Landing Rig (St)

Looking out at sea Iskra knew the Russian navy's entire Pacific Fleet lay waiting just over the horizon. It was part of the trade embargo her government were trying to instil upon this Californian dictatorship. Strangle their lifeline and the people would revolt against their oppressors. And if they did not - then TG-55 were on hand to ease the passage of their liberators. A day would soon come when the Russian armada would be nestled upon this shore. And to do that they needed a forward staging post.

"But there's no wireless here. Can't we find some place else to establish a foothold?" Iskra was leant against the railings of the tub TG-55 had 'requisitioned', typing futilely into her datapad. Manning this post would be a drag if she couldn't get VK. At least that new American ap she had downloaded named 'Angry Birds' still worked.

Yuri laughed, "If they have to reposition a satellite to keep us on the intranet - they will." In response to this their resident clown Roman (Lyrebird), would break in to a rendition of a modem's dial tone. Iskra's frown deepened.

"Put that away Lieutenant and look sharp. We're about to make landing. Lyrebird stay on board and keep an eye on the radar. Can't be sure the Big Lizard's coast guard didn't spot us. Totem, Excess, Blitz - you're with me." Their leader Major Shevchenko had just joined them on deck. Nobody referred to him by anything other than Tsar, "Did Vector fall off or is he joining us too?"

Vector was semi hidden in the shadows, a nice little corner where the sunlight didn't touch, AK in his clutches and mask on, eyes glowing that eerie pale blue. He looked over the team, they were the best Russia had to offer, he knew that HIVE were below them, and he would do everything in his power to stop them from reaching the base. With that, he also wouldn't blow his cover, he worked too hard for this foot hold. Vector walked up next to Tsar, "Ok, so what we know: This is an oil rig, we need a forward base, and we need fuel. What we don't know: If this rusty bucket even operates. The Tsar and I want to find out if this works. As with always.... Failure will NOT be tolerated. You fail, I will personally put a bullet through your eyes with a smile on my face. TG-55 doesn't fail." Vector then gave the attention back to their leader by slipping into the shadows, hoping hen sufficiently freaked the soldiers out.

Iskra raised her hand as soon as Vector stepped back. She held it there as the Tsar concluded the admittedly late briefing with a mind on the distribution of the equipment they'd brought. They would all be ladened down like pack mules. Yuri especially would have more than his fair share of baggage to lug up the ladder. Roman just looked smug that he'd avoided this duty as he helped tie straps and shoehorn additional pieces into unused crevices. At last the Tsar acknowledged Iskra's schoolyard plea, "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"How could we possibly fail, Sir? We're the equivalent of a production crew arrived to set up a stage. The place is abandoned. The coast guard don't know we're here. And sharks can't jump that high. Unless one of those Sharknados I saw a documentary on suddenly sweep in. It is literally impossible to fail unless someone forgot the bring the IKEA handbook for this furniture set. Sir."

The Tsar wasn't amused, "We're not in dead waters. If a boat of any description, be it fishing or military in design, were to spot us moving around - then the mission is a failure." As he spoke Lyrebird was dragging a camouflage tarp out of the hold and preparing to lay it over the boat, "Any more dumbass questions or can we go now?"

"Now that you mention it-"

"She doesn't, Sir"

"Then Captain, up that ladder."