"Well, I've got a few ideas, but I need to get the lay of the land first," Davis says. "Anyone else got any ideas?"

"I'm thinkin'," Hugh says, "that we're burning a hell of a lot of your resources on this. Doesn't feel right to leave such a big mess behind."

He looks to the assembled Resistance fighters.

"You guys need something done before we leave the planet?"

"Uh, no?"

"Let's get outta here!"

"We're lucky they haven't dropped ortillery on this damn rock!"

"Go, go, come on!"

"Fuck this stupid planet!" That one was Mellish.

The shouts from the peanut gallery die down, leaving Brinai to answer, "Let us go. Success in our plans now means freedom for all."

The "recently deceased" members of the team dress themselves in multiple layers of clothing, obscuring their faces with Jonnoperest's torcs as well as more mundane veils and masks. Semo's surprising sewing ability comes into play, and given the Deltas' time in the Middle East it's not hard to swaddle everyone in fairly bungle-proof disguises. The long robes help conceal the SCARs and equipment pouches, while the bulk of the gear goes into traveling bags.

Huim's air is warm, sticky with humidity, clinging to the overlayered disguises. It's a vast shift from the dark and clammy canyon or the cold winds of the Mawteeth.

"Let's hope this thing works," Ngawai mutters. She wraps the final strip of scarf around her head.

Nine would-be Aikoran tour guides and attendants lead fifteen cloaked visitors out of the Body Snatcher and walk towards the quiet gateport.

"If everyone plays it cool, we act flustered, angry and desperate, and spread a little cash around if we have to, then everything should be good," Davis says. "Keep your eyes open, and stick to the plan."

"What is our destination?" Onas asks. He gives a little bow and a smirk as he plays to his role. "Some intermediary world or your prisoner's gateship directly?"

The approach to the gateport main entrance looks like the aftermath of Woodstock. The grass is trampled into mud, bits of debris and litter lie scattered on the ground, and here and there forgotten bits of luggage - a torn robe, a vox, a small bag - poke up from the ground like tiny monuments. Three Turai and two drones look up as the group comes near. The soldiers slowly recompose themselves into "authority mode" and their drones hover close overhead, presumably scanning the group. Apparently none of the open-faced rebels have immediately accessible priors and the arsenal of energy weapons sits deactivated in the various bags.

You can't quite make out the muttered oath one of the Turai grumbles, but he follows it with a moderately amplified "Everyone's gonna have to lose those masks. We gotta scan you before you can enter."

Hugh smiles beneath his mask, then turns to Onas.

"Ayn al-Hammaam?" (Where is the toilet?)

"Someplace safe first, then the gateship. Wouldn't want to tip our hand, would we?"

Once they get up to the entrance of the gateport, Davis sees the Turai at the entrance. He had hoped to avoid encountering them, as the police would probably be easier to con and bully past, but hopefully these particular Turai are on the tail end of a massive shift and are too tired to put up much of an argument. "Che jouri mitounam be foroud gah beram? (How do I get to the airport?)" he says, adding some more concern to his voice.

In the classic "I don't understand you and I wouldn't care what you said anyway" manner, the lead Turai steps closer to Davis and cranks up his helmet amps while motioning with his hands like he's taking off a balaclava made of invisible toilet paper. "I SAID, TAKE OFF YOUR FACE COVERINGS."

"Ah, if I may," says Onas, keeping himself between the Imperials and the Deltas. "Speaking louder will not help, I'm sorry to say. My clients here are members of the Hashateem-Prime Industrial Accord. Their dress preserves their bodies until they can return to the peculiar radiation given off by their native sun."

"Well I gotta scan them. Orders-," the Turai's interrupted. He nods to the other two Imperials. His chrome helmet shakes in defeat. "Weapons scans are negative. You're clear to enter."

And just like that, it's like you're forgotten. The Turai turns back to speak with the other members of his Trin and your twenty-some odd group enters the Huim gateport.

