was forwarded through various channels from TYCS Command. "Perhaps my particular abilities will be best utilized there."

"Why else do you think Commander J'litayi passed it on to you, Dart?"

The reploid dragon looks over at his organic roommate, the room's lights dully illuminating his grey armor. "Obviously, because the Shogunate military has no particular place well suited to what I was designed for."

The young Drakonic cadet waves off the comment. "Serious as always, Dart. Gonna go for it?"

Dart tips his head slightly in thought. At a glance, the grey reploid dragon might get mistaken for a Dragonis model, at least until one got a look at his face with its mismatched pair of eyes, and noticed that he was a good three feet longer than a Dragonis, and somewhat less bulky. "Perhaps. There would be more room for advancement than in the Shogunate infantry, and my unusual skills would be better utilized in such a fashion rather than in a traditional combat setting."

"Translation: The fact that you can spot a Drakos in the air at a distance of five miles is a lot more useful in SpecOps than in anything else." The Drakonic cadet snickers.

"Ten miles, if the weather is particularly clear, H'titari." Dart corrects the cadet. "I think I will inquire as to the specific requirements of this organization."

ALTIMIT Broadcaster
Encryption: Standard
Broadcast type: Military
To: Commander Ooraah - Hreer Military Complex
Return transmission band: dart_amahira@ytorla.mil.gov.rp
IDENT: Cadet 2nd Class, Dart Amahira
Attachment: amahira-dart-transcript.txt

Greetings, Commander Ooraah. My name is Dart Amahira, Cadet Second Class in the Shogunate military, stationed presently at the Ytorla base. The Base Commander J'litayi received word through TYCS command of your new organization, and asked if I was interested, given my rather unusual circumstances. Having given the matter sufficient thought, I have decided that I am indeed interested, and would like to learn more.

I am uncertain how well reploids would fit into such an outfit, but figure it cannot hurt to at least inquire. Attached to this message are my transcripts from Ytorla base. I eagerly await a response.

May your honor remain always,
Dart Amahira, Cadet 2nd Class
Ytorla Military Base, Reploid Productions
<End Transmission>

After returning from Guaah Armor Works, Commander Ooraah seats himself at his desk, and leans back. He notices his automated messenger blinking a small yellow indicator light. Urf. It can wait a tick. I need to stretch. He stands and walks to the other side of his desk, where he begins reaching his arms out in front of him as far as they'll go, then moves them around in a semi-circle until they stretch directly behind him. Several more exercises, and he feels sufficiently limbered up.

Ok. let's see what we have. He cues up the messages to display separately, and reads.

[code:1:6df1159e61]
TYCS Transmit
Encryption: Standard
Broadcast type: Military
To: Commander Ooraah - Hreer Military Complex
IDENT: Captain Chouups
Attached: .txt files for Corporal Ghoort, Corporal Ghkuun, PFC Garnuus Szouud, PFC Llassaa, PFC Gheem

Commander Ooraah

As you may or may not know, we on Titan have experienced the resurgance of ancient genes. Several members of my squad have changed, but retained their ranks and positions. The training they require, however, can not be given by my company, and so I reccomend them to your outfit. I have attached all records of service of the five who I will have boarding a shuttle to Zzauud. Do not be easy on them. Train them as you would a green recruit.

Captain Chooups
Titan Defense Corps[/code:1:6df1159e61]

He voice types in a reply.
[code:1:6df1159e61]
TYCS Transmit
Encryption: Standard
Broadcast type: Military
To: Captain Chouups
IDENT: Commander Ooraah - Hreer Military Complex

Candidates accepted. Awaiting their arrival. Will apprise if they make the cut or not.

Commander Ooraah
Hreer military Complex[/code:1:6df1159e61]

He then continues to the next message.

[code:1:6df1159e61]ALTIMIT Broadcaster
Encryption: Standard
Broadcast type: Military
To: Commander Ooraah - Hreer Military Complex
Return transmission band: dart_amahira@ytorla.mil.gov.rp
IDENT: Cadet 2nd Class, Dart Amahira
Attachment: amahira-dart-transcript.txt

Greetings, Commander Ooraah. My name is Dart Amahira, Cadet Second Class in the Shogunate military, stationed presently at the Ytorla base. The Base Commander J'litayi received word through TYCS command of your new organization, and asked if I was interested, given my rather unusual circumstances. Having given the matter sufficient thought, I have decided that I am indeed interested, and would like to learn more.

I am uncertain how well reploids would fit into such an outfit, but figure it cannot hurt to at least inquire. Attached to this message are my transcripts from Ytorla base. I eagerly await a response.

May your honor remain always,
Dart Amahira, Cadet 2nd Class
Ytorla Military Base, Reploid Productions
<End Transmission>[/code:1:6df1159e61]

The attachment is downoaded and looked over.A Reploid, eh? Good record of service. We'll see how this plays out. The reply is voice-typed.

[code:1:6df1159e61]
TYCS Transmit
Encryption: Standard
Broadcast type: Military
To: IDENT: Cadet 2nd Class, Dart Amahira
IDENT: Commander Ooraah - Hreer Military Complex
Attach: .BMP Map of Zzauud

You have been accepted. Arrive at the Training Grounds of Zzauud at 0800 in two cycles time. How you get there is your affair. The map attached will give you directions once you're within the Sakkran territories. We will see if you meet qualifications in person. Be advised this is above and beyond standard training.

Commander Ooraah
Hreer military Complex[/code:1:6df1159e61]

Captain Janice Hubbard of the Treznor Imperial Army, attached to the Triumvirate of Yut Combined Services reads the information on her datapad with some skepticism. After a moment she looks up at Colonel Burton. "Sir, are you sure about this?"

"I'm positive, Jan."

"This looks...grueling. I don't think I'm really cut out for anything that intense."

Burton leans forward at his desk and folds his hands. "Captain, I won't order you to volunteer for this Ranger thing the Sakkra have going. It really is up to you. But before you decide against it, I want you to think about something. We dragged you into our Special Forces unit kicking and screaming four years ago, and never regretted it. You said the same thing then, and you're saying it now. You sell yourself short, Captain. You always have. But you're the best damned communications tech this side of Rhea, and you have the capacity to pass any damn test the Sakkra care to throw at you. Yes, this is the challenge of a lifetime. From the description they've put out, you'll have to be the best of the best. And I think you're it."

She shakes her head and exhales slowly. "Well, thank you...but I don't know..."

He grabs another datapad and tosses it to her. "Here. Read up on the other applicants. Gruner, heavy weapons. Petersen, Master Scout. Rudgers, demolitions. All of them are Special Ops. What do they all have in common?"

She skims through the dossiers. "Uh, they're all physically fit?"

"They're all the best in their fields. Just like you. And like you, they have their weaknesses. They're all going to be pushed to the limit by this assignment, just like you. I want to see you do this, Jan. I know you can do it. So think about it, okay?"

Hubbard takes a deep breath and nods. "All right, Colonel. I'll think about it."

"Good girl. I want your answer by this time tomorrow."

"You'll have it, Sir."

***

TSMIT Broadcaster
Encryption: Triumvirate Standard
Broadcast type: Diplomatic / Military
To: Commander Ooraah - Hreer Military Complex
Return transmission band: Open
IDENT: Colonel Aaron Burton - Treznor Army Headquarters

Sir,

Please find attached four dossiers on Special Forces Elite troops who have volunteered for service in your new Rangers outfit. They represented a varied skillset and each have the capability to bring honour and glory to your operation.

Should you accept them, I have a personal request. Captain Hubbard is not entirely sure of herself, in spite of her superlative credentials. Run her hard, Commander. Push her past the breaking point. It's the best way for her to reach her potential.

Colonel Aaron Burton

<end transmission>

Shortly after sending the reply to the reploids, Commander Ooraah gets another incoming message. Seem to have stirred up the proverbial hornet's nest. He opens up the transmission, and reads it over.

Very interesting. Quite a span of skills here. He continues on tto the special request sent by Colonel Burton. One that lacks confidence, eh? We'll amend that. He then closes the message and sends a reply.

[code:1:3d6efd9026]TYCS Transmit
Encryption: Standard
Broadcast type: Military
To: Colonel Aaron Burton
IDENT: Commander Ooraah
Attach: .BMP Map of Zzauud

Colonel Burton,

The applicants that you have sent profiles for are accepted. Wether they will pass the training is yet to be determined. As for your personal request, we will push this Captain Hubbard hard. If it is as you say, her confidence will grow. I will watch this one personally.

Have the four of them report at the Training Grounds of Zzauud at 0800 in two cycles time. The attached map will show the way.

Commander Ooraah
Hreer Military Complex[/code:1:3d6efd9026]

Commander Ooraah sends the message, and then reclines in his leather chair and turns around. He views the massive tunnel-works of the Military Complex, with its hundreds of screens showing constantly-updated info splashing across them.

Drone sentry-bots scale the walls, keeping multiple eyes on everything that goes on in the area. It'll be good to get out. The savannahs of Zzauud should be fortifying, and an excellent place to get some conditioning. He stands, and picks up a mobile messenger.

"Have all messages transferred to my mobile. I'm on my way to Zzauud." His aid nods assent, and goes about his business of organizing day-to-day duties for the Commander.

