[TOR] Croaker

[Askari]

(( Modified at launch to reflect getting "Croaker" as my commando's callsign. ))

A group of separatists had blown Croaker's speeder bike out from under him, dumping him onto the rocky coastal terrain of a small Ord Mantell island. Of course, they promptly scattered when they saw he'd survived. Dammit. And it looked like chasing them would require more rock-climbing than walking.

He fished his com-unit from his belt. "Republic Orbital Recon, this is SpecOps Lieutenant Krote Vorkosigan, callsign Croaker, Havoc Squad, identifier whiskey-tango-four-niner. I just got ambushed by approximately four separatists in quadrant 36. I'm hoping you can get eyes on them?"

"Roger that, Lieutenant. We were already looking your direction due to the explosion. Do you require medical assistance or backup?"

"I'm good, Recon. I'll contact the planet-side base for a ride when I have this situation resolved."

"OK, Lieutenant...we show four bogies, on foot, heading towards an inland village, uploading coordinates to you now."

Croaker pulled up a topographic map in his helmet's heads-up display, cross-referenced the coordinates and started jogging for a highlighted pathway through the rocks. "Coordinates received. Thank you kindly, Recon. Do you have the bandwidth to keep them lit-up for me?"

"Our pleasure, Lieutenant. We'll keep the coordinates streaming live and let you know if we see anything worrisome. Good hunting, sir."

Croaker grinned. Good hunting indeed.

....

As he approached the village, Croaker reviewed the intelligence files in his armor's comp-unit. Only a few hundred civilians here, supposedly still under Mantellian Defense Force control. Mostly used for regional warehousing. Yada, yada, yada.

Croaker raised his com-unit, "Orbital Recon, I'm going in. Anything I should know?"

"Lieutenant, the four bogies are holed up in the building marked on your heads-up map. No other heat signatures or movement detected in the building. Please be advised that this group jogged right past a patrolling Mantellian Defense Force guard and were not stopped or questioned. We count three MDF soldiers in the village, the one on patrol and two down the street in a bunker. There may be more... and they may be compromised."

"Understood, Recon. Wish me luck!"

....

Croaker strolled down the street towards the separatist's hide-out. He was a big man, an intimidating man, even without the trooper armor and assault cannon. The few civilians on the street cleared a wide path for him.

However, the patrolling MDF soldier did not.

"Hey there, Republic? You lost?"

"Nope," said Croaker as he continued walking towards the building.

"May I ask who you think you are, and why you're walking into my town with that artillery piece in hand?"

Croaker stopped, set down his assault cannon and removed his helmet, hooking it to his belt. His short, dark hair was plastered with sweat from the jog. He grinned at the MDF soldier. "Of course you can ask. The Republic values local defense forces and wishes to extend every courtesy during these trying times. I am SpecOps Lieutenant Krote Vorkosigan of Havoc Squad. But you can call me by my callsign, Croaker. Four men, presumably anti-Republic separatists, just shot my speeder bike out from under me and I am here to resolve the situation."

"Well, you can make a report to me, and the MDF will look into it. I can't have you storming through town with that gun, taking matters into your own hands and scaring folks."

Croaker's grin faded. He removed his holo-credentials from his belt and lit them up, "This is my ID. It states that I am a Republic Special Ops Officer and have the authority to pursue imminent threats to the safety and security of the Republic or its citizens on any Republic planet. I use this ID to politely inform local defense force members, like yourself, of my intentions to operate in your jurisdiction."

Croaker stowed his credentials with one hand while pointing to his gun with the other, "This... is a modified Czerka Arms A55-KYLR Assault Cannon with a custom overcharged plasma cell system and a rotating gravitic carbine barrel. I use this gun to aggressively deliver a plasma-charged enema to pieces of s**t that constipate my mission."

Croaker unclipped his helmet and placed it back on his head, "Soldier, you have exactly ten seconds to choose whether you plan to respect either of these items I've just shown you... and step aside. After which point, I will assume that you are colluding with the separatists that ran by you earlier. I will classify you as hostile to the Republic and to the lawful government of Ord Mantell. Do I make myself clear?"

The soldier hurriedly backed away from Croaker, empty hands held high, "Woah, woah! I didn't mean nothing by stopping you. Just doing my job. Sir. I'll leave you to your mission."

Turning, the soldier headed off towards the bunker down the street at a very rapid walk.

Croaker mumbled to himself, "I reckon I oughta resolve my current situation before my new friend here meets up with his buddies 'Courage' and 'Stupidity' over at the bunker. If they've gone over to the separatists, this could escalate into a whole lotta paperwork."

Croaker approached the building where the separatists were hiding. Some sort of secure warehouse. Thick, plascrete walls and a single large well-armored door. Croaker scanned the intercom next to the door for booby traps. Finding none, he pushed the talk button, "Excuse me fellas? Republic trooper here. You're gonna have to surrender and come out with your hands up now, or I'll be obliged to kill you all."

A reedy voice came back across the intercom, "We don't recognize the Republic's authority on Ord Mantell. Leave now, and we may let you live. It will take you hours to get through this door, and we have reinforcements inbound."

Croaker rapped on the door with his armored fist. The separatist was right, that was a pretty darn thick door.

Croaker took a big step to the left of the door and raised his assault cannon, pointing it at the wall to the side of the door. The plasma cell started to pulse. The carbine started to spin with a faint whir. White lightning started to crackle around the barrel as the gravitics kicked in.

Croaker depressed the firing stud and drove a trio of five-second bursts through the plascrete wall. Molten debris flew in all directions as a large hole opened up. Croaker rapidly pumped three plasma grenades through the hole and stepped back in front of the armored door, for cover.

With a whoosh, the whole building shook and a gout of flame erupted back out of the hole he had just made. After pausing for the flames to die down, Croaker stuck his head through the large hole next to the door. He counted four blackened bodies amidst the rubble.

"Recon? You got anymore movement in that building?"

The question was met with a stifled chuckle, "Umm, Lieutenant, you'll have to give us a moment to recalibrate our scanners. It seems there has been some sort of explosion?"

"Ahh, sorry about that. They didn't seem interested in surrendering, and I'm feeling a little exposed here. Any vehicles headed towards this village? They said they had help coming. It smelled like a bluff, but I didn't want to give them too much time... in case the local MDF is flaky."

"The three MDF appear to be staying in their bunker, and we show no inbound bogies. Appears clear, sir."

"All righty. I'm calling the base for a lift and sending this pile of poodoo up the chain. Thanks for the assist, Recon."

"Our pleasure, Lt. Have a nice day!"

Croaker grinned. Nice day indeed.