The Battles of Some: Plains of Sivas

After a bit of wait, we’re live boys
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Anders @DuneToa

September 21st, 06:27, Sivas Standard Time

Anders, you find yourself looking at a small city from above, as you fall in slow motion alongside your brethren towards its numerous structures that seem to cling to the ground, unlike the cities of your home that scramble for the sky. Looking to the west you see the dark line of the Blackvine column that is nearing the city. Wishing for the cover of night, you touch down in the middle of a side street and cut your cords. Looking around, you wonder if it would be better to scout out the area on your own instead of meeting up with the other men and women you dropped with like you are supposed to.


Nilas @ajtazt

September 21st, 06:27, Sivas Standard Time

Listening to Argon comms may be your job, but it’s also how you find things out first, even when you perhaps shouldn’t. In this case, it was that the last of the transports were finally loaded and heading out. Yours was luckily running on time, meaning that the destination was in range of your equipment. Somewhere between a large rural town and small city, Ercis was still covered in many layers of radio communications even at sunrise. Browsing between different frequencies, you find a radio station airing local music, a few wavelengths sending information between buildings, likely emergency services based off the sounds of the last channel: an emergency evacuation order is being broadcast to the entire place, warning of an approaching column of United Colonial Military troops. Bingo. There’s the confirmation you were looking for. This operation won’t be a waste after all, though it does mean you’ll be seeing some action. Checking the time, you realize the paratroopers that you heard about on a not-so-open channel of the Baronies’ comms should be touching down about now. Perhaps you’ll get to listen in on their conversations while you wait out the last few minutes of the ride there?


Lin @MakutaOisli

September 21st, 06:24, Sivas Standard Time

“LC Gang?”

You turn your head at the calling of your name. Eyes settling on the captain, you stand, your massive hardsuit whirring and clicking at even a simple motion. Now a lone obsidian pillar among the more familiar browns and olives of the other resting soldiers nearby, you stand out even more than usual.

“We’ve observed Argon paratroopers dropping in advance teams and supplies at the town ahead, meaning we may well end up facing them nearby. We need to drive them out in hopes that the rest of our column will be able to establish a foothold before the Baronies’ ■■■■■■■■ can get here.”

Eyeing your commander, then turning to the troops nearby, you open your mouth to speak-

“We’re sending you in with our strike team because they likely have transports following shortly behind those paratroopers, meaning those men WILL need backup if they are to come back alive”

-only to be interrupted with the answer

”Ill give you a moment to gather your gear, then meet outside my tent and I’ll introduce you to the others.”


Rad @BynariDistress

September 21st, 06:24, Sivas Standard Time

You watch as the captain hikes up a small hill to talk to the last member of your team: a mean looking woman who inhabits a shining black hardsuit that stands out among all but significantly customized hardsuits, like your own.

”So what 'd ya think the lady’s like?”

The question came from the leader of your group, Sergeant Okar. Never a proper man, he is very rarely afraid to voice what’s on his mind, and the safety net provided by him not actually being part of your organization, rather belonging to the Sivas Militia, meant he couldn’t technically be punished for his commentary by the captain.
You turn to gauge the reactions of the others selected for the advance team before responding. Those from the Sivas Vanguard, like the sergeant, are used to his mannerisms, leaving a chuckle or eye roll as the biggest reaction. Some of your fellow Blackvine soldiers shoot looks of shock at the man, but mostly stay silent, not wanting to cause strife before such a mission.


Ace @NOTaHFfan

September 21st, roughly 06:35 Sivas Standard Time

“Ground, sky. Ground, sky. Ground. Shock.”
A phrase familiar to the racers of your homeworld, it was the closest way you could put whatever was going on into words. The engineering accessways never had windows, yet here you were, watching the stars fade to blue more and more with each passing rotation. Clinging to a wall opposite the growing hole in the ship’s hull, centrifugal force threatens to rip your magnetic hold away while the ground rushes toward your doomed ship. In likely your last moments, what thoughts race through your mind?


Vitus @Ghid

Undetermined time

Standing on a bulkhead, secured only by the magnetic boots of your hardsuit, a console beeps from the other side of a bridge. Some officers discuss among themselves for a moment, then you hear the strong voice of your father cut through the conversation “Well then we have to move to intercept. If those cursed destroyers get within range of Whispered Faith, she won’t last more than a couple of salvos.”
You turn away, looking to your mother who is standing on another surface of the bridge’s interior. She seems tired still, yet is tense. You can’t blame her, neither of you were supposed to be on the ship during combat, and the thought of facing off against two of the Baronies’ Barracuda destroyers with just your old Pirot class frigate was terrifying. Thinking back to your studies, you remind yourself that your ship has almost as much tonnage as the two destroyers put together, but you still can’t ignore the fact that they are far better armed. Your thoughts are suddenly cut short by a voice howling across the compartment.

