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Hi all, apologies for the lack of activity.

After giving it some thought, I'm going to go ahead and wind down this rp. I just haven't had the bandwidth that I thought I would, and trying to putter along would just be doing y'all a disservice. I've thoroughly enjoyed the posts that have gone up and hope to have a chance to write with you on the site some other time!
-snip-

Fihlyn Numosath

ESS 3822-01


After nearly a week on the colony ship, Fihlyn had found comfort in her morning routine.

She would wake slowly in her rest tank a few hours before the official day-cycle began, giving herself enough time to prepare and don her suit. The tank had been installed in her quarters when she was first assigned to the crew, a necessary accommodation for her physiology and a welcome respite from the ship’s parched atmosphere. But as much as Fihlyn appreciated being able to sleep underwater, she was still growing accustomed to the limitations of her makeshift “bed.”

The tank had been designed by the Edenites and was only just large enough for her to lie in, almost certainly converted from a cryopod. There was little room to properly stretch or relax, and during the first few days she often woke with cramps and lingering aches. Regular stretching in the mornings and evenings had helped somewhat, but it was not the only compromise.

She had started to notice the curious quality of the shipboard water supply. It was clean, of course - the ship’s filters had made certain of that. But the water had a sterile taste to it. The filters had removed nearly all of the minerals and ions with meticulous precision, leaving it strangely empty. Fihlyn sometimes imagined it must be similar to an Edenite trying to sleep in a room that desperately needed a humidifier.

Still, it was far better than being forced to sleep in her suit.

Once awake, Fihlyn would linger for a while before sealing herself inside the suit’s protective casing. By keeping her door closed overnight, she had discovered she could maintain the air in her quarters at a higher humidity than the rest of the ship. For a short while each morning the room felt almost comfortable.

During that time, she could perform her morning prayers without the encumbrance of her suit getting in the way. Afterwards, she would still have more than enough time to review the ship’s navigational logs from the night before. It was a good way to prepare herself for the day’s tasks, and truthfully she had found that throwing herself into her work prevented her thoughts from lingering too long on the recent past.


“Mr. Lockman, Ms. Sokolova - it is a good day to see you both, yes?”

Fihlyn offered an energetic wave with a gloved hand as she entered the hangar. A stack of tablets was awkwardly cradled against her chest with her other arm. There was a deliberate spring in her step; the Quessir made a point of greeting the crew with enthusiasm whenever she saw them in the morning. It was said that a friendly start to the day led to better team cohesion, after all. Each of her heavy footfalls rang against the metal deck, and the wheeze of her suit’s compressors occasionally betrayed her presence. Subtlety was not one of the suit’s design priorities.

“I see that good progress is being made on your shuttle?” Fihlyn inquired, peering curiously at the scattered detritus and tooling that lay around the two humans. “I am glad that you were able to recover it. Attempting to land the ESS thirty-eight-twenty-two, dash-zero-one on a poorly surveyed planetary body would have been…” She paused for a moment, frowning as she tried to think of the right word in the Edenite tongue. “...unfortunate?”

Fumbling briefly with the tablets that she’d brought with her, the Quessir continued excitedly.

“I do not mean to interrupt your work, but I have made progress on an expedited training program for piloting the ESS thirty-eight-twenty-two, dash-zero-one. With so few of the original command crew remaining, it would be prudent to have redundancy for piloting and navigational needs.”

Managing to get her glove-constrained fingers around the top-most tablet, Fihlyn offered it to the pilot.

“I decided that the first chapter of the course should focus on general vocabulary and terms related to piloting this class of vessel. Much of it should be easy review for you, I am sure, but there will still be a test…once I have finished writing it.”

Turning to the ranger, the Quessir’s smile wavered slightly.

As much as she appreciated the star charts that the woman had provided, she had still not received a satisfying answer as to how she had acquired them. The priestess had vouched for the Edenite, which had been enough for Fihlyn to put her initial concerns aside. And yet, there was still a sense of lingering unease. Fihlyn knew enough to recognize that the star chart she’d presented was supposed to be classified. That meant either that the woman had acquired it through illicit means, or that she was involved with a part of Eden’s security apparatus that Fihlyn would have preferred to have kept at a comfortable distance.

“You are doing well, Ms. Sokolova?” Fihlyn asked, doing her best to keep any hint of suspicion from her voice. “I never properly thanked you for providing your star chart during our departure. It is very detailed. There are records of systems that I did not realize Eden had ever surveyed, even remotely.”
Nice! Thinking of doing a Sparri equivalent. Like, maybe a Varangian Guard sorta situation.