"Peculiar radiation given off by our native sun?" whispers One-Ton. "I can't believe that worked."

It seems as though business is returning to normal inside as well. Maintenance drones clean up several days' detritus. The holographs still show many portals delayed or canceled, but enough traffic has gotten out as of late that the diverse crowds inside the port itself have thinned out to a more manageable size.

Brinai's already on her vox, contacting her man inside the control room. "Eyes elsewhere. Lazy sentinels must be easy to handle. We're in the pipe."

*Todaki, rimward in ten.*

Brinai whispers back to the "Hashateem delegates". "The planet we're going to is Todaki. It's a colony, just got its footgate. Resistance should be light."

Onas takes over, talking mainly to Hugh and Oskell. "We go through, let them kill the connection as normal, then we take out everything. Dial the Gateship right off the Gateway itself so there's no record. Should take less than a minute."

Temple City Space Elevator, Sambasan

Max ducks back into the circular access corridor after laying down a few more suppressing pulse-beams. He takes off just as the first of... well, more than two and less than ten Turai rebound off the wall where Max first entered the space elevator maintenance. They're right on Max's heels but he quickly gains a lead by simply falling down a hole in the floor. He hits the deck below, rolls, and comes back up running.

At least two of them follow Max down. Their oofs echo off the cramped walls. The footfalls of the others thump above Max's head. They're ahead of him now. Max shoots a wild shot over his shoulder to keep his two closest friends at bay, then spins around a corner into a long, straight tunnel. It's like a scaled-up version of the monotask cargo drone systems back on Jang-xur. Massive cargo containers lie piled on top of an eighty-foot wide sled-bot. Spotlights and blinking safety strobes give the tunnel a disorienting sense of space.

Maybe it's the disorientation. Maybe it's his wounds catching up with him. Maybe the Turai were just faster this time, but Max suddenly catches a glimpse of flat-black Turai armor in the spotlight coming for him. The armor shifts to blend with the light as Max brings up his beamer. The spotlight moves away and a now-ghost-white Turai slams into Max.

Max's next few memories are jumbles of beamer-flash, screams, crimson spray, and glimpses of chrome.

Weary. It's the only word that describes the Gateport. You can imagine the throngs of angry peons clamoring for answers, or huddled here and there in tired piles, or the messy fates of the few unlucky enough to be in the front when the Imperials no doubt turned those aforementioned angry throngs into huddled piles.

Because the Imperium hasn't scanned more than half the group, but they're inside the Gateport and thus must have passed checkin, Jonnoperest and Brinai handle the delicate business of procuring passes for the disguised team members.

"It's the old way," Arketta explains quietly. "How they tracked Gate travel before the drone scanners. The pass is keyed to a certain portal at a certain time; when you pass through, it registers a return pulse and wipes the pass. There's a timeout on it; miss the scheduled portal and it wipes itself, plus it triggers a low-level alert."

With the crash course in tickets... in space! over with, Brinai and Jonno return with a handful of shiny plastic keys. "Come, the Todaki portal is scheduled in less than ten minutes," the old woman says.

The lower level contains multiple queues and waiting areas. Holoscreens show the latest reports on the local situation. Imperial ravilars propogandize about the brave fleet forces that destroyed a marauding terrorist cell above Aikoro. The necessary sacrifices were borne by the citizenry with a proud, dutiful stoicism. Stock footage shows orderly Gateport queues and friendly shipmasters handing their pristine vessels over for Imperial inspection.

Although the crowds have died down, the Gateport still boasts an overinflated number of Turai. Their suspicion is palpable as you meander through people clad in all sorts of clothing, from all sorts of planets.

The team ends up crowding into a small waiting area with half a dozen men and women in fairly similar work clothes. They're carrying a large array of luggage. Angel and Semo get a feel for them immediately; they're somewhere between migrant worker and peace corps. Frontier spirit exudes from their lined features. One of them, a short, thick man with skin the color of old leather, takes an immediate interest in the robed members of the team.

