Antarctic Recon

Log Title: Antarctic Recon

Characters: Broadside, Greenshirt 910, Major Bludd, Scarlett

Location: USS Flagg, Antartica

Date: November 2011

TP: Flood TP

Summary: Scarlett takes Major Bludd along on a recon mission.

As logged by  Major Bludd

USS Flagg
Bridge/Flight Deck

Scarlett stands on the Flight Deck of the Flagg, looking North. She has her hands on her hips, while ignoring the cold winds, only dressed in her standard battle uniform. She is holding a DVD or CD Disk, while leaning against the landing gear of an oddly shaped Jet, the F-117A, Stealth Fighter.

Major Bludd, on the other hand, wears clothing to protect him from the cold. He steps out onto the flight deck in a navy blue peacoat worn over a grey parka, its furry hood drawn up over his head.

Though he shouldnt really be up now, for one reason or another, Sgt. Cunningham aka 910, has been let out onto the flight deck, albeit in a wheelchair still. He in contrast to scarlett was heavily bundled up against the cold and wet. Squinting in the overcast light, his eyes panned across the huge aircraft carriers' runway, spotting the redhead to one side. He pushes on the wheel, awkwardly making a few feet over that way.

Scarlett doesn't glance around, although she has been waiting for the Major to come meet her somewhere they could discuss things. While the Flight deck is normally active, tonight it is mostly shut down. Night Operations are scaled further back than normal, only ASW Helicopters, and two Alert-Five Jet Fighters are in sight.

Finally making his way into speaking distance, the Greenshirt calls over "Good Evening Ma'am, Scarlett." why did he approach her? He was bored, and perhaps a little bit doped up/stupid from the drugs.

Major Bludd shivers, stuffing his gloved hands into his pockets, and stumps over to Scarlett. "You wanted t'see me?" he asks Scarlett. He glances aside to the Greenshirt in the wheelchair, but makes no comment.

Scarlett glances over at the wheelchair-bound greenshirt, "Evening...." She pauses as she searches her memory for a name, and a personnel file, "Cunningham, isn't it?" She knows it is, once she saw his face, and matched it with the injury report she saw yesterday, in Hawk's temporary office. "Feeling better?" She nods slightly to the Major, smiling breifly at him, but at the moment, much more concerned with her wounded, than with the diplomatic aspects of her current assignment, although she half suspects that Bludd might understand.

Outside, Broadside 'rouses', more or less from some sort of dormant state, focusing his audio receptors on the aircraft carrier nearby. He remains silent, genuinely curious of the Joe conversation going on.

Major Bludd hunches down a bit further into his parka and waits, gazing curiously at the man in the wheelchair.

"Yes ma'am." he lifts his left arm in a mirrored salute, most of his right side bandaged and under the blankets. He puts the brakes on the chair, and turns to look sharply at Bludd, then back again "A little better. I'm allowd out for short periods of time. I go in for surgery tomorrow, thank you."

Major Bludd frowns at the Greenshirt and steps back a few paces, turning to look out over the edge of the carrier.

Scarlett nods, and smiles at the Sergeant, "Good. I'm sure the Doctors will get you back on your feet in no time. They always do a good job on my wounds." She glances at the Major, wondering what is on his mind, as he looks off into the water, but she doesn't ask. She glances at the Sergeant again, and says, "You might even be good to go in time to get a little payback."

"Hoping so, but I wouldnt bet money on it." grins the Sergeant "but I'll be there if they clear me ma'am. I wouldnt miss it for anything." and then he again looks to Bludd "Am I interrupting though ma'am?"

Scarlett says softly, "I do need to speak to the Major, briefly, and hand something over to him...."

Major Bludd waits quietly for Scarlett to finish her chat with the Greenshirt.

"Of course ma'am." he notes, and unbrakes the wheelchair, working backwards until he was further away. Shiveringa little, he starts actually for the hatchway, deciding that he didnt NEED to spend fifteen minutes out in the cold

Scarlett turns to the Major, and says, "Well, Major... I figured you would like to know the results of our Recon Flight over the Decepticon's Facility last night?" She raises her voice, so that anyone who doesn't get too far away might hear, if they wanted. If she is going to share Intel with the Enemy, why not let her own people listen in?

