OOC: Unironic Trigger Warning. First off, if you're a new reader welcome. However, some scenes in my writing can get rather intense. While the physical violence is technically no more explicit than Dwarf Fortress or Liberal Crime Squad content-wise, some readers may find the non-fantasy setting and dramatic writing style too disturbing. (For the sake of dramatic suspense, I won't say if anything in this update gets as violent as AMR Strikebreaker was last month.) Feel free to skip to the spoiler'd mission summary if you need to.
Of further note, without getting to spoilery, various IC and OOC factors came together to make this a tremendously lengthy update. For the sake of not leaving the players hanging, I'm going to publish this in multiple parts as they're written and proofread. It'll probably take multiple days so for the sake of player actions, consider operations voting locked for this turn. As you may recall, Mrs. Ocean opted to spread Ocean's Ten thin and attempt four full missions this month. Let's see how that worked out...
Mission Report Part (1/5)Red Cross Anghabar Withdrawal"The given intel is kinda horrible. If we go in non-sterile and it turns out they poked the AMR bear we could be out of business, for instance. Look up official and nonofficial sources to see who the enemy is, what their numbers are, how well equipped they are, and whatever else you can get from a quick rundown. Go in in balaclavas if it is someone we have worked with, wear the logo proud if it is a criminal organization or other unaffiliated group.
Switch Nikita, the Scout, to this team on a Gator ATV. With a three man team armed only with rifles, any armed resistance is likely to end poorly for our group. We should instead focus on avoidance. Google the layout of the roads, find as many alternate paths as possible (especially those that avoid areas where the enemy is likely to be from the first search). Nikita Taylor will move 1-2 km in front of the convoy to act as a scout, using the fancy binoculars to spot anything odd including ambushes, mines, road blocks, or dug out areas that look to be hiding bombs. If any are spotted the convoy will immediately reverse direction towards an alternative path - going off road only if the area is verifiably safe. Keep in constant "radio" contact, especially if visibility is low. Print out a warning, something like "ARMED CONVOY DO NOT OVERTAKE", on the company printers and duct tape them to the sides of the vehicles. Keep at the speed of the slowest truck, or the Gator if the trucks happen to be faster. Try to avoid routes where turning around would be impossible (such as mountain passes) if at all possible. In addition, connect the drivers to your "radio" network, the open source code should be free for them too. Give them orders when necessary, we have seen how civi drivers can act under pressure. Having someone who sounds like they know what they're doing should reduce mistakes. Keep in contact with the target bases as well, if there is anyone at the location.
Don't forget the FLIR Recon BN6 Thermal Binoculars for our scout."
Three operators with an ATV and SUV will escort three round-trip convoys withdrawing the IRC from rural Anghabar. Simon Templar, having previous convoy experience on Anghabar, will be the Team Leader. Erik and Nikita the Scout will round out the team.
On convoy, Erik will drive the SUV with Simon as passenger/dismount. Nikita will ride the ATV well ahead of the convoy. The SUV will be lead vehicle of the convoy. The team leader will maintain communications with the other three vehicles at all times.
At the clinic site, all operators will dismount. Nikita will take to clinic rooftop with binoculars to keep lookout as the convoy loads. Simon and Erik will keep ground security.
All personnel should open carry a Val carbine when possible. As this is a legal defensive mission for a neutral organization, sterile procedures are not recommended unless a conflict of interest is anticipated.
Although he doesn't show it, Team Leader Simon Templar is not without trepidation as his three man team touches down at the space port. By anyone's standards, the convoy mission on Anghabar last month was a bloodbath. The last update on Angus MacGuyver was that he was still on a ventilator in the ICU. While Mr. Blonde was technically Team Leader then, Simon can't help but feel a sense of responsibility for it. They were under-prepared and paid dearly for it that day. Again escorting a civilian convoy on Anghabar, this month is the closest he'd ever get to a do-over.
