https://caseamber.com/index.php?action=history&feed=atom&title=Vignette%3ARelief_Patrol 2026-06-03T00:15:37Z Revision history for this page on the wiki MediaWiki 1.42.3 https://caseamber.com/index.php?title=Vignette:Relief_Patrol&diff=1084&oldid=prev 2025-09-02T15:02:33Z

<p></p> <table style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122;" data-mw="interface"> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <tr class="diff-title" lang="en"> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">← Older revision</td> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">Revision as of 11:02, 2 September 2025</td> </tr><tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno" id="mw-diff-left-l49">Line 49:</td> <td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno">Line 49:</td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}The four set off with Henson Crater to their backs and the perimeter fence to their left. Every step felt like stepping in marshmallows as the gel layer under the soles of their feet redistributed. The muffled crunch of fine powder lightly vibrated suits, like walking on the beach with your ears plugged. Before each patrol Nav told himself it wasn’t so demanding—at least the impact forces weren&#039;t, and it wasn&#039;t like they were wearing these bulky suits under Earth gravity. That was just a coping strategy though. Hopping around up and down hill for 8 hours would take its toll regardless and everything below chest level became terribly sweaty inside the skintight body glove.</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}The four set off with Henson Crater to their backs and the perimeter fence to their left. Every step felt like stepping in marshmallows as the gel layer under the soles of their feet redistributed. The muffled crunch of fine powder lightly vibrated suits, like walking on the beach with your ears plugged. Before each patrol Nav told himself it wasn’t so demanding—at least the impact forces weren&#039;t, and it wasn&#039;t like they were wearing these bulky suits under Earth gravity. That was just a coping strategy though. Hopping around up and down hill for 8 hours would take its toll regardless and everything below chest level became terribly sweaty inside the skintight body glove.</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}Any wonder Nav felt during his first weeks out on the lunar surface—seeing the Earth for the first time in third person and a world as alien as the crater pocked south pole of Luna in the same frame—was beaten out of him by these exhausting patrols without so much as a crisis to break up the monotony. All there was for them was endless grey and endless black, every other day until they were rotated back to ''terra firma''. The military was good at squeezing all enjoyment out of childhood dreams if you let your guard down. The fact that the bluff's Marine Detachment wasn't resourced buggies to motorize their <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">perimeter </del>checkups like their US Air Force Field Security counterparts was testament. Just as well, the country boys in 2nd Platoon would probably wreck them on boulders in the first week after trying to whip them around like their hovertracks back home. Perhaps the feeling of being victimized by the other branches was easier to swallow than the Marine Corps not trusting its Marines. Sometimes the fairest of calls hurt the most.</div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}Any wonder Nav felt during his first weeks out on the lunar surface—seeing the Earth for the first time in third person and a world as alien as the crater pocked south pole of Luna in the same frame—was beaten out of him by these exhausting patrols without so much as a crisis to break up the monotony. All there was for them was endless grey and endless black, every other day until they were rotated back to ''terra firma''. The military was good at squeezing all enjoyment out of childhood dreams if you let your guard down. The fact that the bluff's Marine Detachment wasn't resourced buggies to motorize their checkups <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">on nothing </ins>like their US Air Force Field Security counterparts was testament. Just as well, the country boys in 2nd Platoon would probably wreck them on boulders in the first week after trying to whip them around like their hovertracks back home. Perhaps the feeling of being victimized by the other branches was easier to swallow than the Marine Corps not trusting its Marines. Sometimes the fairest of calls hurt the most.</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A red pennant frozen mid-flap gradually came into view—the RV Keller marker. Another four figures, positively caked in grey dust, approached from the other direction, towing their own cart full of drained batteries. They were actually about 5 miles away from the main facilities of Battery Blue on Henson’s rim—an elevator and tram brought the perimeter patrols to an annex at the base of the crater to cut down the walk.</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A red pennant frozen mid-flap gradually came into view—the RV Keller marker. Another four figures, positively caked in grey dust, approached from the other direction, towing their own cart full of drained batteries. They were actually about 5 miles away from the main facilities of Battery Blue on Henson’s rim—an elevator and tram brought the perimeter patrols to an annex at the base of the crater to cut down the walk.</div></td></tr> </table>

Admin https://caseamber.com/index.php?title=Vignette:Relief_Patrol&diff=1083&oldid=prev 2025-09-02T14:49:23Z