Major Bludd turns back to face Scarlett, taking the few steps necessary to get back within conversational distance. "I would," he replies.

Greenshirt 910 listens to this as well and slows his roll, waiting by the hatch for 'help' it seems - Aircraft Carriers aren't really wheelchair handicapable, listening idly over the wind.

Scarlett nods, ever so slightly, and hands the Disk over to the Major, "This Disk has all the particulars, but I will give you the bullet points. Wraith was able to get a Sonar Map of the Facility, using Passive Sonar, but it won't be perfect, since Hawk ordered her not to go active, but we have some idea of what the facility looks like." She pauses, to let this sink in.

Outside, "Hope your surgery goes well," Broadside belatedly booms in his baritone, voice tinged with the sound of groaning metal.

Nearly falling out of his chair in shock as the voice seems to come from one of the ships around the huge aircraft carrier. He turns his chair around, peering through the slight sea-haze "... What the..." he rolls over to the edge, careful to grip the railing "Who's there?" he asked, skeptically.

Major Bludd reaches out and claims the disc, nodding to Scarlett. He slips the disc into a pocket of his parka. He turns suddenly at the booming voice of the Autobot carrier lurking near the Flagg. "Forgot that thing was out there," he mutters. "Is there a problem with the layout of the facility?" he asks Scarlett.

Outside, "USS Nimitz CVN-68," Broadside rumbles. "Or, well, Broadside. Don't mean to interrupt. Continue n' such. Seems important."

"Oh yes, and it appears some of the Autobots have arrived...." Scarlett adds, motioning to the Aircraft Carrier that seems to be following the Flagg. She says simply, "I believe he is called Broadside..." She shrugs slightly, and calls out, "Welcome to the Taskforce." She turns back to the Major, "The facility is completely underwater, so it will have to be assaulted with Submarines, or torpedoes launched from Surface ships, or if we can find any still in existance, other than on the ASW Helicopters, Aircraft... We don't have many of those available to us, and unless you can pull some out of your hat, it will have to be assaulted by men with little to no armor protection, like you mentioned last night."

Major Bludd nods at Scarlett's description. "I had presumed as much. The feint teams need to give our underwater sappers enough time to get in there and do what needs doing before the Decepticons get wise to what we're up to. I'm hoping the Autobots' help will lend us the strength we need to make this operation a success."

Scarlett glances at Broadside, and than shrugs, a little skeptical about how much help the Autobots really will be. "Depends on how many of them they pry away from the Humanitarian Relief effort."

Outside, "Thank you," Broadside replies. "And naturally, Major Bludd. At least, that is the plan. Oh, I'm sure enough will. The yearning for revenge is rather high. I don't know if that's a good thing," he drawls.

"I spoke with Crosscut last night," Bludd informs her. "He told me that the Autobots are concentrating on rescue efforts until the last possible moment, then they'll send a heap of troops." He looks out toward the sound of Broadside's voice, offering the Autobot a brief nod and a nervous smile, though he's uncertain of how much of either the giant robot can detect.

"Thank you for the good wishes, by the way," says Cunningham. "As for revenge?... That's a two sided sword. It can make one fight better, but shouldnt make you drop what makes YOU better than the enemy."

Scarlett nods slightly, "My biggest concern is what material is the facility made of? Will our explosives be enough to break through the hull?" She sighs, "If there is dense enough armor, it may take more than we can easily carry to break through..."

Major Bludd frowns. "That I don't know," he admits. He turns out toward the Autobot carrier. "Broadside, is it?" he calls. "Any chance you or one o' your mates can get us info on what the heating station's made of?"

Outside, "Wise words," Broadside rumbles to Cunningham. "Hrrrrm?" This is directed to Bludd. "I'll see what I can manage, sir. N' keep ya' updated."

Scarlett frowns as she realizes something, "You know, I have ordered multiple Recons of the South pole, and no one has reported back...." She pauses, and reaches for her radio, to contact Falcon. After a breif conversation, she lets out a long, very unlady-like curse. "We have lost 3 recon flights of 4 SHARC's each, reconing the South Pole...."

