Socrates pauses for a moment from teaching Owen & Julianne. "Naw, it is at least a day's journey away (OOC: Saturday in Real World time). Plus, as I said it will not be my job to climb the caldera that will be your job. You can borrow some of the rigging from this vehicle but two conditions: (1) Want it back in the same condition that it was lent and (2) that you know what you are doing. The rigging however probably will only get you half way, so I would suggest that you use it judicially."
"I wouldn't worry too much about the IR signature, as it is on the base of a smoker that has breached the ice; it is a prime area for prospecting. Usually, the Impies leave us prospectors alone...but given that our communications suite is now blown to smithereens, it might be hard to relay our intentions. Funny, a moment ago, I could have sworn that the radar picked up something must’av been bouncing off the remains of the pod..." concludes Socrates and continues to show Julianne the ins and outs of the vehicle (being a quick learner she receives +1 on Vehicle skill).
Owen takes out his pen, nervously tapping it against the table pulls a map projection on the holosuite, "The way, I see it, the closest approach is here. We have about 200meters of rope and looking at the grade of the slope, we could probably make our way up 50m without any assistance. Then we will be on our own...and then we only have about 500m to climb. Who else here has some mountaineering experience?"
With wiry smile, he states "And I have sneaking suspicion, call it maybe...journalist intuition that whatever the Imperium is hiding, it will be in those warehouses...not just lying out in the open otherwise the satellite feeds would have picked it up."
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The tracking drone's EMS screen switches on and it burrows under the ice and swims forward navigating the currents with ease. Zeke fumbles around with the controls. At least, now he can keep a safe distance. A bleep over a secure com, asks that he return to the warehouse to secure the perimeter against possible incursion. A frozen watch of marines commanded by his own platoon are awaiting orders.