Ytorla Military Base

"It seems as though I'll be going." Dart screens his messages, locking onto the response to his inquiry.

"When y'leaving?" H'titari peers over the reploid's arm at the screen.

"I have roughly 48 hours to present myself at the Training Grounds of Zzauud. I will be leaving as soon as I can." Dart quickly commits the attached map to his memory and begins to pack his few belongings.

"Aw... no goodbye bash then?" H'titari pouts. "Pff, always so serious. Gonna tear on out of here without a barrackbuddy party?"

Dart fixes the Drakonic with a cool stare. "I have been shuffled between virtually every branch of the Shogunate military since Kazeryu. I'm not given to partying about another departure." He picks up his most prized possession- a beautifully crafted, if rather plain, katana, the sheathed weapon seemingly tiny in his talons. "I'll be leaving as soon as my arrangements with the Commander are completed."

ALTIMIT Broadcaster
Encryption: Standard
Broadcast type: Military
To: Commander Ooraah - Hreer Military Complex
Return transmission band: dart_amahira@ytorla.mil.gov.rp
IDENT: Cadet 2nd Class, Dart Amahira

Understood, sir. I am already on my way and should arrive with time to spare. I am well aware that the training will be difficult, but I will gladly rise to the challenge.

May your honor remain always,
Dart Amahira, Cadet 2nd Class
<End Transmission>

Sshrrakaa and Kheel meet at the cafe near the Military Complex. A steaming pot of Kansee tea, and a tary of meat-wafers or on a stand next to their table.

"So what kind of training do you think we'll be getting?" Sshrrakaa sips slowly from her mug, and places the mug back on its coaster.

"Not sure, but you can bet it won't be easy. I did some background checks on ol' man Ooraah, and if his record is any indication of what we can expect, we're in for a rough ride." Kheel spears a wafer with his claw, and pops it into his mouth.

A puzzled look comes over Sshrrakaa's face, and she cocks her head at a tilt towards Kheel. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he's done a tour out in the Sslaa system, doing topographic work on Sslaa 1, 4, and 7. None of those planets are very kind towards life. Inferno world, water and toxic radiation planets. I just bet that's where we'll be going for some, if not most, of our training."

Silence seems to last hours between them, before Sshrrakaa utters an old human epithet. "Well, shit."

"Mmmm...hmmmm. And there was also a stint in the Sszeera Belt there, setting up surveillance drones and such. Apparently camped out there for 14 cycles."

"Also, on Sslaa 5, he pulled a tour with the Rangers there. Swamp and nothing else, almost. Lots of vicious predators, hostile plant-life and other stuff that would kill you as soon as look at you."

Sshrrakaa eyes her tea for a moment. "This is beginning to sound like a suicide that is long and drawn out." She spears a meat-wafer of her own, and munches thoughtfully. "We'll make it just fine, right?"

Kheel lets the approximation of a grin spread across his face. "Of course we will." He sips his tea, and thinks. "I wonder who else they're roping into this carousel of terror?"

While on the civilian Titan II transport craft, modified to be used as a passenger transport, Ooraah sits in the first-class section, sipping on a warm mug of mulled cider. Ah, I just love these 'business' trips. The transport comes into Zzauud space, and the commander looks out his window.

Before him stretches long, waving grasses as tall as a Deep One. Small dwellings could be seen scattered here and there in the savannah, and Hrubbans at their business as well. The small, lithe cat-like beings were interesting to watch as they hunted with their manes flowing behind them wildly.

The transport touches down gently, and Ooraah picks up his duffle. On the tarmac, a private unmarked car awaits him. "Good cycle to you, Commander." The burly chauffer tips his leather cap to Ooraah, who salutes snappily. "Good cycle to you, Pilot." Ooraah gets in the car, and is whisked off.

15 minutes and some light banter later, they arrive at their destination. A few disheveled huts in a long stretch of grassland that extends as far as the eye can see. Tall trees sway in the distance as several giraffes stride lazily over the grass. This is ideal for now.

His mobile messenger *pweeps* softly, indicating incoming transmit. He opens up the message and reads, then sends a reply.

[code:1:271f259a6b]
TYCS Transmit
Ident: Commander Ooraah
Whispering Savannah Outpost
Dest: Cadet 2nd Class Dart Amahira

I would hope that you would rise to the challenge, or many beings will have wasted a fair amount of time and energy. Regardless, report in when you arrive.

May you walk on warm sands.
Commander Ooraah[/code:1:271f259a6b]

Captain Janice Hubbard steps off the transport after the others, hefting her travel bag over her shoulder. If there was one thing she hated about Special Forces, it was that it forced her to travel light. There were a dozen or more things she wanted to bring, equipment she thought could be vital, books she wanted for reference. Most of it had to be left in storage, along with her entire collection of Nancy Drew Mysteries. She worked with technology and computers all the time, but she preferred the weight and feel of a real paper book.

On the tarmac, they lined up to greet a Sakkran military officer. Hubbard read the rank as "Major." She dropped her bag carefully, straightened her spine, squared her shoulders and saluted. Out of the corner of her eye, she was painfully aware that the men, even the lean Petersen, stood head and shoulders taller than her.

"At ease," declared the reptile in remarkably clear English. "Gunnery Sergeant Gruder, Lieutenant Rudgers, Lieutenant Petersen and Captain Hubbard? Welcome to Zzaaud. If you'll come with me, we'll get you out to the training grounds and your assigned quarters. The Commander will be meeting with the applicants later."

Hubbard had questions, more than she could phrase, but she kept her mouth shut and picked up her bag and trotted along after the others. The Sakkran Major lead them to a small vehicle that she identified as a short range air transport. The bags were stowed in the rear and seats assigned, then they were airborne.

Gods, this place looks like a hellhole. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut, but it was difficult. Why did I let the Colonel talk me into this? The men were talking amicably with excited undertones in their otherwise calm voices. They were looking forward to the challenge. Hubbard thought they were nuts.

The vehicle's speed was hard to judge from the air, but they were clearly moving very fast. It still took the better part of an hour to reach the base. Once on the ground Hubbard paused to wipe sweat from her brow as thw sweltering heat assualted her.

The Major showed them to a large hut that had the Treznor flag painted on the door. "These are your quarters. Toilet and shower facilities are in the building to the south, mess hall to the west, offices to the north and training grounds to the east. If you have questions, you can find someone on duty in the offices at any hour."

The men started filing through the door, while Hubbard held back. "Uh, Sir...are these the only quarters for us?"

The Sakkran cocked an eye to regard her. "These do not suit your needs? You perhaps prefer segregated quarters?"

"Uh...no, no this is fine. I just wondered where I could set up my equipment."

"The Commander will cover that later."

"Okay...thanks." Hubbard shouldered her bag and walked inside. The men had already claimed their bunks. She dropped her kit on top of the remaining bed and looked around. This would be her home for the foreseeable future. If she didn't wash out.

Why am I here?

A small pack grasped carefully in his talons, Dart surveys the area once his flight from the Shogunate touches down. This will be interesting. I wonder who else will be participating? The grey reploid steps off the plane, stretching out his wings idly, and careful not to accidentally impale or slice anybody with the long blade on the end of his tail. Briefly consulting his internal map, the dragon crouches and springs into the air with the hum of a gravity diffuser system and a whoosh of flapping wings, setting off for Zzauud as per his orders.

A few hours later, he arrives and is duly shown to his quarters, not that the nine or so foot long reploid really needs anything more than a place to stash his stuff.

((OOC: For reference, this is what Dart looks like:
http://rpstudios.ian-justman.com/junk/CGgoods/Dart-bow.JPG
http://rpstudios.ian-justman.com/junk/CGgoods/Dart-crouching1.JPG
http://rpstudios.ian-justman.com/junk/CGgoods/Dart-flying2.JPG ))

Looking on the outpost from the boundary of it, tellable only by the separation of long elephant grass from the bare patch of land, Ooraah looks at the long-house style buildings that would serve as barracks. His hut has few modern accoutrements. A workable bit of a latrine, some comm equipment, and a heat chamber.

From within the compound, a corporal brings behind him a pair of Awakened Sakkrans from Titan. One bears the markings of a Staff Seargent on his lithe frame, and the other the markings of a Master Sergeant on her sash which serves as her uniform, since her plated and spikey hide would rip any uniform into minute pieces. A translating necklace is draped around her neck.

The Corporal comes to a stop before the Commander, and salutes. "Corporal Hhaarf reporting, sir! I have escorted the Staff Sergeant Phhoush and the Master Sergeant Grrakk to your location as ordered, sir!" Both Sergeants salute, left hand splayed over chest.

Ooraah returns the salute. "Very good, Corporal. Anything to report?"

"Yes, sir! Recruits are filing in now, sir! Treznorian candidates have located their barracks and are situating themselves now. Reploid candidate has also arrived, and is situating himself. Titan candidates will arrive in 3 hours. No word on the Hrubban Clans candidates, sir!"

The Commander looks about in the tall grasses, and thinks a moment. "I suspect they will arrive soon enough. Inform the candidates that have arrived that I will hold a brief meet-and-greet in 20. Then report to your detail for some PT." Another salute.

