Shadowrun
Shadowrun Play => Play-by-Post => Topic started by: Mithlas on <04-12-14/1549:24>
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((Recruitment thread (http://forums.shadowruntabletop.com/index.php?topic=15403.0) for character questions, OOC thread (http://forums.shadowruntabletop.com/index.php?topic=15985.msg281103#msg281103) for rules, setting, and non-in-character interaction.))
The faint hum of life support's air circulation adds a sense of movement to the sterile interior of the Terran Alliance's military space station orbiting Alkelos 2. The closest developed colony to the galactic core, the military space station is often buzzing with courier and recon vessels, but the cruiser Matsukaze is larger than most space vessels convening in the area and the attention from the civilian traffic lanes is obvious from a thousand kilometers away. The angular, gunmetal gray almost acts as a visual sign for the Alliance spacers, many of the distant civilian courier and transports being painted in the colors of their parent corporations.
With a burst of Rontgen radiation, an ivory-painted courier vessel snaps out of warp and curves towards the cruiser and its waiting support ships. The small, sleek courier ship pulls alongside the Matsukaze, slowing as the two ships pass through the standard procedure of identification and instruction exchange. Inside the passenger level, the door forward into the crew control center slides open and a spacer in the fresh, pressed uniform of a new recruit stumbles into the passenger waiting area that hadn't changed much since the pre-warp era days of fast water-transports and classy aircraft transports. The gray and paneled-pockets lack any customizations from standard-issue Alliance spacer uniforms, and the helm collar indicating the uniform's ability to act as a short-term emergency space suit gave the crewcut-haired man a faint appearance of a jester.
He catches his feet and straightens his uniform with a ruffled air of "I meant to do that", and looks out at the two rows of seats on either side of the main isle. He reaches up one hand to check the matte-black earpiece clipped to his left earlobe. "Pilot wants everyone to know that we've arrived at Alkelos and we'll be docking with the Matsukaze in four minutes. I'm Flight Lieutenant Henderson and I'll be transferring over with you. Um...I'm sorry I haven't been out and about much during the trip, I wasn't sure about how to act with PMCs since I've always just been part of allied-exclusive units before."
He rolls his shoulders in a vain effort to try to look relaxed. "I know you're all the best at what you do, and I don't know much about the mission that wasn't already sent to you - we're here to check out the area and find out the cause behind disappearances in coreward survey expeditions. Any questions before we transfer and get to the briefing? I've received your updated clearances and can answer any questions you all might have."
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Slicer has always liked to get as much information as he could about anything he was involved in this new posting is no different if this guy is going to answer questions Slicer would see what intel he could get. Since this is my first time to this Ship if you could do your best to let me know the layout of the ship that would be of great help. It sure would save us from having to ask for directions every time we want to go anywhere. Slicer hopes this will give him an good idea of where everything was located on the ship. Thing is Slicer knows there will be some areas not told to him for clearance reasons.
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Flight Lieutenant Henderson nods, then his face slackened slightly. His eyes jerk subtly back and forth in the tell-tale sign of a man reading off the image link in an implanted heads-up display. After a moment he looks back up with a mild stage smile. "The design is similar to the older Solzhenitsyn class. We'll be entering on level three, where you'll note the usual warp drive through the core of the ship's longitudinal axis, with CIC up front and engineering at the back. Both of those will be restricted to Alliance personnel, the doors won't respond to your implanted ID chips. Primary armory and the ship's 'dojo'," he says while moving his fingers into air quotes at the unofficial term for the melee training area, "are up on level 2, where you'll need escort for access to the facilities. I believe most of the marines are quartered on level 2, but you'll be just as likely to see them running laps down on level 5."
"Medlab's down on level 4, and Captain Henri Walther is the medical chief who will be giving us all our final clearing physical. The culturing, cloning, and lab area is restricted to medical personnel, but the treatment area is set to standard access. Most of you will be quartered down on level 4, the locations and software keys should be transmitted to your ID chips as soon as Chief Walther clears us. The VR firing range is just outside the tail armory near the back of level 4, according to my file it requires escort but on every ship I've been on you just need to apply for clearance from security and you should be able to access it for individual training whenever you're not on task somewhere else."
Lieutenant Henderson pauses, his eyes unfocusing and scrolling for a moment before he looks at another section of the seating. "Cargo 1-2 next to the fighter bay on level 1 has been set aside for you riggers and fighter jocks, you'll have standard access. If you're wanting VR facilities for pilot training, I believe the briefing room on level 2 has been reconfigured to accept your PANs. That should be open to standard access any time it isn't needed by Matsukaze's officers. Crew canteen is up on level 1, serving the usual three-and-a-half meals a day, special hours and events will be posted in advance on the ship's AR bulletin board." He scrolls through some more internal display for a few seconds and looks back out at the passengers in general. "Down on level 5 you've got the drop pod and landing equipment, most of the rest of that level is storage and engineering quarters so you probably won't be going down there unless you want to join the marines in their morning sprint."
Henderson pulls at his gloves before looking back up. "I understand that you all have already been through a thorough screening process, so...yeah, I think the only places locked down are CIC, engineering, missile bays, and the computer cores on levels 2 and 4, but those tend to be restricted to command or engineering anyway so I hope none of you find it too unusual."
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Slicer stretches his neck to get an kink out of it. Thanks that helps a lot, so any clues on where this metal light speed rocket is heading, or has word got around on any missions we might have. Slicer doubts there will be a lot of intel on the mission ahead but you never know sometimes people get wind of what is going down on command and talk a bit about it. If we have to wait to hear any up coming missions maybe you tell us what missions have just recently took place, that is the non-classified ones any way. That might give us, the new crew, any idea what has been happening out hear in the vast dark space expanse. Slicer was going to pause to give the Space Jockey time to answer but he mind came up with an inportant question he didn't want to wait for. Also what kind of Matrix connection do we have on this ship and what kind of clearance do we private military types got to use it.
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"Coreward is all I can guess. The Wu Meng stumbled across the remains of one of StellCorp's survey ships a few hours by warp coreward. They put out a call for all of their ships to check in but until they check in we won't know which of the seven still unaccounted for are still in transit and which was destroyed." Henderson pauses to glance over his image link. "According to the report, there were no signs of survivors and they had to identify the ship by paint scheme because there weren't any chunks bigger than six square centimeters left. Whoever got that ship either hauled it away or was very thorough with obliterating it, and command isn't leaving out the possibility that the Halpa 'death ray' may not be a bluff anymore. At least there were particulate traces of thruster activity, which means it probably wasn't a bentu ship as they tend to rely on magnetic drive for sublight."
A click sounds as the ship intercom activates, and the steward's voice floats out from the hidden speakers, "Authentication exchange has been completed, cargo and stowed effects will begin transfer and outbound screening immediately. If you still have any personal carry-on belongings don't forget to have them packed and with you on the way out. Thank you for flying North Wind, the most trusted name in interstellar flights."
Henderson rolls his eyes and leans back against the doorway. "The Matsukaze has a top of the line nested node architecture with Stellcorp's latest firewalls on the first tier dedicated to essential ship functions, and the second tier dedicated to sensors, targeting, and weaponry. Those will be locked out to most of you," the flight lieutenant pauses to glance at a slim man in a blue jumpsuit, "except to gunners like you, Felix. Obviously they'll prefer you jack into one of the gunner cradles in fire control primary or secondary to minimize latency, but if you're stuck in medlab with two broken legs you can log into the ship's wireless and handle the VR from there. Below that is tier three that most of you will be operating on. It's only got a Sanii firewall but it's still better than most civilians have ever seen and it's got the latest updates to keep it from being a liability if Halpan code crackers try anything. That'll have a layout of the ship if you ever wake up after a concussion and can't remember how to get to your duty station. As soon as you get checked out by Walther you'll receive the encryption keys and should be able to log in with one keystroke. Technically there's a fourth tier for query displays and basic AR and such, but those devices are pretty much only capable of handling direct inquiry requests and standard on any ship, it's the same kind of subnode that most of you have in your helms for smartlinked HUDs. As long as we don't have anybody try to rename their room 'Seymour Butts' I doubt there'll be a problem."