<p></p> <table style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122;" data-mw="interface"> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <tr class="diff-title" lang="en"> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">← Older revision</td> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">Revision as of 10:49, 2 September 2025</td> </tr><tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno" id="mw-diff-left-l83">Line 83:</td> <td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno">Line 83:</td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}One of the interceptors pulled a neckbreaking turn, accelerated almost perpendicular from its initial trajectory, and exploded directly over the crater. Surely they weren’t actually intercepting something? It must have been some sort of accident and a programmed self-destruction.   </div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}One of the interceptors pulled a neckbreaking turn, accelerated almost perpendicular from its initial trajectory, and exploded directly over the crater. Surely they weren’t actually intercepting something? It must have been some sort of accident and a programmed self-destruction.   </div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}But then another interceptor exploded. Behind it Nav could just make out the glint of something tearing through the sky, but it was gone in an instant, lost in the black backdrop. Suddenly, the crater erupted in a blinding flash. The Marines cowered, tripping over themselves to get behind the handcart and a nearby rock while shielding their visors. Even in their suits there was an intense heat and a shock wave shuddered the ground beneath their feet. Romano's dosimeter alarmed as its dose-rate and absolute dose limit were immediately surpassed. The fan in Nav's helmet began to hiss as its outer-most layer singed. His chest was bitten with a sharp cold as a reactive mixture was automatically injected into his gel layer to try and counteract the heating. As they looked backed up they were transfixed on the battle that was apparently raging without them. Another impact immediately followed, but seemed to penetrate the ground because instead of a fireball it ejected a column of dust high over the horizon. Battery Blue's last interceptor tried launching, but instead of elegantly shooting into the heavens it clumsily veered off, degenerating into a violent spiral and detonating on the farside of the crater.  </div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}But then another interceptor exploded. Behind it Nav could just make out the glint of something tearing through the sky, but it was gone in an instant, lost in the black backdrop. Suddenly, the crater erupted in a blinding flash. The Marines cowered, tripping over themselves to get behind the handcart and a nearby rock while shielding their visors. Even in their suits there was an intense heat and a shock wave shuddered the ground beneath their feet. Romano's dosimeter alarmed as its dose-rate and absolute dose limit were immediately surpassed. The fan in Nav's helmet began to hiss as its outer-most layer singed<ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">, forcing a smell halfway between gunpowder and burnt hair into his air supply</ins>. His chest was bitten with a sharp cold as a reactive mixture was automatically injected into his gel layer to try and counteract the heating. As they looked backed up they were transfixed on the battle that was apparently raging without them. Another impact immediately followed, but seemed to penetrate the ground because instead of a fireball it ejected a column of dust high over the horizon. Battery Blue's last interceptor tried launching, but instead of elegantly shooting into the heavens it clumsily veered off, degenerating into a violent spiral and detonating on the farside of the crater.  </div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A ball of terror dropped in Nav&#039;s stomach like a stone in the ocean, as if he had just watched a train plow through a car he neglected on the tracks. The logic stored in his lifepack squawked offensively to coax Nav back into respiration. Too many thoughts, too much bandwidth spent absorbing what he had just witnessed, not enough left to remember to breath or blink. It didn&#039;t even cross Nav&#039;s mind that the rock-embedded sanctuary that he just emerged from was just nuked, twice, once seemingly via a penetrator warhead. What was to be done?</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A ball of terror dropped in Nav&#039;s stomach like a stone in the ocean, as if he had just watched a train plow through a car he neglected on the tracks. The logic stored in his lifepack squawked offensively to coax Nav back into respiration. Too many thoughts, too much bandwidth spent absorbing what he had just witnessed, not enough left to remember to breath or blink. It didn&#039;t even cross Nav&#039;s mind that the rock-embedded sanctuary that he just emerged from was just nuked, twice, once seemingly via a penetrator warhead. What was to be done?</div></td></tr> </table>

Admin https://caseamber.com/index.php?title=Vignette:Relief_Patrol&diff=1082&oldid=prev 2025-09-02T14:46:29Z