To his relief, senior leadership seems to have learned the same lesson and provided a thorough set of mission prep and SOP's for this operation. While neither the client briefing or his research revealed any obvious threats, 600 miles of back-country with possible overnights is quite the longhaul. Ship-side, Simon pored over every pixel of the Google Map for rural Anghabar, even printing out hard copies of planned routes. Featureless back roads are hard to assess from overhead imagery, but luckily he'll have Nikita the Scout executing route recon with an ATV. In terms of the first half of Intelligence Preparation of the Battlefield (IPB), Simon is able to research the battlefield environment and describe its possible effects on his mission.
As for Simon's attempt at the second half of IPB, evaluating threats and their likely courses of action (COAs), he struggles. Neither an intelligence officer or analyst, his attempts at further OSINT research are ineffective. Enemies and their dispositions just aren't something you can find on Google Maps. Even assuming free press existed on AMR-dominated Anghabar, news outlets are routinely too focused on urban middleclass banalities to report on rural affairs. Social media can be interesting, but without an authoritative baseline, it's impossible to filter out teenaged shitposting from credible blogging. Simon does confirm that Dr. Melanie Johnston was murdered somewhere in this area, resulting in the annihilation of a nearby settlement by the Walton Family. Other than that however, no discernable intelligence on potential adversaries is discovered.
A spry older gentleman introduces himself at the space port, "Greetings, I'm Dr. Oliver Throckmorton, IRC Head of Mission for Anghabar. I normally don't get this deep into field-work, but you really need to lead from the front in times like these."
Simon briefs Dr. Throckmorton the mission plan. While some of it clearly goes over his head, Dr. Throckmorton concedes he's impressed. "We're not very savvy with all this military stuff, but you guys sound like exactly the kind of professionals we need. We've already notified the three clinics to close up shop. Most aren't happy to walk away from these communities at their darkest hour, but it's the only reponsible action we can take after what happened to Melanie. We can leave for the first clinic tomorrow morning."
Your team and the convoy spend the night sleeping the space port parking lot until it's time to stage the convoy. While it's a secure location, your vehicles are not campers or conversion vans, leading to some awkward sleeping arrangements. While nights this time of year on Anghabar can be deceptively cold, the convoy get lucky with an unseasonably warm and windless night. For the most part the convoy gets good rest and everyone is ready in time for the convoy staging.
In addition to the Ocean PMC Gator ATV and Land Rover Defender SUV, the convoy consists of a Blue Bird Micro Bird minibus and two M35-style 2.5 ton 6x6 cargo trucks. An awkward and certainly not offroad capable vehicle, the Blue Bird Micro Bird is a "short" school bus with bench seating for up to 30 passengers. Meanwhile, the M35 is a slow but reliable six-wheeled Cold War military cargo truck. Their canvas covered truck beds can easily carry 5000 pounds off-road. A particularly suicidal truck driver might be able to get the 2.5 ton truck up to its max speed of 60 mph fully unloaded, though the maximum cruising speed is 50mph on a well paved road (of which there are none in the back-country). Then again, Nikita's customized ATV is only roughly as fast as the cargo trucks on road (45 mph), but makes up for it with tremendous offroad performance for its reconnaisance role. The Land Rover SUV is the fastest and most well rounded of the vehicles, filling the tactical role nicely.
After radio checks confirm that every vehicle is on the commo net, Nikita takes off to get a head start on her ATV. As the first rays of light peek over the horizon, Nikita can't help but acknowledge the solemn beauty of the largely barren Anghabar back-country. With nothing but an AS Val carbine to keep her company, she relishes the freedom of her solo reconnaissance mission. While the written plan was to keep within 2 km of the convoy, she can't help but race ahead of the formation to allow for quick stops to take thorough observations. As superb a piece of hardware the FLIR binoculars are, they're not something that can be used while driving.
Meanwhile, Erik Heller and Simon Templar take the SUV out of the safety of the space port, leading their civilian convoy onto the dusty gravel roads to the first clinic. Playing it safe, Simon decides with Dr. Throckmorton that the nearest clinic (50 miles due South) would be an easy first mission to test their convoy procedures. The roads are rough, but manageable for the most part. The awkward Blue Bird minibus ends up being the weakest link, dragging the convoy speed down to about 20 mph cruising. They encounter no other traffic on the road, and two settlements they pass express no interest in the convoy.
