Hexaflexagon

Blood Debt: Medieval/Fantasy Vengeance

Dead. Nah, I have a post ready. Not sure if I should post our if I should wait for others.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

THE LIIIEEEES! THE LIIIIIEEEES!

@SirBeowulf

Oh relax, they didn't want to leave. I had to practically push them out the door. XD

Anyway boom you have a post.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

"Well, that went better than expected." Trapp muttered softly to himself. He had been prepared to go over and calm the situation as needed but McKnight handled it well. The young man had a tendency to surprise him on how easily it all seemed to come to him. He had the potential to become a career officer high above his own pay grade if only he could buckle down and deal with the bureaucratic BS. A feat of mental constitution that Trapp himself could never muster. He didn't have the patience to sit at the big armchair and listen to a man in a suit tell him how to do his job. That's why he had denied any offers of promotion over the last few years, sometimes the rank isn't worth the hassle

After making sure there was no more altercations and everyone headed towards their respective vehicles, the new squadron leader made his way over to his own vehicle. He had fallen into the same boat as the Rookie in the case of their machines. His old machine was nothing more than a smoldering pile of rubble, and resources being as stretched thin as they were the engineering core did not have time to make a custom made model just for him. And so he was currently piloting old reliable herself the PTX-051 Sentry MkII M. Not that he really would complain in the manner his own machine was a modified Sentry more heavily optimized than the mass produced model and he started his piloting career flying simulators built around the MKI schematics. The sentry had been with him for most of his fourteen year career in the UEE and he could probably fly one of them in his sleep if he needed. Though it never helped to make a few minor adjustments to make things run a little more smmoothly and keep him alive.

Standing at the base of the vehicle he looked up, the view he got never did cease to amaze him. He had slaved through years of training just to get a chance to even look at a MAS let alone pilot it. The view he got as a rookie touched him the same way it did at that moment, a sense of awe and self-accomplishment it made up for all the paperwork and other tedious tasks that he had to put himself through. He would go through a million after battle reports, inventory itineraries, squad meetings, procedural reviews and even basic just to be able to seat inside of a MAS. Despite being the child of a diplomat and a business heiress their jobs and lives never really did appeal him. Office work and talking didn't save the world and maybe his work didn't either. But at least it felt like he was doing something and not just sitting by and doing nothing. Or at least that was the lie he told himself to be able to sleep.

But the view also conjured up new feelings that once did not lurk in his mind. A deep chill arose from the small piece of metal in his breast pocket, as it seemed to drive the heat from his body. It was like a specter long forgotten having risen from its grave. The piece was all that the salvage team was able to recover from the ambush site. It was the last testament to the 2nd Mobile Armored Strike Team as he knew it. He'd lost people before, but never like that. He'd served for the better part of a decade and then some with most of them, they had become the brothers and sisters that he had never got to have in his own life. They were all fresh recruits when they started and they grew together. They all knew it could of happened, he just never imagined that it would of. That was partly why he was taking his new position with baby steps. He knew what it felt to lose somebody. Hell, he honestly couldn't even blame Astelion for his actions.

"And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee" He said out loud not noticing if anybody heard, not that he would care at that point. His hands shook slightly as his mind wandered through memories of plasma, screams and gunfire. Taking all the mental willpower that he had at the moment, he manged to get a smoke out of his pack and into his mouth. Soon the metallic sound of a lighter creating a spark and then the sweet release as smoke filled his lungs. The blackness acting like a great angel draping its wings upon him, relieving him of his pain. He had never smoked before he started as pilot, but like many other he had taken too it soon afterwards. Everyone needed a way to cope, to be able to calm the nerves, to forgot. They all had their indiscriminate vices.

"Uhhh sir?" A voice called to him and finally he snapped out his stupor. A member of the maintenance crew looked at him with puzzled expression upon his face. Trapp apologized and asked for the man's cliboard marking all the changes that needed to be done. The commander having piloted more than a few sentries in his life could pretty much recite the average day to day maintenance protocols required on them from his head. As much as they were deathtraps as much as anyone was concerned they maintained well and from model to model required adjustments did not vary that much. He made several notes on the page adjusting capacitors, heat sinks compressors, readjusting the sensitivity in the right arm all to exact amounts and finally to cycle the Quad-Core at least once to let it flow properly. He finished his notes and signed off at the bottom with a neat little scribble. The member of the maintenance team give the notes a look before nodding and walking away. They always appreciated the older pilots, they had less of a tendency to bother them and did not run as many test runs.

