"Just want to let you lads know...this silence we got going on here ain't good. Don't trust it."
One thought came to the forefront of the cyborg's mind with Dark Atlas's warning: 'no shit'. All the same, she was unopposed to the quiet and unbothered by it, perhaps far less so than the chatty Daros who insisted on wisecracks after she had urged silence. That was far more unnerving than the quiet was after the distant sounds of turmoil had shimmered down. Strasza contributed nothing to the exchanges as they took place, save for the sharp hiss of breath through her divided lips in usher of silence. She did not expect to repeat herself once more on the matter.
This mission was far too delicate to be risked by greenies with demand on bungling their way through the gloom with jokes. The major expected anxiety from them, the same as she had felt on her first tour, though the stakes here were far higher than some snow-laden skirmish on a desolate ice rock none cared much for. No, the consequences of this mission were far direr and reached far beyond the five of them. A soft whirr echoed from Strasza's silhouette as she cocked her head around impossibly, offering an expectedly expressionless glare towards Daros and Dark Atlas both. A hand raised, the other compensating to hug her scattergun to her midsection, and a digit flexed upward before the filtered span of her helmet.
Just as slowly, her head twisted back around and her hand lowered, collecting the stock of her firearm once more.
She dared not step over the water with each stride, and instead opted to toil through it as quietly as she could manage, minimizing the splashes and ripples created by each of her unnaturally smooth motions. What muck she felt kicking back against her efforts went as ignored as the putrid rankness of the environment, unacknowledged, and unspoken. Beneath her red-tinted visor, stormy lenses spiraled against one another, adjusting as her scrambled scanners chimed within her implanted skull in alarm.
Instantly her hand outstretched, planting firmly on Seraphim's shoulder guard in command to halt. "We've got movement. Flank. Expect contact." The major breathed softly a bare whisper, sending the alert to the others over their exclusive communications network. The hand slipped from Lambert's shoulder to squeeze a fist at shoulder height, and then lowered slowly even more so, following the cyborg's motion as a whole. She squatted into the filth, grateful then her armor was so heavily sealed. Two fingers flexed from her fist and were aimed twice in succession down the way she had pivoted by a flick of her wrist, indicating the direction.
With the intent of a predator, Strasza slipped silently through the water, flattening herself against the curve of the grime-streaked wall. Another circular motion of her hand gestured for the others to stack up and follow her lead. And through the darkness between the two squads, the eerie verdant glow shone. They had been heard, but not spotted. Not yet.
[<”Put them down!>”] Came the shout in Sith as the squadron opened fire on Task Force.
Well, that evolved quickly now, didn't it? The brilliant streaks of red screaming down the tunnel by her squadron triggered a twitch of her eye. "Quietly now," The major cut through the chaos in the helmets of her squadmates as cooly as ever, "I'm icin' 'em." Her hand hooked back, grasping after one of the many cold grenades strapped to the bandolier concealed at the small of her back and a swift jerk freed it from its slot. Her thumb curled through the pin with her palm compressing the lever and she held onto the grenade for the time. Deader stared at the line of troops, augmented synapses firing off faster than an organic mind ever could, to process the proper trajectory and angle for the throw.
Once as much had been configured, her influence on the lever relaxed and she counted silently.
One.
Off the ceiling, high arc, bounce down to their flank. Scatter them forward with the splash and freeze them for dispatch.
Two.
Screeching tibanna dashed against the outer guard of her arm, splashing it with virulent crimson.
The major cocked her arm back and threw the projectile high, arcing it through the air to soar over their Sith foes. A light, metallic tap echoed from over their heads with the connection to the ceiling, and then came the gentle splash as the grenade hit the waters. Another half-second passed before the whooshing hiss of compressed gas came to life behind the line, swiftly freezing anything within its proximity- wastewater, armor, flesh- there was no discrimination.
Once that much had been accomplished, she swapped weapons quickly, hoisting her silenced rifle to bear, and tucked it into her shoulder. A moment's breath passed before the major compressed the trigger of the sighing rifle and assigned a shot in retaliation towards their assailants with the full aim to paint the wall with the brain matter of the trooper on the far left.