After almost three hours of slow but steady trucking through desolation, the convoy arrives at the first clinic. The clinic staff greet Dr. Throckmorton cordially as your men take their cues to assume dismounted security positions. Nikita takes an overwatch position on the roof with the binoculars, whereas Erik and Simon patrol on the ground. While there are no obvious external threats to the convoy loading, the team can sense a bristling sense of animosity among the clinic personnel.
As the clinic staff and Dr. Throckmorton begin openly arguing, Simon does his best to keep his team focused on their mission rather than client drama. Still, it's hard to ignore when phrases like "unwashed fraking hicks" and "last chopper out of Saigon" are being shouted. The convoy loading comes to a standstill as the clinic staff begins loading "community nursing volunteers" onto the minibus. Furiously pointing out that all of these "volunteer nurses" are local women who are either pregnant or underage, Dr. Throckmorton calls bullshit. For the next hour phrases like "non-partisan institution," "deontological nonsense," and "naive beneficence" are bandied about in lieu of loading the convoy.
Despite this internecine conflict, at noon, on the dot, all IRC personnel break for lunch. After a leisurely meal, they transition to a coffee break. Non-coffee drinkers take this time to apparently check social media on their smartphones. By 1 PM, everyone was back to arguing, with zero progress in packing and loading. Luckily, no one could see Nikita rolling her eyes behind a pair of binoculars.
By 2 PM, Simon decides it was time to intervene, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to interrupt, but thunderstorms are forecasted at sunset. We need to get out of here before the weather turns on us."
Dr. Throckmorton throws up his hands in a mixture of frustration and obvious disgust, "Fine! I saw nothing! Do as you wish, but I'm not taking the responsibility for this. They can hitchhike with us to the space port, but they can book their own flights from there."
Before long, the minibus is packed to capacity, and "volunteer nurses" are being strapped down in the back of the cargo trucks. Dr. Throckmorton gives up his seat on the minibus to sit in the backseat of Simon's Land Rover. For the whole three hour ride back to the space port, he says nothing except for unintelligible brooding under his breath.
As the convoy unloads at the space port, a slow drizzle quickly builds into pouring rain. This presents a new problem: it's monsoon season and a dry gulch can flash flood in minutes. While the space port is on high ground, the next two clinic routes cross and sometimes follow several river beds. With the pre-planned routes likely washed out and/or involving dangerous river fording, Simon tries to negotiate with Dr. Throckmorton to delay the next convoy.
Dr. Throckmorton is unconvinced, "I understand the weather is a problem, but we can't afford to wait further. These kids out here don't know what's good for them and I'll drag them out kicking and screaming if I have to."
Simon doesn't like it, but doesn't have a choice in the matter.
At daybreak, their second and even more daunting expedition begins. The second clinic, Valley North, is almost 70 miles due North, and almost immediately the minibus gets stuck in the mud. While the rain ceased overnight, the roads were far from dry so soon after a downpour. Dr. Throckmorton acknowledges the futility of the minibus and the convoy loses an hour towing the Blue Bird back to the space port.
It isn't long before Nikita calls in that their first crossing in flooded. Without the minibus, the crossing looks doable for the convoy, but the Gator ATV is the weak link now. While ATV's are great for off-roading, they're far too light and low to the ground to attempt fording. Luckily the ATV should fit in back of one of the conveniently empty 6x6 military cargo trucks. While Nikita is first to note both trucks will likely be full on the way back, Simon resignedly shrugs, "One day at a time."
Both truckers are seasoned back-country tradesmen who are unfazed by the potential fording and quickly secure the ATV aboard. Erik will drive the SUV across solo while all other personnel ride across on the cargo trucks. However they express concern when they find out Erik has never done a fording. The combination of the passenger cabin flooding and even the most minor of water currents carrying an SUV downstream is instinctively terrifying. A panicked driver could not only lose the vehicle downstream, but also rollover and drown in the process.