"On it, sir!" "Dismissed."

The corporal marches off, and Ooraah approaches the Sergeants. "Good cycle to you, Sergeant Phhoush and Master Sergeant Grrakk. At ease." The Awakened change their stance to parade rest. "I have been apprised of your situation on Titan, and have looked at your records of service before your Awakening. I find no reason you will not be able to perform to the same level here."

In the Commander's mind, he hears the voice of Phhoush. Soft and light, yet firm. <Yes, Commander.> Grrakk also speaks, but the translator necklace she wears doesn't muffle the sound of her mouth-plates gnashing together. "Yes, Commander."

Ooraah paces back and forth a bit. "Very good. Now, I am going to have you two pull double duty. Not only will you undergo training here in the Ranger Corps, but you will also drill your charges, training them as you train yourselves. I feel you can handle this, and I hope I am not wrong." The Commander stands before both Sergeants. Dwarfed by the Deep One, he finds he has to crane his neck a bit to look in her reddish eyes. "I want you to run them hard. This will be rigorous for them. That means lots of PT at first. The new rifles are enroute, and you will need to familiarize yourselves with them first. Then you pass what you know down. Understood?"

Both Sergeants continue looking out over the grasses. "Yes, sir."

"Good. First things first. Have a meet-and-greet with the new arrivals. They're professionals, and I expect you to treat them as such. But this is not to be just another branch of the Imperial Service. This is a new and separate body. Unorthodox measures may need to be taken. Be firm, be fair. And be vigilant. Understood?"

"Crystal, sir!"

"Good. Report to your chambers, and unload. Then meet the new arrivals. That is all. Dismissed." The Sergeants salute, and march off.

The Commander stands at the edge of the outpost for a short time more, listening to the breeze brushing the tips of the tall grass; watching the dust on the ground kick ever so slightly. Ok. let's get started. He turns to go to the barracks.

"Hrrrrrrrr....Commanderr Oorraah, yes?" Ooraah turns at the sound. From the tall grasses appear the small cat-like Hrubbans. The one speaking has a brown mane of hair, as do four of the other ten. The manes are tied back with some manner of rope. The other five have no manes, but sport small circlets on their ears. They split the grass as they come into the compound soundlessly.

"Ah. You would be the Hrubban Clan, right?" The Commander visually takes the measure of them. Tawny-colored fur with slight striping. 5 feet tall, give or take. Wearing only tunics and waist-wraps. They each carry a moderate-sized shoulder bag.

"That we would be. The Clan Pasha, at yourr command. I am Imon, Chief Hunterr forr the Clan. My companions arre hand-picked forr theirr skill in the hunt, and in theirr stealth." Every 'R' that comes seems to roll out of their mouth with a purring sound. "We live off the land, and will sharre ourr kills with the otherrs herre. My paperrs...."

Imon hands a datapad to Ooraah, who checks their authenticity. Seeing the Emperor's imprint on them, he knows they are who they say they are. "Very good. Everything checks out. Your dwelling is next to the one with the humans from Treznor. Set yourselves up, and fall into position for inspection. Dismissed."

"Yes, Commanderr." They all give the salute, and Ooraah salutes back as they file past swiftly and soundlessly.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inspection Time

The Sergeants stand at attention as Commander Ooraah walks the line. "Greetings. I am Commander Ooraah. To my left is Staff Sergeant Phhoush. To my right is Master Sergeant Grrakk. They will be my eyes, ears and voice to you. You will follow their orders as you would follow mine." He paces back and forth, looking each person in the eye.

"You are now members of Jheer's Rangers. This means you have succeeded in your previous M.O., but can be more. And you will be more. We will go places that most military wouldn't set foot on. We will operate in places other's have written off as a loss. We will thrive where others have met grisly, fiery and painful death. Why?" He stops for a moment, and looks down the line.

"Because you were the best, and are going to be better than that. Any questions?"

"Only two, sir." Dart bows respectfully, though in a decidedly different manner than the 'wingspread bow' Tsume is so fond of- just an efficient bob of his long neck. "When do we start, and where else will we be training?" He glances around, taking in the surroundings with his four optical units. "This area, while visually appealing, does not quite appear to be at all like what one would expect 'grisly, fiery and painful death' of."

Ooraah *hrrumphs* slightly, and stands tall with his hands behind his back. "Private, you have already started. This is an inspection. Afterwards, you will be issued trainee uniforms, and then some PT, whether you need it or not."

He walks slowly along the line. "As for other training locations, we will start here. Then the Uncharted Territories of the Homeland. Depending on how you fare after that, we will continue to the Great Asteroid Belt. Then Sslaa 1. A toxic planet nicknamed Hell for its completely un-inhabitable temperatures and abundant radioactivity. If you get that far."

He gets a smirk on his face, as much as someone with no lips can smirk. "But that's not the end of it, although I won't bore you with the details. There will be a variety of planets, systems and so on and so forth. You will be trained to operate at maximum efficiency in every environment imaginable, and then some!"

Dart chuckles slightly, since clothing of any sort tend to be the total and utter bane of any reploid's existance. The grey reploid stands smartly at attention, his full height easily dwarfing the humans present. "Understood, sir! I'm looking forward to it."

Only through accepting death as the immediate reality can one surpass his or her abilities, and truly live. What point is there in power if it is not put to good use? I think my skills will be best used here, instead of the seldom-deployed Shogunate military. This will be most enjoyable, I think.

Ooraah grins as he continues walking, coming to the Hrubban contingent. He looks one of the females up and down. "Your fur is matted. Didn't you clean yourselves before forming up?"

As he prepares to give a dressing-down to the small felinid. the sound of running can be heard. It sounds of heavy footfalls. Around the barracks appear the Titan Sakkrans, as well as Sshrakaa and Kheel.

They come up to the Commander, stand at parade rest and salute, breathing a bit heavily. 4 Deep Ones and a Grass-Walker. The lead Deep One, easily 11' tall by 5' wide, moves his mouth-plates as his translator kicks in. "Commander, our apologies for the delay."

"I see. What is your excuse?"

"No excuse."

"We'll talk later. Fall in." Ooraah points to the end of the line next to Dart, as the Sergeants scowl mightily. The new arrivals march with heads bowed.

"Now, then. Does anyone want to brief our late comers? No? Good. I TRUST they'll figure out what's going on themselves, sooner or later. Any more questions before we get to it?"

Ooraah walks the line, looking into the eyes of each of the candidates. After what seems like a week, he comes to a stop at the end of the line. "Alright then. Fall out to the equipment shack and get your uniforms. Then it'll be 2 hours of PT. That means running, NOT sprinting, around a designated track for two hours in full uniform. Get to it! Sergeant Grrakk, escort the trainees to the equip shack." The word is accentuated by a slight lilting tone.

The massive Deep One clacks her lobster-like claws together, and the mouth plates move. "Yes, sir! Alright, trainees! Eyes right and march on my lead!" The Deep One comes to the front of the line, and off center. "March." She begins stepping, sounding off a cadence that, with the translator on, is almost hypnotic in its soft monotone. Sergeant Phhoush takes up the rear, keeping silent the whole time save for some sing-song whistling.

Coming to the shed, a slight human is present. He looks over the Treznorian trainees, and puts a set of fatigues in front of each of them. Khaki-brown with black camo pattern. Black calf-high pull-up boots, a small cap and fingerless gloves. A khaki shirt with the camo-pattern light jacket and pants complete the outfit, as well as a web-belt of black elastic cloth. The Deep Ones and the Reploid get a simple thick sash in the brown/black camo pattern and a simple oval burnished-metal broach-pin, some leg and arm guards of leather with adjustable straps and a brown cap.

The trainees are herded outside their barracks, where they are instructed on the proper procedure for putting on their fatigues, as well as care and maintanence. "You will undergo inspection first thing in the start of each cycle. Then fall out for chow. Then more PT until lunch. Then more chow. Then special training sessions. Understood? Good." The same monotone translator, but the gesticulations of the Deep One punctuate certain points in the speech.

"The PT track has been laid out and marked. Follow the markings and complete four full laps of the 8 kilometer track. Sergeant Phhoush and myself will be along shortly to monitor you. Dismissed."

Dart listens intently as the group is instructed on uniform maintenance, and makes sure his sash is fitted securely around the base of his neck- about the only location where it won't interfere with his movement or his large wings. If it were possible for him to show a wry grin, he would as he equips the leather bits of his new uniform into place. I'm sure it must look odd for a heavily armed and armored reploid on the bloody cutting edge of reploid technology to be wearing oldfashioned leather armoring. The stoic reploid wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he knew he had to look downright goofy with the brown cap secured over the various pointy bits adorning his head.

When the group is dismissed to begin their not-so-short jog, he drops easily into a four-legged gait and takes off with the nearly catlike grace that most Shogunate reploid dragons are known for, sweeping the area with his visual array, and mentally chanting an old hymn to match his stride (which he deliberately keeps well below his top speed, not wanting to leave the organics in the dust, and in case any of the group succumbs to exhaustion or injury- he'd had it drilled into his source code that everybody on a team looks out for eachother.) A time to fight, a time to fly, a time to live, a time to die...

