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RP: 4th Fleet (NSN) Party Here in Gartaga


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Theme Music

After three weeks of lazy. idyllic bliss, the Cavaliers re-assembled at 4th Fleet HQ on Nepleslia Prime. They were well-rested and ready to go on their next assignment. The Grand Admiral was not present in the room where they had been instructed to assemble. Instead, Rear Admiral Valencia Ironside and Commandant Shang stood together.

"Let's get down to business," Shang growled. "I'm sure we all remember the business surrounding Admiral Valken's family and the more recent attacks on Nepleslia by mercenaries. No need to rehash it at all. Thanks to the actions of certain IPG assets, however, we have captured sensitive information that confirms what we have learnt from the Rok'Veru offensive. The NMX have, indeed, infiltrated elements of Gartagen society and are using those sources to turn them against us. Specifically, the NMX are exploiting the Pan-Union Trading Company, an organization that has paramilitary resources of its own. We have not been able to identify the sources within the company, nor have we yet received enough information regarding their force strength, disposition or the locations of sensitive areas."

Shang turned to Admiral Ironside, who spoke briefly. "Simply put, Marines, this is a smash and run with the usual amount of subtlety that the IPG employs. I am aware that your training is not as ... comprehensive as the full course but your instructors cleared you for these kinds of operations. All of the Grand Admirals are interested in the progress and accomplishments of our pilot units."

"Finding out information is not your job," Shang took over again. "An Intelligence Operator will contact you once you are on Gartaga with all of the necessary details. The Operator will also direct you to an assembled cache of weapons, including some power armor. A lot of the equipment will be non-standard. We want this to look like the same mercenaries that attacked us are now attacking the Garts. Your objectives are to cause as much damage to the company's infrastructure, kill whoever you can, and most importantly, hack into their computer mainframe and then destroy it. Your exfiltration is going to be through an IPG freighter."

Valencia Ironside looked hard at each Marine. "No prisoners. No witnesses would be better too. This is a deniable operation. Nepleslia will only acknowledge it if you bring back information that links the NMX to the company. Chief Santiago, Sergeant Volkov, do not let any of your Marines be captured either. Is that clear?"

Leon nodded silently.

"Pack civilian clothing. You're going to Gartaga via a commercial liner, with false ID."


As the Marines were waiting to board their passenger ship to Gartaga, they quietly exchanged notes about who they were, pretending to be strangers meeting each other. The cover story for the group was that they were a tourist travel group, with Leon as their guide. "Iridia Mason," Laura 'introduced' herself to Wulfe. "And my husband, Ironfoot Mason," she gestured to Bernhard, dressed and disguised as an older gentleman with a thick beard. He grunted in acknowledgment. Laura was dressed as an over the top young trophy wife, a part that she played well. "I've heard that the food on Gartaga is even more unhealthy than what Neppies serves. Have you heard the same?"


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Delmar stood in the boarding area with the others dressed in khaki shorts and a white tank top with a loose flower print shirt over it. He gazed around taking in the view of the spaceport through his rose colored wire framed shades. The last time he'd been in a place like this he was handcuffed and being escorted by two ID-SOLs through a small crowd of reporters and protesters. This was a welcomed change for him.

Still, he could only wonder if the others knew his whole story or if they'd only been informed that he was serving a prison sentence. Everyone he'd met a year and a half afterward had their opinion. One person had even threatened to kill him!

For the first time in a while he felt free. He'd probably be sorely disappointed when the shooting starts but for now he was happy to just be a random tourist.
I suppose that's why his alias is so fitting...

Brett M

Stan was wearing a gaudy blue t-shirt and tan trousers, with a Panama hat perched jauntily on his head. A drooping false moustache and sunglasses helped "complete" the ensemble. His cover was that he was a photography enthusiast. Indeed, he even had a camera (which was currently hanging on a strap around his neck) and some photographs to help sell the deception. He had also spent many hours poring over his cover story in a bid to avoid any screw ups during the mission.

It felt somewhat peculiar to suddenly be thrust back into the thick of civil life, but Stan had adapted pretty well. Spying Delmar out of the corner of one eye, he wandered over and said, "Hey there, I'm Thomas L. Blake, nice to meet ya! I'm guessing you're going on this tour too, Mr...?"


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Delmar checked his slicked back hair as Stan pulled him from his thoughts. They let him have his mouche back which really helped with his alias.

"Fillmore... Happy Fillmore..." He said, his minor annoyance reflected in his fake sophisticated accent, "my 'parents' had a real sense of humor. Anyway, what's calling you to Gartana, Mr. Blake?"


