SS Imperious - Operation Whiteout Mission Day Three

[Ra'gaar 0]

SS Imperious

Operation Whiteout

Mission Day Three

 

Cassie’s last few hours had been spent in the bay that was dedicated to SEAL commando OPS, comparing notes, exchanging methods, considering options. She’d gone through Coronado with a few; knew ’em quite well. A few others she knew of but never teamed with. In addition to planning for ground or ship-to-ship operations, they prepared for boarding, each operative placing unconventional weapons throughout the ship: slivers of metal, strands of wire, ODN line, and firearms that would be unaffected by an EM pulse. In short, anything that could be used as a weapon was concealed in J-tubes, behind panels, in cracks, in the heads. Nothing was taken for granted.

 

And they were all concerned about this mission. The mix of SpecOps and ordinary crew on the SS Imperious had ‘em antsy. For good reason. Too many inexperienced Fleeters, some obviously unable to blend in, had the teams wondering if they, as a cohesive unit, could pull off the whole mercenary thing....

 

The bay was sectioned off - one area for planning, one for mock runs, one for training, one for equipment and lockers, and another for fitness. Cass had changed into sweats and short tank and was weaving past equipment when GySgt Gleason “Kahuna” Momoa, also in sweats, fell in step next to her.

 

“So... who’s the maker?” he asked, casting a critical eye on the tattoo.

 

“Casein.” Cass slipped on her gloves as she approached the bench press. She reset the bar weights and reclined to begin her regimen. “Hurt like a sunofa.”

 

Kahuna puffed out a breath as he stepped behind to spot her. “Doc’s an out-n-out sadist. That thing he has about anesthesia....” He left off, shaking his head.

 

“Perfectionist is more like,” said Cass between lifts. They all knew why Casein didn’t use ‘em. It had nothing to do with naturalism, more to do with toughing up for reality, getting them used to pain, numbing the brain they called it. Given a choice between sweating it out in the office or spilling your guts during torture was a no-brainer if ever there was.

 

Kahuna’s help securing the bar earned him a nod of thanks and they traded places, Moa adding a few extra kilos before beginning. “So, you’re on the bridge,” he began, pressing a sweet 185 kilo at two second intervals, the strain shown only by sweat beading on his chest.

 

“Nav,” said Cass as she watched him carefully, wondering how far he’d go.

 

He gave a grunt as he continued, barely winded. “How are they up there? They towin’ the line?”

 

“They’re fine,” she said, knowing he was voicing the concern she’d heard from various teams in passing. Their training and Fleet training wasn’t exactly the same, but casting doubt on the ability of the crew to accomplish the mission wasn’t going to help the situation. If they were going to work together they’d have to have a can-do attitude no matter what the background. Her biggest problem, though, was putting aside her own prejudices and jerking herself out of the Marine better-than-thou to see the Fleeters as equals, and it wasn’t going to be easy.

 

Some time later, dressed as Ra’gaar, she wiped the Marine out of her personality and entered the bridge, giving the area the once-over before settling behind the navigation console.

 

“Geez, Marcie - you look like six miles of bad road!” Shalin, in the command chair.

 

She gave a shrug. “Goes with the territory.” Swiveling her chair, she gave him the once-over. “You look pretty nasty yourself. Except for your face. SPECOPS have anything to say about it?”

 

He gave a lighthearted snort. “I look like a total poser. Hopefully the Captain will know enough not to assign me to anything on the ground.”

 

On the ground? Damn. He was clueless. Had no idea what he was getting into. What the hell kind of preparation did they give him?

 

“I’d agree with that one,” she said, “...and if we’re boarded, you’re toast. Easy pickings.” She turned back to work, catching the eye of Lt. Kvar as she entered.

 

“Lootenant on the bridge! I'm not in charge - I'm not in charge!” he said.

 

Ra’gaar froze mid-keystroke. Raising her gaze to the viewscreen, her jaw twitched in a clench. Gonna be a long mission.