Moon Base Gamma Niner

[Argennian]

Marcus listens intently, trying not to appear too excited that the prospect of actually being deployed with their objectives is now confirmed. He stands at attention and nods in the negative when Chief Doyle asks for any questions from the new recruits.

He can think of nothing specific to ask at the moment and merely assesses the chief and his fellow recruits silently.

[Blackrazor]

A low rumbling Hmmmmmmm comes from the back of the briefing room. Nuk shifts his weight and rolls his shoulders generating a loud sound not unlike boulders scraping together.

[NJWilliam]

Stern raises his hand and when acknowledged, asks, "What is known of the Tetrarch's telepathic abilities, or those of any of the current species met so far?"

[Recklessfireball]

In response to Sterns question, Doyle replies, "UPF scientists rate telepathic ability on a scale of 1 to 6; 1 being the weakest and 6 being the strongest. Professor Balto Arcturus, who has researched the subject extensively, suggests that each of the Tetrarch Elder races possessed telepathic ability on the level 6 scale, at least, and possibly as high as 7 or 8. As far as the other intelligent species of Ark 7 are concerned, we don't know of any which have telepathic abilities, per-se. The Bru'Anshi have shamans or priests purported to have mysterious powers, but many non-telepathic societies possess medicine men or wise women who claim the same thing. So the short answer is, we really don't know."

"All good questions, so far, people," he says. "Anyone else?"

[rremedio]

Akai: "In addition to the dangers coming from the environment and the defenses of the abandoned city, should we be prepared for intruders from other companies, as they are present in the other continents?"

[Bhart]

Bishop crosses his fingers as Doyle begins the briefing, chanting to himself quietly, "not the jungle, not the jungle, not the jungle". When he hears base camp alpha is their destination he seems to deflate. "Aww crap."he grumbles to himself.

As the mission for SET 2 is laid out the short man quietly grumbles again. "Aww man they get an explorer, not fair!"

When Doyle finishes speaking, Bishop's hand shoots into the air. "Do we get a vehicle?" he asks hopefully.

[NJWilliam]

Stern pipes up again,"Chief, what do we know about the scientific research team from Zebulon University? How many were there, what were their races, how were they armed . . ."

[Recklessfireball]

Nodding at the Yazirian, he says,“Well Ceere, that's an interesting question. So far, PGC has maintained a relationship of peaceful coexistence with the other corporations that have a presence here. Theoretically, Ark 7 is a big enough pie for everyone to have a slice, so as long as everyone minds their manners, I don't anticipate any problems. On the other hand, Streel Corporation has a history of poking its nose where it doesn't belong. You can rest assured that we'll be keeping an eye on them, and we've got our intelligence liason, Special Agent Blurg Shloob, doing just that. So stay alert, but don't spend too much time worrying about it- we'll let you know if somethings brewing.”

Shifting his attention to Bishop, Doyle smiles a bit and replies, “You'll have transportation at your disposal, but it may not be what you had in mind. The terrain is too congested to accommodate Explorers. We looked into taking them upriver, since Explorers can float, but they're easily capsized and the river is filled with dangerous Mega-fauna, so we concluded that this was impractical. Instead, what we've come up with are trained Shanks. Shanks are big creatures that were bred by the Yazirians for transportation and labor. We've got a first rate Shank handler on staff, and I'm told the animals have been specially selected for obedience and docility, so even those of you with no experience with animal handling should be able to ride them with little difficulty.”

In response to Sterns question, he flips a switch on the podium and the hologram flickers, changing to show an image of an Osakar and five humans. “Here's an image of the research party. It's led by an Osakar Professor of Xenobiology, Sul-Rhanu, and consists of his four, human graduate students and their wilderness guide. The guide is an ex-survey scout turned big game hunter, by the name of Orion Walker. Walker is considered extremely experienced and one of the top men in his profession, so the fact that he hasn't brought the party home yet, is troublesome. None the less, the University hasn't given up on them, and neither will we. At least, not without spending some considerable effort in trying to determine what's become of them.”

[Rotten]

Stan Steelsmith-

"Is the water potable?"