<p></p> <table style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122;" data-mw="interface"> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <tr class="diff-title" lang="en"> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">← Older revision</td> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">Revision as of 10:46, 2 September 2025</td> </tr><tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno" id="mw-diff-left-l49">Line 49:</td> <td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno">Line 49:</td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}The four set off with Henson Crater to their backs and the perimeter fence to their left. Every step felt like stepping in marshmallows as the gel layer under the soles of their feet redistributed. The muffled crunch of fine powder lightly vibrated suits, like walking on the beach with your ears plugged. Before each patrol Nav told himself it wasn’t so demanding—at least the impact forces weren&#039;t, and it wasn&#039;t like they were wearing these bulky suits under Earth gravity. That was just a coping strategy though. Hopping around up and down hill for 8 hours would take its toll regardless and everything below chest level became terribly sweaty inside the skintight body glove.</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}The four set off with Henson Crater to their backs and the perimeter fence to their left. Every step felt like stepping in marshmallows as the gel layer under the soles of their feet redistributed. The muffled crunch of fine powder lightly vibrated suits, like walking on the beach with your ears plugged. Before each patrol Nav told himself it wasn’t so demanding—at least the impact forces weren&#039;t, and it wasn&#039;t like they were wearing these bulky suits under Earth gravity. That was just a coping strategy though. Hopping around up and down hill for 8 hours would take its toll regardless and everything below chest level became terribly sweaty inside the skintight body glove.</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}Any wonder Nav felt during his first weeks out on the lunar surface—seeing the Earth for the first time and a world as alien as the crater pocked south pole of Luna in the same frame—was beaten out of him by these exhausting patrols without so much as a crisis to break up the monotony. All there was for them was endless grey and endless black, every other day until they were rotated back to ''terra firma''. The military was good at squeezing all enjoyment out of childhood dreams if you let your guard down. The fact that the bluff's Marine Detachment wasn't resourced buggies to motorize their perimeter checkups like their US Air Force Field Security counterparts was testament. Just as well, the country boys in 2nd Platoon would probably wreck them on boulders in the first week after trying to whip them around like their hovertracks back home. Perhaps the feeling of being victimized by the other branches was easier to swallow than the Marine Corps not trusting its Marines. Sometimes the fairest of calls hurt the most.</div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}Any wonder Nav felt during his first weeks out on the lunar surface—seeing the Earth for the first time <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">in third person </ins>and a world as alien as the crater pocked south pole of Luna in the same frame—was beaten out of him by these exhausting patrols without so much as a crisis to break up the monotony. All there was for them was endless grey and endless black, every other day until they were rotated back to ''terra firma''. The military was good at squeezing all enjoyment out of childhood dreams if you let your guard down. The fact that the bluff's Marine Detachment wasn't resourced buggies to motorize their perimeter checkups like their US Air Force Field Security counterparts was testament. Just as well, the country boys in 2nd Platoon would probably wreck them on boulders in the first week after trying to whip them around like their hovertracks back home. Perhaps the feeling of being victimized by the other branches was easier to swallow than the Marine Corps not trusting its Marines. Sometimes the fairest of calls hurt the most.</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A red pennant frozen mid-flap gradually came into view—the RV Keller marker. Another four figures, positively caked in grey dust, approached from the other direction, towing their own cart full of drained batteries. They were actually about 5 miles away from the main facilities of Battery Blue on Henson’s rim—an elevator and tram brought the perimeter patrols to an annex at the base of the crater to cut down the walk.</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A red pennant frozen mid-flap gradually came into view—the RV Keller marker. Another four figures, positively caked in grey dust, approached from the other direction, towing their own cart full of drained batteries. They were actually about 5 miles away from the main facilities of Battery Blue on Henson’s rim—an elevator and tram brought the perimeter patrols to an annex at the base of the crater to cut down the walk.</div></td></tr> </table>

Admin https://caseamber.com/index.php?title=Vignette:Relief_Patrol&diff=1081&oldid=prev 2025-09-02T14:40:22Z

<p></p> <table style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122;" data-mw="interface"> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <tr class="diff-title" lang="en"> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">← Older revision</td> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">Revision as of 10:40, 2 September 2025</td> </tr><tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno" id="mw-diff-left-l85">Line 85:</td> <td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno">Line 85:</td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}But then another interceptor exploded. Behind it Nav could just make out the glint of something tearing through the sky, but it was gone in an instant, lost in the black backdrop. Suddenly, the crater erupted in a blinding flash. The Marines cowered, tripping over themselves to get behind the handcart and a nearby rock while shielding their visors. Even in their suits there was an intense heat and a shock wave shuddered the ground beneath their feet. Romano&#039;s dosimeter alarmed as its dose-rate and absolute dose limit were immediately surpassed. The fan in Nav&#039;s helmet began to hiss as its outer-most layer singed. His chest was bitten with a sharp cold as a reactive mixture was automatically injected into his gel layer to try and counteract the heating. As they looked backed up they were transfixed on the battle that was apparently raging without them. Another impact immediately followed, but seemed to penetrate the ground because instead of a fireball it ejected a column of dust high over the horizon. Battery Blue&#039;s last interceptor tried launching, but instead of elegantly shooting into the heavens it clumsily veered off, degenerating into a violent spiral and detonating on the farside of the crater.  </div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}But then another interceptor exploded. Behind it Nav could just make out the glint of something tearing through the sky, but it was gone in an instant, lost in the black backdrop. Suddenly, the crater erupted in a blinding flash. The Marines cowered, tripping over themselves to get behind the handcart and a nearby rock while shielding their visors. Even in their suits there was an intense heat and a shock wave shuddered the ground beneath their feet. Romano&#039;s dosimeter alarmed as its dose-rate and absolute dose limit were immediately surpassed. The fan in Nav&#039;s helmet began to hiss as its outer-most layer singed. His chest was bitten with a sharp cold as a reactive mixture was automatically injected into his gel layer to try and counteract the heating. As they looked backed up they were transfixed on the battle that was apparently raging without them. Another impact immediately followed, but seemed to penetrate the ground because instead of a fireball it ejected a column of dust high over the horizon. Battery Blue&#039;s last interceptor tried launching, but instead of elegantly shooting into the heavens it clumsily veered off, degenerating into a violent spiral and detonating on the farside of the crater.  </div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A ball of terror dropped in Nav's stomach like a stone in the ocean, as if he had just watched a train plow through a car he neglected on the tracks. The logic stored in his lifepack squawked offensively to coax Nav back into respiration. Too many thoughts, too much bandwidth spent absorbing what he had just witnessed, not enough left to remember to breath. It didn't even cross Nav's mind that the rock-embedded sanctuary that he just emerged from was just nuked, twice, once seemingly via a penetrator warhead. What was to be done?</div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A ball of terror dropped in Nav's stomach like a stone in the ocean, as if he had just watched a train plow through a car he neglected on the tracks. The logic stored in his lifepack squawked offensively to coax Nav back into respiration. Too many thoughts, too much bandwidth spent absorbing what he had just witnessed, not enough left to remember to breath <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">or blink</ins>. It didn't even cross Nav's mind that the rock-embedded sanctuary that he just emerged from was just nuked, twice, once seemingly via a penetrator warhead. What was to be done?</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“Whippet Main, this is Whippet 1-7. Mushroom Echo, Mushroom Echo. I’m seeing multiple explosions at Battery Blue and getting radiation alarms. Please advise, over.”</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“Whippet Main, this is Whippet 1-7. Mushroom Echo, Mushroom Echo. I’m seeing multiple explosions at Battery Blue and getting radiation alarms. Please advise, over.”</div></td></tr> </table>