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Arsenault peers out of the port window opposite the Matsukaze, gazing out into deep space. He listened as the flight lieutenant spoke to the man with the clear asian features, but kept his focus on the star-field. He knew it was hopeless but there were two stars he was looking for. From here they would practically be neighbours.
He waits for Henderson to finish before asking, "How far out are we? Any local trouble?" He pulled his Go bag out of the overhead storage and accessed his link, checking his new clearances and seeing if he'd picked up or had any mail waiting for him while in transit.
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Henderson stepped away from the wall and straightened. "We're a few days from Terra Sol, sir, and about another day at high warp from the intersection between the Carina-Saggitarius Arm where many of the disappearances have occurred. Alkelos has only been terraformed for a few decades so there's not much here besides a rest stop for ships heading coreward into uncharted space or those coming back. The Iskaten Kingdom hit here during the Second Contact War, but there's been no sign of Halpan activity since their Widowmaker crashed out of hyperspace to make emergency repairs. As far as I'm aware, the disappearances out there are the only things that have happened lately. Estimates range from four to six years of disappearances that might be explained by an unknown agent beyond our borders."
The unfolding of folders on Arsenault's link's ARO display indicate three timed data packets received during the flight to Alkelos. The usual personnel transfer and new unit protocols wait final perusal. A new message transmitted from the Matsukaze during the IFF authentication period waits at the top of the new messages, giving a brief overview of the crew of importance on the Alliance cruiser and adds a final request before the formal beginning of the new mission.
Designees: Wild Card Squadron
Clearance: 2-Angel
Report to standard in-briefing where you will receive clearance updates and final mission orders.
This mission may be the gateway to events as momentous as First Contact. The Alliance thanks you for your decision to serve.
Henderson straightens his uniform, and then gives a brief salute to the waiting personnel in the shuttle. "I'm sure that all of you have more questions, so we'll be gathering in in Cargo 3-4. It looks like we'll all be getting our final clearances there, as well as the full mission orders and briefing. It will be right this way," he states before turning around, pushing the sliding door out of the way, and leading the people into a half-full cargo bay with the usual parade-formation space and folding podium in front of the formation space.
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Arsenault files away the information Henderson just gave him in the back of his head for now, might be interested to check into it later. Meanwhile it was time to look ship shape the brass. He gives his uniform a good going over before following Henderson out the door.
He almost drops his go bag once he see's what's outside however as he's never had this kind of welcome before. Last time he could remember a parade formation was graduation, he doesn't dare glance behind him to see who else was on the transport but he obviously missed noticing some VIP.
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Slicer fallows the rest of the people onto the ship. Lets see what kind of fun this ship has in stores for us. Slicer thinks this to himself as he does his best to keep pace with everyone else. Slicer continues to look around at his surrounds since this seems like it is going home for some time.
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The antiseptic white lights form lines at the meeting point between the ceiling and wall. The straight lines and glassmetal-plated ceramic wall plates impose the repetitious feel of an assembly line despite the faux-carpeting to comfortably dampen footsteps. The same pull-slide door handle rests in every door from the airlock to the Cargo 3-4. The same meter-wide door greets Henderson and the others, and beyond yawns a storage space that stretches from the interior-loop hallway to the edge of the inner hull. The more distant lights shed more diffuse illumination that makes the shadows in the assembly seem longer, though the regular ratios of the wall panels give an impression that the room isn't large as much as everything in it has somehow become smaller.
Shortly after the last of the new personnel from the courier ship files into the cargo bay temporarily converted into a parade hall, the door whooshes back open and two marines in their iconic, heavy armour stride in with the faint leather-like groan of their artificial muscle fibers. Their polarized helms give the impression of robots, the smooth surface like an eye staring at everything at once. Following them strides a short woman with her straight black hair neatly combed in a short bobcut style. Her dark cloud-grey uniform displays the Alliance Eagle on the right shoulder, the crackling nebulae of the Fourth Spacer Group on her right. Her cuffs and nehru collar all carry the bright yellow band terminating in an exploding star. With deep strides clinking over the cargo room floor, she walks up to the podium and sweeps her gaze over the assembly.
"I am Captain Uriburu, commander of Wild Card Squadron. Spacers, both Alliance and contracted, you have chosen to embark on a journey into the unknown." She types into a keypad in the podium and a projector magnetically affixed to the ceiling glows to life. On the outer wall facing the formation appears a star chart of the Orion-Cygnus Arm of the galaxy with Alliance territory marked in blue. The splotches of the Confederacy's territory scroll in orange, and dots with symbols of Halpan kingdoms spring up in yellow and red to indicate their current relations with the Alliance. Another keystroke and the map zooms in to the coreward fringe of Alliance territory, at the intersection between the Orion-Cygnus and Carina-Sagittarius arm. Another keystroke and the territory markings fade to grey, with yellow diamonds marking seven points beyond Alliance territory.
"You may have heard rumors of lone vessels disappearing in the expansion towards the galactic core, or read news reports of the 'unusually high number of superlight drive disasters' resulting in lost ships in this area. These stories are only partially true. Over the past eight years, every ship that has been on recon or survey missions in this region for more than three months has vanished. Until three years ago we did not have definitive proof that it wasn't simply a series of unfortunate failures in warp drive. Over the past two years, a procession of planned rendezvous and investigation meetings has discovered a pattern in the disappearances." A keystroke causes a yellow line to connect to three of the yellow diamonds. "Loitering missions for long-term surveys have been vanishing after a period of approximately two months out of contact. Ships returning early as part of the investigation have indicated long-range sensor difficulties, with two science officers claiming to have spotted sensor ghosts. Infrared telemetry has not verified their claims."
Tapping precedes a much longer chain of orange connecting all of the diamonds on the far coreward end of disappearance locations. "Ships on long-range survey and recon have been disappearing much more quickly, with the confed Einhander missing its check in just just eight days after launch and the Alliance Brazen Fire on a two-day cartography mission that failed to return, with the Strauss sent to investigate it five days later also failing to report back in." Uriburu types into the keypad and the view zooms in to focus on the coreward expansion region, highlighting one of the hollow yellow diamonds. "The most definitive information we have is from the Wu Meng, which recovered debris from a Stellcorp long-term survey vessel. Analysis indicates a nearly one hundred percent probability that it was destroyed with high-energy particle weaponry. Now the corporate ships do not usually have significant armour, but the Brazen Fire and Strauss were both Alliance ships rated to survive military engagements." She leaned onto her podium and looked straight at the crowd for emphasis. "Our armour is the best in the galaxy, and the Strauss had capacitors to jump into warp minutes after dropping out. That so many of these ships are vanishing can only mean one thing."
"They're being destroyed by concerted effort from a hostile entity. Both Bentu corps and Halpan kingdoms have denied having any knowledge or involvement in these disappearances. Our mission is to determine the truth, drive off what threats we can and bring back information to the Alliance so proper defenses can be organized." She looks over the assembled crew and contractees. "We are the fastest, most adaptable people in the alliance. If there is something to kill we'll kill it, if there's something hidden we'll find it, and if there's something too big to shoot down we'll survive to bring word to the Alliance. Any questions?"
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Slicer tries to think about questions to ask, he wonders if it would be disrespectful but decides to ask anyway. I was wondering what is the edge this new ship has that all the other ships did not? Slicer thinks that might be a secrete they are keeping under their hats and may not tell the new personal. If you don't want to say, as a flighter pilot what is the stats of the fighters this fine ship has stored away for us to keep the cold hand of death gripping all of us. Slicer gives a bow after his question.
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Captain Uriburu glances out at the assembly and locks eyes on Slicer. "The Matsukaze has the latest reinforced warp drive and hardened insulation on the core power grid. We can go faster for longer than any other ship ever built by Terran hands, even with significant damage. Our weapons and targeting sensors have been rated accurate at distances beyond two megameters."
The PMC techie in blue next to Slicer whistles quietly and mutters, "That's nearly spotting distance for Halpa raiders."