I like it! A Varangian Guard style approach would work well. I could definitely see them either having some history with the throne, or possibly being from the Procyon sector and seeing an opportunity with joining the Lance.
...well, hello. do I spy Lancer in this vicinity?


Indeed you do! Although it's probably fairer to say that I got inspired by it and then had a real rough time coming up with an actual RP title. We're still open (despite my posting tardiness) if you're interested in throwing together an app.

For everyone else, thanks for your patience. There's a debriefing post for y'all, and I'll do my best to get whipped into more regular-posting shape by the time we move to the next scene.
The Indomitus



The last of the fires guttered out along the battered hull of the Shrike, venting slowly into the void.

Tractor beams engaged in measured sequence, drawing the crippled frigate into a slow drift beneath the looming mass of the Indomitus. Across the lance’s tactical displays, hostile signatures winked out one by one. Those that remained burned hard for the system’s edge.

No pursuit was ordered.

Lucia stood a short distance from the central command pit, watching the tactical projection settle as Captain Ganishka managed the fleet. To her right, Prince Cassian had not risen during the engagement. He observed the shrinking battlespace with the air of a man watching an overly long performance, one gloved finger idly tracing the rim of his command armrest.

“Boarding action has concluded, your highness.” Lucia reported, scanning the information scrolling along her console. “One surviving crew member detained. The vessel is under Imperial control.”

Lucia allowed herself a satisfied smile. At least one problem had resolved cleanly.

“Well,” the prince said, clapping his hands together as he rose from his seat. “If that is the extent of all this, then I trust we may return to more productive matters.”

Lucia turned toward him, her expression composed but not unfriendly.

“With your leave, Highness,” she said, “I would like to convene senior staff within the hour. There were a few irregularities in the engagement that merit review before we make planetfall.”

Cassian regarded her for a moment, as though deciding whether this counted as diligence or unnecessary ceremony.

“Very well. An hour, then. Let us ensure our triumph remains suitably presentable.” He glanced around the bridge, seemingly less interested now that the fighting had wound down. “Just remember that this was a detour from our arrival at Praxion. Make sure that the lance is sufficiently well-prepared to meet with the governor.”

Cassian paused, a slight frown as he glanced towards the back of the Captain.

“All of them, Lucia. It won’t do to make a bad first impression.”

Lucia nodded, turning her head towards the lance’s acting captain as the prince left the bridge.

Make a former pirate presentable for a governor’s estate?

Lucia sighed.

Thank the throne that she only ever received the easy tasks.


By the time Prince Cassian arrived, Lucia had already begun the debrief.

The conference chamber aboard the Indomitus was austere by design: a steel table, recessed lighting, and a single holographic projector suspended above the center of the room. Tactical data hovered in translucent layers above the table, highlighting the outcome of the battle and critical damage reports.

Lucia paused mid-sentence as the door slid open.

She glanced briefly toward the chronometer mounted on the far wall before inclining her head in a restrained bow. Prince Cassian dismissed the gesture with an impatient wave as he stepped inside, his cloak settling behind him.

“Please,” he said. “Continue.”

Lucia did.

“Overall, CIC considers the mission a success,” she said, her tone calm and even. “All primary objectives were achieved, and friendly losses were minimal. Thanks to Mr. Hartwig’s efforts, both the Percheron and the Guildcrest Venture remain voidworthy. Their captains have agreed to accompany us to Praxion, where the Indomitus will escort them for the remainder of their journey.”

The projection shifted. A damaged frigate rotated slowly above the table, its hull marked with glowing bands of crimson.

“The pirate vessel Shrike, however, sustained extensive structural damage. Repairs will require drydock facilities. Our hangar facilities aren’t currently equipped to handle a ship of that displacement, though the bays could be upgraded if command decided the vessel was worth the effort.”

She paused briefly.

“For the moment, the Percheron has offered to tow the frigate. Assuming the hull is stable, we have two practical options: refit the ship for Imperial service… or sell it for salvage.”

Lucia touched the edge of her tablet and the hologram shifted again, displaying combat telemetry from the lance’s cores.

“Looking at the lance’s performance during the engagement: Lieutenant Dvalin and Sir Marcellus performed admirably when engaging the enemy. Their efforts drew significant attention from the enemy cores and gave the rest of the lance the freedom to maneuver.”