The Ultimate Badass
Game Master
A rare sight could be seen on Henry's face - it was devoid of a beard and kept only his moustache. He looked completely different one shave later. He also popped a green contact lens into his natural eye to match the cybernetic. Those who knew the man well found that he was dressed in the most unseemly of attires for himself too - he looked like he'd come strolling out of the Delsaurian savannah in a multi-wheel drive vehicle after spending a weekend out there, "'is called Gartaga, Mr. Fillmore," he sounded like he'd be right at home there too, "By the way, th' name's Spike Scott. Pleased to meet ya."

Looking at his attire closer, he seemed to be wearing sun-bleached khaki pants, hiking boots, a loose fitting t-shirt and a vest with spaces for bullets. On his face he had a pair of sunglasses with bent and reshaped frames and scratches in the corners of the lenses. A tan was visible too, but some sunscreen had curbed it from becoming too noticeable.

"Oi Ms. Mason I 'erd the gart food got 'em a dish where they eat somethin' while it's still movin'." The accent was spot on for a thick-as-bricks, true blue Delsaurian, "Sounds like a bloody tall tale t' me."
It wasn't much of what you'd call a disguise but at least it was perfect for the anticipated weather and he played his character well enough to make it seem believable to a Gartagen onlooker. It was always sunny and dry in Gartaga.

Brett M

"Well, Mr. Filmore, I'm hoping to snap myself some photographs!" Stan gestured to his camera. Putting on a winning smile, he added, "There's a prestigious photography competition on, don'tcha know, and I intend to win it! And a beautiful place like Gartaga is just the location I need."

"I don't know," he said to Henry, his smile fading and his eyebrows furrowing in deep thought. "I heard that these guys can eat some pretty funny stuff..."


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A tall woman with long, dark hair approached the other passengers waiting to board the ship. She wore hiking boots, snug khaki pants and a form-fitting long-sleeved shirt. Mirrored sunglasses shielded her eyes and she carried a large tablet tucked under one arm. A lanyard around her neck stated: "Reporter. Freya Jaeger."

Phaedra thought the IPG techs did a marvelous job disguising her somewhat unique features; features that would make her easily recognizable in a crowd. Upon approaching the other waiting passengers, she pulled out her tablet and started tapping away. Her cover was as a reporter for the Funky City Bulletin; a lesser known news organization that frequently made a point of visiting other societies and judging their value as tourist destinations. To Phaedra, this seemed the ideal cover, as she could simply observe the happenings around her and take notes. She glanced at the other passengers, noting some familiar body types and mannerisms of other squad members.

A smirk crossed her lips.

"I did not think clandestine missions were supposed to be entertaining," she thought.
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Delmar simply shrugged as Henry corrected him. Pronunciation had never been very important to him but the military types had always seemed to stress its importance.

Delmar's surprise at Phaedra's normal appearance could easily be seen as his eyebrows popped up from behind his rather small glasses. The cybernetics he'd always found so intimidating were completely missing.
In his alias profile he was supposed to be scouting Gartaga for an action movie. Notes said to inform any inquisitive press that the movie details are restricted so as to prevent being found out. Whether she would be the press they were talking about he couldn't possibly know.
Delmar gave a respectful nod to Phaedra before returning to the conversation. "I've never been to Gartaga," he chimed in, looking at Henry as he carefully annunciated the planet's name, "does anyone know what it's like there? Any good scenery?"


Eric had a rough time deciding what to do for his disguise, but once he had cracked it, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He demanded a mustache as graceful as the waves of old, and as beautiful as the finest maidens of Nepleslia. What he got, unfortunately, was a piece of "donated" human hair glued onto his upper lip. By no means was it silly looking, it just didn't have the grandeur he craved. So there he sat, curling his long and thin mustache with one finger, deftly turning the pages of a small paperback book, aptly titled, "Marines in High Noon." He definitely fit into the western role; sporting a pair of blue jeans that enveloped his rough leather boots on his feet, and clung tightly to his great ass. A plain white shirt with a plaid overshirt completed his ensemble, making him appear like an old fashion villain from a kids movie.

Another passenger, one he might have seen before talked back in forth with another man he swore he had once met. He chalked it up to deja vu and continued reading, pointedly ignoring everyone else when they looked to want to say something to him. He did occasionally make eye contact with the other passengers, all the while playing with his wonderful new mustache.


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Leon appeared with Talbain and a woman in tow.

"Right everyone! Gather around quickly! Boarding is going to start soon and I want to make sure everyone is clear about what's going to happen!"

Once the Marines were gathered around, Leon started talking cheerily again.

"Thank you again for choosing Exotic Excursions as your tour company of choice! I am your guide, Sandy Beaches!" Laura admired how the Chief kept a straight face as he announced his alias.