After this he looked around and noted that everyone had for the most part finished their inspections and were either talking among themselves or spending some alone time. Though judging from their lovely captain's own deposition above them it would seem that orders were about to come in. He didn't have to have served on the ship for that long, all of the upper brass had the same look on their face whenever they were delegating news. Before that could happen though the rest of the squad had to gather and so Trapp called out loud cutting through the sound of machinery. "Alright everybody form up, orders are about come in! You know the drill! A line in order by some sort semblance of rank. Make sure your uniform are on straight, and you look as bright eyed and bushy tailed as you can fake! Oh, and Williams word of advice! Don't blink, Captain Marquis can smell your fear!"

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

Currently attending to some apartment guests that my roommate decided to invite over without telling me. :( I'll probably be able to get my post up in an hour.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

Was curious and so I looked it up. That does not look like a good day for anybody.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

The last month had been a mess. August Trapp hadn't really been expecting anything else. The harsh unforgiving glow of the industrial lights in the hanger beat down upon him. Two months before this he had been in a military hospital as far away from the Coalition as possible back on Earth. He had almost gotten used to the smell of tea and the cushioned beds. And yet here he was again sleeping on hard steel and drinking pisswater coffee once again. There was no reprieve for old soldiers in the 101st. You fought the Coalition until you couldn't fight them any longer. And even then Trapp wouldn't put it pass the upper brass to try and find a way to bring them back so they could die for the UEE a second time. They had stitched him back up, smacked him on the ass, and sent him back without much pomp. Not that Trapp would of expected it any other way. The cold war was heating back up and the UEE was mustering all they could in preparation. With recruitment as low as it was they couldn't afford to lose men like Trapp. If only from a logistical standpoint as it would cost less to save him than to train a replacement. VR simulations and all helped but pure combat experience would always win out in the end. Most new pilots don't make it through their first year, they aren't dependable yet. And dependability was exactly what the 7th needed right now. But even after a month it still didn't feel right. Sure, officers knew that they had to jump around. Those brave few acting as pilots more so as mortality rates were not in the numbers that would comfort you. But taking over someone else's squad was always the worst. He had known Tori in passing, MAS commanders made up a small group and an even smaller one in the 101st. From what he had seen he could say safely that she was a great pilot and a better person than he was. He knew what losing squadmates felt like and so he couldn't blame the resistance he received when he arrived. Though the month had been good for them in that regard, it allowed for them to try and handle there feelings and open up to him a little bit. The keyword being try, as much as he attempted to get to know them it seemed he was never really able to understand. Yes he understand their basic quirks, the things that made them people with personality and feelings, like Gerard's knight in shining armor attitude or Wes's affection for alcohol. But to only understand them through that was like saying you read a book by just reading the back cover, you only get the basic understanding of what you are trying to achieve if that. But it was hard they weren't the 2nd, and he wasn't Tori so both sides had some readjusting to do. Eric was probably going to still be the hardest one to manage. The late commander's brother had immediately taken a disposition of hatred toward Trapp as soon as he bored the Lincoln. Unlike the others though he didn't have the common sense to keep his feelings inside. The last four weeks had been nothing but daggers being thrown by eyes, insubordination and the occasional snide remark. Trapp let it slide at first for he knew he would not take kindly to having to listen to the replacement for his own sister. But the more he thought about it he wondered if it was less about his sister and more about the fact that he was "supposed" to get put in charge of the 7th after his sister before somebody had the bright idea to transfer Trapp. I wonder how he is going to deal with the new girl flying the Astelion. Trapp thought morbidly to himself as he looked over his holopad. The UEE may have been preparing for war but it didn't mean that you couldn't forget to dot every i and cross every t. He was reviewing the squad's latest battle report before he sent it out to the brass so that he could get a response message regarding efficiency and reckless regard for human life. Presently Trapp could not complain about the 7th in terms of combat ability. They were deadly, though they had not met his own asinine standards for efficiency yet he knew it wouldn't take them long. They were all just