"We have the latest, custom-built computers networked to distribute computation load and put pinpoint-accurate railgun fire at any target not matching a FOF library, a combined set of railguns and particle cannons, and the outer hull has been redesigned to accommodate more heat sinks so we can continue pushing combat operations a full eleven minutes longer than battle-type Solzhenitsyn cruisers. If we run into a heyday, we could redline every gun and run out of ammo before the we cook to death from heat waste. Even better, the redesign gives us an entirely new silhouette that nobody has ever seen before. No Bentu spy or Halpa pirate is going to have the faintest idea what to do if they run across us, and Von Plessner's latest armor is going to mean we're around for a long time to bare our teeth. Let's just say that last generation's problem with armor slagging under particle guns is going to be an unlikely possibility." Uriburu looks down into the formation of waiting Alliance spacers. "Commander, the talons are yours, would you care to give the unclassifieds?"
Another spacer in Alliance greys salutes from the right side of the formation. "Yes, captain. Our complement includes two attack groups. We've got a ten-strong squad of Velociraptors for interception - with three man-able fighters so a squad leader can take them out for a flight in the middle of an ion storm. We've got twelve Harriers for general fighter duty."
"Aren't those kinda old?" asks the blue-jumpsuited technician.
"They're not top of the line, but General Pinhero doesn't deploy antiques and these have enough armor to take a direct hit from antifighter batteries without turning into vapor. We've also got authorization to use needle missiles in case we find light-armored targets too maneuverable for the Matsukaze's main guns. And just for good measure, we've got the parts for three manned Peregrine scouts if we come across an in-system target we need intel for but can't risk the 'kaze getting in close. The thruster baffling is pretty good, as long as you're not pushing it or heading straight away then it should be difficult to pick up on thermal."
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Slicer is glad to get any intel he can get it is always good to know at least what you can do in a fight even when you know near nothing about the enemy. Slicer bows to the two officers. Thanks that gives me a bit better idea what we got to throw at this mystery threat.
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Arsenault listens to the rundown of the ship with a sense of pride building up inside him. Only the Alliance could put a beauty like this together. Looking out over the assembled crew he can sense the confidence that a ship like this automatically brings. He tries to get a good look at every face he can see without too obviously gawking around. Scanning the command staff he pauses on a face he knows, and only his training stops him from breaking out in a shit eating grin. Of all the places to run into that old coot. He thinks to himself, making a mental note to be sure to stop by the medbay later.
A thought comes to mind. Stepping forward with a salute Arsenault asks, "Do we have an established rules of engagement at this point? Or are we going to acting on a per mission basis?" After asking his question he steps back again.
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Captain Uriburu gives a crisp nod. "Primary orders are to observe, secondary to collect or destroy if possible. Specifics have been left to command as per situational analysis. Command was able to identify signs of Halpan attacks within days of the beginning of the Second Contact War, and InOps thinks they can spot Bentu patterns, but these attacks just don't leave enough signs to be sure what's going on. Brass wanted a few experts like you in the possibility of a first contact scenario, but they still aren't sure this isn't corp or kingdom activity." She looked down to the back of the parade formation at a man with wispy white hair, flanked by marines in assault-type exosuits. "Doctor Reeds, did you have any thoughts to share on your interpretation?"
The man removes the thin, frameless glasses from his nose and takes a rag from one pocket to polish the left lens briefly before replacing the items. "The resources that would have to have been expended to make the missing ships vanish so completely would be out of observed behavior patterns for Bentu corporations. The spread pattern on recovered debris indicates short-range aggressors - something well within half a megameter."
The PMC in blue shuffles on his feet. "Well so what's that mean? Lots of space combat continues closing after opening volleys. Even the Alliance didn't always have doctrine for combat outside a megameter."
Reeds turns his face as if trying to move away from an unpleasant smell. "The kingdoms have either signed or recognized the recovery pledge and left a status beacon at the site of a raid for the recovery of survivors, even if only for ransom purposes. When making extractions, they have always targeted persons of importance, but these scout attacks are too random for them, targeting meaningless people and archaic ships." A quarter of the Alliance spacers tense in hostility at his dismissal of the victims, but he doesn't show any sign of recognizing the change in the room's atmosphere. "No, if anything they resemble harvest-poachers stripping a nature preserve of game."
The blue-jumpsuited sergeant crosses his arms and glowers, muttering, "Man, who is that jerk?"
The Alliance sergeant next to him balks silently. "Are you stupid? That's Doctor Valen Reeds, the alien tech expert. He got his hands on a totaled Halpan bomber in the Second Contact War, published his reverse-engineering analysis, and was so accurate that eight kingdoms had a bounty on his head within twenty-four hours. They say that he can take apart a particle cannon - never before seen - then put it back together blindfolded."
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One of the guys with the group, who's been very silently up to this point glances back and forth between the different men there. He was pretty average built, with a messy mop of brown hair covering half his face, his visible eye shifts back and forth between those around him, watching silently, as he fidgets his fingers. He was the rigger Unko Nishi, fairly talented in his field, but one cannot say it didn't leave a mark on him, as he never seemed right outside his drones.
For now, he continues being as he was, a flyspy on the wall. Well, a big fleshy one at least.
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A spacer in Alliance grays looks across the narrow 'isle' of the parade formation at the sloppy-haired PMC shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot and playing with his hands. The spacer rubs at the ceramic plate around his cybereye and glances back to his left as the big names yak.
Deciding that everybody else is paying attention either to the bigshot doctor in the back or the captain up at the front, he decides to take a risk being informal and gives a halfway salute. "Hey, I'm Daniel. You one of the pilots?"
Unfortunately for his attempt at socialization, Captain Uriburu touches her finger to her left ear and looks out over the assembly, then straightens and says in a projecting, authoritative voice, "Security scanning has been complete. Spacers, to your stations. For all latecoming personnel," she nods towards the group on the left side of the room mostly made up of PMCs, "You'll have to stop by medlab for final checkup. I expect everything to be flightworthy in under two hours. If there are no further questions, you are dismissed."
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Once dismissed Slicer decides to head to his room to drop his gear there before heading over to the medlab for his check up. Maybe I'll check out what I can find on there network later, just a nice look at what public apps and features this fling deliver of death has in the matrix. Slicer's mind continues to think about checking out the matrix on board as he drops his gear off at his room fallowed by a stroll to medlab to see if he gets a clean bill of health.
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Slicer's image link displays supplementary labels on rooms, the next crew shift assignment, and on almost every door a red 'access denied'. The heavy glassmetal-and-ceramic paneling on the walls carries the same subdued, industrial grey as the rest of the ship, the steady white lights only serving to reinforce the regimented and antiseptic design famed and advertised in the Alliance military.
Mostly made of continuous lines curving around the interior of the ship, the halls are interrupted occasionally by survival lockers recessed into the walls. AROs display the inventory and inspection date for their air canisters, spare helms and suits, gyrojet pistols, and other spacer supplies. The weapon lockers are distinctly marked by a red-backed 'access denied' ARO. Next to several of the survival lockers are the thick, angled yellow-and-black dashed lines to mark emergency pressure doors, the steady and passive marking standing out not only for the bright yellow in the otherwise subdued tones of the hall but also due to the static physical marking contrasting with civilian ships that have the emergency doors muted for aesthetic continuity except in emergencies when they light up. Past one is finally the destination room with a yellow ARO marking a warning about a secure location set to open access: Medlab.
The room within is the same sort of space-conservative boxy as the rest of the Alliance, but rails sweeping across the ceiling throw off the normal sleek spartan quality of Alliance military construction. Telescoping and folding mechanical arms, most with obvious reeled loops of bundled cords and hoses, rest above the two emergency surgery bed alcoves at the opposite end and right ends of the room. The narrower but softer-padded recovery beds extend out of their shallower alcoves in the walls, the diagnostic displays on all of them lit as doctor Henri Walther and a spacer in the red-and-white medic suit marked by a Junior Corporal's cuff bands draw blood samples and sweep sensor wands over cyberware.
Henri looks up as Slicer strides through the doors, and he gives a polite nod. "Top o' the day, lad. I know it's gettin' a lit'le crowded in 'ere, but we just need to finish a bio-screening and double check 'ware." He gives one last glance to the biomonitor's displays and then looks down to the PMC spacer with ceramic plating over the left side of his skull while typing one-handed on a tablet. "Looks good, Guille, off ya go. Tha marines'll have an int'resting time wit' you."
The bulky man rises and gives a requisite nod of acknowledgement before heading for the door.