“In particular, Lady Tanne was able to screen the Indomitus throughout the engagement, while also providing us useful information through a communications intercept.”

Lucia paused then, her gaze lingering on the data scrolling across the projection. Something about those transmissions had bothered her since the battle ended.

“We’re still working through the intercepted traffic,” she said, “but what we’ve decrypted so far suggests that part of the pirate force was focused on acquiring a specific piece of cargo from the Guildcrest Venture.” The projection dimmed slightly as new data scrolled into view.

“As far as we can tell, they succeeded before withdrawing from the battlespace.” A faint tightening appeared at the corner of Lucia’s mouth. “The item in question does not appear on the Venture’s registered manifest.”

Delivering incomplete intelligence was never pleasant. Part of Lucia’s role was to provide the lance with actionable information. But in this case? She was forced to deliver the team with a heaping pile of nothing.

“We’re hoping that some of the survivors that Commander Volger and Onyx-9 captured during their boarding operations may provide more clarity on the pirates’ true goals.”

Pausing, Lucia next turned her attention to the most senior member of the lance’s pilots.

“Baron Wilhelm.”

Her tone remained calm, though her tone had become sterner.

“Your combat performance during the engagement was exemplary.” She gestured briefly toward the telemetry still hovering in the air. “However, your biometric monitors recorded several readings outside acceptable safety parameters.”

A pair of small graphs appeared beside the Baron’s combat data.

“It is the recommendation of both myself and the Indomitus’ medical staff that you reduce sustained neural load during extended engagements,” Lucia said. “Your performance was exemplary, Baron, but the margins involved were unnecessarily narrow.”

Dimming the projection as she glanced around the room, Lucia brought her debriefing to a close. “Those are the primary conclusions from CIC’s analysis of the battle. If there are any questions or additional observations, now would be the appropriate time.”
Sounds like a plan to me. Have a short post (perhaps even a "shorst", if you will) in progress that'll move folks on to a quick debrief. Anyone interested in doing a little bit of character-building on the side can feel free to have some "flashback" scenes on the ship while that's going on.

Once that puts a nice bow around this engagement, we'll transition to a bit of a time-skip as the lance arrives at the sector capital.
There's a quick post to start wrapping things up. I'll work on a follow-up to move us past the end of the battle that'll hopefully be done before the weekend.
The Indomitus



“Aye, Captain.” Lucia responded, smiling slightly as she relayed the live feed from the Shrike’s bridge to the rest of the Indomitus’ CIC. She had to give the former pirate some credit for her ploy, no doubt Onyx-9 and the Reavers could make use of the bridge feed's intelligence.

As for Lucia herself, the Phantom had put plenty of work on her plate already.

Lucia scanned the trove of communications intercepts Sharlin had beamed back to the Indomitus. The woman was curt to the point of rudeness, but she was effective - as an intelligence asset and, more visibly, as the Phantom. The wreckage drifting across the battlespace was testament enough to that. A part of Lucia felt empathy for the pilots, most of whom probably didn’t even realize they were being targeted before being struck.

Turning her attention to the pirates’ communications, Lucia was greeted by overt signs of panic and disarray. The chain of command was collapsing on the opposing side, with overlapping chatter flooding both open and private channels: pleas for support turning into curse-filled tirades as requests went unanswered, panicked callouts of the Lance’s mechs as they darted across the field, and even a few cases of weeping and sobbing over the radio. She began tagging the traffic automatically, allowing the Indomitus’ automated systems to sift through the ocean of data while she tried to identify anything out of the ordinary. It didn’t take her long to find what she’d suspected, narrow bands of encrypted traffic being masked amidst the disarray.

Lucia grimaced. It aligned with Onyx-9’s assessment: two cohorts operating alongside the pirates, one expendable, one disciplined. The hired fodder were the ones being hung out to dry, while the more professional element mounted a coordinated withdrawal.

Decrypting the pirates’ chatter was going to take some time, but there was still information that could be gleaned in the meantime. Both of the pirates’ larger vessels were pulling away from the combat area, and Lucia would readily bet that they were spinning up their Drift engines, fully intending to abandon the Shrike to its fate.

“Captain, the strike craft are returning to the Mant - the Torch. There is a risk that they’ll encounter your auxiliaries, and none of the Lance is in a position to assist.” Lucia turned to Mika. A key piece of the former pirates’ utility was their expendability, and perhaps the capture of a converted carrier was worth more than their lives. But Lucia still thought that it was her duty to ensure that the Captain was aware of the risks. “Are you sure that they should commit to the operation?”