Admin https://caseamber.com/index.php?title=Vignette:Relief_Patrol&diff=1080&oldid=prev 2025-09-02T14:40:04Z

<p></p> <table style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122;" data-mw="interface"> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <tr class="diff-title" lang="en"> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">← Older revision</td> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">Revision as of 10:40, 2 September 2025</td> </tr><tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno" id="mw-diff-left-l85">Line 85:</td> <td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno">Line 85:</td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}But then another interceptor exploded. Behind it Nav could just make out the glint of something tearing through the sky, but it was gone in an instant, lost in the black backdrop. Suddenly, the crater erupted in a blinding flash. The Marines cowered, tripping over themselves to get behind the handcart and a nearby rock while shielding their visors. Even in their suits there was an intense heat and a shock wave shuddered the ground beneath their feet. Romano&#039;s dosimeter alarmed as its dose-rate and absolute dose limit were immediately surpassed. The fan in Nav&#039;s helmet began to hiss as its outer-most layer singed. His chest was bitten with a sharp cold as a reactive mixture was automatically injected into his gel layer to try and counteract the heating. As they looked backed up they were transfixed on the battle that was apparently raging without them. Another impact immediately followed, but seemed to penetrate the ground because instead of a fireball it ejected a column of dust high over the horizon. Battery Blue&#039;s last interceptor tried launching, but instead of elegantly shooting into the heavens it clumsily veered off, degenerating into a violent spiral and detonating on the farside of the crater.  </div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}But then another interceptor exploded. Behind it Nav could just make out the glint of something tearing through the sky, but it was gone in an instant, lost in the black backdrop. Suddenly, the crater erupted in a blinding flash. The Marines cowered, tripping over themselves to get behind the handcart and a nearby rock while shielding their visors. Even in their suits there was an intense heat and a shock wave shuddered the ground beneath their feet. Romano&#039;s dosimeter alarmed as its dose-rate and absolute dose limit were immediately surpassed. The fan in Nav&#039;s helmet began to hiss as its outer-most layer singed. His chest was bitten with a sharp cold as a reactive mixture was automatically injected into his gel layer to try and counteract the heating. As they looked backed up they were transfixed on the battle that was apparently raging without them. Another impact immediately followed, but seemed to penetrate the ground because instead of a fireball it ejected a column of dust high over the horizon. Battery Blue&#039;s last interceptor tried launching, but instead of elegantly shooting into the heavens it clumsily veered off, degenerating into a violent spiral and detonating on the farside of the crater.  </div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A ball of terror dropped in Nav's stomach like a stone in the ocean, as if he had just watched a train plow through <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">his father's </del>car <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">after </del>he <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">parked it </del>on the tracks. <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">His suit </del>squawked offensively <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">in his ear </del>to coax <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">him </del>back into respiration. Too many thoughts, too much bandwidth spent absorbing what he had just witnessed, not enough left to remember to breath. It didn't even cross Nav's mind that the rock-embedded sanctuary that he just emerged from was just nuked, twice, once seemingly via a penetrator warhead. What was to be done?</div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A ball of terror dropped in Nav's stomach like a stone in the ocean, as if he had just watched a train plow through <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">a </ins>car he <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">neglected </ins>on the tracks. <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">The logic stored in his lifepack </ins>squawked offensively to coax <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Nav </ins>back into respiration. Too many thoughts, too much bandwidth spent absorbing what he had just witnessed, not enough left to remember to breath. It didn't even cross Nav's mind that the rock-embedded sanctuary that he just emerged from was just nuked, twice, once seemingly via a penetrator warhead. What was to be done?</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“Whippet Main, this is Whippet 1-7. Mushroom Echo, Mushroom Echo. I’m seeing multiple explosions at Battery Blue and getting radiation alarms. Please advise, over.”</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“Whippet Main, this is Whippet 1-7. Mushroom Echo, Mushroom Echo. I’m seeing multiple explosions at Battery Blue and getting radiation alarms. Please advise, over.”</div></td></tr> </table>