"Here ah thought we were the only ones for Todaki," he drawls. "Jonis Aketi, we're headed for the atmo humidificators outta Yoma. Ya'll some kind of... what?" Jonis' gregariousness has drawn sympathetic but nervous glances from some of the other Yomans.

Hugh holds up his left arm, a large flap of his poncho hanging down like a canvas. With measured movements, he slowly sketches Imperial glyphs with his right index finger.

We are Silent Pilgrims. We carry our voices to the end of the universe.

He nods to the short man.

This one greets you.

"Uh... okay then," Jonis smiles. "Well, Todaki's 'bout as close to the end of the universe as ya'll can get."

"Here we go," mentions Bello. The tall man has recovered from his crasher-induced injuries and has moved forward to see the Gateway activate. The ambient lighting in the vicinity brightens slowly to take the edge off the Gateflash, but Todaki's orange and blue stars burn a bright harsh light into the Gateport well after the portal has settled down.

*593 for Todaki, Yoma colony, portal has engaged. Proceed quickly and quietly through the Gateway now.*

Jonis and his small group grab their equipment and trundle towards the sun-baked town square visible through the portal. The rest of you do likewise, shuffling in a three-abreast line. The "Silent Pilgrims" with stingers and beamers have their hands concealed within their robes, piecing together their disassembled weapons and getting ready to power them on once they're through.

The heat difference almost takes you off your feet. Yoma's little Gate area isn't much more than a Gateway sheltered beneath a tall crescent awning. The colony bears some superficial resemblance to Gran's Hope - both seem to be fashioned from the bones of one of the immense Gateships, although Yoma has none of the sprawl you saw in the Aikoran city. The control console for the Gateway is nothing more than a squat domed hut with a good view of the plaza. A small spindly surveillance tower sticks up a few stories from the top of the control hut. You see all of six Turai; three are on foot patrol through the square, there's one outside the hut, and two more leaning against a heavily-abused, banged-up open-topped skimmer.

The Aikoro portal disengages with a whumph. Oskell's rebels throw aside their cloaks, revealing their powered-up weaponry. Even Brinai, Onas, and the Bashakrans are drawing sidearms or knives.

"Clear any resistance! Take out that tower! Get us a portal up NOW!" Onas shouts.

As they clear the gate, Hugh's eyes and fingers flick from Turai to Turai. What looks like a peculiar sort of prayer is all too familiar to the Delta troops under Hugh's command - he's designating targets.

Concurrent with the rebels, the Delta team's cloaks fly open, revealing loaded beamers. In but a second, every Turai has atleast one muzzle pointed at them. Hugh put Angel and himself on taking the two Turai near the skimmer; he briefly sizes up his target, then sends a shot at the target's neck.

(ADS: edited to use beamers)

The little plaza turns into a deadly light show! Hugh's target has just enough time to throw his arms up in front of the blast. There's a wham and the Turai goes down trailing smoke. Angel actually misses - this is the first time he's used an Imperial weapon and it shows.

Luis gets the foot patrol's attention by shooting the lead Imperial in the chest - the armor ablates and the Turai staggers back but it's not a killshot. Semo shoots the guy next to Luis' victim and gets the first maiming of the day. Like Hugh's target, Semo's opponent throws his arms up to protect his vitals. The pulse-beam blows off both his hands.

Davis' eyes are on the Gateway hut. He spins and blows the leg off of the Turai standing guard.

The rest of the group is already firing. It's a blur - Angel sees his target blown apart by a handful of beams. Hugh's man is hit again, red gore spraying out over the sandstone cobbles. The hut guard loses his other leg. Even Brinai drops Semo's maimed Turai. Her stinger screams in time with the multitude of beamer whaps.