“INCOMING ORDINANCE, HELMETS ON AND BRACE FOR IMPACT”

Knowing you have mere seconds if you are lucky, you grab the helmet floating near your hip and slam it over your head. Your mother begins to rush you through the bulkhead away from the bridge, the floating hair coming from her exposed head blocking your view to your father. Moving through the passage as quickly as possible in the zero-g, you try to make it away from such a target area.
The ship suddenly is rocked by an impact so violent that you’re sure whatever hit it went clean through. To your horror, you look to the bridge behind you and see the soft glow of Sivas in its place.

September 21st, 02:01, Sivas Standard Time
Waking in a cold sweat, you try to calm your shaking hands. You look around the hospital room and try to convince yourself that it is safe here, that the wall won’t suddenly disappear and show you the bodies and debris that burned themselves into your memory only two weeks ago. Slowly laying down, balling part of your blanket in your fists in an attempt to calm your trembling body, sleep slowly comes after what feels like hours.

September 21st, 06:27, Sivas Standard Time
You turn your head at a gentle knock on the door, and you hear the voice of one of the nurses that had been tending to you throughout the past week. “Mister Warthen, we need to get you out of here, an evacuation has been ordered. I can explain more once you’re moving, but a Blackvine column is nearing the town. Is it alright if I come in?”

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Vitus had hardly awoken before his fingers were involuntarily rolling across his palms, his mind paying more attention to the dramatic rising and siphoning in of his stomach.

He’d heard it called something-something chorea before, and while it used to be significantly worse, the sleep and constant care he received had made significant headway, even though he still felt like he lacked all control when he was lying down. It took more effort than he felt like he had in his body to stop the motions entirely, but even as he grouchily mulled over the order to evacuate his comfortable bed, his hand reached across to the nightstand and clumsily grasped a small screwdriver, instantly falling into a rhythmic pattern of rolling it in his fingertips with perfect dexterity.

The rest of the violent motions, sans the stomach siphoning which only ever seemed to occur at this angle, softened until practically unnoticeable. It was much easier for his mind to control the rest of the constant movements if his focus was on a particular movement requiring constant attention; perhaps that was why he had been so efficient at fixing that junked hardsuit in the opposite end of the room into semi-working fashion. At least it somewhat fits…

“Sure.” His reply finally came, more sullen and disinterested than anything else. Through a rather harsh trial by fire he had the sharp and burning edge of his ego, refined by his trauma and the horrors of war all around him, dulled by the hard and patient nurses he had dealt with, although which one it was at the door - which of the ones that were left, anyway - he couldn’t be too sure.

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“Understood.”

The smooth black armor whirred to life as its pilot started to move.
Emblazoned onto its chest, was a small name:
Ironclad II, along with the insignia of the
In the inside of the helmet, an automatic voice chimed.
“Welcome back, Pilot. Energy readings nominal. Core is at 100%.”
The Ironclad’s metal fingers flexed, retrieving a machine gun and a bag, which was slung around the armor’s shoulder.
Lin sighed, as the heavy footsteps of the armor trudged towards the tent.

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“Not sure Sarnt,” Rad replied, finishing up the adjustments to his bucket. Holding the helmet up and giving it a once over, he placed in on his knee. “With all due respect sir,” the disdain evident in his voice; “I’d say she’s out of your league.”
Unlike the rest of the team, Rad wanted to see what the man was made of. If he couldn’t take his taunting, how could Rad trust him when the pressure was on and lives were at stake?

Standing, he handed the multi tool he had borrowed back to the solider that gave it to him.

“Thanks for that.” He said.

Picking up his rifle, he secured the sling to his plates. Looking back up the hill, he stood for a moment, watching the captain speak with Lin.

Reaching into one of his pouches, Rad pulled out the cigar he “procured” during his last interaction with the Baronies. As he looked for his lighter, he realized it wasn’t there.

He cursed under his breath “Must have dropped it.”
He put the cigar back in his porch and leaned against the wall of the building the team was waiting in.

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Ace was told that a military engineer was a simple enough, honest job, especially for someone with good hands.
“It’s not nearly as dangerous as being a real soldier”, they said.

Saying that she started to doubt the legitimacy of those claims would be a huge understatement.


I wanna go home I wanna go home I wanna go home I wanna go home I wanna go home I wanna go home

First, Ace felt a tremendous impact and heart a painfully loud noise that threatened to destroy her eardrums. Without getting a chance to process what had just happened, she watched an enormous gash almost instantaneously appear in the wall opposite to her. Then, much to her horror, as if the original amount wasn’t enough, she witnessed the only emergency parachute in the room get ripped off the wall and immediately disappear through the newly-formed exit from the ship. It didn’t even say goodbye.

So there she was, in complete shock, scared, disoriented, desperately clinging to the quickly falling apart ship with all her force, helped by the magnetic force of the gloves and boots of her suit, rushing towards the ground at an insane speed.

She felt that her magnetic boots slowly started to slip. Forcing her eyes open, she saw that a crack had appeared in the visor of her helmet, and that the pressure in her suit was dropping.

