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• Proceed further into camp, towards the offices.
  
• Head to the warehouses.
  
• Head out of camp.

The Barracks are on the eastern side of the camp. Most of the buildings are constructed with a wooden frame and little else other than a few pieces of sheet metal to serve as walls. Some buildings have doors and windows, while others simply have canvas hung over where the door should be.

The crew quarters, barracks for the mercenaries, and staff rooming are in this area. The latrines and showers are near the wall, behind the barracks; the facilities could be described as crude, at best. Just think of what it was like the last time you went to summer camp, and then think about it during wartime.

The mess hall is near the center of camp, it is more or less an open area underneath a roof supported by dozens of wooden beams; the kitchen is likewise open, a series of grills, ovens, and stovetops arranged near a refrigerated storage shed. When meal time comes, there is no need to even call to it, as the smell of food and a huge plume of white smoke above the pavilion are more than enough.

Into the camp strode Ivan Emtwelve, a mercenary of giant stature and obvious cyberizations wearing the requisite camoflage gear and ammo belts, and a woman who had been identified as a corporate observer named Riley Trachtenberg, here to examine the recent casualty and injury claims that had been the result of the Settler and Shade attacks.

Riley peered through the designer sunglasses she wore, observing the plain visual and the IR data fed directly into her cyberbrain by the shades. Both sets of data, along with a dump of audio and temperature readings were recorded for later compare and analyze situations. Ivan meerly plodded along while carrying that large cylinder, which was really all the big guy could do without intervention by the woman. Riley led them to an unoccupied building with four walls and a door, with a tarp that served for a roof. It wasn't the best maintained building, but it was the smallest...big enough only for her, Ivan, and that big drum he still had over his shoulder. She opened the door, entered, and watched it swing most of the way closed again...no springs involved... just hasty workmanship and gravity. "I wonder if the door even latches properly," she sighed under her breath. Then she sat down, and fell asleep.

The flash of blinding light resolving into rainbow reflections, then finally into an image of the door. Riley...no, Ivan... grunted...this thing was really heavy after all. After a bit of fancy maneuvering, she managed to get the canister inside the room, though she had needed to reposition the tarp. The canister in place, she dove back out of Ivan, and into her own body, then disconnected their direct ankle link and placed her hand on the cylinder. It glowed around her hand faintly, then opened, and a can of caviar tumbled out. Inside were more of the necessities of a woman who had gotten used to some of the Good Life. It was mostly empty however, and with some careful arranging, Riley could have stuffed Ivan into it. Instead, she removed a far more practical drab jumpsuit from inside of it, changed into it, and took one of Ivan's big hands in her own. Another brief glow, and began removing the ammo belts and shirt. Once those were gone, his chest and stomach split into eight doors which were concealed by his six pack and his pectoral muscles. Inside was a space big enough for Riley to climb into, and she did. The doors closed up as soon as she settled in. Ivan then dressed once more, as Riley downloaded her consciousness into Ivan again. She closed up the canister, then headed out. Time to see what was out there.

Throwing away the used condom, wonderful inventions, Quin made a bee line towards the offices. Straightening his clothes as he went he wondered about getting some other clothes. They would hopefully give him time to ready himself before they rolled the trucks out again.

Sam headed straight for the showers, deciding to get even wetter in order to peel off the leather. The gun and bag got dumped to the side, but still in sight and she doused herself. She wasn't quite sure why it worked, only that it did. The shower ran, and the girl peeled the leather off.

One old coot gave her a whistle but one nasty little glare shut him up as she began dressing again, after pulling the items from her bag. This time in only a white sports shirt with built in bra and a pair of daisy dukes. The boots and body armor would have to air dry. Hopefully, nothing else would come up till morning.

After the shower, it was bedtime. It didn't matter if a bomb was dropping, Sam was out like a light. And not even a bomb would wake this girl up at this point. She was half dressed but didn't care, she flipped the guy off then headed out.

"I think we ran out of gas."

"Are you freakin' serious?"

"Look, I told you that hitching a ride was a bad idea. You were better off marching with everyone else. Idling in the logging camp cost us what fuel we needed. Now we have to walk."

That was about the brunt of the conversation that he had up until arriving at the barracks. So much time was wasted in attempting to fix a truck that wasn't worth fixing to begin with. He was a little tired of lugging his duffle around, so the moment he stepped into the building he threw the bag onto the nearest bunk and then set about organizing his supplies. Weapons and clothing alike were stripped, checked, rechecked, and equipped on the proper clothing items before he turned in for the night.

When all was said and done, he had his vest suspended above the bed with Kel'Drin already secure in the loops. Everything was in place, readily available should he need it.

For now, though, he was in bed and unconscious before anyone had anything to say about it.

His eyes tightened shut, then flickered open after a noise went right past his bed. A quick look around and he was greeted with a naked man walking past his bunk and towards the door, probably to the showerhouse. At least, he hoped so. His eyebrow arched slightly, and he sat upright, scratching the back of his head.

"Dude...don't you think it's a little late for a shower?"

"Well, if you say so."

Athan reached up to scratch the back of his head. He needed a shower, too, but he'd save that for the morning. Currently, he was covered in grease, dirt, and sweat. And still had accomplished nothing for the mining company other than just arriving at the base.

"So what exactly happened, anyway?"