Admin https://caseamber.com/index.php?title=Vignette:Relief_Patrol&diff=1079&oldid=prev 2025-09-02T14:21:52Z

<p></p> <table style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122;" data-mw="interface"> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <tr class="diff-title" lang="en"> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">← Older revision</td> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">Revision as of 10:21, 2 September 2025</td> </tr><tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno" id="mw-diff-left-l29">Line 29:</td> <td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno">Line 29:</td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}Nav and Shoey joined Romano and Corporal Salamanca out on the dusty courtyard leading out towards the perimeter fence. White walls and steel catwalks towered over them on three sides, while the fourth—straight ahead—faced straight into the black-white horizon. Their well-used white “mobility kits” were stained grey from moon dust.  Salamanca towed a cart stacked with replacement batteries for the remote sensors that Red shift would come across on their eight hours of walking. Their bulbous helmets were shrouded by mesh bags to break up their silhouettes, although it did nothing for their conspicuous amber visors that caught the sun at every angle. Anything less and their field of vision, especially up close, would be cut from terrible to nil. Their backs were also all draped in neon orange signal panels for safety, but no one would bring up a uniform contradiction to the Detachment Sergeant Major. The suits &#039;&#039;were&#039;&#039; a bit more “tactical” than those worn by their civilian counterparts in that they had they could kneel and probably wouldn’t tear anything from a low speed fall, but seeing and moving was still a frustrating affair.</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}Nav and Shoey joined Romano and Corporal Salamanca out on the dusty courtyard leading out towards the perimeter fence. White walls and steel catwalks towered over them on three sides, while the fourth—straight ahead—faced straight into the black-white horizon. Their well-used white “mobility kits” were stained grey from moon dust.  Salamanca towed a cart stacked with replacement batteries for the remote sensors that Red shift would come across on their eight hours of walking. Their bulbous helmets were shrouded by mesh bags to break up their silhouettes, although it did nothing for their conspicuous amber visors that caught the sun at every angle. Anything less and their field of vision, especially up close, would be cut from terrible to nil. Their backs were also all draped in neon orange signal panels for safety, but no one would bring up a uniform contradiction to the Detachment Sergeant Major. The suits &#039;&#039;were&#039;&#039; a bit more “tactical” than those worn by their civilian counterparts in that they had they could kneel and probably wouldn’t tear anything from a low speed fall, but seeing and moving was still a frustrating affair.</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}Each <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">of the Marines </del>carried a rifle specially designed to be operated with bulky pressure suit gloves and interface with their suit’s gel system to ease the trigger pull. It handled like a hollow plastic toy in lunar gravity. Radiator fins protruded far from the barrel to disperse the heat as best as possible, although the amount of sustained fire they could get out of them was still not stellar. In theory they could take advantage of a barrel-change system when stationary, although the armorer at Battery Blue pinned the barrels in place. The only shots that had ever been fired on the installation were negligent discharges and each patrolman only carried two magazines anyway. Nav though, not yet qualified on the American rifle when wearing a full-pressure suit, only carried a holstered sidearm.</div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}Each <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Marine </ins>carried a rifle specially designed to be operated with bulky pressure suit gloves and interface with their suit’s gel system to ease the trigger pull. It handled like a hollow plastic toy in lunar gravity<ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">, which made it even more tricky to be mindful enough to not accidentally grip a steel component with pent up energy</ins>. Radiator fins protruded far from the barrel to disperse the heat as best as possible <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">in a vacuum</ins>, although the amount of sustained fire they could get out of them was still not stellar. In theory they could take advantage of a barrel-change system when stationary, although the armorer at Battery Blue pinned the barrels in place. The only shots that had ever been fired on the installation were negligent discharges and each patrolman only carried two magazines anyway. Nav though, not yet qualified on the American rifle when wearing a full-pressure suit, only carried a holstered sidearm.</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“Alright gents, be on the lookout for ghosts and don’t fuck with the wildlife,” Romano said. “And Salamanca, if you flip the cart again we’re shooting you in the knees.”</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“Alright gents, be on the lookout for ghosts and don’t fuck with the wildlife,” Romano said. “And Salamanca, if you flip the cart again we’re shooting you in the knees.”</div></td></tr> </table>

Admin https://caseamber.com/index.php?title=Vignette:Relief_Patrol&diff=1078&oldid=prev 2025-09-02T14:12:31Z