The Shrike

The blast doors to the bridge had sealed automatically when the first boarding alarms triggered. They remained sealed now, thick ceramite slabs sealing the command deck off from the rest of the vessel.

Since then, silence on the Shrike’s bridge had curdled into something heavier. Officers kept their eyes on their consoles, as if glancing towards the doors might somehow weaken the bulkhead.

They all knew that the battle had gone poorly, to say the least.

Norton stood at the center of the bridge, hands clasped behind his back to hide the tremor in them. He had raged freely over the open channel, spitting curses at Ganishka until his face burned - only to realize too late that she had muted him. The memory lingered now, sharp and humiliating, even after he’d closed the channel.

The tactical display was now filled by a rapidly thinning battlefield. The two vessels that Norton had expected to move in to support his push were now turning away, their engines burning bright.

“Boss,” the comms officer said carefully, a young man with a smattering of tattoos creeping up his neck, “I can’t raise the Torch. They’re not answering my hails.”

There was a snort from the station beside him.

“Yeah, that’s cos’ they’re leaving us to the Imps. Assholes.”

Nobody contradicted the navigation officer’s bitter comment. They all knew she was right.

On the display’s periphery, Imperial signatures continued their steady advance. The Shrike’s maneuvering thrusters lagged. Port batteries flickered at partial output. Damage reports stacked up faster than they could be cleared.

Norton felt a wave of anger rising in his chest. It was his ship that was being ripped apart, and for what? This whole job had seemed too good to be true, and he damn well should’ve known to trust his gut.

Too late to do anything about that now.

Another sound reverberated through the bulkhead, causing the Shrike’s bridge crew to perk up as a collective, exchanging furtive glances. It was closer this time: a dull and concussive thud.

“Attention pirate bridge crew.” The crackling voice came over the speakers, and Norton felt a chill run down his spine. "This is Commander Volger of the 89th Lancer Support Company. If you turn your cameras; you can see the eight hull charges I am putting on your doorstep. You can also see I have some more spirited irregulars with my troopers.”

Shit. Norton whirled around to his crew, snapping his fingers. “Bring up the feeds, damn it! Now!”

There was suddenly a rush of frantic action from the bridge, hands flying across consoles as they worked like their lives depended on it.

Sure enough, the sinister figures appeared on the bridge’s main screen. Norton’s expression darkened as he saw the charges that they were laying out on the door. It was far more than what was needed to chew through the bulkhead. Norton and his crew would be lucky to survive the blast, let alone the armed gunmen that would follow behind.

“Your choices are simple. Open up and you will be retained under my care and treated as rival privateers by Imperial law. Or don’t open up and I detonate the charges. Then I let my compatriots in and do what they please with whoever survives. You have ten seconds.”

The comms officer swallowed nervously. “Sir, the doors can take the blast, right?”

Norton glanced back to the viewscreen, where the Torch and its cruiser escort were now well and truly departing from the field.

Moving quickly, and with a panicked desperation behind his eyes, Norton turned back to his communications officer. “What are you waiting for? Get that door open and get me a channel, quick! Tell them that we -”

In his frantic efforts, Norton didn't realize a few members of the bridge crew draw their sidearms.


Outside the door, only a few seconds had passed from when Volger had issued his ultimatum.

Then came a series of dull thumps echoed from the other side of the hardened ceramite. Muffled screams soon joined them.
I think we're good to move on to the next phase.


Aye, the hold up is entirely on me! My scapegoat is a triple whammy of travel, the plague, and a recent snowstorm. Am working on a post that will jump to a debrief, unless folks would rather linger for a bit - or alternatively, jump straight to the Lance’s arrival at the sector capital.
Awesome posts all, I’m hoping to have something up tomorrow to move things along. Will also toss up a Discord link in the near future!


I dramatically over-estimated my free time this week, sorry for the hold-up everyone!

Been loving the posts in the meantime. Wernher, Psyker, Arnorian, how are y'all feeling with the mech combat around the Venture? It's been great reading you all writing the fighting scenes, but let me know if it would be helpful for me to write up responses for the pirate combatants.

Also, a question for the whole group, I tend to avoid adding new Discord servers when I can afford to. I'm thinking of setting up a dedicated channel for this RP in an existing server for a larger group of loosely-connected roleplays. If there's any objections to this (or a preference for a dedicated server) speak up now or I'll go ahead and click the big red button.
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