Serrano Point Operations: Downtime pt I

The Major awoke with a start to the sound of heavy metallic steps in the passageway outside. His heart started racing, pumping as hard as it could to bring the body to readiness from its recent uneasy sleep.. Had Skynet dug its way in and terminators were now prowling the lower levels and killing everybody in their paths? He could hear no gunfire, no screams of pain horror ... he was blocked off in his quarters, there was nowhere to go and if there was metal in the passageway, he stood just as good a chance out in the passageway as he did in his room. With the mouth going dry he silently picked up the shotgun. Body armour would be too noisy to put on and would slow him down, surprise was nearly as good. With the butt of the shotgun firmly at the shoulder he stepped into the corridor, a figure a little taller than him was walking towards him, froze in place and shouted: "Hold your fire, Major!!". The major recognized the voice and hesitated. With his eyes squinting from the light of the passageway figure stoped. "Don't you recognize me?" it called out to him. Still with the shotgun at the ready, the major walked up close. If it had been a terminator, either he would not be here by now or the terminator would have been scrap metal. The figure turned around, a faint whine of electric servos could be heard. He now recognized the voice as one of the sergeants manning the perimeter defence. A leg wound had made him unfit for patrols and scouting. He was covered in metal rods, plates and wiring. "Pretty nifty eh, Major?" the man said whilst turning back towards him. "Skynet have their endoskeleton design, flesh covering over metal combat chassis. Three of the tech guys have been scavenging terminator parts to design this EXO skeleton. Metal combat chassis over living tissue." http://blog.tmcnet.com/blog/tom-keating/images/halo-exoskeleton-armor.png "Pretty nifty eh? Could be handy for bringing heavy weaponry or equipment into places where wheeled vehicles can't go. Tech is still working on it of course and I testing the ergonomics for them. Sorry to wake you, Major, always thought your quarters were higher up" the sergeant spoke but the major could see the sergeant wasn't looking him in the eye, he had probably noticed the large red scars across his abdomen that disappeared down below the belt plus countless others that bore testament to the skill of the surgeons at the base had with patching up combat wounds. The major realised he hadn't been keeping tracks on the latest tech developments with all of the missions he'd been on lately. He reminded himself to have a chat with the tech planner to get briefed on the latest. "They were, sergeant, but that space was needed for other things so I moved down here last week. As you were, carry on and so forth". With that the metal suit hummed and whirred into action and started moving away again and rounded a corner. "It's way too damn noisy but I'm sure they'll work it out" he thought while he went back to get some more clothes on. After getting dressed he slung the shotgun over his shoulder and made his way a level down to the armoury, the armoury like most interior Serrano Point installation being manned by fighters that had been permanently crippled in combat. Physically or mentally, these were men and women that would never be whole again and the major had his own collection of aches and pains in various parts of his body to remind him that he was overwhelmingly likely to join the fighters on interior duty once his luck ran out. The contempt of front-line soldiers for the so-called REMFs (Rear Echelon Mother F***ers) of wars past was gone in this struggle because every person doing support work had served on the battlefield. Which also had been very handy during the days when Skynet tried digging its way below ground, the former front-line soldiers had known what to do and had saved the day which otherwise would have turned into carnage. A young woman on crutches greeted him at the counter, gunfire could be faintly heard from the shooting range which was nearby and the major didn't recognize her as she was new. Or was it just that she hadn't manned the front desk before? Recruits on training, judging by the firing patterns, he speculated. The major put his shotgun on the counter and explained that the trigger was getting too easy to pull, he wanted a bit more resistance in it to be better able to shoot if still wearing gloves and he had no luck with fixing it, maybe they could do something about it.The woman picked it up and with the smoothness of movements having been performed countless times cycled the shotgun through an empty firing sequence with her ear to the mechanism. The major couldn't help but notice that she was attractive and caught himself staring at how an intricate tattoo pattern had helped make what other wise would be unbecoming scars a rather attractive feature.The armourer caught him staring at her and with a disappearing frown explained that it was probably just a spring that needed replacing, no time like the present to do it. It would be ready again in an hour. The major mentally kicked himself for his behaviour and headed off to comms station. A message from Outpost Oliwav waited for him already. (begin transmission) Major Green, good to find you are well. Inclement weather has made NAS Whidbey difficult to surveil. While I did locate your craft, activity around it is indeterminate. http://i612.photobucket.com/albums/tt205/RD_O/Chinnookwhidbey.jpg </rp/off> please ignore the fact that the helo pictured is not a CH-47. <rp/on> Attached is a map of the airfield. location of craft is marked. Also included are the bands I am receiving from your dedicated geosynchronous commsat. I would appreciate it if you could use this as an opportunity to test reception in the field from my station, http://i612.photobucket.com/albums/tt205/RD_O/390px-NUW_-_FAA_airport_diagram.jpg I will try to have a nice day, thank you. Day is relative, I make sixteen revolutions about earth in what is one day to you. (end transmission) The Major took the printout with him and started making his way over to Mathilda's bunk, even though only a sergeant she had somehow managed to get a quiet corner of her own in a very small tunnel side room. Jason stared from the sidewalk at the scene being played out before his 15-year-old eyes, his beloved skateboard now completely forgotten. A man had come running across the street when a dark-haired woman riding a motorbike had jumped off her vehicle and as it slid across the street with a screeching sound it hit the running man and felled him to the ground. The man's skin was scraped and had bullet holes and Jason could see not flesh, guts or blood being exposed, but shiny metal on the man's elbow. A young woman came dashing around the corner and started approaching the fallen man who was begging to get up but in a loud crash she was hit by a car