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Slicer gives a bow to the doc when he first meets him. When the doc finishes up with the check up Slicer bows again and thanks Doc then makes his way to his room to take get feel for what his life will be like on this military space ship. After I get back to the room I might want to take a run around the matrix to see the what this ship has for public use. I guess that will depend on the time I have to report for duty. When Slicer gets back to his bunk he will first check over the room then move on to accessing the ships public matrix server just to get a feel for the system.
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The quarters in the alliance cruiser are considerably larger than the standard passenger liners designed for shuttling people quickly from system to system. The first room is a multifunction den and work space with a desk set against the right and left walls. On the opposite wall is a couch facing the vid screen beside the entry door, another door leading into the sleeping area and a narrower door past that to the water closet shared with the quarters next door.
Although the two bunks fixed into the wall were obvious enough on his first stop, the bright yellow duffel bag dumped unceremoniously across the couch stands out amid the subdued Alliance tones of gray, tan, and blue. Its ARO tag marks it as "Andrew Visser, Anaheim Electronics". Nobody else enters for several minutes, leaving Slicer to settle in and check the public matrix server.
The loading shell flickers by in the cheap and traditional two-dimensional progress window, giving way to a detailed likeness of the Alliance Academy outside Luna City as it was before the 87 P.C. bombing. The domed expanse stretches off for virtual kilometers, a fuzzy, static image of Terra 3's moon acting as a reminder that more always awaits beyond. The sprawling, H-shaped administration and instruction center dominates the center of the dome, dwarfing the two and three-story instruction and barracks buildings dotting the space around it, marked mostly as archives in the matrix details. The old heliport terminal stretches out from the north gate like the yawning expanse to an adjoining annex, highlighted in yellow and marked with "link to flight training server, currently down for maintenance." No likenesses of vehicles decorate the virtual scenery, a wide variety of personalized icons flying about the domed city and its absence of real-world gravity.
The other server branches are marked by vertically stretched buildings in the academy grounds flying the Alliance Eagle streamers, including firearms training and other practice servers
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Slicer is glad to have the buzz of the digital world grace his senses again. Seeing all the extra training aid available Slicer hopes to run a few training Sim, in this line of work training Sims are a lot like games. Slicer decides not to tickle his training game fix instead he starts to run a search on any news reports the Ships Matrix has stored in its memory banks, you never know some news report provide a good glimpse at what the edge of new space has hidden away. With the search running Slicers is calmed by the matrix world around him, this digit construct has always been a second home to Slicer.
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He makes the medbay his first stop to report in for his arrival bio-scan. He steps to the side as an apologetic spacer slips past him coming out of the bulkhead door. Seeing as he's not the first here he waits patiently in line until his turn. He submits to the quick tests, unconcerned with the results as he knows (having recently scanned himself) that there are no problems. He exchanges some brief words with the Doctor, promising to come back later after everyone has been processed.
Having finished that he heads to his room to make sure his gear has arrived and to stow his go bag.
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Henri Walther grins at the arrival of his old friend, "Serge! I knew tha eagles couldn' keep an ol' dog like ye down! What's it been, since tha Youkou Clusta'?"
He finishes the scan quickly, the longer tests like the compatibility to nanocite still valid on record. The chief doctor waves off another spacer in the emptying medlab and listens to Serge's apology. "Na problem lad, ya go get yaself packed in. Shift change in't fa' two hours an'way, an' we'll be unda way ba then."
The ship's intercom clicks on, a male voice announcing, "CIC to incoming personnel. For those who haven't synced with the ship's matrix, mess is serving regular supper at 18:00. Personnel are to report in the shift change after eating, 18:30. If you are having any issues with syncing, the chief engineer will be troubleshooting in Armory One, report there before you eat something you might be allergic to. Pilots must be synced and ready for virtual training by then. Engineering will be meeting with the new technicians in the briefing room, report there to begin your shift. Medical personnel are to report for briefing in medlab, 18:30, then report to your stations."
Henri waves goodbye to Serge and turns to the last handful of spacers waiting final screening.
Inside the crew quarters, Slicer scrolls through news reports and recorded blogs noted as containing potentially important information linked to the disappearances. Most of the files and linked analyses are focused on identifying the precise locations of the missing ships, with more than half still being marked by a yellow question mark indicating unknown status and only a few having the red marker for a confirmed destruction.StelCorp's insurance department has numerous files on the back-and-forth of debates between eligibility between random acts of technical failure and hostile alien action. The majority of the missing ships are tagged with the Alliance eagle, either being government space ships or operating from Alliance territory, with only a quarter bearing the Confederate hawk and the remaining having a scattering of independent corporate logos.
ASF Brazen Fire Disappears on Routine Survey of Coreward Space - Drive Failure or Kingdom Menace?
CSF Einhander Fails to Check In, Eagles Deny Involvement
StelCorp's Shining Star Disappears Days after Reporting Endurium Deposit, Company Debating Sending Follow-Up to Confirm
ASF Nova Vanishes Beyond the Youkou Cluster
Northern Coalition's Gaul Disappears, Claims of Bentu Sabotage Lead to Sanctions
-
Slicer is glad to see he can get on line and tickle his media fix, he knows too well that when this ship is on mission they will have to run silent meaning all links back to his fun friend of information the media link of the ship. Oh I best see what is happening there. Slicer quickly looks over any info on the ships link to link matrix array it is always good to know what a ships signal and other abilities are for deep space communication. I hope we don't run dark too much and lose matrix feed for too long.
After the quick check over of the array well how much the ships computer would let Slicer get he decides I best make my way to the flight school and ship assignment area before too long Slicer goes to get synced with his new death bringer.
-
Checking and syncing his watch Arsenault starts his way down the corridors with the mess hall in mind. Spacer food can be slop sometimes (most times), but on a freshly stocked ship about to head out into the deep, you gotta use up your perishables first. Good food good morale, always the best way to start. He was not going to be let down this time.
Catching sight of a ARO porthole on the way he whistles slightly through his teeth, he hadn't even noticed the acceleration, and they seemed to have picked up a decent speed already. Sweet ride he thinks to himself, brass really has provided this time. He continues along selecting random info about ship in his AR field as he walks, getting more and more impressed by the step. A sudden thought occurs to him and he almost trips crossing a bulkhead.
How the hell did I get selected for this?
He lets the unaired question float around in his mind as he enters mess only to find out he's already at the back of a long line. Looks like he's not the only one to know about good food just out of port.
-
Slicer's pings ring out clearly through a network that reacts with high bandwidth, but the heavy firewalls are obvious even while allowing him through the ship's matrix. The barriers between different servers are familiar from previous military networks, though his authorization is higher than last time and the faster response time is easily noticed. A link to the matrix on the support frigate and the two courier vessels in the Wild Card Squadron, though lag in communication with the planet is already expanding rapidly as it moves farther for a better position to enter warp. The news and media exchange is still copying data, but the link sends out a ping early to remind downloaders that the ship will be cut off once it enters superluminal travel.
The Matsukaze's hangar is easily marked, dominating the upper level of the ship, though it and the matrix security sections both have virtual briefing rooms appearing in the ship's partitioned matrix sections.
As the ship's clock ticks and the distance to Alkelos 2 grows until a warning passes through the matrix to pause work, then a verbal warning floats out through the ship's intercom to secure all stations in the usual preparation to enter warp. The usual dimming of electronics as power is shunted to the Matsukaze's warp drive. The outside feed cuts out as sensors are transferred to observation and command, and a thrum passes through the ship before it smoothly rumbles into warp and then settles like a ship on a swift river into a soft sway.
In the cruiser's mess, a spacer in the orange jumpsuit favored by privateers grins at Arsenault. He greets with an thick Russian accent, showing tinges of Dutch and something else what was once the European Union in the days of the exodus from Terra 3. "Hah hah, come to see the chow hall before they're serving us food so bad it makes us wish those aliens had killed us?" He lets out another laugh and starts to reach out a fist to hit Arsenault in the shoulder before spotting the lieutenant stripes.
-
Serge catches the big man's fist in a hand that moves too fast to be considered normal. He shows no affront the friendly giant and gives a polite shake of his head, while letting a little smile loose.