Commander Ooraah may notice a note in the reploid's transcripts from all his various posts that report the grey mechadrake as being 'dedicated to a fault in perfecting anything he decides to do'. (And a note written in a decidedly wry tone that 'he oddly likes swords and swordplay, which is more than a little odd for a guy who's already got a vicious set of built-in melee weapons'.)

Hmm... given I appear to be the only flier here, I suppose perfecting my aerial melee skills will fall to my free time. I will have to inquire if I could work on that while everyone else is asleep. There are advantages to only needing perhaps an hour every day for routine system diagnostics.

Hubbard accepts her new uniform gravely and listens carefully to the instructions. Then she skins down to replace her old uniform with the new one. She finds that the legs of the pants are much, much too long, so she exchanges with Gruder who finds his pants a little short. She makes a valiant effort to ignore the glances of the men toward her body; she knows she's much too lean and athletic to be considered attractive, but men will be men and soldiers will be soldiers. Once she's properly attired and can pass inspection, she falls in with the others to begin the run (not sprint).

She thought she was in good shape, but this places a whole new meaning on the word "conditioning." She's used to pacing herself, as are the other humans; full out running has always been for short distances. She manages just over a kilometer before she begins gasping for breath. Her only consolation is that Petersen starts before she does. Of the four of them, only Rudgers manages ten minutes before his body starts to flag and slow down. But orders are not to be denied, and neither is the Deep One who sets the grueling pace. Clearly, in this phase of training, ordinary humans are at a distinct advantage.

Damn you for talking me into this, Aaron. I'll get you for this, I swear.

Master Sergeant Grrakk paces next to the trainees in the dusty soil of the track. Her armored skin sheens with a fresh oiling as she barks out, without a translator, "Harf! Harf! Harf!" for every other step the trainees take. Her sash bobs a little with the weight of her Stripes of Commendation on it. Leather arm and leg guards hold small pips on them, each one grafted with a symbol on each.

"Harf! Harf! Ghhreeaaa!" The sound of mouthplates grinding together is shrill and high. It is then the translator kicks in automatically, although a bit late. "Halt!" They have just passed the two-K mark on the track, signifying one lap almost completed. She passes the huffing and puffing trainees one by one.

"This is bad. I can keep this pace, and these conditions are not optimal to my people. We are underwater operators, not dust pounders. But to hear this wheezing! Shameful! Now form up, and jog. Don't think about the run. Think of a rhythm in your head. Focus on my voice. Pay no mind to the environment, pay no mind to the sound of your footfalls, Focus on my voice. Now then......Go." A tap on the translator necklace shuts it off again, and Grrakk begins jogging again, the heavy sound of her pounding feet on the dusty ground. "Harf! Harf! Harf! Harf!"

After a time passes, they make the four laps. "Fall out for inspection and review." After the groups get in line, the Master Sergeant walks it, with Sergeant Phhoush standing silent vigil facing the trainees. Grrakk comes to the Hrrubans. "You already know the terrain, so the jog was easy on you. But I see insects caught in your fur. Do something about that." The Hrrubans begin to move to flick out the bugs.... "On your own time." ...and stop.

Coming to Kheel and Sshrrakaa: "Not terrible, but I saw stumbling on your part, trainee Kheel. And Trainee Sshrrakaa; less chattering and more focus. You break stride again, or cause any others to with your banter, and i'll have you gutting, jointing and de-boning in the kitchen for a week. Understood?"

"Aye, Sirrah." A swift salute is made, left hand splayed over chest.

Then he comes to the Treznorians. "And what passes for P.T. in the Empire of Treznor? A brisk game of chess? You will need to catch up to the rest, and that means 30 minutes of aerobic workout after special training. That starts tonight. Sergeant Phhoush, would you be willing to oversee this?"

A silent nod from the Sergeant. "Good. Now then, I noticed some improvement when you took your minds off the immediate task, and focused on something else; the cadence. It seems that some mental development is needed, and that's Sergeant Phhoush's specialty. 'Listen' well to his teachings. They will be vital."

Then he comes to the Reploid. "I already know that the PT was no trouble for you. But the reason behind the jog was not to condition you. I want to see how well you read your environment. Report what you saw, when you saw it, and surrounding conditions when you saw it."

Dart nods and salutes. "For the first kilometer and a half, I did not notice much beyond the high grasses. My infrared equipment detected various small creatures away from the immediate track- I am not yet familiar with the local wildnerness, but from size and motion types, most were small rodents of some variety, and larger grazers in the distance-" The reploid launches into a litany of things he saw, when, where, what, and with what sensory gear, thorough to the point of absurd, really, including ambient temperature, wind direction and approximate speed, and so on. With his mismatched eyes and two additional optical sensors atop his head, it's no wonder he got called "Four Eyes" at more than one of his old posts. "-and as we were returning for inspection, I also noticed some form of aerial predator or scavenger circling and then diving at an approximate distance of three miles north-northwest of here. Unfortunately, the weather conditions are hazy enough that I could not get a better identification."

Report complete, the dragon salutes again. 'Perfectionist' is probably an understatement. "I realize that PT will not help my physical abilites any, sir, but I am always trying to improve the efficiency of my motions. The less thought and effort required for placing one's feet means more that can be applied to observation and planning ahead."

The fact the tall grey mechanoid says as much with a perfectly straight face likely earns him odd looks from the rest of the group. Sixty years since Kazeryu, and I still have not yet perfected myself or found my real mission in existance. Perhaps in time, while training here, it will be revealed.

Master Sergeant Grrakk seems to puff up her chest. "Very good. And that is partly why we are here. To be able to move well without thought. Your report is adequate. Had you paid greater attention, you would have noted the presence of subterranean activity in the area from the tone of your footfalls on the ground. I estimate a resin beetle hive in the vicinity about 1.35 kilometers out in the grasses."

Her lightly glowing reddish eyes scan the line silently for a moment. "Fall out to your barracks for rest. Get the dust off your fatigues, and then break for chow. I expect you to meet in 1 hour with Sergeant Phhoush here. Dismissed!"

After the line breaks, Sergeant Grrakk approaches Phhoush. They walk a bit, and talk amongst themselves.

Grrakk: "Not bad. I've seen better, but i've also seen worse."

Phhoush nods his head, and speaks directly into the mind of Grrakk. <Perhaps. But they will learn and improve. They think too much, and cloud their minds with busy-ness. I could feel the mental leakage. Much doubt, and many more questions they can not answer for themselves.>

G: "Yes, as I suspected. It will only get more difficult for them as we progress. Do you think they will meet the task before them?"

P: <I think we will see great progress as time passes. Some will not make the cut, of course. But others will excel. Only the Pantheon knows for sure.>

G: "Commander says we're to push Hubbard hard, per orders from the treznorian government."

P: <I am aware. She will need a bit of extra care to strengthen her resolve, but it is not impossible. Come, let us prepare ourselves. I desire to slake the dust off my skin. And then some eats.>

<<SLAP>>

Get yer arse in gear, Trainee!

Chow time comes and goes. The food is non-remarkable, but definitely edible. Some manner of protien-mush, servings of roasted meats and root vegetables, and a cup of fruit juice or Paroo brew.

The Special Training session is a recap of training already gotten from the various M.O.s of the trainees so everyone would be on the same page. Various hypothetical scenarios are given, and questions asked and answered.

Afterwards, the Treznorian trainees are told to report to Sergeant Phhoush ofr additional PT. The rest are allowed to fallout and work on their upcoming assignments for tomorrow's S.T. assignments; this being a working familiarity of various hand weaponry and their uses.

As the sun starts to set on the camp, Phhoush seems to be sitting in a Lotus position on the ground, wearing little but a sash and some manner of long shirt cinched at the waist. His eyes open as the trainees approach; they look like they contain multiple pupils in the setting sun. His speech is delivered mentally.

<Greetings, trainees. I am Sergeant Phhoush of the T.D.F. It is my goal to get you conditioned to the point that you can at least keep up with the rest of the recruits, if not surpass them with time. Prepare yourselves with some preliminary stretches to limber yourselves up, and then we'll take a lovely cadence-jog for a time.>

Dart spends chow time sitting quietly in some form of meditation, his stance likely to remind some of a cat, with his wings furled close to his back, sitting upright with his segemented tail coiled around his forepaws, the bladed tip twitching side to side slightly to some mental rhythm.

After ST, the reploid mentally reviews his weapons knowledge as he and the others are dismissed. He spends a good portion of the late evening practicing, oddly enough, with a katana, moving through the various katas he knows, the blade terribly out of proportion with his mechanoid frame, and his red optics glowing oddly in the twilight. While not exactly a social butterfly, the draco doesn't radiate the sort of 'grrr, I'm antisocial, go away' sort of attitude. He's just generally quiet unless spoken to. I hope the Treznorian delegation will be able to improve enough to make the cut. That sort of marathon running can take a lot out of even the sturdiest organics under the right circumstances.

In the meantime, Sshrrakaa and Kheel decide to familiarize themselves with the Locaber, an axe-style weapon with a dagger-like bladed end on the reverse of the serrated axe-head. They circle each other slowly, twirling the balanced weapons in their hands.