Many regrets rushed through Ace’s head. She wished she called her parents more often, wished she’d put herself right with her mother before she left, wished that she hadn’t left at all. She wished she hadn’t signed up for this job. She regretted signing that contract and boarding this ship, she regretted that she wouldn’t be able to see her family and friends ever again, regretted that she would never be able to find a partner, regretted that she wouldn’t be able to live the way she wanted. Ace regretted that her life was about to end this way. She didn’t want to die.

That last thought got stuck in her head and gave her the force to keep pushing forward. She knew that she needed to get out of that hallway, as far away from that hole as possible. Trying to close it off was out of the question, the damage was far too severe, and even if it wasn’t, she was far too disoriented to think rationally. All she knew at that moment was that she needed to run.

Holding onto everything she could, Ace started decisively making her way towards the door, various debris flying past her. If only she could open it, go through and close it behind her, if only she could rejoin her crew. They had much more experience, they knew what to do in this situation. They had to.

They had to survive. She had to survive.

I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die

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“Touchdown,” Anders said, as his parachute crumpled onto the ground. He stood in a small street, the walls of the buildings coated in lichen and corrosion, as the backs of city buildings are everywhere. Some graffiti, incomprehensible due to its stylized characters, coated one wall. The street was quiet, empty, void. Its civilian inhabitants had all been evacuated long ago, when the Colonies first launched their offensive.

He checked comms. No signal, only a quiet burr of static. It was normal. It would take a few moments for the other troopers to get in comms range, not accounting for environmental issues.
Where to start?
A quick check found his gear in order, pistol holstered, SMG on the back of his hardsuit. Seeing a nearby dumpster, he bundled his parachute into it. No sense in leaving it for anyone to find.

Having determined that there would be nothing else to do in the side street, Anders Brenn drew his pistol and started down the small street. It would be a dark morning for any would-be assailants…

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A short, almost scoffing “ruh” of breath escaped Nilas’ lips. There were many ‘at least’s’ that came to mind from the emergency broadcasts. At least:

  • Intel finally earned a point on that losing scoreboard.
  • The local waves were more worried about the UCN than them.
  • Maybe, things will go better for the paratroopers this time around.
  • This time he wasn’t around their dropping point at the start.

Last time? That fresh ranker was too proud of their splat-boys. Demanded a documentarian film their glorious decent and capture of the control point. And the Vines probably did find that decent a glorious one. It made for some good shredded cheese.

Couldn’t say the same for poor Kwanon. They weren’t even spotted. One stray shot in the wrong place was all it took. Nilas was never sure if that bullet was even from the enemy, but he remembered having enough sense to kill the video broadcast. Of course, he was ordered to get it back up. Didn’t matter they were losing or that the cameraman was dead; just keep filming and that “glorious takedown” would come eventually. Folks back home will never see the magnificent retreat they captured that day.

But perhaps, a rare perhaps, Nilas knew one of those paratroopers. He tunned into what their comm frequencies should be and listened.

Come on, give me some good news.

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Lin @MakutaOisli
September 21st, 06:25 SST

As you work your way down the path already being beaten down between the hill where your encampment was and that of the captain’s tent, you see nearly a dozen soldiers resting outside the tent. Two in particular stood out to you, the reputation of one you knew, but had never met, while the other was a total stranger.
There seemed to be a small amount of banter amongst the group, despite their clearly split origins: half were from the colonies, like you, while the others carried that distinct Sivas milita look, something out of place both among Colonials and Barony subjects, closer to the look of civilians and hunters than trained soldiers.
The man you recognize, youve heard the name “Rad” thrown around, looked to be talking with the other oddball in the group: clearly not a Colonial soldier, his hat and duster concealed what is clearly a military-grade hardsuit, though likely stripped down. As the two conversed, Rad’s demeanor matched that of his reputation, while the other figure seemed much less serious, almost carefree.
As you reach the tent, the captain silences the group to introduce you.

“This is Lance Corporal Gang, she will be providing your team with much needed fire support when the first wave of Argon troops inevitably arrive.”

Turning to you, the captain then introduces the two men you watched on your way down

“Gang, this is PFC Adams of our own forces and Sergent Okarr of the Sivas Vanguard. Okarr will be leading this operation until you all make your return. After then, you will rejoin your troops for the Baronies’ attack”


Rad @BynariDistress

September 21st, 06:25 SST

The sergeant lets out a slight snort as he laughs. Turning his head to you, he jokes “Oh Im sure she is, and Im sure Id end up with a nasty lookin mark across my face if I tried anything. You on the other hand, you might have a shot. Doubt anyone here would really stand a real chance at landing anythin though. Ive heard a couple stories about that hardsuit and its pilot, and they werent pretty”

The soldier mutters something along the lines of “no problem”, but he was still clearly a bit offput by the comments being thrown around by the sergeant.