They give Erik a quick pep talk, "Alright guy, time for your baptism as a real back-country trucker. Let's finally put that safari snorkel to work. First off, anything in the passenger cabin is going to get soaked. Unless you've packed a dry bag, that's what your roof rack is for. Once you're ready to go swimming, make sure AWD is locked in and drop down to first gear. Now when you hit the water, shit is going to get weird. Whatever you do, don't panic. Keep it slow and steady, but don't try to change gears or hit the brakes. Just stay on course for the bank you're looking for. If you still manage to frak this up, at least you have a recovery winch. We'll see you on the other side."
Your team take a good half hour repacking the SUV to keep its gear from getting water-logged. Erik strips down to a Blue Diamond undershirt and boxer-briefs while keeping his boots on. Nikita can't help but chuckle at the inadvertently comedic sight.
"Why do women always laugh at me when I'm naked?"
"I'm sure Sam Goldman is going to be glad your repping the Blue Diamond Quick Dri line so well," Nikita returns.
"Well, we can't let Anna do all the hard work for us, can we?"
Simon gets in on the fun, "Erik, don't take this the wrong way. But you are no Anna."
The two 6x6 cargo trucks make it across without incident, and soon the entire convoy is waiting and watching Erik about to take the plunge. Without further delay, Erik steps on the gas. The Land Rover SUV hits the water and the passenger cabin floods immediately up to the waterline at Erik's chest. Erik keeps his cool as a faint current begins pulling the vehicle downstream. Keeping a constant pressure on the gas, he creeps across the stream at an agonizing 2 mph. The convoy breaks into applause as the SUV finds the opposite bank and powers out of the water.
Erik swings open the car door to let a wall of water out, "Frak me, anybody pack a towel?"
After fifteen minutes of cleanup and launching the ATV, the convoy is back on the road. Conditions begin to dry out in the sunlight of high noon, making the remaining water crossings time-consuming but increasingly trivial in difficulty. All the delays do add up however, and it's nearly nightfall as the convoy approaches the clinic several hours late.
Nikita the scout, riding the ATV in advance calls in, "We sure this is the place? Objective looks deserted. Will continue standoff recon. OVER."
Dr. Throckmorton hears the call from the backseat of the SUV and is livid, "Those motherfrakers did it!"
Simon calls out from the front seat, "Did what, sir? If this is a security matter, we need to know."
"This is an internal matter!" Dr. Throckmorton barks. "I don't need management consulting from a gorram trigger-puller!"
Simon bites his tongue just barely at the insult.
The convoy pulls up to the abandoned Valley North clinic warily. So far, all attempts to contact the clinic staff via smartphone have failed. Furthermore, Nikita has been surveilling the building for a solid ten minutes without seeing any activity on the FLIR binos.
Simon radios the convoy, "Attention all security elements. We will be executing a tactical callout followed by a breach and clear. Recon, we need you on exterior overwatch. How copy? OVER."
Simon and Erik dismount, their fully automatic AS Val carbines held at the high ready. Simon yells commandingly, "ANY ONE THERE? THIS IS INTERSTELLAR RED CROSS! MAKE YOURSELF KNOWN AND EXIT THE BUILDING!"
The two story mud brick building responds with only silence and shadows as twilight looms.
Simon tries again, "LAST CHANCE! ARMED SECURITY COMING IN! MAKE YOURSELF KNOWN OR BE FIRED UPON!"
With a reluctant chin wag, Simon and Erik stack on a cracked side door. They kick in the door and start room clearing, despite neither of them being CQB specialists. In theory, it only takes two operators to conduct room clearing. In the real world, this assumes no casualties, civilians, or captives to manage. In other words, you can clear a room with two operators, but you're immediately short-handed once anything actually happens. Paper targets will sit still while you move to secure the next room. Unsurpervised real people tend to be more disruptive than that.
Furthermore, Simon and Erik are running rather minimalist in terms of hardware. The fully automatic sound supressed AS Val carbine is powerful yet handles relatively well in CQB environments. However, the poorly lit building interior makes the iron sights impossible to use. Speaking of poor lighting, your men lack any sort of mounted tac lights or wearable NVG's. Your smartphone flashlights might have been tactically viable if your magnum revolvers could be reliably fired one-handed like a service pistol.