Being a practised linguist meant he was always able to pick up on accent's quicker then others and often imitate them immediately. "Da, good food is good food." He lets go of the man's hand and let's it drop to his side. Pointing back to the line he nods. "Looks like it is moving, please do not let me hold you up."
As the line moves along, he tries to keep the banter up, asking where the spacer was from, why he's on the Matsukaze and other simple questions. He in turn answers any questions the spacer has, as long as they don't get too personal or he can't answer due to restrictions.
-
"Born and raised on Chernole," Andrew answers as he moves forward, briefly checking his AROs for selection and typing in a request. "Actually wanted to join the Eagles, but dey said I was three millimeters too tall to be a pilot." He lets out a loud guffaw and moves to keep up with the line. "Three millimeters! So I went to electrical engineering school like grandpa wanted and joined Anaheim Electronics when a recruiter came by four years later."
Andrew reached into the dispensary and took the open trays with steaming likenesses of chicken, vegetables, and rice that may have even included some of the genuine article. "Did pretty well with Anaheim, gramps was right that I had a gift for electronics. 'Boss said I had eligibility for a special contract with the Alliance and since I missed the Second Contact War I wanted to do something important." The engineer shuffled down the line and took the more traditional gravity-resistant drink mug from the next dispenser before looking back up at Serge. "So what are you here for, lieutenant?"
Listening as the flight lieutenant answers, he nods. "Da, well, you eagles have us scattered over the Matsukaze. Sergeant Anderson," he points to another Alliance spacer with a pilot's insignia embroidered on his collar, "said it's like company policy. Keeps a lucky shot from killing the whole command staff. Still, I wouldn't have thought you'd do the same thing to us privateers."
A flicker of Andrew's eyes is the only warning before a spacer's boot catches Serge in the side in a leg-borne equivalent of a firm elbowing. "Arsenault? Hah hah! Doc said you were here, I just didn't believe him." The woman wearing the stripes of a Star Lieutenant sits down in the narrow seat beside the engineer and Serge. Andrew raises an eyebrow and she sets her drink mug into the magnetic clasp in the table before raising a hand to him in greeting. "Leia Escher."
"Ma'am," Andrew nods deferentially. "You the Matsukaze's pilot?"
She nods. "Night shift this week. I'll be going on in the shift change in fifteen minutes. Not much to do, though, as computers do most of the flying while we're in warp. It's not like those new hyperspace engines that R&D is still trying to get to work without flying us out of the Milky Way the first time a zero gets transposed." She dabs a wafer into something resembling chowder and downs it without chewing. "I heard that they've had successes with living pilots though. Weird stuff there, not sure if I'd trust instinct to get me from the Centauri shipyards to Youkou."
-
Slicer makes it a bit early to flight training for the work shift change so he does his best to take a look around see what this hanger has in it.
-
Serge's eye's light up as he see's yet another friend. "Escher! My god, it's good to see you again."
He waits until Leia finishes talking about the new drives before piping in. "I'm all for human pilots myself. When the shit hits the fan and you need a snap decision I want a real mind there to make that decision, not some set of rules that can't be adapted to the situation."
-
The hangar that Slicer walks into has much more of a cramped feel than dedicated carriers, diagnostic equipment attached to hoses scattered around one of the four manned fighters in docking cradles. Similar to the atmospheric fighters they evolved from, minus the need for aerodynamics, access plates to equipment and the armored cockpit give it an appearance like the ruffled feathers of birds. The drone fighters line the docking hooks in the walls, less than half the size of the manned fighters but with exaggerated shaping intended to give them the same signature to sensors as the manned variety. Instead of separate doors to separate the hangar, the 'roof' terminates where the innermost layer of the Matsukaze's armor begins, the honeycombed material shining like waves of stars as Slicer paces in.
Crates of spare parts and equipment trunks are arranged into a horseshoe shape. A woman in standard officer fatigues and Star Lieutenant stripes chats with a technician in the slightly bulkier and more pocket-laden suit of a technician. The technician nods towards Slicer and heads back to the open Velociraptor. The lieutenant tilts her neck to stretch out a muscle, the motion jostling her short bobcut hair over the RCC extending from the back of her head. "Evening, spacers," she greets to Slicer and the Alliance pilot following him into the hangar.
In the mess, Leia shrugs and digs at her chowder. "I don't mind having a pilot, just the idea that there's no backup. At least I've got an AI or two looking for rogue planets or other things I don't want to plow into."
Andrew nods, then blinks at a corner of his ARO and starts wolfing down his chicken and rice.
-
Evening Mam, I have stopped by to get synced and have a shot at virtual training. Slicer bows at the commanding officer on deck as he greets her. Eying the space fighter hoping to get his body into one.
-
The lieutenant nods, giving a shallower bow in polite response. "Lieutenant de Gaulle. Commander, when we're deployed outside the Matsukaze." She closes her eyes and after a moment of the organs darting back and forth under their lids, open again and she gives Slicer a once-over, then glances over his shoulder.
"Good to see at least some of the mercs consider a first impression important. If you'll take a seat," she gestures to the semicircle of boxes, "we'll get synching completed and get a few paces in before we come out of warp." De Gaulle waits sternly while the handful of new entrants, mostly Alliance spacers coming in seconds before the 18:30 deadline, stride in. After waiting through some chat and introductions, she talks through the final computer synchronizations and sits down to lead the pilots into VR training, starting with basic familiarization and proceeding into a training simulation against Halpa raiders.
-
Slicer might like the flow of information the matrix gives him, but darting around space in your own star fighter with weapon fire all around does get Slicer juiced up. Slicer does his best to get use to the Star Fighter he is piloting hoping he can keep his skills in it sharp, since one day it might be needed so he can live and breathing another day.
-
Hauling ass down the corridor, Reese bounced off the bulkhead opposite the entrance to the hanger, where it's evident the briefing has already started. Cursing louder than necessary, he quickly joins the session, knowing that the dressing down will either come after or that his ship will suffer some 'accident' and he'll get some 1 on 1 time with the LT.
Strapping himself into the simulator, he quickly syncs with the machine and the rest of the squad, letting the VR take control and leaving his body behind. A quick prayer for guidance from the spirit of the machine, and then his fighter launches with the rest of the squad.
-----------------------------
Serge strolls into the Medbay two minutes before shift change, he clasps Henri's hand in a warm handshake, smiling at the old friend.
"I was worried they were pulling the old guys onto the 'kaze and that's how I got posted here." He gives the hand another good shake before letting go, "But, seeing you here means they must have really been looking for the pensioners, guess that means I'm here by mistake!" Chuckling at the poor joke he smiles again.
"But seriously Henri, it is good to see a familiar face. Seems to be a few I recognize around." Glancing at the time, he frowns a little. "They don't have you pulling a double on account of us transfers do they?"
-
Star Lieutenant de Gaulle turns a lidded gaze on Reese, but only gives the clipped, no-nonsense instructions to sync with the ship's flight simulator server before setting down into a small folding chair and leaning against the back to prepare for the VR portion. Inside the sim she sets everybody through the usual familiarization and then loads a common xeno-defense program.
"Slicer, you were first in the hangar. Take red command. I'll watch your performance. Everybody else, take your standard positions and let's see how well you can really manage when the fire goes live." The cockpits and AR displays materialize, and a sense of weight from the insulated pilot suits appears in the virtual scape. "Don't take this lightly just because it's a simulation. You boys who've flown with me before know what I'm talking about. For you mercs, I run sims as seriously as the confeds. I'm not allowed to run sims as hot as I know some of you privateers do, but if you get yourself shot I want you to feel it. What doesn't kill you the first time should at least hurt enough for you to know better the second."
Two of the eagle fighter jockies laugh, and the squad begins running through the pre-combat checklist when sensor ARs blare warnings at incoming tangos and the radiant ripple of a frigate in the distance coming out of hyperspace flashes in the simulated distance.
---
Henri smiles at Serge. "If it was just ya eagles I'd probably be strapped 'n bed ba now, but with tha mercs, Uriburu wan's a good an' thorough shakedown befar anythin' hits tha fan. Dunno if she's jus' cautious or ambitious and wants a good rec'rd. I'll be here for tha first simmed injaries, but I've got anotha coupl'a hours ta go."