before she could get to him. The young woman instead of being grievously injured or crushed to death pulled her head out of the broken windscreen, said something inaudible to the occupants of the car. Jason was frozen on the spot. What he had seen, even his young mind knew that no human could experience without serious injury. There was an immense wrongness to the drama on the street. The stricken man got up and stared at him with an uncanny look for a short moment and fear like he had ever known gripped Jason. The non-man recognized him. This was worse than bullies at school, this was worse than when he had nearly drowned in a boating accident. He wanted to scream, he wanted to shout that what was happening before his eyes was impossible and yet could not. It could not be and he couldn't scream because it was unreal and dreamlike but he was sure that the man wanted to harm him. Instead of doing so, the un-man turned and ran away from the two women who were now on their feet again but hopelessly outdistanced by the disappearing man. The dark-haired older woman ran with the gait of an athlete despite holding a large-caliber pistol in one hand. The two women started running too to get away from the stricken car, as they passed, the younger woman also looked at Jason the same way the un-man had done but only tilted her head and gave him a quick odd smile as she ran by. For one reason or other, the young beautiful un-woman had also recognized him. It was all strange and incomprehensible and suddenly the fear reaction gave in to another primal hard-wired behaviour: flight. He ran. He ran and ran until his legs were on fire and the lungs were bursting. He got home, opened the front door and slammed it shut. His mother came out from the kitchen and said "If you slam our front door like that again I swear that you are grounded". When she looked at him, she could see that her son was shaking with exhaustion and upset. "My God! What's happened?". "I don't know mom, I don't know" he said and for once happily accepted his mothers embrace without being embarrassed. The skateboard was gone and the mere fact that it was still on the sidewalk where the drama had taken place was gone from his mind too. Where previously thoughts of new jumps and tricks had been racing around in his head, that space was now being overwritten by his mind repeating over and over the image of a slender dark-haired woman who fearlessly jumped off a motorbike to stop a fleeing unhuman male and the quick smile from a beautiful long-haired un-woman. Even so, he was worried about the look of recognition and enmity from the unhuman male and that worry did not go away. His mother at last asked him: "Jason Green, won't you tell me what happened?". While on his way over to Mathilda's bunk, he pondered how far he had grown from that scared boy who first had witnessed a terminator get knocked over by a motorcycle which had been driven by no less than the legendary Sarah Connor. She had shown that young boy that death and flight were not the only options when fighting machines intent on exterminating you, resistance was certainly possible although difficult even if you were fast, well armed and knew what to do. "Vermin, that's what we are to Skynet.", he thought. Without realizing it, he was already at the opening of Mathilda's quarters and he had been speaking aloud. - "Talking to yourself again, Major? Maybe you're vermin to Skynet, but I fancy myself a predator and I still haven't destroyed as much metal as you have. Come in." Mathilda's voice could be heard from insde her tiny room. The Major stepped inside and found himself in her cramped quarters. The sniper rifle was dismantled in front of her on her bed upon a blanket. - "Good morning to you too, Mathilda. Look, we have intelligence that places our chopper at Whidbey. Get the long rifle, we're going to have a chat with the Trog metal about it." - "Right." she started assembling the rifle and continued: "how are our guests doing, are they able to be transported yet?". - "Yes, our surgeons saved the lives of two of them and they are reasonably stable now. The lightly wounded have been treated too." She was done with the rifle, got up and inserted a magazine. - "Ready. Where's your shotgun?" she asked while they started towards the hangar. - "Being repaired." - "Ah, I see, all the male soldiers suddenly can't do their own maintenance ever since Coroporal Millhouse was transferred down there. Shame on you, Major.". She winked at him. - "Coropral who?" the Major was baffled. The woman could talk after all. - "Cpl Amy Millhouse, her entire platoon were crazy about her and it hasn't stopped since she was badly wounded while saving the lives of nearly everyone in said platoon. Now the armoury is getting a lot busier all of a sudden." - "But how do you know all this?" - "Girls talk, Major. I talk to some of the other girls down in the armoury" she said in a bemused voice. - "I think all the attention that corporal is getting is more than she wants right now. Ready"? They reached the hangar and walked over to the part of if where Seven was standing under guard. The two soldiers assigned to guard duty had that special bewildered look that extreme boredom in the company of a piece of metal that could turn bad and kill you any moment could produce. Still blindfolded, the metal simply stood frosen with his face to the wall. The Major began: "Hello, Seven. Our intelligence indicates that the second Chinook chopper is at Whidbey. We want it back, it's ours. The easiest way is if you give us our chopper, otherwise one way or another we will have to go and get the chopper." "Major, it came a few days ago flown by your sergeant. We did not presume that it was a gift." "Where is our sergeant now?" "We Troglodytes don't know, except that he isn't at Whidbey anymore and the last time we saw him, he was alive. Don't you have others to chase deserters?" "Our sergeant sully did not desert us, he would rather die first. Where did you last see him?" "I am not at liberty to divulge that information. How are my human companions in sickbay? Did your surgeons manage to save them?" "They are stable enough for transport. Mathilda and I want to come along to Whidbey to pick up our chopper. You'll have trouble flying blindfolded anyhow. This saves you the trouble of flying here a second time if you give us two crates of fish to bring back as payment for the two lives of your men we treated. Our mechanics have looked at the chopper, we've refueled it with some captured H/K fuel and we're looking to go as soon as possible." "Alright. We are grateful for the lives of our men. What about the Grays that sided with us?" "Unkilled. Their wounds aren't serious, you can sort them out at Whidbey" Mathilda interjected. "We want them out of here and they probably want out too. There are rivers of bad blood between us and the Grays." "I see. I am ready." "Good. We leave in about an hour". ----

