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"Good. Next question. How did a religious group… the Brothers of Ali Kahwat?"

"Yeah. Good job reading it correctly on the first try."

"I have experience. Anyway, how did they come to have S-750s? Isn't that beyond their normal supply chain?"

"Not really. They're just one of the combat wings for the Crimson Country. It just means they earned enough trust to get their hands into the really good toybox."

Gray nodded and smiled. It took the Captain a moment.

"Huh. I see what you mean. Yeah, their assessment might be outdated. I'll try to get more out of the Fortress and update what we have."

Owl scowled and coughed, assailed by a deeper than usual drag.

"Does it matter, though? They don't have tanks, that's for certain. They don't have heavy support. What could they have beyond meatmobiles? An exo section? A few hardsuits? They don't use lobos out of principle, so that's out of the question."

Gray's expression soured. He thought about it for a few seconds. His coffee got cold. He drank it anyway.

"I guess you're right. But still, something doesn't quite fit between the assessment and the commission. The low-orbiter doesn't lie. If it says there are no tanks or other heavy assets, it's mostly likely right. But it mistook the launchers for troop trucks. It's not perfect. They sell the towelheads for too cheap a price."

"Can you deal with that, Gray? What does your gut tell you?"

"It tells me I can, Captain. But if I could skip integrating new lobos into my section, I'd certainly be very glad."

"Then we've got our answer, boys. We'll move out in accordance to Owl's plan of deployment. I'll continue to negotiate with the Fortress for assets and better intel. Any questions?"

A general wave of "nahs" and "noes" rolled.

"Then I'm going to the cantina for a sandwich. See you zero nine zero zero. Gray, brief your boys, okay? I want them to break the lobos out of storage today and do some extra maintenance with Zulu. They say the weather out there is hell."