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Punished GN
"All nonessential personnel clear the flight deck. Scheduled departure in five." The loudspeaker rang across the hangar, the nondescript voice of some yeoman.
The delegation had been assembled as quickly as they could, consisting of one Lieutenant Commander Klein, the esteemed German executive officer, a Lieutenant Romijnders, their Dutch chief engineer, and their navigator, Lieutenant Junior Grade Williams, a woman of Canadian birth. They walked along the flight deck clad in UNSC steel grey Navy fatigues marked with symbols of the UNSCDF, a contrast to the working jumpsuits worn by most others of the crew. They each wore a vest with ablative plates attached, a simple precaution, and had a reserve oxygen system affixed like satchels - really it was just a satchel bag made of an air mix tank, an independent oxygen concentrator, and a full face mask. LTJG Williams had another item about her waist, a duffel bag full of the ship's physical star charts, their backups for if sensors couldn't pick up locator beacons, and it was her job to know how to read the stars using those maps.
They were flanked on either side by a single Marine in what they called 'full battle rattle'. They wore similar fatigues, albeit marked with Marine Corps identifiers instead. They wore the same model of vest as well, albeit a heavier version which included pauldrons, a groin guard, and shin guards. They each had MA5Bs, the service rifle of the Corps, attached to single-point slings on their vests, and they also carried their own reserve oxygen kits. They all moved towards the waiting D77 'Pelican' dropship, which sat on catapult one disarmed as a show of good faith to those they were meeting. The bay of the Pelican could theoretically hold twenty-plus people, but the five of them would do. And with however many more the Andromeda was sending, they could be expected to fill all ten jump seats at the least.
Deck crew with colored jerseys continued to buzz about the craft as the delegation strapped in. Inspecting the craft and giving the go-ahead, a pilot and co-pilot both boarded the craft from the rear to take their own positions in the cockpit, making their final checklist with command. The Pelican got its clearance and was given its working callsign, 'Ranger'. The electromagnetic catapult began to hum with electricity as the strength of its magnetism built, locking in the forward landing gear of Ranger. And suddenly, with a salute from the pilot and a thumbs up from the yellow-jerseyed 'shooter', the catapult came to life, accelerating the Pelican with immense force and passing it into the void of space.
"Andromeda, this is the shuttle craft of the Kearsarge, callsign 'Ranger'. We're en route to your vessel for pickup, how copy?"
The ensemble had assembled for the meeting. They were in a roughed up state, and certainly had not been expecting to engage in foreign diplomacy so soon after battle. Yet all of the crew had done their best to prepare for the meeting, cleaning and dressing their best as if to make up for the damaged appearance of the ship.
For his part Captain Yamanami was in dress uniform. He wore a white hat, a dark blue overcoat with a lighter color, gold ends on his sleeves, a golden anchor decoration over his left lapel, and three stripes on his right arm. That joined with whiter gloves, a brown belt, and black dress pants. As for the marines with him, they were in military greens, with grey helmets and their own rifles. They weren’t quite sure what they were in for, but were determined to face it with bravery regardless.
From the Andromeda would come a swift response to the hail. ’We copy Ranger. Proceed to the port side docking back. Following instructions would reveal that the doors had pulled back on a previously concealed docking bay, conspicuously empty of ships despite its relative size. This was mainly used for supply shuttles, rather than launching military aircraft, which was why it was fairly brightly lit up, and not necessarily indicative of the rest of the ship.
Once the Pelican had entered, a red alarm would begin to sound as the door closed to allow for the bay to be repressurized. It was time for the meeting to begin, as Yamanami and his entourage filed out of one of the nearby interior entrances to, effectively, make the first interdimensional first contact in the history of the Federation.
The Pelican’s ramp dropped, providing a hard boarding surface. One of the Marines aboard made towards the door to assist the incoming entourage of the Andromeda. Klein was the first to rise from his seat, followed by the others of the UNSC delegation, hands extended for handshakes all around.
Klein particularly took note of Yamanami. It wasn’t hard to pick out the commander in the Navy. No, while in the Army or Marines the officers went so far as to dress almost the exact same as grunts on the battlefield, those sailor Captains wanted to make it known who and what they were.
“Willkommen, willkommen. I am Lieutenant-Commander Eckhart Klein, UNSC Navy.” The XO spoke in a thick German accent, but otherwise completely legible UEG English, or at least that’s what they referred to it as. He wore his steel grey fatigues with a perfectly tucked shirt and immaculately bloused boots, and although he wore a vest, he had no tension about him. Atop his head sat an eight-point cover marked with the symbol of the UNSCDF, and pinned on his collar was the rank insignia of a Lieutenant Commander, a golden oak leaf.
The ramp dropped, and the two groups moved to meet, after Yamanami had saluted the Lieutenant Commander. The marines were busy sizing up their opposites, silently gauging how well they would do in a fight. Which by the first indication might not be all that well, though of course they didn’t say that. It would ruin their reputation and their image.
“Welcome to the Andromeda, Lieutenant Commander. I’m Captain Yamanami, of the United Nations Cosmos Navy,” he said, taking the lead as he crossed the few steps necessary to shake the man’s hand. “I appreciate the pick up. We were involved in a battle right before winding up here, so this has been a bit inconvenient for us.”
"Vell, Captain, I can say zhat you are not ze only ones who were snatched from zhe battle." Klein rendered a sharp, rigid-postured salute in return. "Vell, no time to waste. Shall we be off?"
That was interesting to hear. What sort of enemy could these humans from a parallel Earth be fighting? Yamanami spent a moment reflecting on that question, before deciding to be content for now. He would doubtlessly learn sooner or later.
“Certainly,” he agreed, moving on to the drop ship before gesturing for the rest of his escort to follow. They would sit in any seats indicated, examining their surroundings as they prepared for departure and the trip that would follow.
The Kearsarge’s Pelican came in for a slow-burn landing course for the Renatus’ hangar bay. Its wheeled gear dropped first as its vectoring thrusters scrambled to account for its dropping altitude and speed. And finally, as it hovered barely a few feet from the hangar deck, its stability gears came down, the long, spider leg-like wheel booms that arched from the troop bay normally acting to prevent a significant change in the center of mass of the landed vehicle, considering the fact that without thruster power, it was immensely rear-heavy. The ramp dropped a moment later after a momentary confirmation of breathable atmosphere.
The two Marines of the Kearsarge detachment descended the ramp first, holding their MA5 rifles across their chests in a non-threatening, albeit not completely relaxed manner. They knew to expect anything. Following them was the trio of technical and diplomatic representatives the UNSC vessel sent along. Klein stood center, flanked by the navigator on one side, the chief engineer on the other.
The ride had been interesting, not too dissimilar from their own Seagull transports. Idle chatter was kept to a relative minimum, perhaps because of the importance of what was being done, or simple awkwardness and unfamiliarity with their hosts.
But they soon arrived at their destination. Yamanami departed at the head of his party as they exited the dropship along with the UNSC delegation into the hangar bay. Looking around, there were some similarities to Aquarius architecture and design, aside from the colors. “I suppose we wait for our host now,” he observed, glancing over to his counterpart.
“I believe so.” Klein affirmed, interlacing his hands behind his back.