[Recklessfireball]

"The water is teeming with microorganisms so, if you have to drink it, make sure you boil the stuff first. Your best source of moisture is in the local flora. Initial surveys reveal several melon-like fruiting plants that can provide nourishment in the jungle. Likewise, the badlands have cactus-like plants that can be harvested- albeit rarer and much harder to find. Your bio-scanners should tell you what's edible and what's not. We'll be supplying you with vita-salt pills and several hundred liters of water, though, so you should be well provided for."

[Recklessfireball]

"Anyone else?," asks Doyle.

After a lengthy pause, he nods and says, "Right then- that should cover just about everything. Linda has some final paperwork for you to fill out. When you're finished, head to your quarters and grab your gear and meet me in the armory in an hour. I'm having Mr. McTaggert break out some new toys for you guys; stuff I think you'll be glad to have, once you get dirtside."

[NJWilliam]

Alex, although he knows he already has all of his gear, heads back to his quarters to give them a final look over and make sure he isn't forgetting anything. He then heads to the armory a good fifteen minutes early, hoping to ingratiate himself with Mr. McTaggert and maybe get some additional gear or a hint at what to pick, or first pick, or, failing any of that, to at least appear prompt.

[rremedio]

Akai has all his gear packed, so he just step by his quarters and takes his stuff, soon arriving at the armory.

[Recklessfireball]

OOC: And now, for some gun porn...

An hour later, everyone arrives at the armory. Chief Doyle is waiting outside the big, hydraulically powered blast doors. He seems pleased with your prompt arrival, and after greeting you all he punches the comm interface on the wall and a small vid-screen flashes to life, revealing the sour, battle-scarred features of G-9's Supply Officer.

“Mr. McTaggert, this is Chief Doyle. The S.E.T. Teams have arrived. Would you be so kind as to let us through?”

McTaggert reaches forward and flips a switch, saying in his gravelly voice, “Security locks disengaged. Come on in, Chief.”
The hiss-clang of gears and hydraulics can be heard and the doors slide open. Doyle leads you through the threshold, into a foyer with a checkpoint, where the big, armored bulk of McTaggert sits behind a desk surrounded by monitors, next to security scanner. The ex-marine looks you over, scowling, then grunts, “Everybody place your weapons and gear on the conveyor, then step through the scanner, single file. You first, Chief.”
Doyle draws two auto-pistols from under his trench coat and obediently places them on the conveyor belt, along with his Identicard and chronocom, where they pass under a scanner and are taken custody of by a thick-necked security guard. Then he steps through the scanner and looks back at the rest of you, motioning for you to follow.

When you've all gone through the motions, and the sentry has gathered all your gear, he takes it and places it in a secure locker in the wall, nearby. McTaggert gets up from this desk and walks past him, down the corridor, looking over his shoulder at Doyle, as he does so.

“I've got the ordinance you requested, assembled and ready for issue. There's some pretty high-tech stuff in there, Chief.” He pauses, and his hard, flinty gaze sweeps over each of you, critically. “You sure these corporate pukes can handle it?”

Doyle smirks, following McTaggert and beckoning for the rest of you to follow suit. Then he says, “Don't worry about us corporate pukes, McTaggert. Just show us the ordinance and I'll take care of the rest. We'll be out of your hair, soon enough.”

McTaggert actually manages to look a bit sheepish, as he replies, “Well, I didn't mean you, Chief. I was just worried one of these desk jockeys might blow their foot off- you know what I mean?”
At the end of the corridor, McTaggert stops before another massive door and places his palm on a security scanner, on the wall. Then he barks, “McTaggert: PGC security clearance omega, seven, seven, niner- requesting level 1 access.”

A light emanates from an emitter on the wall and scans the big man, starting with his eyes, then encompassing his entire body. After a short pause, the disembodied mechanical voice of the computer says,“Access granted. Proceed.” The door slides open and McTaggert steps through, into the room beyond, as Doyle and the rest of you follow closely behind.

The huge, vault-like chamber you enter is several dozens of meters long and has a ceiling that's probably a dozen meters high. Security cameras and stunner turrets mounted there, swivel to face you, as you walk inside. On the north wall, evenly spaced, are four other security doors- all closed and, presumably, locked. On the far west wall are arrayed a number of humanoid silhouettes, with bulls-eyes superimposed over the heads and center torsos- which you imagine would serve as targets for an indoor firing range. Against the east wall is a long, steel table, upon which are arrayed a large number of weapons and equipment. You also see a tall, menacing looking security robot holding an auto-rifle, standing at attention at one end of the table. Its baleful, glowing, red eye follows you in an unnerving fashion, as you approach.