"Remeber, Kheel. This is practice. No fancy tricks or anything." Sshrrakaa awaits for the first move to be made as Kheel searches for an opening.

"Of course, of course. These are no Maar Gaan after all." He jabs forward with his weapon swiftly, but finds it parried by the handle-end of Sshrrakaa's weapon. "What do you think? Think we'll make the training cut?"

"Too soon to tell. Things always start easy, but the pace picks up quickly." She swings her weapon chest-high in a short strike. Kheel parries it with his weapon head and deflects it to his left, then swings the handle end upwards.

The swing is dodged in a side-step, and the pair circle each other again. The dust kicks up slightly beneath their feet and tails. "I've never seen any of the Awakened from Titan before. Eesh, I wonder what would've happened if we were there during the Awakening? Think we would have changed?"

"We'll never know. The events that caused it are still being looked into by the Empire. I'm sure some answers will be soon to come." Sshrrakaa swings her weapon low in a leg-sweep, and continues the motion behind her head and then forward for a head strike.

Kheel leaps over the sweep, then ducks below the head-shot, swinging his weapon to hook the locaber with the pick-end and pulls right throwing Sshrrakaa off-balance for a moment. A swift foot-swipe makes her land on her side, raising a cloud of dust. "Whoof!"

He stands and offers his hand in assist, which she accepts. She stands and dusts herself off. "Good bit of spar there. We better get back and prep for tomorrow." She turns to head back to the bunks.

"Hey, no sore feelings?" Kheel shoulders his weapon.

"No, I was distracted a bit and you took appropo action. Being distracted in the field could mean the end of us. It's a valuable lesson." She looks out and spies Sergeant Phhoush in the distance over the tall grasses. A pack of winded humans look like they're trying to match his long, easy strides. Poor bastards. The Sergeant make sit look easy.

The day comes and goes. The sound of reptavians and unknown predators in the night can be heard in the distance, later to be replaced by the chirping of birds and the clanging of a metallic barrel. Morning has broken, and Sergeant Grrakk roars out for inspection.

Inspection passes and the recruits break for chow which is followed by a few hours of PT. The pace is the same as the previous day. Them more chow, then some ST as the trainees hand in assignments detailing various hand weaponry, their strengths, weaknesses and practical applications. Then there is more chow, and for some additional PT. This is the schedule for the first week.

The next week is not too much different. Inspection, chow, PT, chow, ST. chow etc. A slight variation is in the ST, where the focus switches to firearms through the ages, and their strengths, weaknesses and practical applications. From old blunderbusses to Winchester repeating rifles, the majority of man-portable killing technology is run through.

The third week comes, and the usually wake-up-and-fall-in routine is played out. Commander Ooraah, however, is on hand for inspection this time. "Good cycle, Rangers. I call you that now because we are preparing to step up your training in earnest. We're taking it up a few notches, and this is where the cut will be made. Mastery of the body, zen technique and environmental training will be the focus. You will be introduced to modern arms of varying types, and you will be expected to be able to use them to their best effect. Hand to hand combat will also be a focus, as well as the use of several technologies that are not available anywhere else in any military. Not even in the Empire's."

"Today, there will be a field trip. We're heading out deep into the Savannah. So get your chow, kit up and fall in in 1 hour. Dismissed."

Sshrrakaa and Kheel are in the barracks with the other Sakkrans. All are packing light travel packs (only about 60 pounds each) with med-kits, a change of uniform and some rations. Chow has been eaten and the sense of expectation fills the air.

"Deep into the savannah. I wonder where to?"

The Deep Ones here gesticulate, and gnash their mouth-plates. "We do not like this. There is little water out there. We will have to pack extra oil to keep from drying out."

Kheel finishes packing his bags. "Everyone has to adjust. I'm looking forawrd to the trip. It'd be good to get some new scenery."

THe lone Grass-Walker chimes in mentally. <It'd be interesting to see the lands my ancient fore-bears once walked through. I wonder if the old dwellings are still to be found?>

"Ah, yes. The ancient Grass-Walkers once wandered the Savannah, right? Well, there probably isn't much left of their culture, but maybe something can be found."

The barracks complete their packing, and fall in to meet with the Sergeants and the Commander.

Meanwhile, the Hrubbans have been preparing themselves as well. A circle has been made in the long-house shaped barracks, and they sit and talk. "The hunting will be good. Many beasts are in the deep grasses."

"Hrrrrrr.Yes. The journey will be interesting. The Commander has plans hrrrr. We must cast bones and see what is yet to come."

The Huntmaster reaches into a pouch, and casts what look to be some bird's bones into the circles. He studies them for a moment. "Hardship, but not impossible. The Commander will most likely begin field combat training. I see ..... wounds. Be ready."

The Hrrubans pack up their kits, and file out.

Dart packs lightly for himself- an emergency battery, spare uniform... and that's about it. On the other hand, the grey drake also packs spare rations, first aid gear, and other items more in tune with what an organic would be packing, carefully lashing the bundles to his sides, beneath his wings. Finally, a change of pace!

The reploid strolls out of the barracks, stretching his wings briefly and making sure his bundles are secure, and joins the others. "The Savannah is largely unbroken grassland, correct?" He comments to one of the others before the group's superiors arrive. "Good flying then, and moderate ground cover. I am looking forward to this excursion."

One of the Hrrubans regards Dart, his eyes looking all over him. "You seem different from the other WInged Ones we see flying the Savannah. Shinier. Smell different as well. Hrrrrr...." He strokes his dread-locked brown mane a moment. "Yes, the grasses are mostly left to be as they are, as was our request. It would be a shame to have such excellent hunting grounds spoiled by development. Not to say some of the humans haven't tried, but they are usually escorted out."

One of the Hrruban females seems to speak to the maned one in something resembling a series of purrs and rumbles. "Our Huntress states that, for those unaccustomed to the Savannah, much can be missed from the air. The dust gets everywhere, though. Good for keeping off insects. Bad for getting in your nose."

Dart chuckles at the commentary. "Yes, I would imagine the various metalic alloys and such bits and pieces would lend a rather odd scent." The grey draco performs one of his odd little bows. "Your Huntress has my thanks for the warning- should it be necessary to take wing, I will keep that in mind."

He casts a quick glance about. "I imagine that the dust will be a greater bother for the Sakkrans and humans present more than anyone else. I still look forward to it. Before this assignment, I had not once left the country. It will be good to see the sights from all over known space."

As the Commander arrives, he appears suited-up in a cowl of some fashion that fits under his cap. He passes before the assembled group, and nods in turn at each member as he passes."Now then, before we start we have to assign a unit commander. Ranger Sshrrakaa!"

She steps forward quickly and salutes. "Aye, Commander?"

"You are the unit commander on this foray. The Sergeants will watch, and assist as needed. The point is not only to train you for extended foot journeys, but to get you accustomed to long periods out in the field. On each foray, a different unit commander will be assigned. Unit Commander Sshrrakaa, assign your second, and then give your orders."

"Aye, Commander." She steps lively in front of the line, and barks out loudly. "Alright recruits. Form up in a single line and prepare to move out! Recruit Imon, you are my second. Head to the front. Your knowledge of the land here will be needed." The hrruban male walks forward, and salutes. "I am prreparred."

"Good. Let's move out. Our goal is to make the half-way point to Lake Ghaann by nightfall." She toe-turns, salutes to the Commander and the Sergeants, who are positioned on either side of the line, and begins marching forward.

The fields of tall grasses are 'swam' through by putting the hands before the body and pushing the grass aside without breaking them, or bending them to the point they leave a trail. An hour of that, and the land looks to stretch out before them. Sparse tree-cover is afforded, and dust seems plentiful. Clusters of tall grass still dot the area. Airborne predators wheel about in the sky, and antelope-like creatures can be seen moving away from the group. In the distance, a series of hills can be seen.

The sun seems to be directly overhead at this point. Sshrrakaa stops and puts her kit down under a shade-tree. We'll break here until the sun moves off a bit. Those are the foot-hills of the Khess Mountain Ranges,..." She points to the hills on the horizon. "...and our goal for tomorrow. When we get there, we'll make camp in the rocks. For now we'l take a rest here, and check supplies and such." A small, thin river flows nearby, with evidence of recent animal visitation being seen from fresh tracks in the muddy banks.

Sshrrakaa takes a moment to set-up a seat of some manner from some stones in the area as the rest of the group unpacks their kit to rest. She sits and watches them for a time. Imon, in the meantime, decides to investigate near the river-bank.

He puts his nose low to the ground and sniffs the tracks. As he wanders down the bank, an interesting scent takes him. He sniffs around the scent in circles. Their shape is not like the local animal's tracks in any way. Finally, realization dawns on him. Humans!

He trots over to Sshrrakaa, and informs her quietly. "I have detected the scent of humans . There are tracks in the north on the river bank. The scent is unfamiliar. It would suggest outlanders." Imon points to the location he just came from.

Sshrrakaa squints her eyes. "Odd that the Border Patrol has not been aware of this. They must be slipping." She stands and scatters the stones she was sitting on, then yells out. "Alright, that's good for now. Imon has found some human tracks, so assume them to be in the area and be alert. Let's pack our kit and get moving." Sergeant Phhoush and Sergeant Grrakk, in the meanwhile, are at the site of the tracks; investigating for themselves and gesticulating to each other.

