Weng Chung PrefectureKamakura
One Week ago
"Boss? DEAD MAN!"
"What is it, Loki?"
"Command's on the horn. Looks like it's all gone really fucking noisy!"
Dirge moves at a crouch over to where the radio operator is hidden behind a dumpster.
"Marauder One Actual, go for transmission"
"Mr Dirge!" Admiral Landau does not sound happy.
"Admiral, what's our status, over?"
"Task group has taken heavy fire from Kamakuran Assets. We may be at war. Alert Status DEFCON 2, consider yourselves to be weapons hot and weapons free at this time. Your orders are to locate Captain Kotetsu-Ipesch and get her and her team to rally point Baker. "
"What assets do I have?"
"Tiptoe Seven has already collected the embasssy assets and is en-route to rally point Baker. Tiptoe twelve is still unaccounted for, the other covert teams are engaged in fighting withdrawls to the rally point."
"Chopper evac out of the question?"
"Our birds are taking heavy SAM fire, I don't have any air assets to give you."
"Have that. Confirm new tasking, we are weapons free, priority one to collect and evac Captain Kotetsu-Ipesch at rally point Baker. "
"Tasking confirmed, Colonel. Good hunting."
And the radio goes dead. Dirge looks at the handset, then hands it back to Loki who slots it in place on the TACOM unit on his back. Dirge taps the pressel on his LOSIR throatmic, transmitting to the rest of his unit.
"In case you boys and girls weren't aware, we are now officially up against live, hostile targets. Weapons hot, weapons free, game on."
A chorus of confirmations came back across the secure radio net as he unslings his own G36C and flicks off the safety.
"Red, bring up Kami's subcutaneous transponder and start pinging her. In theory she was visiting the Flembic embassy this morning."
Thorgeld flips open the screen mounted on his left arm and presses a command sequence. A coded signal bounces into the ether and a HAF tactical satellite sends a signal response back to the tiny transmitter embedded in the left buttock of what they now officially termed his 'Uscopic Support officer', given as calling them a 'necromancer' was seen as pejorative in the modern HAF.
Sometimes Dirge longed for the good old days when things were simple, when it was all about sword and shield and matters of faith, when wars were often won or lost over the course of a religous festival. Modern warfare was a hell of a lot more complex, and whilst he had continued to serve the state throughout its many incarnations, it had never been quite the same as his first term of service, that first complex year.
His enforced 'retirement' and then his resurrection at the start of SW1 were forever etched into his mind. He still had some difficulty trusting the shark assets as a result, but no-one could argue their efficacy.
"Got her, boss. Eagle Eye 7 has her footprinted at the Flembic embassy."
"Take point, get us there double time."
Dirge shook off the memory. Several hundred years of experience, countless deaths and rebirths. Watching old comrades fight and die, grow old and die, and eventually pass into the arms of their gods. Not for him. He had long ago decided that whilst Rheinfelden and Olrich and their contemporaries had achieved immortality through fame and noteriety and what they left behind, he and his wife had come to the conclusion that frankly the best way to achieve immortality was, in fact, to live forever.
"Marauder One to Baby Bushrat, come back."
"Bushrat to Marauder one, recieiving!" The sound of gunfire in the background.
"Get your shit together Bushrat, Marauders are inbound your location."
"Asses and elbows, Marauder One! Taking incoming from a militia unit. Embassy vehicles are write offs due to car bomb."
"Roger that, will procure transport."
He gestures to 'Pretty Boy', the Marauder's only human member. Flembic lower city by his origins, ruggedly handsome and charming to boot, he'd first died in a duel over another officer's wife sometime in the 1800's. The centuries hadn't diminshed his criminal talents, and he'd stayed current on the latest scams, tricks, and general wide boy cons that made him so very very useful.
"keep your eyes peeled for extraction options to 'borrow' please, Mr Chatillion?"
The trooper doesn't take his eyes off the scope of his assault rifle, but taps his pressel twice to click acknowedgement.
"Red! Eta please?"
"Five minutes if we don't hit traffic!"
"Bushrat, coming in hot in five. Be ready."