The Major awoke with a start to the sound of heavy metallic steps in the passageway outside. His heart started racing, pumping as hard as it could to bring the body to readiness from its recent uneasy sleep.. Had Skynet dug its way in and terminators were now prowling the lower levels and killing everybody in their paths? He could hear no gunfire, no screams of pain horror ... he was blocked off in his quarters, there was nowhere to go and if there was metal in the passageway, he stood just as good a chance out in the passageway as he did in his room. With the mouth going dry he silently picked up the shotgun. Body armour would be too noisy to put on and would slow him down, surprise was nearly as good. With the butt of the shotgun firmly at the shoulder he stepped into the corridor, a figure a little taller than him was walking towards him, froze in place and shouted: "Hold your fire, Major!!".

The major recognized the voice and hesitated. With his eyes squinting from the light of the passageway figure stoped. "Don't you recognize me?" it called out to him. Still with the shotgun at the ready, the major walked up close. If it had been a terminator, either he would not be here by now or the terminator would have been scrap metal. The figure turned around, a faint whine of electric servos could be heard. He now recognized the voice as one of the sergeants manning the perimeter defence. A leg wound had made him unfit for patrols and scouting. He was covered in metal rods, plates and wiring. "Pretty nifty eh, Major?" the man said whilst turning back towards him. "Skynet have their endoskeleton design, flesh covering over metal combat chassis. Three of the tech guys have been scavenging terminator parts to design this EXO skeleton. Metal combat chassis over living tissue."

http://blog.tmcnet.com/blog/tom-keating/images/halo-exoskeleton-armor.png

"Pretty nifty eh? Could be handy for bringing heavy weaponry or equipment into places where wheeled vehicles can't go. Tech is still working on it of course and I testing the ergonomics for them. Sorry to wake you, Major, always thought your quarters were higher up" the sergeant spoke but the major could see the sergeant wasn't looking him in the eye, he had probably noticed the large red scars across his abdomen that disappeared down below the belt plus countless others that bore testament to the skill of the surgeons at the base had with patching up combat wounds. The major realised he hadn't been keeping tracks on the latest tech developments with all of the missions he'd been on lately. He reminded himself to have a chat with the tech planner to get briefed on the latest. "They were, sergeant, but that space was needed for other things so I moved down here last week. As you were, carry on and so forth". With that the metal suit hummed and whirred into action and started moving away again and rounded a corner. "It's way too damn noisy but I'm sure they'll work it out" he thought while he went back to get some more clothes on.