Pulling back the side of his duster to reach into a pocket, the sergeant tosses you a lighter with an upward nod. Such a simple motion however, revealed that the sarge may be more than some rude militia volunteer with a rank and a gun, as you catch a glimpse of some sort of crazy custom handgun strapped to his leg beneath the duster. Not as flashy as your own sidearm, the weapon clearly had work put into it, and was noticeably more oversize than many of the sidearms that you’ve seen throughout this war.

Before you get a chance to say anything, the captain silences the group, shooting a disapproving look at Okarr, who smirks and stifles another chuckle.

“This is Lance Corporal Gang, she will be providing your team with much needed fire support when the first wave of Argon troops inevitably arrive.”

Turning to the hulking hardsuit, the captain then introduces its pilot to you and the sergeant.

“Gang, this is PFC Adams of our own forces and Sergent Okarr of the Sivas Vanguard. Okarr will be leading this operation until you all make your return. After then, you will rejoin your troops for the Baronies’ attack”


Anders @DuneToa

September 21st, 06:28 SST

Moving down the street, everything is very quiet, save some local birds beginning their morning cries. Realizing that you stand nowhere near the meeting point at the northeast corner of the city, you look to the sky, and see parachutes towards the center of town, the opposite direction of where you should meet.

Just before you start to move however, you hear voices begin to filter into your helmet.

“Touchdown Bravo Two.”

“Touchdown Alpha Three. Supply touchdown confirmed”

“Touchdown Alpha Eight”

“Touchdown Alpha Leader. Bravo team, secure supplies then rendezvous at the planned location. Alpha team, move to rendezvous immediately.”*

As the rest of both squads radio in confirmation of safe landing, the sun breaks the horizon above where the Blackvine troops should be camped out. Thankful for the polarized visor on your helmet, you carry on.


Nilas @ajtazt

September 21st, 06:28 SST

After what feels like many minutes of radio silence, a static filled voice breaks through your headset:
“-ouc—wn --avo Two”
“— Alph- —ee. Sup–ly tou------ c-nfir–d”
“Touchdown A—a ------”

Then, cutting clearly through the rest, you hear perhaps the most important voice present on the channel:

“Touchdown Alpha Leader. Bravo team, secure supplies then rendezvous at the planned location. Alpha team, move to rendezvous immediately.”*

Good news had indeed arrived, clarity provided by the more powerful radios of one of the present squad leaders. As your transport rocks about in the sky, you fumble the knob, causing the local radio station you found earlier to start burning its way in your ears.


Vitus @Ghid
September 21st, 06:28 SST

As the door squeaks open, a bright light shines on your face from outside the room. As the nurse steps in, she begins packing a bag with the supplies that are sitting on the counter opposite your bed, then begins putting any of your loose belongings in a second pocket. Explaining the situation as she goes, you slowly are brought up to speed
“Last night, a large group of UCM soldiers set up a camp only a few minutes drive outside the city. The mayor tried to ask them to go around, to leave us to peace, but they said the needed to get somewhere as fast as they can. We received the evacuation order twenty minutes ago, but we had to get the more care intensive patients moving first.”

“Fire and rescue will be taking you and the others north of the city, and from there youll either be put on a truck to the foot of the mountains or a shuttle to the hospital out in Soma.”

Doing her best to move your hardsuit near the bed, she motions for you to get up.


Ace @NOTaHFfan

September 21st, Roughly 06:35 SST

Conveniently, as the pressure inside your hardsuit drops, the pressure outside rises. Though it may not be fully safe yet, the risk of blacking out is dropping. Well, at least from lack of oxygen, the forces at play and risk of something embedding itself into your skull are still a big problem.

As you fight your way to the hatch, you notice a problem: the ship was never designed to be in a planets atmosphere, so there was no account for any gravity other than the force produced by thrust from the ships engines, which you could look anywhere in the room and tell that they wouldnt be working anytime soon. Since the ships engines were at the back, “down” often ended up making the layout more like a skyscraper than a short, long building, meaning that the hatch you needed to reach was now on a different plane than the one you clung to. To reach it would require a jump, which was incredibly risky considering the current state of the ship, and the fact that gravity was now in play.

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Vitus grumpily relented the screwdriver in his fingertips to the growing collection the nurse was making of his tools and odds and ends. His fingers pinched and crumpled the air, pulling in great sheets of it and crushing them to powder. I really need to actually get up so I have better control over this.

Were it not the UCM…

That wasn’t worth dwelling on. His fingers slowly worked up towards his face and dug incoherently across his eyes, trying desperately to clear the nighttime from them and be ready to move. At least I get the dignity of having my own room instead of sharing one with who knows how many of the poors living on this planet.

It wasn’t clear to him how much of this special treatment was due to his father’s previous position within the military and how much was disgusting pity just because of his condition. Still though, He sighed as soon as his stomach quit siphoning long enough to get a proper breath in and out. I’ll take the pity over having to share a room.

Grunting, Vitus lifted himself up, almost immediately slipping his elbow out from underneath him and crashing back down on the bed. With a growl, he hurriedly righted himself again, lest the humiliating possibility of being helped up took place. The last time he objected to that sort of treatment he had been quite loud, and the retaliation by repeatedly hitting him on the scalp with a wooden spoon produced a similar level of volume.