The shift begins as slowly as usual, the chief of medicine walking the new transfers through the ship's equipment and medical technology and the unit's procedures until a fire drill in the forward missile bay starts, leading to four Alliance spacers coming in with simulated injuries complete with AR biomonitor warnings.
-
Serge goes into action, checking the bio monitors as they come in and preforming triage for which injury needed to be taken care of first and which would benefit best from his personal attention.
19d6.hits(5) → [6,6,2,4,6,3,6,3,5,3,4,4,5,6,6,2,5,1,3] = (9) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4539846/)
He marks the most serious injury for himself he quickly gets the other medical staff assigned to the rest of the wounded. Once the others are assigned Serge gets to work on treating his 'wounded' soldier. Calling out the procedures as he would normally have performed them an inputting the process into his medkit for analysis of the simulation.
19d6.hits(5) → [5,1,4,5,1,1,3,3,5,3,6,2,5,2,1,6,1,5,4] = (7) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4539861/)
While he waits for the updated status of the spacer, he looks up to see how the rest of the group is handling their load.
-
Slicer does his best to get a feel for the controls, he decides to try and stay with his red group but at the same time learn how this fighter flys. Keeping with his group of fighters Slicer does a few rolls to test out how the fighter reacts to his commands. Then he pulls away just for a short check on the abilities of the fighter.
(OOC Pilot Areospace (Deep Space) 4(6) + Reaction 3(7) = 13
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4542057/ (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4542057/) 5 hits)
With a few pulls of the stick Slicer starts to feel what this military fighter can do. With his test of the equipment done he pulls back to the group and waits to see what the sim has to throw his way.
-
Reese watches as Red Leader pulls away from the pack, performing some manoeuvres. "Where ya goin' boss?" he calls out as he slip into formation behind Slicer, trying to match him move for move.
13d6.hits(5) → [6,6,1,6,2,1,4,4,3,6,1,1,2] = (4) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4542063/)
Reese finds himself falling behind Slicer when the alarm goes off. "Red 5 here. I have incoming bogies. Shifting to defensive posture." He calls out in a clear unaccented voice. It's almost as if two different people had been talking, the new voice showing little to no humour and straight professionalism. He brings the fighter around and opens up his sensors trying to get a better picture on what's coming in.
7d6.hits(5) → [1,6,5,3,3,4,3] = (2) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4542073/)
-
Slicer was to jazzed about the new ride he had to notice the incoming threat. Red leader here. When we hit the target remember to stay close to your wingman. Too often pilot fly off with out back up then there cooked. Slicer was really hoping it was going to be a few minutes before the hostels appeared. Guess the fire has hit and I get to learn this machine well blasting bogies. Slicer makes sure he is back with the group ASAP so they team could take down the incoming.
-
Serge sends the spacer with AR broadcasting plasma burns to the intensive care slab and Henri directs a few of the rookies looking wide-eyed at the variety of equipment and trying to figure out how to work with healthy men and women acting with varying degrees of success and instruments broadcasting a variety of burns, breaks, and punctures.
The spacer with Serge initially tries to be helpful (and just get the drill over with) by walking to the bed on what his broadcast says is a critically burned leg. His eyes scroll over an internal message, then roll and he stops to reach out a hand to Serge. When close, eh leans in to whisper, "When...will the...bureaucracy stop..."
---
Slicer's Velociraptor hurtles ahead, twisting into a corkscrew, almost over-responsive as his filter struggles to adjust for the simulated latest generation of interceptors. The ship flies fluid, thruster pods twisting it with agility impossible for an atmospheric fighter. The other fighters flare and accelerate, though Slicer pulls ahead of the pack. As the simulated enemy appears, the fighter formation spreads out in standard procedure, mimicked by the incoming simulated enemies.
Reese's sensor sweep tracks the infrared signatures, the feed buzzing through the library and discarding silhouette after silhouette until narrowing down to something beneath the size of known fighters. With an EWar suite breaking up its energy signature and an irregular surface including absorbing and reflective facets, the computer can't narrow down whether the incoming signatures more closely match missiles or smaller varieties of fighterbots coming in at what might be afterburner rates of acceleration for fighters. The ten tangos zipping closer pass within missile range and continue to pour on the speed as they close on particle cannon range.
-
With Slicer pulling a bit ahead of the group he decides to do a scan of the incoming threats. Best to know what our group is up against.
-
Between adjusting his ship's filter to improve precision of control and seeing how much he can push the new fighter, Slicer almost forgets to take a sweep of the incoming tangos. The haste gives him the count of ten incoming tangos again, but only tells him that the targets are somewhat small and routing ECM, at a level common to Terran PMC and lower-level Halpa military units. They pass within missile range and continue to close on standard cannon distance, less than 20 seconds at current acceleration.
-
Slicer watches his sensors for a short time then sends a message to his Red squad. If any of you get a good reading of what is coming our way let the team know. Slicer wonders what is speeding their way. Maybe if I knew this fighter better I could get a better reading. If those are missiles we should fly a loose formation to make us harder to hit. Just not sure what is heading our way yet.
-
"I can't get a positive ID on these," Reese calls out, "Anyone having better luck?" Reese slams the magnification up on his optical to max and tries to visually ID the incoming. 9d6.hits(5) → [3,2,6,5,2,1,1,4,5] = (3) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4555131/) (this assumed low-light and very far away, low-light is accommodated for by vision and very far was a -3, if it's full darkness then it'd be 1 hit if dropping the last 6 dice)
At the same time, Reese thumbs off the safeties on his weapons and gets ready to deploy counter measures on a moments notice, still hurtling towards the incoming bogies.
----------------------
Serge looks the soldier directly in the face whispering, "When you take it seriously." he then calls out for help from the nurses and a laser bone saw. "Got a turtle here, he's gone into shell shock, Nurse secure him to that table and medicate him, looks like we might have to amputate!"
-
The spacer's face begins to drain of color before he remembers that it's all a simulation. He rolls his eyes but holds in a chuckle as a man with Spacer Third Class rings on his cuffs and the Alliance's medicine emblem of twined snakes around a pole approaches with a bone saw, clicking the blade out to complete diagnostics on it before retracting it and injecting a saline solution substitute for sedative in slightly shakier motions than strictly textbook.
---
The other Velociraptor pilot clicks into the channel, "I can't get a positive lock, but I'm guessin' Halpa gunpods. Might only have their standard laser loadout. They've come in railgun range, permission to open fire with canons?"
The digital feed isn't having any problem with lighting, but even common EWar can make target locks take longer and require much closer scans to get accurate reads on the unit and any possible equipment installed on it.
Reese's observations and experience with the Halpa is more than enough to remember their tendency to use automated smaller, closer-range 'gunpods' or 'gun bits' in place of fighters, and like most Halpa units they tend to be equipped with particle cannons versus the mix of railguns and laser cannons used by Terrans. His raptor's railguns snap on and load in a fraction of a second. A moment later, the fighter's EWar computer warns of enemy lock-on (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4555327/).
The distance measurement scrolls down and a warning blinks that the virtual enemy units will likely be entering effective particle cannon range in five seconds.
-
Slicer at first starts to think to hold until we confirm the incoming as hostile but being lite up with a lock on he decides to move to a more agressive stance. Ok they locked us up fire at will, but keep in formation. Deploy fighterbots on a tight wing assistance if you have too use them as an extra sheild if the heat gets too hot. With the fire command given Slicer joins his wing in taking these inbound treats out of this black stary sector of space.
-
Slicer's virtual Velociraptor snaps into attack posture like a snake coiled in the corner of its cage, and his wingtip particle cannons glow as they discharge the first pulse of super-energized shot against the virtual enemies closing in. The small, nimble enemy jukes out of the way in a mechanical but efficient pattern, just barely enough to keep a telling blow from landing on it. The maneuver carries the brief but identifiable infrared flare as the object thrusts out of the way, just as a real enemy in the real world would. A small sign of realism even deep in the simulated scape.
-
Reese deploys his fighter bots ahead of him, knowing they can take the heavier G force acceleration a lot better then he can. He marks one of the Tango's in his HUD as his as sic's the bots on it. "Clearing my throat" He opens up with his particle cannon at the same target trying to take advantage of the limited 3 on 1. He tries to anticipate it trying to dodge him.