Greenshirt 910 wheels back somewhat between Scarlett/Bludd and the railing to talk to both. He frowns a little bit in concern "That means someone's down there." he remarks "That doesnt want us there."

Scarlett nods slightly, "Looks like it is time to take the bull by the horns, and go myself...."

"Impressionnante," Bludd mutters, smiling for a moment at Scarlett's swearing. The smile fades quickly from his lips. "Right," he says, glancing to the Greenshirt. "It only stands to reason that if they're working at the North Pole that they might also be working at the South..." He scowls. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Greenshirt 910 looks at Scarlett "What about Ace or Slipstream? " he asks, then looks to Bludd "I would have thought there's less water there, since its a continent myself."

Scarlett motions to the one SHARC on the flight deck, and than asks Bludd, "Want to come?" She says to the Greenshirt, "Ace and Slipstream are probably very busy with planning the assault.... and Antartica has alot of Ice on it.... More Ice than land, actually."

The greenshirt nods "Gotcha. I'll get in touch with home base and see if satellites can pick anything up - infrared, Google Earth, all those if you want. And if Lifeline lets me."

Major Bludd tilts his head at Scarlett. "You're inviting me?" he asks skeptically.

Scarlett nods slightly, "Why not. It'll prevent me from having to brief you on what I find... and we do have to get used to working together, may as well be now, right?"

Greenshirt 910 shifts a little uneasily at that, frowning "ma'am, I think you should take someone else as well. Three pairs of eyes are thrice as good." he suggests

Scarlett glances at the Greenshirt, "Only enough room in a SHARC for two."

Greenshirt 910 frowns even deeper at that, looking quite concerned. But he couldn't do much more than shiver.

"Alright," Bludd sighs. "I'm curious t'see what's going on down there, if you've lost so many vehicles. Yer reports must've been eaten by wolves or somethin'." He flashes her a grin.

Scarlett smirks, and motions Bludd over towards the SHARC. She moves towards it herself, after moving to a cabinet and grabbing an emergancy pack, with some food and drink packs.

Greenshirt 910 watches them head off, and is finally nagged by a nurse togo back below deck, shivering badly.

SHARC #883
Scarlett takes control of SHARC #883. She seems to know what she's doing.

Scarlett starts up the SHARC, while radio'ing into the FLAGG's tower to get clearance to take off.

Major Bludd climbs into the unfamiliar vehicle and straps himself in. "Never been in one o' these before," he comments.

Outside, SHARC #883 moves to the end of the runway and is soon attached to the catapult.

Scarlett grins, "You'll love this ride than.... every been the bullet in a gun?"

Major Bludd peers at the aircrewmen attaching the SHARC to the catapult. "Merde," he mutters. "Catapult? No, never. Any tips?"

Scarlett salutes the aircrewman, than gives a thumbs up, "Hold on to your lunch....." The SHARC is catapulted off the FLAGG!

Outside, SHARC #883 is catapulted off the FLAGG...

Upper North Atlantic Ocean - Atlantic Ocean
Cold, blue and dotted with iceburgs, these can be dangerous waters for the unprepared. Fortunately, humans have been successfully navigating these waters for hundreds of years, since early quests for new lands to colonize to more recent ventures for trade and fishing.

Scarlett pulls the SHARC up, and glances behind her, "You concious, Major?"

The air rushes from Bludd's lungs in an involuntary grunt as the SHARC is hurled from the deck of the carrier. When normal gravity asserts itself, he takes a couple deep breaths. "Not worse'n Over Kill tryin'a crush me to death in his Vector," he mutters.

Scarlett smiles, and does a couple barrell rolls, before heading south....

You go to Skies Above the North Atlantic - Atlantic Ocean.

Skies Above the North Atlantic - Atlantic Ocean
The air around you is always changing, with clouds and winds constantly building, drifting and dispersing. The occasional aircraft may pass by, but aside from that and the formulating weather, there's not much to see.

One specific skyline is 'enter'able from here: Cobra Island.

Major Bludd scowls at the back of Scarlett's seat as the SHARC barrel-rolls. "Is that really necessary?"