Needless to say, he had never objected to assistance after that point, although it never failed to get his mood down every time he was required to endure it. Avoiding it at the outset was simply the best course of action.

Feeling about, he pulled his turtleneck up from where it had been sandwiched in between the bed and the wall. After struggling to get it on, he finally got his head with its tangled mess of hair out from the neck hole and breathed a moment from the effort it took.

“What kind of artillery are they moving?” He asked groggily, pulling himself over to the hardsuit and trying to move a foot inside it. The first one went in just fine, but the second leg bent suddenly at the knee and kicked out of the frame. Angrily, he swiped at it, striking it rather hard and making it sting.

Grumbling under his breath had been curbed, too, so silently and with a pronounced scowl he shoved his other leg inside the customized hardsuit and righted himself off the bed.

5 Likes

No surprise ambush. No unexpected minefield. Too early to get hopes up, but one should take each successful step as good news. Unless the UCM decided to be kind enough to let them die on their feet this time. Sounded like a few more had to call in. Still a chance for–

With the rocking, Nilas grabbed onto whatever was helping keep him in his seat. Though it was the sudden change in station that got him to give a somewhat muffled, “Ahh!” Forgetting any want of safety, he let go of the straps and tapped the tablet to silence the noise. Clenching his jaw to prevent mutterings, Nilas adjusted the frequencies again.

This time the change was to piggyback off the shuttle’s radar system. It was probably just turbulence but no harm in checking. He could have patched into the pilots’ comms as he already knew their frequency but decided against it. Besides, if they were actively getting shot there would be more rocking and the intercom would be blaring. And there’s nothing he could really do about that. At least with turbulence he can blame the planet for having poorly maintained airways.

He looked over his tablet’s screen, trying to see what the pilots might also be seeing on their instruments. There was no point in unmuting the sound yet. Radar echoes and shifts hardly made for good music anyway.

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The sergeant’s attempt at a joke only served to annoy Rad. He couldn’t tell if Okarr was trying to hide pre-action nerves, or if he was truly this green. In either case, Rad was having difficulty getting a bead on the man. And his comment about Rad having a chance with the newcomer only pissed him off. It hadn’t been that long since his family was killed in the initial attacks on the city.
Letting out a sigh, Rad decided it best to ignore the man’s accidental insult. Instead, he buried the painful reminder and swallowed the anger - deciding it best to keep it hidden, letting it ferment until it turned to rage. You never know when you need that anger to give you the edge in a fight.

Catching the lighter, Rad held it up and gave a slight smile.
“Thanks” he replied, reaching for the cigar once again.
He let his eyes settle on the piece of iron strapped to Okarr’s thigh. Rad knew that model, he had considered getting one not too long ago.
Nice choice he thought to himself.
Before he could ask about the weapon, he noticed the Captain out of the corner of his eye just as he approached the group. Rad looked back at Okarr , and tilted his head toward the Captain, hoping Okarr would acknowledge his presence. Instead of the Captain, Okarr only noticed the armor clad woman he joked about earlier; a goofy smile appearing on his face.

Holding the cigar to his mouth, rad lit it and inhaled. Rad held the smoke for a second, then exhaled the aromatic smoke through his nostrils like some kind of beast from myth - this clearly wasn’t top shelf by any means; but still better than the trash you would get at one of the local gas stations. It didn’t matter, it served its purpose of masking the smell of detritus that filled the air.

Looking to the LC, Rad gave her a quick glance; the black armor looking like the hard suit described to him from other teams had mentioned in passing. The Ironclad? Rad thought to himself - he wasn’t entirely sure, but that name stuck out to him.
He also noticed the weapon slung on the suit - that will definitely come in handy when things go kinetic.

Rad nodded at the Captain before stepping forward and giving the LC a fist bump. He knew better than to try and shake hands with a heavy hard suit like this - he didn’t need his fingers crushed on the eve of action.

“Good to meet you LC.” Rad said, turning to sergeant Okarr; allowing him time to welcome the LC.

“Capt,” Rad asked “ Any news on a resupply before things kick off?” Shooting his thumb toward a couple of the soldiers from his unit he continued. “That last encounter left us close to black on ammo. And the Militia isn’t in much better shape.”

As he was talking, the comm unit on his left forearm hissed to life; nothing coherent coming through the static - just the steady sound of static with the occasional pop of electronic interference.

Sighing, Rad touched the comm and silenced the noise. Looks like local civilian communication was still experiencing outages he thought to himself as he waited for an answer to his resupply question.

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Lin stood straight, the armor clicking and whirring as she listened to the simple briefing. The Black Devil was indeed a machine of war, even if the
Decals suggested otherwise. The thing reeked of slag, oil, and gunpowder.

“Understood Captain. See you on the other side.”
Lin turned her gaze towards Okkar. Her eyes, though hidden by the helmet, narrowed.