After getting dressed he slung the shotgun over his shoulder and made his way a level down to the armoury, the armoury like most interior Serrano Point installation being manned by fighters that had been permanently crippled in combat. Physically or mentally, these were men and women that would never be whole again and the major had his own collection of aches and pains in various parts of his body to remind him that he was overwhelmingly likely to join the fighters on interior duty once his luck ran out. The contempt of front-line soldiers for the so-called REMFs (Rear Echelon Mother F***ers) of wars past was gone in this struggle because every person doing support work had served on the battlefield. Which also had been very handy during the days when Skynet tried digging its way below ground, the former front-line soldiers had known what to do and had saved the day which otherwise would have turned into carnage.

A young woman on crutches greeted him at the counter, gunfire could be faintly heard from the shooting range which was nearby and the major didn't recognize her as she was new. Or was it just that she hadn't manned the front desk before? Recruits on training, judging by the firing patterns, he speculated. The major put his shotgun on the counter and explained that the trigger was getting too easy to pull, he wanted a bit more resistance in it to be better able to shoot if still wearing gloves and he had no luck with fixing it, maybe they could do something about it.The woman picked it up and with the smoothness of movements having been performed countless times cycled the shotgun through an empty firing sequence with her ear to the mechanism. The major couldn't help but notice that she was attractive and caught himself staring at how an intricate tattoo pattern had helped make what other wise would be unbecoming scars a rather attractive feature.The armourer caught him staring at her and with a disappearing frown explained that it was probably just a spring that needed replacing, no time like the present to do it. It would be ready again in an hour. The major mentally kicked himself for his behaviour and headed off to comms station.

A message from Outpost Oliwav waited for him already.

(begin transmission)

Major Green, good to find you are well.

Inclement weather has made NAS Whidbey difficult to surveil. While I did locate your craft, activity around it is indeterminate.

http://i612.photobucket.com/albums/tt205/RD_O/Chinnookwhidbey.jpg

</rp/off> please ignore the fact that the helo pictured is not a CH-47. <rp/on>

Attached is a map of the airfield. location of craft is marked. Also included are the bands I am receiving from your dedicated geosynchronous commsat. I would appreciate it if you could use this as an opportunity to test reception in the field from my station,

http://i612.photobucket.com/albums/tt205/RD_O/390px-NUW_-_FAA_airport_diagram.jpg

I will try to have a nice day, thank you. Day is relative, I make sixteen revolutions about earth in what is one day to you.

(end transmission)

The Major took the printout with him and started making his way over to Mathilda's bunk, even though only a sergeant she had somehow managed to get a quiet corner of her own in a very small tunnel side room.

Jason stared from the sidewalk at the scene being played out before his 15-year-old eyes, his beloved skateboard now completely forgotten. A man had come running across the street when a dark-haired woman riding a motorbike had jumped off her vehicle and as it slid across the street with a screeching sound it hit the running man and felled him to the ground. The man's skin was scraped and had bullet holes and Jason could see not flesh, guts or blood being exposed, but shiny metal on the man's elbow. A young woman came dashing around the corner and started approaching the fallen man who was begging to get up but in a loud crash she was hit by a car before she could get to him. The young woman instead of being grievously injured or crushed to death pulled her head out of the broken windscreen, said something inaudible to the occupants of the car.

Jason was frozen on the spot. What he had seen, even his young mind knew that no human could experience without serious injury. There was an immense wrongness to the drama on the street. The stricken man got up and stared at him with an uncanny look for a short moment and fear like he had ever known gripped Jason. The non-man recognized him. This was worse than bullies at school, this was worse than when he had nearly drowned in a boating accident. He wanted to scream, he wanted to shout that what was happening before his eyes was impossible and yet could not. It could not be and he couldn't scream because it was unreal and dreamlike but he was sure that the man wanted to harm him. Instead of doing so, the un-man turned and ran away from the two women who were now on their feet again but hopelessly outdistanced by the disappearing man. The dark-haired older woman ran with the gait of an athlete despite holding a large-caliber pistol in one hand.

The two women started running too to get away from the stricken car, as they passed, the younger woman also looked at Jason the same way the un-man had done but only tilted her head and gave him a quick odd smile as she ran by. For one reason or other, the young beautiful un-woman had also recognized him.

It was all strange and incomprehensible and suddenly the fear reaction gave in to another primal hard-wired behaviour: flight. He ran. He ran and ran until his legs were on fire and the lungs were bursting. He got home, opened the front door and slammed it shut.

His mother came out from the kitchen and said "If you slam our front door like that again I swear that you are grounded". When she looked at him, she could see that her son was shaking with exhaustion and upset. "My God! What's happened?".