"Sorry...."

Hours later, after a refueling, Scarlett says, "If you look below, you can see the current location of Cobra Island..." She rolls the SHARC just enough so that the Major can get an unobstructed view of the water... just water, covering Cobra Island, "Not much to look at now, but hopefully soon, that'll change..." o O (And you can get the hell out of Al-Alawi...)

Major Bludd snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Moving on..."

You go to Skies Above the South Atlantic - Atlantic Ocean.

Skies Above the South Atlantic - Atlantic Ocean
The air around you is always changing, with clouds and winds constantly building, drifting and dispersing. The occasional aircraft may pass by, but aside from that and the formulating weather, there's not much to see.

"It's really kind of peaceful-looking, though, isn't it?" Bludd muses aloud, staring out at the ocean below.

Scarlett shrugs, and flies on. "As long as you forget that under all that water, an entire civilization rests... We are passing over Mexico now, and for the most part, many of the poor folks had no warning, no where to flee the waters. They all headed inland, until they met another wall of water..." She sighs softly, "We did what we could, but I saw at least 1,000 people die, because the flight of Tomahawks I was leading, couldn't carry anyone else without crashing."

Bludd grunts in acknowledgement. "Too much," he says. "Just too much, too quickly. Took a lot of scrambling to get everyone off the Island, too. Reckon that was the picture the world over."

Scarlett nods, "I suppose." She flies on, her vision a little clouded by unshed tears. She shakes her head, but doesn't ask the most obvious question that is on her mind, 'How many non-Cobra people did Cobra evacuate?' because she is almost afraid to find out the answer. She might no longer be able to follow Hawk's orders.

Major Bludd is silent for a time, contemplating the crisis that's been visited upon the planet by the Decepticons. "It's what they count on," he says finally, "the Decepticons. They know they're too much for us to handle without the Autobots' help." He scowls. "To them we're just an infestation that inhabits this planet. Bugs fer them t'crush."

Scarlett frowns, "We'll show them." She pulls up behind another refueling plane, and speaks softly into her radio, to match speed and heading perfectly, as she lines up the refueling nozzles.

Major Bludd leans forward, watching the refueling with interest.

The refueling is done, and Scarlett quickly unhooks, and says simply, "That should hold us until we recon the South Pole, and get back here..." She turns the SHARC towards the water, and begins a slow descent, "200 miles to target area."

You go to Skies Above Antarcica - Antarctica.

Skies Above Antarcica - Antarctica
The air around you is always changing, with clouds and winds constantly building, drifting and dispersing. The occasional aircraft may pass by, but aside from that and the formulating weather, there's not much to see.

Major Bludd stretches his shoulders. "Good." He cycles through the WSO's displays, selecting a near- and long-range radar picture, a sonar picture, and, of course, the weapons stores. "Should be seein' somethin' soon, yeah," he asks, "if there's anything t'see?"

Scarlett lets the SHARC slip below the water, when it is 25 miles from the target area, "Switching on Passie Sonar. Hopefully we won't find anything..."

Antarctica - Antarctic Circle
The southernmost point on Earth, the South Pole, lies at the center of a frozen landmass called Antarctica. This is the coldest and windiest place on earth, surrounded by great sheets of ice. Antarctica is divided by the Transanarctic Mountains and the Pensacola Mountains into Lesser and Greater Antarctica. Antarctica is not part of any one nation, though several lay claim to sections of the territory. No plants or animals live in the interior, but the southern oceans surrounding the area are rich in sea life and colonies of penguins and schools of whales may be found around the coast and islands. There is no permanent settlement in Antarctica, though scientists visit special bases to study the climate and geography. Tourists also come to see the sights, such as Mt. Erebus, an active volcano. The Bentley Trench, at 8,325 feet, is the lowest point in the Earth's crust.

Major Bludd keeps a steady eye on the radar and sonar displays as the SHARC approaches the target area. "Funny," he comments, "you an' me scoutin' fer --" he chuckles, "--'bad guys'."

Scarlett smirks, and says, "Yeah, normally, I'd just turn around, and point to one.... Now, not so...." She pauses, and frowns as something dings, "We've got something coming into range."