------
Arsenault lets the spacer go and moves onto the next most urgent patient in the queue. He takes a quick glance at the time, never really knowing how fast it was passing while he worked.
-
Reese's virtual fighterbots leap ahead in a basic attack pattern as he takes a potshot on the nearest incoming signature. It goes wide, but so does the first shot the gunpod takes against his first fighterbot. Their railguns blaze, the first missing but the second scoring a solid hit that pierces the gunpod's core and sends it into spinning fragments of polygons.
The spacer pilot with them engages the virtual gunpods on the right flank, sending his fighterbots to harass the next tango while he lines up a shot on his enemy. The railgun running the length of the Velociraptor flares and the gunpod winks into a dissolving array of virtual polygons. His fighterbots take potshots at the next gunpod, but fail to score a hit. With both flights in range, the crossfire lances through the kilometers between both formations.
---
Doctor Walther spends the next hour instructing the new personnel, focusing on the PMC medic, then retires to the adjoining office to fill out reports. He pauses to give a thankful nod to Aresnault and tugs the door closed with his off hand. The remainder of the simulated explosion event passes without any mistakes being made or further snark from the 'wounded' actors. As soon as the ship intercom announces the end of the training, the medics not stationed in medlab disperse to their stations and the other spacers to theirs.
-
Slicer gives his command to his drone back to attack on the same target he is. With the command sent Slicer tries to light up one of the hostile near him. As Slicer lets loose with the rail gun he wished he was firing some high grade lasers across the blackness of space.
-
Slicer's fighterbots slide through the black of virtual space, railguns on all three Velociraptors spitting fire. The tango dodges out of the first slug, narrowly away from the second, but the third pulse blasting it apart. Several of the virtual tangos fire back, their particle cannons failing to score a blow against the raptors.
-
Reese slams the stick one way and cuts his thrusters in another sending his raptor into a controlled tumble. He then stabilizes and comes up for a shot on the tango's taking shot's at Slicer's raptor. His fighterbots automatically move to his new target, continuing their last command.
-
Reese comes up along the side of the gunpod, the heat signature clear enough on his virtual enemy's baffled thrusters. His fighterbots fire, the railgun blasts missing the nimble, arrowhead-shaped enemy about half the size of the fighterbots, but his shot pounds through the virtual gunpod, which folds into itself and winks out of the digital arena.
Reese's previous gunpods pursue him, firing at his fighter and one of his fighterbots, which spins out of the way. One of the gunpods facing Slicer holds its target and fires, but the second recalculates threat based on Reese's destruction of its accompanying pod and turns its particle cannon on him. The assist computer blinks to remind about the lock-on warning, adding an incoming signature approaching at missile acceleration.
The other pilot jockeys for position against his remaining gunpods, failing to score a hit himself but dealing a telling blow with his one of his fighterbots even as his other bot is dodged by its mechanical opposite.
-
Slicer decides fire at the closest gun pod hoping to score a hit and start lowering the number of tango's firing at the newly formed team of pilots. Lets geek these tangos Slicer thinks as he lets his rail guns throw lead across space at his target.
-
Slicer's railgun blazes fire, the burst coring the virtual gunpod and sending it into a dissolving spread of polygons that wink out of the virtual scape.
-
Reese curses as he realizes that his last maneuver , while getting him in line for another shot, left him open to one from the Tango's. He tries to evade the shot, but his virtual screen momentarily floods red as his raptor is struck by enemy's weapon. No time to assess damage, he sets his fighterbots to autonomous mode and tries to get his craft turned around for a return shot on his pursuer.
-
An off sense of heat creeps into Reese's body, enough to notice but not more than he can shrug off. His shot blasts another gunpod and his bots blast another which grows sluggish and shoots wide at Reese.
The spacer pilot and his first fighterbot finish off the gunpods in his vector and his second fighterbot blazes at the gunpod which retargeted Reese, the failing to score a hit in the maneuvers.
-
Slicer doesn't like taking heat when he is jumped into a space fighter so he decides to turn his fighter at the tango shooting at him. Once he has a beat on Tango 1 he decides to see if his rail gun can toast the small digital annoyance Shot at me will you lets see how well you can take it..
-
Slicer's shot cores the tango, which bursts apart.
"Nice shot, kid. You may be a fighter jockey after all," the third alliance pilot calls over the comm.
The detonation distorts as a projectile coming from the direction of the simulated frigate streaks through the explosion at Reese's fighter, still beeping its 'target lock' warning.
Reese jukes out of the way of one gunpod shot, then evades the missile so narrowly its thrust leaves scorched flecks in his Velociraptor's viewport. The anti-fighter weapon vectors its thrust and begins swinging around for another pass.
The third pilot leaves his fighterbots against the remaining gunpods, even the damaged bot managing to score a solid hit and taking out two more tangos. Letting his computer catch his drift, the eagle fighter lines up with the swerving missile. Its angle snaps back onto Reese just as the pilot makes his firing solution and fires with his particle cannon, catching the high-maneuver projectile and causing a premature detonation that scatters its energy across open space.
The star field and texturing flattens and a pop-up window announces the end of the simulated exercise.
-
Slicer sees the pop-up window. Hot dame we made it through the digital assassins and didn't lose a wingman. The Matrix assassins I deal with are alot more real and dangerous. Slicer decides to comm over to the rest of the group. Good work team seems we made it out of that fight with out digital death taking us. Best to get out and see how the CO feels about our flying. Slicer turns off his Sim and unplugs the optic cord from his Data Jack and steps out of his simulator to see how bad the team is going to get chewed out. You always know that there is something you did that will get you chewed out, well most of the time anyway.
-
Reese let's out a long breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding as 'space' around him becomes the simulator pod again. He sits quietly in the cockpit for a few moments, eyes closed, muttering a thanks to the warrior spirit for allowing them to prevail, even in if the battle was not real.
A moment later he steps outside the pod, and joins the other pilots. He nods his thanks to the spacer who nailed the fish trying to bite his ass. He comes to attention and awaits the flight debrief.
-
The only sound in the hangar for the next several seconds is the soft whir of the air circulating and the occasional tap of a technician running a diagnostic on the Velociraptor opened for maintenance.
Then a clack of boots echoes out over the glassmetal floor. An even, purposeful stride that remains unbroken even after the pilots turn to see Lieutenant de Gaulle exit the hangar control booth and come to a stop at the makeshift simulator station. Her white-ceramic-plated RCC gleams briefly in the light pouring from the hangar booth. She looks over the pilots and crosses her arms. "Blue group, I shouldn't have to tell you that situational awareness is critical for a pilot. A lone spacer is a dead spacer and you each broke off to fight those gunpods without ever looking at your comrades' until the flanking had already chewed through four fighterbots."
"Ma'am," one of the pilots in an Alliance jumpsuit says as he stands, wincing as if moving a fresh injury, and salutes. "Against fourteen gunpods we were bound to be flanked. Those scale-heads may be superstitious, but they're not stupid and they don't think two-dimensionally."
"Neither do I, as you have just learned first hand. The purpose of this exercise was to remind you of where you are and that you cannot have complete faith in what's behind or in front of you. Every time a new kingdom appears, it's always in the midst of new tactics."
The Alliance spacer who flew with Slicer and Reese stands and salutes, "Lieutenant, some combinations just won't appear. Only the Trintans make regular use of the super-high-maneuverability missiles like red team saw, and the number of gunpods we had could only have been a carrier-type. The anti-fighter types never have that many pods."
De Gaulle nods. "While your memory serves you correctly, remember that their queens have even more flexibility in the equipment their flights use than our generals. Interrogation reports indicate that some Alufi even personally customize their ships in preparation for specific tactics."
She refocuses on Slicer. "An eye out at all times will protect you even more than our armor or CIWS. Our 'bots are expensive, but here to be used directly. I'm impressed that you started working on your filter as soon as you saw it wasn't the same configuration as the general-purpose fighters you're probably used to, but interceptors are designed to attack and return. I want you in the sims on familiarization runs until we come out of warp."