Despite some tense moments searching dark corners, the clinic proves indeed fully abandoned. "Objective secure. All clear."
With a deep sigh, your team begin picking through the clinic looking for signs of what happened. Lacking forensic, tracking, or general investigative capabilities, your team is unsure what to be looking for and how. Dr. Throckmorton wordlessly picks through the facility as well, often muttering to himself, but otherwise unwilling to share any insight with your team. As a result, your team discovers nothing of note before making camp at the clinic for the night.
At midnight, Simon personally relieves Nikita on nightwatch. By the way she wordlessly hands off the binoculars, he can tell she's getting ragged around the edges. Field reconnaissance is physicallly and mentally exhausting work, with light infantry recon units typically recruiting only the most motivated and physically conditioned soldiers to keep up. Nikita has been the hardest working operator on this mission and he admires her for doing so without complaint.
Standing atop the Valley North clinic rooftop, it's just after two AM when he spots two heat signatures in the distant hills to his NW. Checking the geography against his paper map, the mystery figures are well over 500 meters distant. Neither their AS Val carbines (300 meter range) or backup shotguns (75 meter range) could possibly engage at that distance. Fearing engagement from a sniper or crew served weapon, Simon discretely gets off the roof and wakes Nikita.
Peeking out a side window, he hands over the binos and gestures to the NW hills, "Tell me what you see."
"Whoa!" she visibly flinches. "That wasn't there before. Looks like about four prone individuals about 600 meters out?"
Simon swears under his breath and kicks Erik in his sleeping bag, "Get your shit on, we've got bogeys."
So fixated on the figures to the NW, your team forgets to keep scanning other vectors. Had they kept their situational awareness up, they might have noticed another fireteam setting up position in the hill 700 meters East. Perhaps any Simon or the others been Field Tacticians, they might have looked for the dreaded "L-shaped ambush" that every infantry officer fears. Resting in the kill zone of this cross fire, well executed L-shaped ambushes have annihilated entire troop formations in a matter of minutes.
While the convoy planned to leave at dawn in a few hours, Simon and Dr. Throckmorton quickly agree that sooner may be better. While Simon would have preferred a more orderly breaking of camp, the truckers pick up the panic in Dr. Throckmorton voice and frantically prep their vehicles. Before long, the convoy begins breaking light discipline, fully illuminating their position.
A young country accent calls out, "DON'T SHOOT! I GOT A MESSAGE FOR YA."
A teenager with a double-barreled shotgun across his back waves a dingy white rag, "I got a letter for Dr. Throckmorton."
Your operators look to Dr. Throckmorton and then back to each other. The doctor isn't budging, and no one is particularly eager to walk out into the open for his sake. Simon sighs ahd calls out from the clinic, "I'll get your message to him. I'm coming out!"
Simon walks slowly and carefully to the teenaged militant before him. The kid is young, sixteen at most, but has the scrappiness of a hard life country boy. The kid sneers and pulls out a piece of paper folded in half. He dismissively flings the note on the ground, "They said he would be like this. Fraking figures. Take this message and GTFO if you know what's good for you guy."
Simon picks up a sheet from a physician's prescription pad. While likely barred from reading his client's mail, Simon has the sense of mind to discretely snap a picture of the note with his smartphone before handing it over to Dr. Throckmorton. As your team has come to expect, the Dr. reads the note quickly and immediately begins stamping his foot and muttering angrily. "Frak these motherfrakers, we're going to get them at the Valley East site. We're going fraking straight there."
After conferring with the truckers, Simon confirms that with nothing to salvage from the second clinic, they have plenty of supplies and free payload to push on to the final clinic. Still, he can't help but mistrust Dr. Throckmorton at this point. Finding an isolated corner, he examines the picture he snapped of the note.
The note itself is handwritten in cursive and relatively tough to read. He can just barely make out the word "resignation" among the text. However, the prescription pad's printed header and footer are easily read, and identify the pad as the property of "Howard Bettinger MD." Other than than, a post script is written in handwritten block letters "DO NOT TRY TO FOLLOW US."
