Dear Diary,
Gods that sounds awful. Still, I’ve got to start somehow, and since this is only intended for myself than it’s as good a start as any, I suppose. I’m writing this more to try to set my thoughts in order than for posterity, than to win any literary awards. Hell, I’ll probably be mortally embarrassed if anyone else should happen to actually read it.
Anyway…
I’ve been in combat before. In my time first traveling and learning about the stair with Ilsa we had more hairy encounters than I like to think about. Mostly though they were things or situations we simply blundered into, and our primary thought was to extricate ourselves while we were still mostly intact. Our technique has improved over time, but stepping through unknown doors still involves a great deal of risk.
Today was different. Today I elected to boldly go into harm’s way. (Hmm. I think I split an infinitive there. I wonder if the stair translates bad grammar into whatever language the locals speak, assuming they even have something resembling grammar. I wonder how I’d even find out. I wonder if linguists go crazy not being able to actually listen to the local language. Something to worry about another day.)
Four years at one of Drake’s academies has taught me a lot, although I suspect Ilsa would still put me in the category of someone who ‘knows enough to be dangerous to himself.’ I can’t say that real world experience has led me to disagree with this. I think my attitude going in was this would be like another training exercise I could breeze through with a minimum of forethought and planning. I was wrong.
Instead of going in as a unit, we waltzed in as a gang of individuals, with no clear concept of leadership or plan of attack. The unknown nature of the threat encouraged this somewhat, but we still should have made some assessment of our various abilities and assessed potential individual vulnerabilities and planned how to compensate.
Equipment was another example of short sighted planning. I know I simply picked up a plasma rifle so I could blow away some bad guys, depending on my own personal armor to protect me. No one gave any thought to equipping everyone with communications gear, enhanced vision equipment, or simple body armor for those who had no protection of their own. I know I didn’t pack an medical field kit, again relying on my own personal armor and not considering the rest of the team. Again, despite all our academy training, we’re still thinking and acting as individuals.
I’m not sure if talking the mission over with Uncle Cedric beforehand would have helped with any of this. I believe there are some lessons which can only really be learned though experience, particularly lessons learned from making mistakes. The trick is to survive those mistakes, and if this mission ends really badly I don’t want one of my mistakes to have been involving my uncle in the planning for a mission which was only a technicality away from a direct breech of Drake’s orders. I owe him that much.
The exit through the door could have gone better. Sturm, as expected, charged through and engaged their heavy hitter. Lacking any Gossamer effecting ability I broke off to the side and started distracting as much of the remaining opposition as I could. They were obliging enough to follow, and I danced the dance with them, using their tendency to ignore ordinance littering the field from an earlier battle to inflict damage on them from the sides and back while their defenses were focussed forward to ward attack from my plasma rifle. I was slightly surprised that I didn’t get any support against these guys, but it turned out I didn’t really need it and the others were mostly working to determine the nature of the opposition, which was a major reason for our coming here in the first place.
By this time a large wall had been erected between us and the large number of hostile reinforcements en-route. The legionnaires who had been fighting near the door when we came though had abandoned their mecha and attempted to flee through the door once they became aware of us not knowing the door had been sealed immediately after we came through. It was a fatal mistake on their part, not to mention our loosing a chance at gaining local intelligence. I hate to think the kind of hell they must have been living through to risk their lives on such a slim hope of escape.
Sturm and the others were still engaged with their heavy hitter, leaving it to me to arrange our own departure plans before the enemy reinforcements arrived. Focussing my thoughts through Falmorath I molded Gossamer, turning the drone (now minus the Icon and associated apparatus) into a conveyance capable of carrying the lot of us out of the immediate vicinity of the door. The overloaded vehicle wasn’t going to be able to reach any great altitude, but I intended flying nap-of-the-earth to stay out of line of sight of the approaching enemy anyway. By now everyone else was ready to go, the enemy heavy hitter was now busy firing at the rest of the enemy reinforcements and effectively covering our retreat. Along with the mecha this turned out to be another potential intelligence asset lost, although I’m not sure how we could have brought any of them with us.
Our destination was a place of power located out of sight to the south of the door. It turned out to be a temple dedicated to a great Master of the Stair whose design and layout reflected some of the tracery of the eidolon. A recorded tourist greeting has been hacked by Soma-sota to inform visitors that the enemy will not attack the temple, although if silence is not maintained inside they will send troops to deal with the desecrators. We split up. I stay outside and scan the structure for any Doors while some of the others go inside. A wave of over-pressure warns of the imminent arrival of a cruise missile. We bolt inside the temple, barely ahead of a blast which disintegrates everything outside the temple walls. Another almost fatal bit of arrogance on our part, assuming the opposition didn’t know where we had gone and weren’t going to bother dealing with us.
Mena has been in touch with Baudemagus via his icon. He thanked us for the intelligence we gave him so far and suggested getting in touch with the Soma-sota’s forces via the communications gear of legionnaires who had been fighting by the door. That would be in the mecha we abandoned. Or in the drone left just outside the temple and now destroyed.
Cyra manages to put together a spell and retrieves the mecha. Over the emergency channel we’re receiving a message from a prisoner, the head of the unit which had been fighting by the gate when we arrived. Stored in the mecha is an emergency rescue plan in case anyone is stupid enough to try to rescue a prisoner from the enemy stronghold. Stored in the mecha which the enemy has had the access and time to compromise. The enemy has taken no noticeable action against us since destroying our one piece of uncompromised local communications gear. The situation has trap written all over it, yet this prisoner may be essential to successfully completing our mission, and the clock is ticking.
We’ve been lucky so far. If we don’t get better coordinated soon, that luck may run out.
Written by Dave Nebiker