<p></p> <table style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122;" data-mw="interface"> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <tr class="diff-title" lang="en"> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">← Older revision</td> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">Revision as of 10:12, 2 September 2025</td> </tr><tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno" id="mw-diff-left-l47">Line 47:</td> <td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno">Line 47:</td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“And yet I’m amazed everytime, sir.”</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“And yet I’m amazed everytime, sir.”</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}The four set off with Henson Crater to their backs and the perimeter fence to their left. Every step felt like stepping in marshmallows as the gel layer under the soles of their feet redistributed. The muffled crunch of fine powder lightly vibrated suits, like walking on the beach with your ears plugged. Before each patrol Nav told himself it wasn’t so demanding—at least the impact forces weren't, and it wasn't like they were wearing these bulky suits under Earth gravity. That was just a coping strategy though. Hopping around up and down hill for 8 hours would take its toll regardless and everything below chest level became terribly sweaty inside the skintight body glove. Any wonder <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">that </del>Nav felt during his first weeks out on the lunar surface—seeing the Earth for the first time <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">or </del>a world as alien as the crater pocked south pole of <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Luna—was </del>beaten out of him by these exhausting patrols without so much as a crisis to break up the monotony. All there was for them was endless grey and endless black, every other day until they were rotated back to ''terra firma''. The military was good at squeezing all enjoyment out of childhood dreams if you let your guard down. The fact that the bluff's Marine Detachment wasn't resourced buggies to motorize their perimeter checkups like their US Air Force Field Security counterparts was testament. Just as well, the country boys in 2nd Platoon would probably wreck them on boulders in the first week after trying to whip them around like their hovertracks back home. Perhaps the feeling of being victimized by the other branches was easier to swallow than the Marine Corps not trusting its Marines. Sometimes the fairest of calls hurt the most.</div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}The four set off with Henson Crater to their backs and the perimeter fence to their left. Every step felt like stepping in marshmallows as the gel layer under the soles of their feet redistributed. The muffled crunch of fine powder lightly vibrated suits, like walking on the beach with your ears plugged. Before each patrol Nav told himself it wasn’t so demanding—at least the impact forces weren't, and it wasn't like they were wearing these bulky suits under Earth gravity. That was just a coping strategy though. Hopping around up and down hill for 8 hours would take its toll regardless and everything below chest level became terribly sweaty inside the skintight body glove.</div></td></tr> <tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-side-deleted"></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div> </div></td></tr> <tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-side-deleted"></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div><ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">{{Indent vig}}</ins>Any wonder Nav felt during his first weeks out on the lunar surface—seeing the Earth for the first time <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">and </ins>a world as alien as the crater pocked south pole of <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">Luna in the same frame—was </ins>beaten out of him by these exhausting patrols without so much as a crisis to break up the monotony. All there was for them was endless grey and endless black, every other day until they were rotated back to ''terra firma''. The military was good at squeezing all enjoyment out of childhood dreams if you let your guard down. The fact that the bluff's Marine Detachment wasn't resourced buggies to motorize their perimeter checkups like their US Air Force Field Security counterparts was testament. Just as well, the country boys in 2nd Platoon would probably wreck them on boulders in the first week after trying to whip them around like their hovertracks back home. Perhaps the feeling of being victimized by the other branches was easier to swallow than the Marine Corps not trusting its Marines. Sometimes the fairest of calls hurt the most.</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A red pennant frozen mid-flap gradually came into view—the RV Keller marker. Another four figures, positively caked in grey dust, approached from the other direction, towing their own cart full of drained batteries. They were actually about 5 miles away from the main facilities of Battery Blue on Henson’s rim—an elevator and tram brought the perimeter patrols to an annex at the base of the crater to cut down the walk.</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A red pennant frozen mid-flap gradually came into view—the RV Keller marker. Another four figures, positively caked in grey dust, approached from the other direction, towing their own cart full of drained batteries. They were actually about 5 miles away from the main facilities of Battery Blue on Henson’s rim—an elevator and tram brought the perimeter patrols to an annex at the base of the crater to cut down the walk.</div></td></tr> </table>

Admin https://caseamber.com/index.php?title=Vignette:Relief_Patrol&diff=1077&oldid=prev 2025-09-02T14:10:31Z