Ahaz and Taiz turn their beam rifles on the surveillance tower. The metal supports glow white as they melt and the sensor pods burst like melons. The tower topples backwards off the hut and lands with a crash behind the Gateway awning.

Amazingly, there are still two Turai standing. The duo of patrolmen have been worked over by beam and sliver, but they have enough gas left in their tanks to return fire. One-Ton's target fixated on the control hut and doesn't see the pulse-beam that takes his head off. Young Knut, Oskell's rookie, takes a beam to the guts that sprays his comrades with shredded intestine and burning meat. The skinny rebel's dead before he hits the ground.

Jonis and his hapless humidificator team hit the dirt during the crossfire. At least two of their number are hit. Jonis gets to a crouch, trying to get away, but Onas fires a quick burst through the worker's head. The huge rebel's walking for the Gate hut with nary a care for the two surviving Imperials.

Davis sees One-Ton catch a pulse beam in the face. All he has time to think is Fuck, Swims is gonna be pissed... before moving to get a shot on one of the last two Turai.

As the little skirmish starts to wind down, Luis is already switching from "soldier mode" to "medic mode". His brain is no longer seeing things in terms of "friendly", "enemy", "civillian", and "cover", but in terms of "probably dead", "wounded", and "people between me and the wounded". After so long, the changeover is automatic, and he survey the scene even as he lines up on the remainingTurai.

Probably dead, dead, worth a try, guy with a gun (shoot him), other guy with a gun, hurt civillians...dead civi...hey...

He only caught the tail end of the exchange of fire that puts the leader of the civillian team into the land of the non-living, but h sees that the shot that did it was one of ours--and it was aimed. God-damn it, he curses as he squeezes the trigger again, how are we supposed to win 'hearts and minds' when we're blowing out their brains? Gonna have to have a talk with the team about that...

OOC: Which meaning of the following sentence is correct?
"One-Ton's target fixated on the control hut and doesn't see the pulse-beam that takes his head off."

1. One-Ton has target fixated and doesn't see the beam that takes his head off.
2. The guy One-Ton is targeting is target fixated on something else and doesn't see the beam that takes his head off.

Angel looks at the beam rifle with vague disgust.

"Shee-niou high tech Imperial crap."

Hugh swings his beam rifle around, firing at the remaining turai. They need to get this firefight over with and take the gate controls ASAP.

When the firing stops for a moment, he motions for the Deltas to get behind cover and secure the perimeter. He himself moves back to the gate, staying within reach of the shutdown glyph.

The two Turai still standing through the barrage of blue-white streaks don't have time for a second shot. Hugh and Luis double-team one of the Imperials, their concentrated fire providing a grisly reminder of the beamers' lethality. The Turai's torso armor confettis and his torso ruptures like an overcooked sausage. Luis sees Sergeant Taylor in the Turai's place just for a moment.

Davis' aim is true as well - his already-wounded target's spun around by a hit to the upper chest and falls to the earth hard.

Angel's contemplating transitioning back to his SCAR as he and Semo hunker down behind a buttress formed from old Gateship superstructure. They have a good view of what happens next:

Of the six humidification engineers, one's dead for sure and two more are definitely wounded. The three that remain are still frozen in terror. They're fixated on Onas - especially the still-warm stinger in the rebel's hand - and so they don't register Brinai, Haj, and Oskell bringing their own weapons to bear. A whine and two whaps later, there are only two engineers left and it looks like the rebels are about to cap them as well.

Not everyone's noticed the executions, but of those that have, Arketta looks as surprised as Luis. Ngawai's too busy firing coup-de-graces into the fallen Imperials to care. Ahaz and Taiz look taken aback by their leader. Swalni and Jonnoperest are already producing widgets to intercept what transmissions might have gone out.

"Get the portal open!" Onas shouts at Davis, pointing at Dunamis Kon. The Apprehender's lying prone not too far from their exit point. Onas disappears into the control hut.

"What the fuck, sir?!" Mellish shouts at Hugh in English.