4 hours later, the group arrives at the small foothills of the Kkhess Ranges, which lies to the South of them in full. Groupings of boulders and stone shelfs are plentiful, as well as small gullies and ravines. Scattered trees are in evidence here and there. The Sergeants remain behind the group as they traverse a natural ravine path by a gorge.

Six-One, this is Five-Two. Fish took the bait. On the trail, in the zone in 4 minutes. The laser comm delivers the picket's voice in clarity, although no sound can be heard to the outside world.

Make sure that reploid gets a good dose. Release authority granted. Guns, standby.

Several double clicks are heard on the circuit, acknowledging the command without the need for voice.

The twelve operators ready themselves silently, recon suits masking their presence. As the Rangers walk into a bend in the trail, a sharp CLACKCLACKCLACK is heard, milliseconds before 10 Claymore mines at trail side explode. Simultaneously, snipers among the rocks take aim and fire at any one not caught in the blast.

A squad of 6 rises out of the grasses, ghille suits covering their recons. They surround the engagement area with weapons drawn, covering all points.

Six-One, Six-Two. Engagement complete. Targets down.

Six more operators rise from the rocks and walk foward to the area. Six-One looks at the "carnage" layed out before him. A squad of Rangers, struggling helplessly against the confining bonds of riot foam, and several at the front and back of the group curled up in the fetal position, after apparently becoming violently ill. Six-One walks up to the untouched Sakkran NCOs, slinging what appears to be a sonic rifle.

"How long would you like us to leave 'em foamed?" He reaches up to a velcro flap and reveals the insignia of the Karmabaijani KSPA.

At the first hints of weapons noise, Dart springs airborne with a powerful sweep of his wings, shooting straight into the air in flagrant defiance of regular physics, the distinct hum of the draco's g-diffuser a high pitched whine over the rest of the confusion. I figured they had something planned! With a loud hiss the nine foot drake thumps back to earth a short distance up the gorge on all fours, tensed to pounce, even as he wonders how much work it will take to get stray bits of foam off his armor and how much it will impede the movement of the last few segements of his tail.

More than 40 years in the Shogunate services paid off... not good enough. Dart berates himself over getting popped at all. He silences that train of thought, focusing instead on the 'enemy' and where this exercise is going to go next.

400 meters, 4 clicks left windage.

The sniper exhales slowly and caresses the trigger on his suppressed weapon, sending a marker round directly into the back of Dart's head.

The spotter activates his commlink Six-One, Bull-Two, bagged us a Reploid, returning to your location.

The two man team stands up, lifting their equipment. The spotter waves his arm in the Dart's direction, before climbing down the hill where the team had constructed their blind, and walking back to the group of less than happy Rangers.

Sergeant Grrakk looks at the riot foam-covered trainees. She walks over to the front of the group, and shakes her head slowly. Her mouth plates begin moving and the translator kicks in shortly. "Very sloppy. This will not do at all. Leave them foamed for a half-hour. It's time for a little pep-talk."

"This is poor. I had expected better than this. 30 seconds and you are all dead." She paces back and forth in front of the mobilized ranks, with Phhoush looking on in the back. "Obviously we will have to step up the training some. You are supposed to be the best in your fields. Could you not see this environment would invite an ambush?" One massive claw waves around at the terrain around them.

"Your first mistake: The tracks back at the river. You paid little attention to them, or you would have been able to discern the nature of the humans from the boot-shod pattern. Also, their direction." Lobster-like claws clack for emphasis.

"Second mistake: This terrain. You took an easy path that was an excellent place for ambush. The high-road less traveled would afford superior field of view, and less places for an ambush to take place."

"Third mistake: You got comfortable. Your awareness of the area was not present." The Sergeant then walks up to Dart. "You have all manner of sensors. How did you miss this? Also, going airborne was a mistake. In an ambush situation, shooting straight up invites hostile fire as you become a focus of attention. A better plan would be to reverse direction, or leap to the side to gain cover. There is no cover in the air."

Imon coughs a bit to get some of the foam off his mouth. "Their scents were masked, and this terrain is normally avoided by us. I could not smell them."

Grrakk turns sharply, and comes within an inch of the Hrruban's muzzle. "No excuse. Even if they were scent-masked, their weapons were not. Could you not smell the lubricant? The tinge of metals in the air? You were sloppy. On future forays, you must always keep awareness high. Scenarios such as this could happen at any time, anywhere."

Dart broods quietly as the lecture is given. Not what one could call a sulky sort of brood, but more of a self-loathing sort of brood. The drake offers up no excuses for his part in the collective failing of the trip, but merely nods his head once, the smaller red sensor units atop his head softly lighting up. "Understood, sir. I will strive to be more paranoid in the future, so as not to fail a second time."

The reploid sits down in what has got to be an incredibly uncomfortable position, even for a machine, and continues his brooding/meditation for the remainder of the half hour. Such sloppiness will not do. I must hold myself to still higher standards if I wish to ensure my own survival, and that of those I am tasked with working with.

Sergeant Phhoush steps forward, and speaks to the trainees mentally. <Do not be too hard on yourselves yet. Your training has, in truth, only begun. It was expected that failure would result. I hope that this lesson has not been lost to you all. I expect a better performance as time goes on, yes?> Phhoush raises up and cranes his long, sinuous neck skyward, his head cocked at an odd angle.

<When you are in doubt of your surroundings, just listen. The native life have sharp senses, and know when something is amiss.> A few beats pass, then the sound of chirping can be heard from the trees.

The half hour passes, and the trainees are sprayed with a riot-foam dissolving solvent, allowing mobility again. Sergeant Grrakk faces the Karmabaijani KSPA leader. Her translator sounds tinny. "Your aid in this exercise has been valuable. If you desire, I will comm HQ and have them prep a meal for you and your men. It is the least that can be done in gratitude."

The group eventually reaches Lake Ghaan. Along the way, tracking skills are taught, and lessons on terrain-maneuvering are given. The lake itself is cool and clear, with a small Hrruban outpost on the other side. Several Grass Newts, a cousin of the Swamp Newt, have decided to use the banks of the lake as a basking spot.

http://www.5amfunnies.com/sakkra/Sights/newt.jpg

Slightly smaller than their swamp cousins, these newts still measure at 4 meters long and 1.2 meters tall standing. "Okay. As if it isn't obvious, let's avoid resting too close to them." Sshrrakaa looks about, and spots a small clearing on a rising hill.

"Let's set up camp over there." She begins unpacking her kit, then finds a dead tree. The limbs are snapped off, and a crude lean-to is cinstructed with a stretch of cloth lashed down with bungee-cords.

Sergeant Phhoush steps forward, and speaks to the trainees mentally. <Do not be too hard on yourselves yet. Your training has, in truth, only begun. It was expected that failure would result. I hope that this lesson has not been lost to you all. I expect a better performance as time goes on, yes?> Phhoush raises up and cranes his long, sinuous neck skyward, his head cocked at an odd angle.

<When you are in doubt of your surroundings, just listen. The native life have sharp senses, and know when something is amiss.> A few beats pass, then the sound of chirping can be heard from the trees.

The half hour passes, and the trainees are sprayed with a riot-foam dissolving solvent, allowing mobility again. Sergeant Grrakk faces the Karmabaijani KSPA leader. Her translator sounds tinny. "Your aid in this exercise has been valuable. If you desire, I will comm HQ and have them prep a meal for you and your men. It is the least that can be done in gratitude."

Six-One ponders the thought of a hot meal for a moment.

"Actually Sergeant, if you don't mind, we would like to accompany you for the rest of this exercise. Gives the troops some more time in the field away from the damn paperwork and the training courses we know like the back of our damn hands."

Sergeant Grrakk considers for a moment, as the head of Sergeant Phhoush turns and nods slowly. The Deep One gesticulates towards Phhoush, and the sound of chirruping can be heard from the Grass-Walker.

"We are in agreement. Perhaps your presence will inspire greater caution in the trainees." Kheel builds a small fire to ward of predatory life, as the Hrrubans scout out the area. Sshrrakaa completes her crude lean-to, and issues watch orders amongst the recruits as the sun begins to set.

After a brief time, the Hrrubans return, bearing an animal resembling a boar back to the camp. The throat had been slashed quite neatly, and the blood drained out. "Hrrr....we will eat tonight. Two of the males extend their retractable claws, and slice at the belly of the boar, removing entrails as they do so. These are cast aside away from the camp some distance, and a spit constructed out of a broken tree limb. The boar is given the rotisserie treatment over the flame as the Deep One recruit takes first watch, growling low when the inevitable scavengers start to appear; glimmering points of light around the camp from their eyes.

Phhoush sends mental speech to everyone in the area. <We have reached our goal. Tonight we will camp, and in the morning we will begin back to base. There will be training with new equipment tomorrow, special ordered from Guaah Armor Works. Sleep well, and sleep lightly.>

The KSPA agents remove thier headgear and secure shelter for themselves for the night. A second fire is started to spread out the camp a bit. Several of the agents take seats near the roasting pig, including Six-One. He takes a moment to unfasten his Infiltration Suit enough to relax before taking a long sip from the suite hydration system.