<p></p> <table style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122;" data-mw="interface"> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <tr class="diff-title" lang="en"> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">← Older revision</td> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">Revision as of 10:10, 2 September 2025</td> </tr><tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno" id="mw-diff-left-l47">Line 47:</td> <td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno">Line 47:</td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“And yet I’m amazed everytime, sir.”</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“And yet I’m amazed everytime, sir.”</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}The four set off with Henson Crater to their backs and the perimeter fence to their left. Every step felt like stepping in marshmallows as the gel layer under the soles of their feet redistributed. The muffled crunch of fine powder lightly vibrated suits, like walking on the beach with your ears plugged. Before each patrol Nav told himself it wasn’t so demanding—at least the impact forces weren't, and it wasn't like they were wearing these bulky suits under Earth gravity. That was just a coping strategy though. Hopping around up and down hill for 8 hours would take its toll regardless and everything below chest level became terribly sweaty inside the skintight body glove. Any wonder that Nav felt during his first weeks out on the lunar surface—seeing the Earth for the first time or a world as alien as the crater pocked south pole of Luna—was beaten out of him by these exhausting patrols without so much as a crisis to break up the monotony. All there was for them was endless grey and endless black, every other day until they were rotated back to ''terra firma''. The military was good at squeezing all enjoyment out of childhood dreams if you let your guard down. The fact that the bluff's Marine Detachment wasn't resourced buggies to motorize their perimeter checkups like their US Air Force Field Security counterparts was testament.</div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}The four set off with Henson Crater to their backs and the perimeter fence to their left. Every step felt like stepping in marshmallows as the gel layer under the soles of their feet redistributed. The muffled crunch of fine powder lightly vibrated suits, like walking on the beach with your ears plugged. Before each patrol Nav told himself it wasn’t so demanding—at least the impact forces weren't, and it wasn't like they were wearing these bulky suits under Earth gravity. That was just a coping strategy though. Hopping around up and down hill for 8 hours would take its toll regardless and everything below chest level became terribly sweaty inside the skintight body glove. Any wonder that Nav felt during his first weeks out on the lunar surface—seeing the Earth for the first time or a world as alien as the crater pocked south pole of Luna—was beaten out of him by these exhausting patrols without so much as a crisis to break up the monotony. All there was for them was endless grey and endless black, every other day until they were rotated back to ''terra firma''. The military was good at squeezing all enjoyment out of childhood dreams if you let your guard down. The fact that the bluff's Marine Detachment wasn't resourced buggies to motorize their perimeter checkups like their US Air Force Field Security counterparts was testament<ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">. Just as well, the country boys in 2nd Platoon would probably wreck them on boulders in the first week after trying to whip them around like their hovertracks back home. Perhaps the feeling of being victimized by the other branches was easier to swallow than the Marine Corps not trusting its Marines. Sometimes the fairest of calls hurt the most</ins>.</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A red pennant frozen mid-flap gradually came into view—the RV Keller marker. Another four figures, positively caked in grey dust, approached from the other direction, towing their own cart full of drained batteries. They were actually about 5 miles away from the main facilities of Battery Blue on Henson’s rim—an elevator and tram brought the perimeter patrols to an annex at the base of the crater to cut down the walk.</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A red pennant frozen mid-flap gradually came into view—the RV Keller marker. Another four figures, positively caked in grey dust, approached from the other direction, towing their own cart full of drained batteries. They were actually about 5 miles away from the main facilities of Battery Blue on Henson’s rim—an elevator and tram brought the perimeter patrols to an annex at the base of the crater to cut down the walk.</div></td></tr> </table>

Admin https://caseamber.com/index.php?title=Vignette:Relief_Patrol&diff=1076&oldid=prev 2025-09-02T13:48:32Z

<p></p> <table style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122;" data-mw="interface"> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <tr class="diff-title" lang="en"> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">← Older revision</td> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">Revision as of 09:48, 2 September 2025</td> </tr><tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno" id="mw-diff-left-l83">Line 83:</td> <td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno">Line 83:</td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}But then another interceptor exploded. Behind it Nav could just make out the glint of something tearing through the sky, but it was gone in an instant, lost in the black backdrop. Suddenly, the crater erupted in a blinding flash. The Marines cowered, tripping over themselves to get behind the handcart and a nearby rock while shielding their visors. Even in their suits there was an intense heat and a shock wave shuddered the ground beneath their feet. Romano&#039;s dosimeter alarmed as its dose-rate and absolute dose limit were immediately surpassed. The fan in Nav&#039;s helmet began to hiss as its outer-most layer singed. His chest was bitten with a sharp cold as a reactive mixture was automatically injected into his gel layer to try and counteract the heating. As they looked backed up they were transfixed on the battle that was apparently raging without them. Another impact immediately followed, but seemed to penetrate the ground because instead of a fireball it ejected a column of dust high over the horizon. Battery Blue&#039;s last interceptor tried launching, but instead of elegantly shooting into the heavens it clumsily veered off, degenerating into a violent spiral and detonating on the farside of the crater.  </div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}But then another interceptor exploded. Behind it Nav could just make out the glint of something tearing through the sky, but it was gone in an instant, lost in the black backdrop. Suddenly, the crater erupted in a blinding flash. The Marines cowered, tripping over themselves to get behind the handcart and a nearby rock while shielding their visors. Even in their suits there was an intense heat and a shock wave shuddered the ground beneath their feet. Romano&#039;s dosimeter alarmed as its dose-rate and absolute dose limit were immediately surpassed. The fan in Nav&#039;s helmet began to hiss as its outer-most layer singed. His chest was bitten with a sharp cold as a reactive mixture was automatically injected into his gel layer to try and counteract the heating. As they looked backed up they were transfixed on the battle that was apparently raging without them. Another impact immediately followed, but seemed to penetrate the ground because instead of a fireball it ejected a column of dust high over the horizon. Battery Blue&#039;s last interceptor tried launching, but instead of elegantly shooting into the heavens it clumsily veered off, degenerating into a violent spiral and detonating on the farside of the crater.  </div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A ball of terror dropped in Nav's stomach like a stone in the ocean, as if he had just watched a train plow through his father's car after he parked it on the tracks. His suit squawked offensively in his ear to coax him back into respiration. Too many thoughts, too much bandwidth spent absorbing what he had just witnessed, not enough left to remember to breath. It didn't even cross Nav's mind that the <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">metal</del>-<del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">lined home </del>embedded <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">in rock </del>that he just emerged from was just nuked, twice. What was to be done?</div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}A ball of terror dropped in Nav's stomach like a stone in the ocean, as if he had just watched a train plow through his father's car after he parked it on the tracks. His suit squawked offensively in his ear to coax him back into respiration. Too many thoughts, too much bandwidth spent absorbing what he had just witnessed, not enough left to remember to breath. It didn't even cross Nav's mind that the <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">rock</ins>-embedded <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">sanctuary </ins>that he just emerged from was just nuked, twice<ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">, once seemingly via a penetrator warhead</ins>. What was to be done?</div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“Whippet Main, this is Whippet 1-7. Mushroom Echo, Mushroom Echo. I’m seeing multiple explosions at Battery Blue and getting radiation alarms. Please advise, over.”</div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“Whippet Main, this is Whippet 1-7. Mushroom Echo, Mushroom Echo. I’m seeing multiple explosions at Battery Blue and getting radiation alarms. Please advise, over.”</div></td></tr> </table>