With solid evidence that Dr. Throckmorton is withholding vital intelligence, Simon shares his findings with Erik and Nikita. Nikita is speechless, but Erik pipes up. "Now maybe this is just brainstorming. But we're out in the wilderness without a lot of witnesses. Dr. Thockmorton sure seems to have a few enemies..."
Simon interrupts, "No! That is not an option."
"Now, now, now. I'm just brainstorming here. I mean, shit happens, amirite? So much can go wrong in the back-country, right?"
"Erik, I said no. This is off the table."
"Simon, this piece of shit is as useful as a hole in the head, and twice as dangerous. A fraking civilian like him shouldn't be out here, and is going to get us killed."
Simon raises his voice, "Erik! You will stand down."
Erik laughs awkwardly and physically backs off, "Chill out man. I was just trying to think outside the box. You're the Team Leader and it's entirely your call."
Within an hour, the convoy is headed to the final clinic, Valley East, 30 miles due East per Dr. Throckmorton's insistence. It's still pre-dawn, but Simon gambles that night manuevers would be still safer than lingering any further in a directly threatened bivouac site. Of course, any observer of this manuever would immediately know the convoy is not headed due South back to the space port. Driving unawares past the hostile fireteam in the eastern hills, the convoy's flagrant counter-challenge to their threat letter is reported to higher.
In daylight hours, this trip would take only an hour at most. However the low-visibility and unplanned route has Simon anxious. Nikita is the only one with night optics, however they're not the kind that can be used while driving. Thus the convoy needs to drive with their high beams on to keep from colliding with each other or falling off the road. Surely the convoy itself is visible for miles in the otherwise blacked-out back-country.
At least the convoy moves slow enough that Nikita can pull a few observation stops with the FLIR binos. On her final stop before the Valley East clinic, she scans a narrow mountain pass turn. She gasps FLIR binos register mounds of a different temperature on the road through the pass. She manages to recall from scout training that this indicates recently disturbed earth, and given the circumstances, likely freshly emplaced land mines.
"BREAK, BREAK, BREAK. Likely minefield 2km ahead of your position at the mountain pass."
"MINEFIELD!?!" a trucker yells over the radio as he pulls off the road. "No fraking way Throckmorton. I am done."
The other trucker joins him in mutiny, and the convoy comes to a standstill. Dr. Throckmorton dismounts to yell at the truckers personally, but they're not budging. Doing his best to suppress a schadenfraude fed smirk, Simon dismounts to brief Dr. Throckmorton.
"Sir, our contract is to security escort your convoy. If your convoy aborts mission of their own accord, we're still obligated to escort them accordingly. Furthermore, minefield removal is a specialty service not expressly covered in our contract and thus was not arranged. I would advise you that we assess no safe passage from this point to the Valley East Clinic on the other side of that mountain pass."
Throckmorton is furious at this turn of events, but there seems to be no way to convince the truckers, and Simon's brief is otherwise logical and convincing. He slouches in resignation and seems to take a moment calm himself back into the spry older gentleman who greeted your team on day one. "Very well, I can't fault you on this. Let's get off this troubled world before we get further humiliated."
The convoy mounts back up and calls Nikita back in. Homeward bound it is. Shame they couldn't inform the OPFOR of this news.
A hilltop figure begins whispering to himself, "Blessed be the Lord, my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle."
700 meters is a difficult shot, but with the convoy stationary and self-illuminated, it should be doable for a professional sniper like himself. But the question now is "who to engage?"
"O Lord, what is man? Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow."
He had just witnessed some kind of rally and dispute among the AMR-puppeted mercenaries. Two leadership figures came from the lead SUV. An OIC and NCOIC perhaps? The older unarmed mercenary is clearly the OIC, whereas the sturdier armed one must be the NCOIC.
"Part Your heavens, O Lord, and come down; touch the mountains, that they may smoke. Flash forth Your lightning and scatter them; shoot Your arrows and rout them."