"Not getting a clear image on sonar yet," Bludd reports.

Scarlett shakes her head, "Just getting something faint... Very faint." She does not go active, nor does she increase speed. "But whatever it is, unless it is a human-made submarine, should not be here..."

Bludd flips one of his displays to the weapons systems and leaves the other on the sonar.

The SHARC slowly gets closer, and the Sonar image starts to sharpen... It is obviously, not a submarine. It appears to almost be a duplicate of the North Pole facility. "Damn.... I hate being right."

Major Bludd swears quietly, leaning his head back against the headrest. "Fan-bloody-tastic."

"Think we have enough, or should we go for broke, and get a full image scan?" Scarlett asks. She has a passive lock on the Base, and has called up the weapons list, and is prepared to fire all available torpedoes at a moments notice.

"Nothing to indicate we have any company," Bludd says, "aside from any Decepticons that might be /inside/ that thing..." He sets his jaw. "Let's get what intel we can," he decides. "We don't have much about the Arctic one, and if they're the same, we can use all we can get."

Scarlett lets the SHARC Creep forward, continuing to only use the Passive Sonar to get a map of the facility. "I'm going to start to circle the facility, to see if we can't get a 360 degree look at the facility. I'll use the Gun Cameras to get a visual..." She flips on the gun cameras, as well as the SHARC's Infrared cameras.

Major Bludd nods. "Good plan." He studies the sonar picture, watching closely for anything that might be an indicator of immediate trouble for the SHARC.

Scarlett lets the Sharc begin its first pass, while watching closely for anything that might indicate a weakness.

After many passes, a good Sonar picture is devolped, and Scarlett turns the Sharc for open waters...

Scarlett flies the Sharc back towards the Flagg, in silence, while trying to decipher the images caught on camera, infrared, and Sonar.

Upper North Atlantic Ocean - Atlantic Ocean
Cold, blue and dotted with iceburgs, these can be dangerous waters for the unprepared. Fortunately, humans have been successfully navigating these waters for hundreds of years, since early quests for new lands to colonize to more recent ventures for trade and fishing.

Major Bludd relaxes somewhat once the SHARC is away from the heating station. "We're gonna have to hit the Autobots with this intel straight away," he says.

Scarlett turns the key, and the engine shuts off.

Outside, SHARC #883's engine comes to a halt.

Scarlett nods, slightly, "Not to mention, both of our bosses... They are not going to be happy."

"*I*'m not happy," Bludd points out.

Scarlett chuckles, "You were looking forward to ending the alliance, I take it?"

Major Bludd frowns. "I was looking /forward/ to kicking the damned Decepticons off these heating stations so we can have our continents back."

Scarlett nods, "That too." she almost sounds like she is teasing the Major... well, they *did* just share a rather intense situation....

Major Bludd snorts, smirking despite himself. "How soon can your techs have these sonar images available for transmission? An -- the Baroness'll want to see what we found quick as."

Scarlett shrugs, and reaches into a pouch, pulling out a flash drive. She quickly downloads a copy of the raw data for the Major, and hands it back to him, "Here. The Raw Data. No reason to make you wait for our techs to clean it up... Yours can analyze it as well, just in case ours miss something. We can share the data after both sides have gone through the raw feeds...."

Major Bludd takes the flash drive, nodding. "Thanks. And good point. Looks like sometechs're gonna have extended duty t'day."

Scarlett nods, "I just sent the feeds to Mainframe and Dialtone, for their teams to analyze... Hopefully they'll have something in the morning."

"I'll get the Tele-Vipers an' Techno-Vipers on it ASAP," Bludd replies.

Scarlett nods, and begins to descend towards the Flagg, "This part is not going to be as bad as the takeoff..." The SHARC lands bumpily on the FLAGG. She parks the SHARC and pops the hatch. See Joes, she can do a mission with Cobra, without killing the Cobra Operative.... not even any blood!

Major Bludd frees himself from the restraining straps and stands up, regretting it immediately as cramped muscles scream their protest. He manages to only groan a little as he maneuvers stiffly from the craft and climbs down to the flight deck.