“Not the best decision to try much with the hands. Still working on them. They’re quite dexterous, but still.” Lin spoke, her voice slightly distorted through the voice box attached to the helmet, otherwise it would be impossible to hear her.
Turning to Okkar once again, she spoke simply.
“Sir, when do we depart?”

3 Likes

Turning from the Captain to Lin, Rad nodded. “Understood LC. If what I’ve heard about you from other teams is even half true, your assistance in the upcoming operation will be highly appreciated. I’ll let Sarnt Okarr take it from here; and once again welcome to the team.”

Turning back to the Captain, Rad dropped his now spent cigar to the ground and crushed the lingering embers under the heel of his boot.

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Ace desperately clawed her way away from the hole of certain death, she began to realise that relative safety wasn’t going to be easy to achieve. Over the course of months that she pent working on this ship, she became very used to its layout and knew every single corridor, every single turn and every single room. She knew very well, that in front of her, a couple meters away, was going to be a considerable drop that led towards the hatch. The drop had no ladder, but that hadn’t been a problem for Ace, or anyone else on the crew, because they were completely used to working in zero gravity. Now, however, the conditions in the ship were the farthest thing from zero-G, and the gravitational pull of the planet, centrifugal force of the ship spinning out of control and the acceleration of it hurling towards the ground had turned this inconspicuous drop towards safety into a possible death trap.

Although, what safety was there behind that hatch in a ship that was actively falling apart while plummeting towards the ground from the outer layers of the atmosphere? Ace had no time to have a completely fair, rational thought like this. She was panicking and her panicked brain told her to get away from the doomed engine block as quickly as possible. Nothing else mattered to her at that moment, not the fact that if she managed to get through the hatch, there would still be no safety and definitely not the fact that getting to that hatch in the first place was hardly going to be an easy task.

The magnetic hold of her boots was slipping, and the small debris smashed against her, slowing her down, but finally, Ace reached the ledge of the drop. She crouched down, peering over the edge and immediately froze in fear. The familiar drop, which she thought had always been quite short, now, in these extreme conditions, seemed to extend down forever, looking extremely dangerous. In gravity, all distances seemed to be bigger.

I am going to die here

As she made her way towards the chute, she was planning to mindlessly jump down and hope for the best, but now that she actually saw how far that “down” was, her self-preservation instincts kicked in and overrode the panic and confusion she had been experiencing. She started to think. Jumping down meant a very probable death, but staying here meant certain death.

As if confirming her thoughts, a big wrench hurled past her head, missing her by a couple of inches. If it had hit, she would have been dead. She needed to hurry, get out of here quick.

Even in the most dire moments like this, Ace always proved to be extremely decisive and acted fast. This situation she had found herself in was not an exception, so she didn’t waste any more time.

Remembering that the palms of her gloves were also magnetic, she turned around and firmly attached one of her hands to what had become the floor directly next to the ledge. She was now crouched down next to it with her knees against her chin and her back turned towards the drop, tightly gripping the ledge with her hand. Taking a deep breath and tightly closing her eyes, she turned off the magnets in her boots and… jumped down.

Anchored to the ledge with her hand, she hit the wall of the chute with her whole body, instead of immediately falling down. She tried to avoid hitting her head on impact with the wall, but despite her best efforts, the side of her helmet still slammed against the steel plate. The crack in the reinforced glass of the visor got bigger and her head hurt, but despite this, she was clinging onto the ledge of the drop like she had planned. She immediately placed her free hand against the wall, activating the magnet, detached the other one from the ledge and placed it lower.

It didn’t matter that there was no ladder, she was going to attempt to climb down towards the hatch using her magnetic gloves.

I am not going to die here

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“Whoops,” Brenn muttered. He turned around, pistol in hand, as his squad fell from the sky, into enemy territory.
“Better catch up with ‘em. Squad leader won’t be happy if I’m late to his party.”

As he continues back up the street, a bright glare erupts over the hills, turning the grey sky into a glorious peach, then orange, and finally blue. It is a dazzling sunrise, highlighting exactly where the enemy is. Unfortunately, that also puts allies at a slight disadvantage, marching toward an enemy position while looking towards the sun.
Glad we shock troops get the fancy visors, Brenn thought. Poor grunts following after aren’t so lucky. Not fun, fighting with this glare.

4 Likes

Rad @BynariDistress
Lin @MakutaOisli
September 21st, 06:26 SST

The captain turns to you and answers your question “Good concern, but already handled. One of the transports heading out with you folks has supplies for your team, as well as equipment to help speed up fortifications in the town and better arm our initial wave.”
The captain then begins walking in the direction of another cluster of tents, likely off to make similar final preparations for the initial wave of troops.