"I want to let you all know that we had a last minute sign up. Ms. Rosen Eiz is a company rep who will be accompanying us to make sure that there are no issues. Your personal datajockeys will have more information about our specific itinerary. Please consult them during our trip and please don't hesitate to ask questions!"


The same message was on every Marine's datajockey when they checked it during the week long trip.

A-2 Anima will be joining us for this mission. She's old school IPG and back in the Marine Corps. So she's got the qualifications.

We will be dividing into three teams with different assignments.

Team 1: Phaedra, Epic, A-2

Their role will be to scout the positions around the target. Find the choke points, the commanding positions, etc.

Team 2: Henry, Stan, Delmar

Scout the perimeter of the objective and gather intelligence from the locals about the local police and military.

Team 3: Bernhard, Laura, Talbain, Wulfe

Make contact with the local IPG man, take charge of our gear and inspect all of it.

A week later

The Marines were billeted in a fairly economical hotel. Beds, toilets, showers and no questions asked.

Under the pretext of gathering everyone around a map to lay out the day's itinerary, Leon called the Marines together to plan in one of the hotel's conference rooms.

"Everyone's reviewed their assignments. Good news is that our local man can get us building schematics for the PUTCo HQ. Bad news is that there is a small military garrison inside. I don't know what small means but let's assume a battalion of 500. No power armor but they've probably got anti-armor weapons.

Our gear is going to be old stock. Since we want this to look like the mercs who hit Prime, we're not really using current gen equipment. We'll have a couple Hostiles but everything else is either going to be ELEMENTAL series or the Origin suits. Apparently, Old Man Valken had a few of them from some purchase he made years ago and they're now part of the IPG inventory. I don't know if they've been modded or not.

Questions about what you're supposed to do?"
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Anima showed up in hiking gear, long sleeved shirt, khaki pants and very sensible trekking shoes. A wide brimmed leather had provided shade for her pale skin, as well as the aviator sunglasses. She was exceptionally tall, towering a bit above most of them, and certainly over all the passengers on the passenger ship. She tried to hide that with standing a little slumped over, but the moment she was mentioned in any fashion, she couldn't help but instantly straighten up, attentively.
The clothes she wore didn't look new, with just the right amount of scuff-marks and wear at least to the untrained eye. Upon closer look, most of the patina was created purposefully, not naturally.

She greeted them as the company rep Ms. Rosen Eiz with a silent nod, while looking them over. Would she remember them, once they changed from their disguises? She saved at least an image of each one of them to her internal databank, along with all the metrics she could record for now.

A week later -
Once they assembled for the briefing in the conference room, she poured over the map together with the rest of them.

" Is anything known about the history of the building? Was it built as the HQ, or was it re-purposed? Any weak points, like sanitary tunnels beneath that we could use for the purpose of distraction?"


The Ultimate Badass
Game Master
Spike Scott was enjoying his trip around Gartaga as best as he could. The one thing that he was told couldn't be faked was awe and enjoyment of new surroundings. Beneath the mask, Henry Morris was indeed impressed by what he saw, taking many pictures and being sure to take the sights in. The crowdedness of the Gartagen cities and the hot climates reminded him of summertime in Nepleslia and Nepleslia Prime. With the aid of some translators, he was even able to read the news.

There were even reports of unrest, the occasional crime, scrim, gang war, or what have you. Perhaps the prolific breeding qualities of the Gartagens meant that the generations came sooner than those of Nepleslians - keeping plenty of soldiers for these self-sustaining battles. Speaking of, there was something to do with fertility that he avoided once he heard about. The guy who cleaned his hotel's pool had a brother used to work with PUTCO - Spike was just being social, pretending that PUTCO was just another organisation, asking the little questions.

The little questions which, when snowballed with other people around the hotel and the Tourist area into something bigger become a much more complete picture. During his afternoon walks, he got a look at PUTCO's headquarters from afar, occasionally using binoculars to mark points of interest in his mind's eye. He was sure to go high up as well - zeppelin air balloons provided fantastic views of both the weather beaten Sharan desert and his objective.

A Week Later...
"See this over in the back?" Scott said, pointing to the building in the furthest corner of the map, tucked away and walled. "That's their main barracks. I saw a formation out there a couple of days ago during a zeppelin trip. That's where they're going to come from first when they come a knockin' fer our intrusion."

He cleared his throat again. All the dust in the air accumulated in his throat and made his Delsaurian accent even more convincing. "My suggestion's t' have mortars pointed at the place. Idea bein' once high alert goes up, we shell that barracks 'n delay 'em." He let his suggestion hang in the air for a bit. He had other information to put to the table once he got some feedback.