McTaggert walks to the end of the table, opposite the bot, and folds his burly arms, waiting expectantly. Doyle moves closer to the table, pacing it from one end to the other, running his fingers over the ordinance, murmuring approvingly to himself, as he does so.

“Nice... very nice,” he says, glancing over at the supply officer. “Looks like everything's here. Good work, McTaggert.”

McTaggert shrugs. “Just doing my job, Chief.”

Looking at seven menacing, matte-black weapons stacked on the table, Doyle picks one up and turns it over in his hands, then holds it up for your inspection. “Let's start with this,” he says. “This is a Bushmaster Model G-19, pump-action shotgun. It's got a folding stock, a tritanium-steel and composite frame, and a five round internal magazine. Nothing too innovative here, but they're simple to operate and a good choice for those of you with little or no training with small arms. At close range, it's damned hard to miss with one of these and they've got great stopping power; which you're going to need if you run into any hostile local wildlife. Very durable, too. They'll fire even while clogged with mud or sand- and in one laboratory test, we ran over one with an Explorer and fired it successfully, so it should prove extremely reliable. You'll each be issued one of these, along with a bandolier with twenty shotshells; except for you, Nuk. Sorry, but there's just no way you could get one of your overgrown mitts around the grip. Don't worry though; I've had the R&D boys prepare something special for you, and I don't think you'll be disappointed.”

Putting the shotgun back on the table, Doyle reaches out and picks up an exotic looking compound bow. Turning to Stan, he says, “Steelsmith, this is for you. Your personnel file suggests you might be better suited to something a little more subtle than a shotgun, so I procured one of these from one of our subsidiary companies. This is a Raptor 500 Techbow. State of the art, optimized for stability, accuracy, and maximum draw-pull. You'll be issued a quiver of twenty arrows with tritanium-steel heads, ten shock arrows, and ten explosive arrows. This is a very quiet and versatile weapon- unless you're using the boom-loads, of course. You may want to take some time to practice using those before you deploy.”

Doyle puts the compound bow back and trades it for an even stranger looking crossbow. Turning to Akai, he says,“I think you'll appreciate this, Ceere. It was designed and built by a Yazirian weaponsmith in our R&D department. It's a Black Talon T-65 Crossbow with a six round drum magazine. Silent, deadly and accurate to a range of 300 meters. The quarrels are tipped with acid dispensers that release a powerful corrosive, after penetration. Given enough time, they ought to burn through the hides of the toughest creatures. You'll be issued one of these, along with four spare drum magazines, for field testing.”

Motioning for Nuk to step closer, he points to a massive, two meter long hammer, lying on the table. “All right, big guy- this ones for you. This baby is a Mjolnir, Mk I Shock Hammer. It weighs in at 10 kilos- way too heavy for a human like me, but probably a lot lighter than you'd guess by looking at it. It's powered by a standard SEU clip and can deliver a shock of up to 15 joules. That should knock damn near anything flat on its ass. We've got a sling harness for you to carry it, and you'll be issued a couple of extra power clips. Although we've ran a bunch of computer sims, this things hasn't been used in combat yet, so you get to be our man for the field trial. We're confident it will deliver good performance, though. If results are positive, we'll be sending a shipment of these to your home world, to train a platoon of Ogrun marines.”

Walking over to the robot, Doyle drapes his arm over it's shoulder in a jocular manner. “My big metal buddy, here, is a Balor Mk V Security Droid. We've just rolled the first of these guys off the assembly line. It's a major improvement over the Mk IV model; twice the performance at half the cost- and we've installed an adaptive personality matrix that's supposed to make him more effective at interpreting and executing orders in the field, and more empathetic to the needs of his organic controllers.”