His first instinct was to take down the OIC. Clearly a senior figure of some prestige, he'd be missed back at HQ and likely difficult to replace. But the way the dispute proceeded, it's clear the NCOIC is the true leader of the mission. A true "backbone of the army," he's the one holding everything together. Without him, the whole convoy might up and surrender. It would be a tremendous victory to take the convoy intact with prisoners.
"Reach down from on high; set me free and rescue me from the grasp of foreigners, whose mouths speak falsehood, whose right hands are deceitful."
The puppet mercenaries return to the SUV, the NCOIC taking a seat in the front right of the SUV. The SUV appears unarmored, and its highly unlikely the its windows are ballistic. Well placed .300 Winchester Magnum should be more the sufficient to kill his target.
"All convoy elements, we are reversing order and RTB. Recon, what is your ETA to our position? OVER."
It may have been arduous, but Simon is glad his journey is coming to an end. Sure the mission didn't go entirely as planned, (what mission does?) but he can't help but feel a sense of redemption. The convoy had taken no casualties, and he hadn't created a tragic system-wide news story like the Red River Riot. He even got the client to agree to pay the full amount of the contract despite only successfully evacuating one of three clinics. As the old saying goes, "I see this as an absolute win."
Blood. So much blood. Blood on the windshield. Blood on the window. Blood on Erik the driver. It'd take the techs back on the Mothership a full workday to scrub all the blood out of the SUV.
A single high velocity .300 Win Mag round penetrated the unarmored vehicle, striking the key leader of the convoy. But the difficult shot wasn't perfect. The round ricocheted off the window frame, breaking into fragments. One fragment grazes Simon's unhelmeted scalp, "juicing" him of a shocking amount blood. Of a more immediate threat, a second fragment punctures the right carotid artery. A stream of blood spurts like an open fire hydrant from Simon's neck, as he panics from his sudden traumatic injury. His panicked flailing hoses everything within a two foot radius in bright red arterial blood.
Erik hits the accelerator and calls out on the radio "MAN DOWN. MAN DOWN. Go, go, GO!"
With Erik busy trying to lead the convoy out of the kill zone, Simon is forced to self-aid his mortal injury. It has been clinically proven that a fully severed carotid artery will drain the body of blood in about thirty seconds. Of course, loss of consciousness will happen first anyways. Unfortunately, Ocean PMC doesn't currently field a medical kit of any sort. Simon grasps at his bandana, hoping to use it as a field-dressing. His fingers are increasingly clumsy as they fumble to undo the bandana knot. His vision blurring, he is helpless as a pair of arms put him in a sort of headlock from behind. A precise stabbing pressure is driven into his neck.
"Hold the wheel steady you gorram maniac. The Doctor is trying to operate!"
Dr. Throckmorton expertly plugs the spurting artery with his bare bands. A career surgeon, it's not the first time he's manually plugged an artery; though it is his first time doing so outside an operating room. Once the convoy is a safe distance away from the ambush, he has Erik pull over the vehicle to properly stabilize Simon. Using his personal lidocaine and Kelly forceps, he successfully clamps the artery off until they make it back to the space port.
The remaining journey back is uneventful. Erik assumes tactical command as Simon slips into shock from blood loss. Daylight breaks and the rains from the storm dry up fully, making for excellent driving conditions. No further contact with OPFOR is made.
Dr. Throckmorton seems to display geniune compassion in caring for his patient, even helping load him on a gurney back to the Mothership. With Simon successfully stowed, he turns his attention back to Team Leader Erik, "Now Mr. Goldman assured us that Ocean PMC would sign a mutal Non-Disclosure Agreement regarding what you saw on our contract. I would like to stress that this applies particularly to internal IRC matters such as the... personnel management issues... you may have become aware of."
"Roger that sir, our lips are sealed."
Mission Results: Success. 1 WIA. 30k profit. Personnel notes updated on Data Sheet.
Plan Rating: Very Good (+2)
Roll (2d4): 5
Plan Execution Result: 7 - Very Good
Mission Difficulty Roll (2d4): 3 - Much Harder Than Expected
Operator Improvisation Roll (2d4): 5 - Competent
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Topic: Space Cowboys for Hire [Month 7] (New Blood Welcome) (Read 39765 times)