Admin https://caseamber.com/index.php?title=Vignette:Relief_Patrol&diff=1075&oldid=prev 2025-09-02T13:43:47Z

<p></p> <table style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122;" data-mw="interface"> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <col class="diff-marker" /> <col class="diff-content" /> <tr class="diff-title" lang="en"> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">← Older revision</td> <td colspan="2" style="background-color: #fff; color: #202122; text-align: center;">Revision as of 09:43, 2 September 2025</td> </tr><tr><td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno" id="mw-diff-left-l79">Line 79:</td> <td colspan="2" class="diff-lineno">Line 79:</td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“What the fuck-&quot; Molina&#039;s visor lit up and he leaped backwards. &quot;Woah!”  </div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}“What the fuck-&quot; Molina&#039;s visor lit up and he leaped backwards. &quot;Woah!”  </div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="−"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #ffe49c; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}One of the interceptors exploded <del style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">almost </del>directly over the crater. Surely they weren’t actually intercepting something? It must have been some sort of accident and a programmed self-destruction.   </div></td><td class="diff-marker" data-marker="+"></td><td style="color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #a3d3ff; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}One of the interceptors <ins style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">pulled a neckbreaking turn, accelerated almost perpendicular from its initial trajectory, and </ins>exploded directly over the crater. Surely they weren’t actually intercepting something? It must have been some sort of accident and a programmed self-destruction.   </div></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></td></tr> <tr><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}But then another interceptor exploded. Behind it Nav could just make out the glint of something tearing through the sky, but it was gone in an instant, lost in the black backdrop. Suddenly, the crater erupted in a blinding flash. The Marines cowered, tripping over themselves to get behind the handcart and a nearby rock while shielding their visors. Even in their suits there was an intense heat and a shock wave shuddered the ground beneath their feet. Romano&#039;s dosimeter alarmed as its dose-rate and absolute dose limit were immediately surpassed. The fan in Nav&#039;s helmet began to hiss as its outer-most layer singed. His chest was bitten with a sharp cold as a reactive mixture was automatically injected into his gel layer to try and counteract the heating. As they looked backed up they were transfixed on the battle that was apparently raging without them. Another impact immediately followed, but seemed to penetrate the ground because instead of a fireball it ejected a column of dust high over the horizon. Battery Blue&#039;s last interceptor tried launching, but instead of elegantly shooting into the heavens it clumsily veered off, degenerating into a violent spiral and detonating on the farside of the crater.  </div></td><td class="diff-marker"></td><td style="background-color: #f8f9fa; color: #202122; font-size: 88%; border-style: solid; border-width: 1px 1px 1px 4px; border-radius: 0.33em; border-color: #eaecf0; vertical-align: top; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div>{{Indent vig}}But then another interceptor exploded. Behind it Nav could just make out the glint of something tearing through the sky, but it was gone in an instant, lost in the black backdrop. Suddenly, the crater erupted in a blinding flash. The Marines cowered, tripping over themselves to get behind the handcart and a nearby rock while shielding their visors. Even in their suits there was an intense heat and a shock wave shuddered the ground beneath their feet. Romano&#039;s dosimeter alarmed as its dose-rate and absolute dose limit were immediately surpassed. The fan in Nav&#039;s helmet began to hiss as its outer-most layer singed. His chest was bitten with a sharp cold as a reactive mixture was automatically injected into his gel layer to try and counteract the heating. As they looked backed up they were transfixed on the battle that was apparently raging without them. Another impact immediately followed, but seemed to penetrate the ground because instead of a fireball it ejected a column of dust high over the horizon. Battery Blue&#039;s last interceptor tried launching, but instead of elegantly shooting into the heavens it clumsily veered off, degenerating into a violent spiral and detonating on the farside of the crater.  </div></td></tr> </table>

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