"Nothing like a beautiful night under the stars eh Three?"

The agent reclining against his pack looks up.

"Ain't that the truth, sir. Especially after getting to play with some of our toys." He chuckles.

Six smiles as he looks out into the darkness.

"Predators sniffing around that pile of guts from our dinner here." His eyes, a solid mirrored silver surface glint in the firelight. "Who you got on watch One?"

"Bull-One and -Two took first watch with some of the Rangers. They wanted to test out those new night optics they brought along."

"Good. Make sure they get some chow when it's done cookin'." He looks up at the clear night sky again, focusing on a dot brighter than most of the stars. "Look guys, there's home."

He turns to Grrakk and Phhoush.

"So what about you two. From the looks of things you've been on the Big T at least once. Manage to get anywhere else round this little 'ol 'verse of ours?"

Grrakk nods her plated head a bit as she stokes the small fire a bit. "I have been on Titan for a time in my career. Mostly charting underwater geography on the coastlines and performing 'operations' in the name of the Empire. Also did a stint with the Exploratory Services division charting new worlds. Right before I signed on for this job, I was aboard the Scrutinous Guat keeping eyes open in the Alpha Centauri system."

Phhoush listens in with his eyes closed, seemingly meditating a bit before his multi-pupiled eyes open again. His mental speech issues forth. <Sergeant Grrakk has neglected to mention her time in the Armor Cavalry, doing suppresion missions on Sslaa 5 against a band of rebels who were not satisfied with the current Emperor.> His head incilnes towards the Deep One, who seems to be a bit forlorn. "It was needed, but not desired. But one does what one must to maintain stability."

<True. Thankfully, it resulted in minimal loss of life on both sides, but morale was not high for that mission, if I understand correctly. As for myself, I have been training pilots and engineers for use in the new sentient ship line being grown. Beautiful creatures, full of grace and strength of mind.>

Phhoush stands and adjusts himself a bit, craning his neck about to see how the Rangers are faring.< Before that, I had been a member of the Psy-Ops working in tandem with the Diplomatic Corps, ascertaining who may or may not be a threat, and 'performing' accordingly. That has taken me to the reaches of the Known Systems. The Orion Systems, Alpha Centauri, even the Vulcan System. A long trip, to be certain.>

Hubbard hunkers down at the fire, eating dinner because she knows she needs it, not because she wants it. She can't remember the last time she'd been so bone-tired; too much time working at a desk or a lab has made her softer than she could have believed possible.

Or maybe they're just making this more brutal than anything I've ever done before. I thought I was in good shape, but this makes me feel like an overweight octogenarian.

A soft snore startles her out of her reverie. She glances over to find Petersen asleep, looking at least as weary as she felt. She suppresses the urge to chuckle and climbes to her feet to fetch a blanket. A few moments later Petersen is carefully wrapped up, still slumbering away as he sits hunched over his food.

"It's a matter of conditioning," says a quiet voice behind her. Hubbard jumps in surprise, barely managing to avoid stumbling over the sleeping form and into the fire.

"Relax, Captain," Rudgers holds out a hand to keep her from falling over. "The run today. You probably kept up with minimal Special Forces conditioning, right?"

Hubbard nods, not entirely sure where the conversation is headed.

"Only minimal because you're a Comms tech. A specialist. So are Karl and Adam. We're all specialist, it's just that my specialty is staying on the move and keeping quiet. So far as I understand it, they're out to change us from specialists to generalists. Super-generalists, if I read the profile right."

Hubbard frowns slightly. "I just feel...outclassed. Even if I weren't the weakest member of the team, we're surrounded by...robots and giant lizards. I just wonder what I'm doing here."

Rudgers squats down by the fire and pulls Petersen's bowl from his hands. "We're not the only humans here. And you said it yourself: we're a team. We're a new team and we don't know each other that well yet, but we're still a team. You never went through Basic, did you Ma'am?"

She shakes her head slightly, sitting back down to toy with her food. "No, I was ROTC, then got smuggled into Special Forces."

"Even with officer training, you should understand what I mean. As a team, we're only as strong as our weakest link. But that doesn't mean you're our weakest member. I'm sure you can do things none of us can, and when we need it you'll be our strongest link. We help each other out, we support each other. Like you just did with Karl." Rudgers gestures with a spoon toward Petersen before dipping it into the stolen bowl and bringing the food to his lips.

"Anybody could do that," Hubbard insisted. "It's a pretty piss poor contribution."

"But you did it, Ma'am. And we'll do the same for you. That's why we're going to make it, because we're a team now."

"I just feel so...useless here."

"We're out in the bush, far away from toys and technology except the gear you've got in your pack. You've had some training for it, but it's not your specialty. Me, I could maybe make a phone call on the gear you've got, but I couldn't do half the stuff you can do with it. We've all got things to learn, and it's not gonna be easy for any of us. Just parts of it will be easier for some than others. Don't you worry, Ma'am. You'll do fine."

Hubbard quirks an eyebrow as she watches Rudger systematically demolish the bowl of stew while he talks. He never misses a beat. "How'd you become such a wise man, Gunnery Sergeant Rudgers?"

He shrugs and licks the spoon clean. "It was beat into me, Ma'am. My squad worked best as a team."

"I thought scouts, especially scouts like you tended to work alone."

He smirks and starts cleaning up. "That's a myth, Ma'am, and a romantic one at that. I'm no more a loner than anyone else. About the only thing I can do on my own is save my ass, so long as somebody gives me a map and a GPS to find it."

"I think you're selling yourself a little short there, Gunnery Sergeant."

"Then I'm in good company, right Ma'am?"

Hubbard sits back and thinks about that for a moment. "I suspect that rank is only going to get in the way of team-building. While we're in the bush, my name is Janet."

"Pleased to meet you, Janet," Rudgers says, offering his hand. "I'm Mike."

She gives his hand a firm shake. "Thank you, Mike. Can I help you with that?"

"Maybe after you finish yours, Janet."

Hubbard looks down to realise she still hasn't finished her dinner. "How can you eat after a day like today?"

"Like I said, it's a matter of conditioning. You'd best finish that, if you're going to make it through tomorrow."

She smirks at him. "Yes, Sir!"

Dart listens quietly to the whispered conversations around him, lying alert on the ground, a darker shape in the shadows at the edge of the firelight. Well, aside from the great big neon pink splotch on the back of his head that he just can't seem to rub off. Even though he's not yet on watch duty, it would appear the drake has taken the initiative in keeping alert anyways, since he doesn't need to eat or sleep. He can't help but chuckle at Hubbard's remark about robots and giant lizards, and strolls slowly over on all fours. "Is this a private meet and greet, or is anyone welcome?" He inquires with a grin in his voice. "And for that matter, where precisely would I fall in that 'robots and giant lizards' generalization? I seem to fit both descriptions."

Dart sits down, or rather lays back down, careful not to crowd anybody with his plated bulk, head comfortably at eye level with the others. "We should all get to know eachother... there will doubtless come a time where it will save our collective rear ends. The name's Dart, and I'd offer to shake hands in the organic custom, but... ah..." The reploid taps his talons together with the dull clang of metal on metal.

Hubbard stiffens as Dart makes his way to the fire, one hand rising automatically to cover her mouth. Oh boy, I hope I didn't offend him!

"You're welcome, of course," Rudgers replies, shifting to one side to make room for the larger reploid. "My name's Rudger. Gunnery Sergeant Rudger, but you can call me 'Mike.'"

His almost-casual greeting gives Hubbard time to recover from her shock. "Ah, yes. Janet Hubbard. You can call me Janet. I'm sorry, if I...uh, that is...."

"What she means," Rudger says, coming to the rescue. "Is that you don't seem to have any scales, so you must be a robot."

"But you're not just a robot!" Hubbard blurts out. "You're a reploid. I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just tired, and it's been a long day for me. I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry."

Double-post.

Dart chuckles. "No offense taken- reploids are an oddity outside of the Shogunate, it's not surprising that people who had never before seen one would be a little... ah... startled?" The drake chuckles again, apparently amused. "No need to apologize either- I would be rude to take offense over something so trivial. Robots, reploids... same basic difference. Reploids are just a specific kind of robot. A different race, if you want to think of it like that."

The drake rubs the pink spotch on the back of his head ruefully. "As for not thinking, that's something we all appear to be guilty of from time to time... like earlier today. I should apologize for not having been as alert as I ought to have been, and the rest of our group suffered for it. I just have a disgustingly pink smear of paint on my armor. They could have at least used a more earthy color. Dark red, or maybe green?" He shakes his head slightly. "In any event, irregular reploids are thankfully a thing of the past, and organics no longer need to worry about protecting themselves against that particular threat."

"There are some who say any artificial intelligence is a threat to humankind," says a new voice. Hubbard turns to see Lieutenant Gruder returning to the camp and tossing down his rucksack. "I've heard it said that the Emperor doesn't trust them, which is why he won't allow any serious AI research in the Empire."

"Lieutenant," Hubbard said warningly. "Meet Dart, from the Shogunate of Reploid Productions. As he was saying, we certainly have nothing to fear from him."