The sergeant’s face turns more serious at the departure of his captain. Stiffening his stance, he begins to more closely resemble a man of his rank. “Momentarily, we’ll be running through the plan first” Calling the troops to attention, he shouts “Alright you scumbags! Lets run this over one more time before we stomp some Argon”

As the squad huddles in, Okarr places a map of Ercis on the ground, muttering something along the lines of “well look at this comic…”
Pointing out notable locations, he explains to the group: “We expect the Argon paratrooper’s landing zones to centered around here, the middle of the northeast section, which is more scarcely populated than the rest of the city. Lots of abandoned buildings out there, lower chances for civilian casualties or complaints. Spotters will radio in confirmation of their actions as we near the city, but as long as they arent heavily reinforced, we get off there. If any of you are too scared to jump straight from the trucks into a firefight, you have sixty seconds to get your replacement.”
A few of the militia fighters seem uneasy, but nobody takes the offer. Continuing to go though the plan, the sergeant continues.
“Our initial goal will be to cut down the paratroopers and disrupt their ability to save their reinforcements time. Once we do that, we’ll start setting up some reinforcements of our own. Assuming we get all our junk done in time, several of you are due to return to the column while the rest of us get the civvies out of there”
“For those of you who dont know the drill, Blackvine with Blackvine, Vanguard with Vanguard, and save your questions for the ride.”

Putting away the map and standing, he begins moving towards a few trucks before flashing some kind of hand sign and yelling “SQUAD OUT”


Anders @dunetoa
September 21st, 06:29 SST
Running through the street, your way lit by the rising sun, you notice more of the buildings in this sector are abandoned than where you landed, but most curiously, they seem to be a different design style entirely from the other buildings youve seen in the city so far. As the graffiti grows thicker, you you sense the edge of town nearing. A mere 500 feet from the rendezvous point, gunfire erupts from a building somewhere a short bit to your south, with the comms crackling online carrying an unfortunate message:
“Contact, Contact, Alpha Six and Alpha Ten engaging hostile forces south of rendezvous.”
Command cuts across the line, leaving you in an ambiguous position between options
“Alpha Leader advising Alpha Six and Alpha Ten: hold position, help will arrive shortly. Alpha team members at the rendezvous, move to assist, I will meet you en route. Remaining Alpha team members, continue to rendezvous and await further instruction. Beta Leader, continue your operation as planned.”

“Beta Leader affirm. Supplies secure, ETA to rendezvous six minutes.”

If you were to announce your presence on comms, now would be the time


Nilas @ajtazt
September 21st, 06:29 SST

After confirming the radar was empty save the other transport shuttles moving alongside yours, you feel a not-so gentle punch on your left shoulder. Hearing a voice coming from a nearby soldier, only the sarcastic tone carries through the headset, even while muted.
You arent left with much time to converse however, as only a minute after the turbulence ends, solid red lights come on in the cabin, giving those inside the 120 second warning to touchdown.


Vitus @Ghid
September 21st, 06:29 SST

The nurse jumps into motion to help, but Vitus was quicker this time, preventing the embarrasing situation.

Holding part of the hardsuit in a mostly useless attempt to be helpful, the nurse looks puzzled at the question, but responds honestly
“I really dont know anything about military equipment, Im sorry. Even if I did, I havent seen them yet, nighttime hid them really well. Im sorry”

Once again trying to help, the nurse begins to speak, presumably to reprimand you for the outlash, but seems to change her mind. As you finish getting ready, she hands you the packed bag and gives directions out of the hospital.
“Ill take you across the hall and downstairs, but after that I need to help the other patients. The main entrance will be down the hall we exit into, then a short way to the left at the intersection. Make sure you find others and get in touch with one of the responders moving you out of the city”


Ace @NOTaHFfan
September 21st, Roughly 06:35 SST
As you climb your way to the hatch, the ship’s roll changes after what felt like a chunk breaking free rocks the structure. Unfortunately, this also creates more debris in your engineering zone, sending a small chunk of titanium straight at your head.
CRACK
Impact rocks your head to one side, and your vision narrows, making the world appear to be in a tight hallway. You barely notice through the pain that more cracks have appeared in your visor, and a piece has already broken off. Hands clinging desperately to the “wall”, your legs dangle free in the spinning chaos.

5 Likes

I get it, you’re SORRY. Ugh.

Vitus flipped open the toolbox on the side of his hardsuit, relieved to find the two trigger attachments were still inside, just as he had left them. With the kind of characters they’ve got housed here, I wouldn’t be too surprised if someone snuck in and tried to swipe something.

“Sure.” He mumbled, with somehow even less interest than he had initially shown upon the nurse’s arrival. Fumbling for the robotic arm on the back of the hardsuit, he wrapped it around towards the front of his body and clamped it onto the bag of tools and other odds and ends. Whenever I get where I’m headed, I need to look through this bag to see what exactly I have in here.

Striding across the room, he opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Part of him resented having to be escorted like a toddler trying to find the restroom, but the rest of him was grateful as he had absolutely no idea where he was supposed to go.

5 Likes

Nilas jumped upon feeling the punch but didn’t go far. The straps shoved him back down hard, though this jolt of motion could almost be mistaken for adjusting one’s sitting position. Why can’t they ever tap, Nilas thought to himself and unmuted his comms.