"I don't know mom, I don't know" he said and for once happily accepted his mothers embrace without being embarrassed. The skateboard was gone and the mere fact that it was still on the sidewalk where the drama had taken place was gone from his mind too. Where previously thoughts of new jumps and tricks had been racing around in his head, that space was now being overwritten by his mind repeating over and over the image of a slender dark-haired woman who fearlessly jumped off a motorbike to stop a fleeing unhuman male and the quick smile from a beautiful long-haired un-woman. Even so, he was worried about the look of recognition and enmity from the unhuman male and that worry did not go away. His mother at last asked him: "Jason Green, won't you tell me what happened?".

While on his way over to Mathilda's bunk, he pondered how far he had grown from that scared boy who first had witnessed a terminator get knocked over by a motorcycle which had been driven by no less than the legendary Sarah Connor. She had shown that young boy that death and flight were not the only options when fighting machines intent on exterminating you, resistance was certainly possible although difficult even if you were fast, well armed and knew what to do. "Vermin, that's what we are to Skynet.", he thought. Without realizing it, he was already at the opening of Mathilda's quarters and he had been speaking aloud.

- "Talking to yourself again, Major? Maybe you're vermin to Skynet, but I fancy myself a predator and I still haven't destroyed as much metal as you have. Come in." Mathilda's voice could be heard from insde her tiny room. The Major stepped inside and found himself in her cramped quarters. The sniper rifle was dismantled in front of her on her bed upon a blanket.

- "Good morning to you too, Mathilda. Look, we have intelligence that places our chopper at Whidbey. Get the long rifle, we're going to have a chat with the Trog metal about it."

- "Right." she started assembling the rifle and continued: "how are our guests doing, are they able to be transported yet?".

- "Yes, our surgeons saved the lives of two of them and they are reasonably stable now. The lightly wounded have been treated too."

She was done with the rifle, got up and inserted a magazine.

- "Ready. Where's your shotgun?" she asked while they started towards the hangar.

- "Being repaired."

- "Ah, I see, all the male soldiers suddenly can't do their own maintenance ever since Coroporal Millhouse was transferred down there. Shame on you, Major.". She winked at him.

- "Coropral who?" the Major was baffled. The woman could talk after all.

- "Cpl Amy Millhouse, her entire platoon were crazy about her and it hasn't stopped since she was badly wounded while saving the lives of nearly everyone in said platoon. Now the armoury is getting a lot busier all of a sudden."

- "But how do you know all this?"

- "Girls talk, Major. I talk to some of the other girls down in the armoury" she said in a bemused voice.

- "I think all the attention that corporal is getting is more than she wants right now. Ready"?

They reached the hangar and walked over to the part of if where Seven was standing under guard. The two soldiers assigned to guard duty had that special bewildered look that extreme boredom in the company of a piece of metal that could turn bad and kill you any moment could produce. Still blindfolded, the metal simply stood frosen with his face to the wall. The Major began:

"Hello, Seven. Our intelligence indicates that the second Chinook chopper is at Whidbey. We want it back, it's ours. The easiest way is if you give us our chopper, otherwise one way or another we will have to go and get the chopper."

"Major, it came a few days ago flown by your sergeant. We did not presume that it was a gift."

"Where is our sergeant now?"

"We Troglodytes don't know, except that he isn't at Whidbey anymore and the last time we saw him, he was alive. Don't you have others to chase deserters?"

"Our sergeant sully did not desert us, he would rather die first. Where did you last see him?"

"I am not at liberty to divulge that information. How are my human companions in sickbay? Did your surgeons manage to save them?"

"They are stable enough for transport. Mathilda and I want to come along to Whidbey to pick up our chopper. You'll have trouble flying blindfolded anyhow. This saves you the trouble of flying here a second time if you give us two crates of fish to bring back as payment for the two lives of your men we treated. Our mechanics have looked at the chopper, we've refueled it with some captured H/K fuel and we're looking to go as soon as possible."

"Alright. We are grateful for the lives of our men. What about the Grays that sided with us?"

"Unkilled. Their wounds aren't serious, you can sort them out at Whidbey" Mathilda interjected. "We want them out of here and they probably want out too. There are rivers of bad blood between us and the Grays."

"I see. I am ready."

"Good. We leave in about an hour".

----

mr_green	Latest page update: made by mr_green , Jul 12 2009, 3:16 PM EDT (about this update About This Update Edited by mr_green 334 words added 21 words deleted view changes - complete history)
	Keyword tags: Alison Young Allison Young Guardian Angels Serrano Point More Info: links to this page

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Serrano Point Operations: Downtime pt I

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