Here, Doyle pauses and looks at Alvin. “Bishop, this is where you come in. As our resident robotics expert, I'm putting you in charge of the Balor. You can consider this the models first combat field trial. You'll have access to all programming and command codes, and the unit will be- for all intents and purposes- under your control. You'll be responsible for maintenance and repairs, and I'll expect a full evaluation of the models capabilities upon return, as well as suggestions for recalls and improvements. Keep your eyes open for any anomalous behavior. Though we've done years worth of R&D and laboratory testing, the only live-fire trials we've done have been on the firing range. I don't want any accidents that can be avoided.”

Pausing a moment, to let the gravity of this responsibility sink in, Doyle continues. “Now then, lets transfer command authorization over to you, Bishop. You and the tin man may as well start to get acquainted with one another. You're going to be spending a lot of time together in the field.”

He removes his arm from the robots shoulder, and stands in front of it, looking it square in its glowering, red eye. Then, he says, “Priority override, Doyle, Frank, voice authorization Delta-five-seven-five-Gamma-seven. Transfer voice command to Bishop, Alvin, PGC employee 319459-alpha-3-1, for a period of sixty days. Confirm.”

The robot tilts its head, and the red eye blinks rapidly, as its processor runs the code sequence. Then it turns to Doyle, and in a deep, almost menacing, metallic voice, replies, “Command authorization transferred to PGC employee Alvin Bishop- confirmed.”

Doyle nods. “Right. Balor- say hello to your new boss.”

The robot suddenly stomps forward, its gyros whirring and it's hydraulics pumping, as its heavy metal feet clang loudly on the stations metal floor. It stops about two paces in front of Bishop, stands stiffly with its rifle held at attention, then salutes smartly and says, “Statement: Balor Mk V unit reporting for duty, sir!”

Looking satisfied, Doyle says, “All right- I think that just about covers it. You should take the opportunity to become accustomed to your new toys. I'm sure you noticed the firing range at the opposite end of the room. That should serve well enough for the arrows and shotguns. The far left door in the north wall leads to the explosive ordinance range, if you'd like to test some of those exploding arrows, Steelsmith. Nuke, the door to the far right has an exercise room and some old Balor Mk III's, modified for sparring, if you want to test out that new hammer. When you're done, you should all grab something to eat in the canteen and then get a good nights sleep. You ship out to your new billets, first thing in the morning. Now then, does anyone have any questions or concerns?”

[NJWilliam]

Alex, who is obviously admiring the rigle the robot has, manages to spit out, "Chief, are there some extra magazines I could get for my auto pistol and maybe some dose grenades?"

[rremedio]

Akai is impressive with so much technology. "No questions, sir. I think this crossbow was the right choice for me. Some extra ammunition wouldn't hurt, though. I just want to take a few shots to get the grips with the new weapon and prepare myself for tomorrow. Well... I have one question, maybe too silly... but we are getting back our old weaponry before leaving, right? I just don't feel right without my sword".

[Rotten]

Stan eyes the bow with awe. He's never been able at afford such a beaut.

He elects to try out at least o e of the exploding arrows after going to the right door.

"Thanks," he says.

[Recklessfireball]

"Securing your weapons at the checkpoint is standard security procedure. They'll be returned to you after you're finished here."

"Mr. McTaggerts been instructed to top off all your clips and magazines after you're done with target practice. I can't authorize any more ammo or grenades at this time- corporate is already griping my butt for exceeding the mission budget. If you think you're missing a critical piece of gear, I'll see what I can do- otherwise I'd like to avoid overextending myself any further."

"The ammo clips the Balor is carrying should be interchangeable with any standard issue auto-pistol. Bishop can instruct the bot to dispense ammo in the field, to anyone who needs it. Enjoy your new toys, gentlemen. I'll see you bright and early in the morning."

Nodding at each of you, Doyle turns and exits the armory.

[rremedio]

Akai tries a few shots, he then reports to Mr. McTaggert, grabbing all his gear and heading to the canteen and then to the bar where he expects to have some last drinks before having what he believes to be his last calm night for at least a month.

[Bhart]

Alvin Bishop looks like a kid on christmas morning as he dances from foot to foot. "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy...man o man this sure makes up for having to ride on Yazarian donkeys through the jungle." he says with a big grin on his face. The skinny man begins asking the robot questions about it's capabilities as he takes a close look, opening up access panels, and inspecting it from top to bottom. "Hmmm we need to give you a name. " he thinks out loud as he is finishing his examination.