Looking to the soldier he says, “Right. This time let the books say my last words were, ‘I’m just checking the weather!’”

With the red lights, he makes a few quick adjustments on this tablet. First was splitting the audio channels so that command and nearby troop comms would filter into the right side and everything coming in on the left was the adjusted frequencies. He tries to switch the adjustable one back to the paratrooper frequency to catch their status before touchdown.

4 Likes

“Understood” Rad replies. Good he thought to himself. He knew the team he was fighting with could make do; but it felt good knowing that they weren’t going into this with a handful of rounds, some harsh words and hostile intent. A resupply would also boost morale. The team had been doing mostly gorilla warfare for the past few weeks - and they were itching for a straight up fight.

As the Captain walked off, Rad took in one last look at the camp before walking over to his hard suit. After giving it a once over, he stepped inside; bracing himself for what happened next. The suit’s systems began its boot sequence - the soft flexible parts making micro adjustments around his body (lining up the suit’s spine) and then it hit him - the burning “pinch” of thousands of hairlike probes inserting themselves into his spinal column and nerve clusters; it felt like living fire as they made their connections.
With an audible grunt Rad endured the brief discomfort that allowed his hard suit to adjust to him.
He could have gone with the suits that used AI to interpret his movements for augmentation - but they weren’t as fast as he needed it to be. Sure, those systems worked great in the civilian market, but that momentary “lag” that came from an AI anticipating his action was enough to be a considerable difference between life and death.

When he customized this suit before his medical discharge; he spent several years worth of credits and upgraded to the direct neural interface. The reaction time was as fast as his actual reflexes.
It was that pain of getting “plugged in” that he never got used to. The maintenance tech warned him that was a possibility, even offered permanent implants to help relief that issue too - Rad opted out at the time.

Once the pain subsided (which was less than a second - but felt much longer) Rad reached down and grabbed his bucket. Placing it on his head, all went dark. He could hear the seal around his neck connect, and then watched as the helmet’s HUD gradually came to life.
System Online he felt - not an audible voice, but just a knowing as the suit transmitted the information straight into his mind.
The bucket then began a quick system check on its own - Rad had spent just as many credits on his helmet as he did the rest of the suit.

Hearing Okarr calling, Rad made his way to the sandbox table - the helmet continuing to perform checks as he listened to the Sergeant’s mission briefing.

As Okarr laid out the map of Ercis, Rad’s HUD began marking points of interest and mission objectives. About the time that Okarr had finished with the briefing, Rad’s helmet informed him that all systems (suit and helmet alike) were online and performing within his predetermined parameters along with the typical warning icons that came with his custom settings.

WARNING: Smart Mag System Offline - Ammo
Counting Unavailable

*WARNING: Satellite Assist Offline - Weapon
Systems And Accuracy Deminished
WARNING:
WARNING:
WARNING:

For an AI, it wasn’t as smart as it thought it was.
Rad turned off most of these systems knowing that even though they “helped” in the field by tracking ammo counts, assisted in long range targeting and other squad support functions; they could also act as beacons for any hacker worth their salt. He didn’t want to have his location, ammo and health information readily available for the enemy’s cyber warfare teams to track and possibly take advantage of.

Dismiss all warnings Rad thought, watching as the icons in the bottom left of his HUD disappeared.

He was about to ask Okarr for his assignment when the audio book he had been listening to the last time he had his helmet on started playing.

“The Galaxy is a dumpster fire. A hot, stinking dumpster fire. And most days I don’t know if the legionnaires are putting out the flames, or fanning them into an inferno …”

With a sigh, Rad had to agree with the author’s sentiments - but this wasn’t the time for leisure. Thinking Pause Playback the book stopped.

Grabbing his rifle and fast walking toward the lineup of armored vehicles he turned to Okarr and spoke. “Sarnt Okarr,” Rad asked, the external audio coming from his helmet making him sound like the electronic instrument of God’s wrath; “Where do you want me and my team?”

4 Likes

Because Ace was facing the wall, she didn’t see the piece of titanium being flung her way. She didn’t get a chance to attempt dodging it, so it collided with her head at full force, uninterrupted. Her vision blurred, all sound was gone, replaced by ringing in her ears and the sudden spike of unbearable pain caused tears to roll down her face. A streak of red ran down the side of her head where the impact had occurred. The world around her was spinning around both because of the doomed ship spinning out of control and as a result of her injury, her mind was scrambled, and she lost understanding of what was going on and where she was. Her vision waned, she suddenly felt sleepy, she was losing consciousness…

Yet she still found the force to push on. Ace continued climbing towards the hatch, acting almost automatically. She didn’t know what she was doing, all thoughts disappeared from her mind. If somebody somehow managed to see her at that moment, they’d notice an absent expression on her face, not showing any emotions as tears kept flowing from her eyes. The only thing that was keeping her going was her will to live.

She couldn’t die here. Not like this.

No matter what, she was going to get to that hatch.

5 Likes