The clack of her boots as she snaps to Reese seems to echo even more than her earlier footsteps. "Since you were the first pilot to actually scan the gunpods, I expected you to be the first to engage in - and hold - evasive maneuvers when you saw the lock-on warning. The kingdoms aren't famous for their missiles, but neither are our flights and we still kill thousands of fighterbots every year. You can't rely on your wingmen getting extremely lucky every time." She straightens and turns slightly away from the pilots assigned to red group. "Aside from that, I think you know how to shoot and how to fly. Work on staying alive and we'll make it through this mission just like all the rest. I'll upload the investigation sim and I expect all of you to be space forensics experts by the time we drop out of warp. Ahn?"
"Uhn!" the Alliance spacer pilots, repeating the syllables historically representing infinity and traditionally representing completion in the areas of the Alliance influenced by either Japan or China.
-
Reese stands at attention during the debrief and tries to soak in the data, every flight is different and there's always more to learn. He listens attentively as she chews out the others, and waits patiently for his turn.
She turns to red team, the engagement replaying in his mind as she talks. He visualizes the moment and see's the wisdom behind her words.
Reese stamps a foot and calls out "Yes Ma'am, sorry Ma'am!" after she's finished with him, and follows the the "uhn" of the Alliance spacers maybe a little out of sync, not knowing what to expect.
-
Slicer gives the commander a bow after the comments that where directed his way. When he heard that he had more sim work on the craft to do he was a bit saddened by the order, but he can't really hope to do much else then drink and surf the local matrix until out of hyper space it would be ok to check out the new fighter.
When the rap up is complete Slicer will head back to the sims for more training on the new fighter as ordered.
-
(Assuming nobody has anything else)
The soft thrumming of the ship at warp continues for the rest of the day as the 12-hour night shift watches the ship journey through space to the first planned stop point of the StelCorp survey ship. The lighting remains at optimum visibility levels throughout the day, leaving less sign of the transition of shifts from night to day besides the trickle of people reporting to the Matsukaze's mess hall for breakfast. Arsenault sees captain Walther at breakfast as the shifts change, the doctor taking the day shift and Arsenault night with most of the PMCs.
Just after the marines' morning exercises, the call to secure stations comes and the Matsukaze drops out of warp with a sharp shudder. Initial scans indicate no artificial heat signatures, the hangar opens and both interceptors and scouts are launched as sensor sweeps begin.
-
After Slicer finished a few rounds on the Simulator he decided that around the time the ship was going to drop out of warp he would be near the hanger bay, just encase the call came in that the ship was under attack.
Slicer braces himself as the ships drop out of warp, then waits. Slicer does his best to keep alert waiting for the call to battle stations. Lets see if this day turns to hell quickly or if we have to wait for a bit.
-
Arsenault quickly heads back to his bunk,luckily nearby, him not being on shift at the moment meant that unless he got an e-call he'd be best helping by keeping his ass out of the way of those who were.
---
Reese curses and puts out a hand on the bulkhead to brace himself while he finishes his business in the head. He zips, washes up and is about to run somewhere when he realizes he's got no idea where he's supposed to be right now. He brings up his comm to try and have it tell him where he needed to be.
-
Reese's section header directed him to maintenance and training exercises with the spacer marines in the ship's CQC center, currently rotating through hand-to-hand and AR marksmanship exercises.
---
With no call to combat stations, the hangar receives orders from CIC to deploy scouts, and all personnel trained in sensor operation are forwarded orders to sweep the area. Infrared telemetry detects no unnatural anomalies, so the crew proceeds to radar and short-range energy sweeps. The peregrines and harriers hum through the pre-flight checklists, and the control booth's adjoining command center prepares for pilots to pilot remotely. Three spacer fighter-jockies have already arrived and are playing rock-paper-scissors for position.
-
Reese grabbed his combat kit, and made his way towards his the CQC centre. Looking forward to getting a little 'hands on' time. Seeing an open space on the AR Range he steps into it and starts bringing his gear online.
After activating his Ingram a long yawn is heard. "Finally... bout time we got some work to do."
"Shut it" Reese replies. "I tell you, one of these days I'm gonna get in to your program and rip your throat out." He activates the weapon mount on his shoulder and mounts the Ingram to it. "AR firing mode, full recoil simulation."
"On it boss. Good to go." The Ingram states in response, apparently not wanting to, or programmed not to respond to the threat of reprogramming.
Reese grabs his shotgun and makes the same settings changes to it. Thankfully it didn't have a fraggin' personality chip in it, but, then again it didn't need to act on it's own sometimes.
He sets to 'work' on the range proper. Shotgun for short range engagements, the LMG for medium to long range engagements.
-
Slicer decides to get to the hanger and grab a remote scout fighter, not wanting to be out in space right now with his meat body in the line of fire until he knows the inner workings of all the fighters a bit better.
Slicer sits down in the control rig for the remote scout. Then lunches it when give then order to do so. Slicer hopes he can use this scouts sensors to locate anything that might lead the star ship to the reason for all the missing ships.
-
Four marines are going through the paces in hand-to-hand, one pair unarmed and the other switching off disarm maneuvers in the heavier, plated exoarmor worn during ship defense. The matte gray panels are darker than the walls but otherwise resemble the combat kit worn by planetside infantry. Plexiglass along one wall separates the 'dojo' from the armor, the four heavy exosuits standing out even in their dark alcoves and missing their typical meter-and-a-half railguns usually locked to one arm mount or another. Across the entry door is a heavy, rotating armor-plate door leading to the Matsukaze's armory, while a lightweight door separates the dojo from the simulation firing range, two of the four spaces already occupied by marines bearing eagle emblems of the alliance, their training weapons hissing with compressed air to simulate the recoil of real live fire. Only one takes notice of Reese's entry, and is about to turn back to his virtual lane (or cubicle depending on perspective) before Reese starts talking to his weapon. The grunt chuckles and resets his training sim.
---
Slicer takes one of the open seats in the remote control stations as the technicians finish fueling the fighters. With a brief siren on speakers and AR transmission as well as rotating lights, the hangar proper evacuates. A few minutes pass as the atmosphere is stored before the armor door shuffles up and slides forwards. "CIC to all scouts, you are clear to proceed. Still nothing artificial on infrared scopes, no returns on radar or energy wave. Looks like we're stuck with an old fashioned visual search. No signs of combat, so shunt spare cycles to the visual processors. The Rache should have dropped a navigation records pod if it stopped by and moved on, so keep an eye out for ugly yellow boxes."
The clock ticks by as the fighters deploy, sensors rotating through their vectors before starting over again. After several hours, one of the Peregrines comes to a stop two thousand kilometers from the Matsukaze and sends a broad transmission to the Wild Card group, "Microdebris detected, looks like splatter melted off the hull from a high-energy weapon. Still no sign of the black - er, yellow - box, but somethin' was here and got shot at. Might be from one of ours, collecting a sample now."
"Roger. Return to the 'kaze," the CIC replies. "Courier two, come in for docking. As soon as analysis is done, return to the Alliance with the sample and results. Let's give another hour or two to see if we get lucky with the flight recorder. Fighters, keep your eyes peeled. Message if you find anything before moving in, hopefully the only time limit we'll have on this mission is your air scrubbers. You know when to return."
-
Slicer is glad to see the scout fighters have found a lead that will hopefully give some intel to the mission. Slicer a bit happier does his best to search the area for anything else that will lead his ship to the missing ship he has been sent to find. Slicer does his best to fly with his wing in a search pattern of the space.
-
After a full fighter-assisted sweep of the area, it's clear that this is no pirate attack. No pirates would cart off an entire crippled hull, and no military faction would be fanatic enough to box up an entire survey ship. Days after the projected stop at this waypoint, the chances that the survey ship is late is negligible and the presence of Terran alloys means something was here. As the fighters return from their long comb through the outer system, CIC has only one conclusion.
The explorer was here, and after a firefight vanished without a trace.
The captain gives orders to discharge the warp drive and prepare for warp by the next day. Ship facilities remain open until the jump to superlight.
-
Once Slicer gets his remote fighter back onboard he heads back to his room. Once at his room Slicer opens his foot locker and grabs one of his bottles of Scotch and starts to drink. Dam ghost ships I wounder where this craft will head next to find what space has swallowed up. Maybe what ever that other pilot found will come in handy. With the burn of the Scotch going down Slicers throat he sits back on his bunk and ponders what the next move of this scout team will be.