"Oh, I know," replied Gruder. "My name's Gruder, by the way. George Gruder." He seems to contemplate attempting to shake hands, but a look at the talons Dart sports dissuades him from the notion. "I'm not saying I agree with what people say, just pointing out that robots, reploids or not, might need to watch out for threats from humans. We're still pack animals, when it comes down to it."

"That's a relief," Rudger chips in. "I didn't figure you for a 'Humanity First' type."

Kheel throws a bundle of dry twigs down next to the fire, while the Deep One recruit named Ghoort nods his head and prods the boar with a long claw. A spurt of juices squirts out, and he grumbles appreciatively. Kheel hears the whisperings of conversation, and look over to see the Treznorian recruits talking with the Reploid.

He checks over to see Sshrrakaa standing overwatch in the trees, and spies several of the KSPA team on the boundary of the camp. Muffled roars in the distance and the subsequent sound of yelping draw his attention for a moment, but no more. He ambles over slowly towards the conversation, listening in.

"....figure you for a 'Humanity First' type." Kreel chuckles a bit at that as he approaches. "At the rate of new species making themselves known these days, shouldn't it be "Organics First"? After all, would the label of 'Humanity' apply to us here? Or elsewhere?" He then sits in a lotus position facing Hubbard, Rudger and Dart.

"Cadet Kheel, formerly aspiring to the I.S.N., now a raw recruit. So what manner of trouble did you all get into in order to make these esteemed ranks?"

The Treznorian members straighten as Kheel approaches, but relax cautiously as he sits. On impulse, Rudger pulls out a flask of vodka and offers it to the Sakkran.

"Logically, yes," Hubbard replies somewhat hesitantly. "But 'Humanity First' means what it says. It's an organisation that spans human nations, and I'm not quite sure where it started. But it literally means that they want humanity's interests put forward against all of the others, be they elves, Sakkrans or reploids. Their hatred of E.I. is mixed up in their fear that humans are going to be overrun by all the other creatures vying for space on the planet. The rumours about the Emperor are just critics trying to undermine his authority, and Lieutenant Gruder knows damned well how the government responds to that sort of talk."

Kheels hold of the flask, and sniffs the neck of it. His head reaers back a bit as he lets out a Vwhoof sound, then lets a good chug-sized amount drop into his mouth. "Hraarf! Fortifying!" He wipes his mouth with his hand, and hands the flask back to Rudger. "My thanks to you. It's been a time since I had a stiff drink."

He cocks one eye at Hubbard, and continues. "Yes, and it is activities such as these 'Humanity First' groups that had our old emperor keep travel to foreign lands minimal, except in rare cases. His youngest hatchling was assaulted by a small band of human nationalists once, but the name of the land where it took place escapes me. But in short, coordination and cooperation with the government led to his extraction, with minor casualties on the side of the nationalists."

He reaches into his pack still on his back, and pulls out a skin full with a heady red wine with a fluted spout. This he hands to Hubbard. "To an end of those times."

Dart bobs his head solemnly. "To an end to such nonesense. 'Humanity First'... pheh. That sentiment is the exact one that has led to countless wars throughout time. The dishonorable concept of 'me first, screw you!'... bah!" He glowers at nothing in particular. "That's what set off the Irregular Wars in the first place, and to the MAN organization- may Shimeki bind them and destroy them!- in more recent times."

He grins slightly, firelight glinting off his fangs. "Perhaps we'll get to... shall we say... deal with... such rogue factions someday."

Soundlessly Sergeant Phhoush approaches and surveys the scene. A twig in his mouth twirls as he chews. <Perhaps one day you will run into groups of that nature, but I wouldn't wait on that possibility. There are larger threats out there than some humans, or any other species-first group, that decides to feel threatened for their very existence.> The twig twirks in small circles as the Sergeant looks out over the patches of grasses, and then to the lake.

Light from the moon reflects off the lake into Phhoush's eyes, and the firelight casts an eerie glow about. <The purpose behind the formation of this grouping, as the Commander has made known to me, is to act as support for more main-stream militaries, advance scouts, explorers and even assassins, should the need arise.>

At this point, Phhoush takes a long stick-like implement from his satchel, and inserts some manner of strands into it the hollow end of it. This is then thrust into the flames, where the strands take light. A puff of air, and the strands glow softly, emitting a smell like nutmeg. Phhoush puffs long and thoughtfully on it. <Tomorrow we start back after surveying the area a bit, and noting landmarks, useful terrain features and what-not.>

The sun rises swiftly over the horizon of the savannah, and the sound of chirping birds stirs up Sshrrakaa. She sits up and looks about, finding the form of Sergeant Phhoush standing vigil on the edge of the encampment where Kheel was supposed to be standing watch. Loud snoring sounds from the slumbering form of Kheel, as well as an empty flask in his hand, tell the tale of why he wasn't at his post.

She emerges from her lean-to, observing the tents of the rest of the Rangers and their slumbering occupants. Walking over to the Sergeant, she kneels down and looks him in the eyes.

The multi-colored pupils in the golden iris of his eyes seem to draw her in. Deeper and deeper. <Awake with the dawn is the way of the wise and the ready.> Kheel raises his hand, and brandishes a staff of mohagony at her, then turns it in his hand and presses it into hers. <Before the others arise, there is time for a little training.>

Sshrrakaa takes the staff, and looks at it. "I'm not sure what you mean." Phhoush takes her arm, and leads her to the opposite side of the lake in silence. Then he hunkers down near some reeds in the lake. Fish and small salamanders seem to pay him no mind, but scatter when Sshrrakaa steps up. Debris is at the edge of the bank, including twigs from an overhead tree.

<Today you will learn a lesson.> He lunges forward with his fingers sticking straight out, claws at the fore. Shrrakaa twirls the staff before she has time to think, parrying the lunge and turning it aside.

<Good, good. I see you've been training. This is good. Now attack me.> Sshrrakaa sets her jaw, and circles around the Sergeant, twirling her staff. Thinking she sees an opening, she lunges with the tip of the staff at the Sergeant's chest. In a graceful move of incredible speed, he seems to twist his arm around the staff, and then pulls it away with a backward pull. at the same time as his arm is twisting, he steps forward and his other hand finds itself in Sshrrakaa's armpit. Just enough pressure is exerted for her to know it's there, and to feel her arm go numb. It flops dead at her side.

"I can't move it! What did you do?" Phhoush moves forward, and grabs the dead arm. He hums a low monotone tune, and moves his hands up and down her upper and lower arms. A brief moment later, she regains feeling in her arm. First needles and pins, then it feels normal.

<This will be taught in the future, and soon. Precision strikes on nerve clusters without exertion. It is not always the strong blow that wins the battle. An ideal good for hand to hand, and other forms of fighting. You are being told this in advance of the others, so that you might prepare yourself.>

Phhoush looks back at the encampment, and sees forms stirring. <Ah, they are rising. Now let us meditate a bit while they get themselves sorted out, and the day begins.> The both crouch down into a lotus position, and hum to themselves as they clear their minds.

A form emerges from the grasses, infiltration suit shimmering as it shuts off, turning a uniform dark grey.

"Mornin' Sergeant Phhoush, I'm Two-Four. Six said to tell you that breakfast is ready over there in the stewpot."

He motions to the KSPA fire, where a steaming pot is being tended to by one of the Agents.

"Rest of the crew went for an early morning run up the hill, they'll probably do their Systema up there." He looks at his watch as he slings his weapon. "Should be back in about 10 minutes or so, in fact, they are already on their way."

He looks up toward the hill, a line of troopers visible in the display in his eye display, but invisible to the naked eye.

Sergeant Phhoush looked up the hill in the direction Two-Four was looking. He could see some grasses shifting a bit, but that could be the wind. His IR vision wasn't showing anything but some hot rocks that were baking in the sun. In this heat, it was hard to see much.

He closed his eyes, and felt outward with his mind. A pair of Guats, some Grass Newts at rest by the lake, the recruits at the encampment .... Ah. There they are. Phhoush picked up the latent brainwaves from the KSPA team, and echoed them back like sonar to guage their distance and rate of travel. Satisfied with his findings, he opens his multi-pupiled eyes.

<Thank you Two-Four. I will rouse Recruit Sshrrakaa and inform her of the meal. I see the men are psi-trained, yes? That is always good. Preparation for any eventuality. Now a swim before the morning meal...> He turns and enters the lake. Using his tail as propulsion, his travel is swift and strong. Phhoush goes underwater, and emerges back at the bank where Sshrrakaa still meditates.

He crouches in front of her, and after a moment, she starts to stir. "First meal, you say? Oh, I can smell it. Better rouse the troops. Heh heh." She stands and trots to the encampment, bellowing loudly as she gets there. Several heads poke out of their tents after a moment.

The morning meal is had, some stretching is done and then a bit of PT for the recruits. Sergeants Grrakk and Phhoush seem to hold discourse amongst themselves, while Sshrrakaa approaches the KSPA team.

"Greetings. I am Sshrrakaa, Recruit in the Rangers." She hunkers down in the area they inhabit. "You got the drop on us pretty good. How were you able to fool Dart's sensors?"