OOC:

Crest
(6.1) Marksman
Level 0-4 weeks and 10 posts.

Crest stared at the blank sheet of paper.

So they really couldn’t have given me a map, I guess. In truth, that is the point of this exercise.

The conversation with his instructor played in his mind, as he simmered about having to make his own map.

“So, yesterday, a shipment of ryll escaped from the nearby spaceport. I convinced the local commander to allow you to scout out the probable route, and then find a good ambush spot. Got it, Crest?”

“When have I not, sir?”

“Do you or do you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Equip ‘n’ get moving. You’ll find your LAAT/i waiting for you.”

At the time, Crest had thought that it was an excellent idea. Now, however, he was having other thoughts, especially with the blank sheet of paper in front of him. Sure, he had taken the training. Yes, he had passed with fairly good grades. Yes, he was going to wait two more days before catching a transport back to the Phoenix base, particularly back to Blackjack, therefore making this a perfect plan. Except, he had not yet passed his final exam.

However, regrets were not going to help him. Crest shook off the lethargy that had begun to settle on him from his musings.

He slowly straightened his legs, bringing himself out of the crouch he had taken. A quick glance in both directions confirmed that the forest was in perfect peace. He began the hike up the semi-hill, semi-mountain.

So, Crest, can you remember the first rule of scouting? Always get to a high spot. It never hurts to see too much. Well, unless you find something your commander would prefer to keep hidden... kinda like hiding his mistress from his wife... but that has nothing to do with scouting. In regards to only scouting, get to a high spot and see as much as you can.

Crest reached the top of the hill-mountain in just a little under an hour. The crest of it was just tall enough to keep the tops of the trees under it.

The forest was neat, devoid of the odd growths that characterized jungles. Trees stood tall; the ground was hard-packed dirt; grass provided a soft covering to the dirt. In the concise version, it was the ideal spot to build a private, luxurious retreat. The mansion could be right there, and the firing range would be adjacent to it. Tree stands for hunting could be over there... and Crest knew he should get back on task.

The most noticeable feature was the ridge towering over the forest to the southwest. A waterfall cut through the middle, and a river formed at the base of it. The river turned sharply towards the northeast and stretched through the forest, like some snake that was basking in the heat of the sun.  As it came closer to the edge of the forest, it began to form a small canyon, with the river cutting through it. Right at the forest’s edge, there was a crude wooden dam.

Crest quickly and crudely drew the  rough map of his observations and began to move to the river. He wanted to scout that before giving back a report.

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Crest quietly sneaked behind the trees. The canopy was well designed actually. A net had been strung tree to tree, with leaves covering it. It hid the trail which was packed with sawdust to make it easier to traverse. The dam was close by, and Crest knew what needed to be done.

He was going to hate the cold.

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Remind yourself to take some type of bloody underwater training.

The suit was, of course, not the suit given to special aquatic units, but it served Crest’s purpose. He let the river carry him under the dam, making sure that his head was under the water line. As he slipped by the guide rail of the crude gate, he held onto it for dear life... almost quite literally. The river attempted to drive him with it, denying him what he needed. Crest made sure to hold on, and slipped a foot onto the rail. With that, his position was secured, and his hands freed to begin his climb. The dam was crude, and therefore the climb was fairly short. A gap existed near the top, and that was Crest’s target. The wood had begun to rot away, and Crest used the created handholds to quickly ascent to the top. He found the gap, stuck the holo recorder in, and let it record for a few moments before pulling it back out and playing the few seconds of the video.

Now ain’t that ingenious.

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Four hours later

“Hammer Lead, you have the green light to engage. Repeat, green light to engage.”

“Copy that, sir.”

A flick of a switch directed the next transmission to short-range encrypted comms.

“Hammers, form up!”

Second Lieutenant Riani looked to his left and right and saw his four fellow LAAT/i pilots forming a delta formation around him. They were screaming near to the ground, a slight mistake away from a fiery death. The crude map made by the scout showed the ridge, a waterfall, a river, a dam, and an expanse of forest. Riani compared that to the high-quality, satellite map, and, allowing for a margin of error, determined the approximate locations of the targets, which he input into the computer and linked the rest of the Hammers to it.

“Remember, the ridge covers up to the river. After that, we can see them and they can see us. The dam, which contains the contraband, and the trail are our top targets. Personnel are secondary targets and are to be captured or shot on sight at the discretion of the shooter but not at the expense of a primary target..  Hammer 3 and 5, destroy the trail. Hammer 2, you’re free to choose targets of opportunity that present themselves. Hammer 4, drop the stormtroopers beside the dam, after I’ve destroyed it. Everyone ready?”

The four confirmations filtered back, and the attack was on.

OOC:

WC: 1,031