experiencing growing pains, adjusting to the new feeling as best as they could. In that regard Trapp had tried his best to keep things as close to before as possible, wingmen stayed the same and general duties as well. He didn't wan't to flip the table on them just yet. It would only make things hurt more than they already did. As he finished finalizing the report and sending it out to pasture, the transport shuttle carrying the new blood came in. The Captain had sent over the file to him the other day. While he wasn't one to actively read every single logistics report that was sent his way he made room for the important ones. He wondered how much the squad and everyone else on the ship that the brass knew about them, and he wondered what they had on his own file. But for being green as grass she had potential. In the end though in Trapp's eyes like everyone else she was a tool first than a person, a bringer of death that he was responsible for in utilizing. So just because her Daddy was a famous pilot, or because she had never been in a combat situation before Trapp was not going to pull any punches. In the world of the 101st when mamma pushes you out of the nest you either fly or you die. As the rest of the squad moved in to introduce themselves including Wes's lovely general description of the entire time Trapp moved over towards McKnight. Over the last month McKnight had slowly became his consigliere, his second in command as it was. He was dependable and out of all of them he was the first to accept Trapp in his new position of authority. Leaning over he tapped the younger man on the soldier as he directed his gaze towards the girl who was currently being bombarded by the more lively members of the squad. He spoke in a blunt, matter of fact way. "Rookie over there is your new wingman Mcknight. So I'd say it is in your best interest to get her to like you."After giving him those words of wisdom he proceeded over to where Ms. Williams was and the small gathering of people surrounding her. He observed silently for a time before he deiced that social fraternization time was over. He moved into until he was facing the recruit as he did he spoke. Though the voice he used now was different than the one he used speaking to McKnight it was sterner and had the crisp sense of authority behind it. "Alright, alright! Give the girl some breathing room everybody." He explained as he moved his arms about almost shooing the rest away like cats. He let out something akin to a sigh as he shook his head. He fished around on his person until he found what he was looking for. A small holopad smaller in build and make to the rest of their's emblazoned with the logo of the 101st on the back like everyone else. Finally being the one to return her salute before he handed the holopad over. "Williams, welcome to the EENS Abraham Lincoln. I'm Trapp the one in charge of making sure you live long enough to be productive. Most of the team has already introduced themselves and I'm sure the others will when they have the chance. The device I just handed to you is your standard issue 101st holopad, as you might see everyone here has one. They are your link to the ship and more importantly it allows me to bother you wherever you are on said ship, meaning you have no excuse to be late. If you lose your holopad you will be scrubbing toilets for a week, something that Wes knows far too well about." Trapp took a breath allowing her time to process before he spoke again. "Well you probably know what we do here on this lovely hunk of junk floating through space. We fight the lovely army of the Coalition because we wanted to have a tea party several hundred years ago and their great great great great granddads stole all the tea. The rest you say is history and you Williams are going to be a part of that history starting today. Today you are not your father's daughter, today you are not the new blood, today you are a pilot of the 101st. You are the first and last line of defense against all threats presented against Earth and her colonies. I expect nothing but greatness from you and so you will never be able to use the excuse of inexperience with me or anyone else on the squad. If you mess up somebody dies it is that simple. Today starts your new life, the 7th will either succeeded in kick-starting your soul or you will most likely die. I would like it if I didn't have to send you home in a body bag and so you better show me that you have what it takes to wear that patch on your uniform. Do I make myself clear?" He explained to her in a speech similar to that all the others had heard before when they were green as she was. It was customary, and you don't just go breaking customs.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

Please, its the Frenchman that does the most caring XD

@Harbringer

True, Trapp is more likely to just scold them like some uncaring father figure. And you know making fun of the silly Frenchmen because he is from the wonderful deutschland and so automatically better than him. lol

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

You know, I wonder if Trapp gets paid extra because babysitting children was not in the job description. XD

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

Zachary Rickard's my name, speeds my game!

@SirBeowulf

Resist urge to Google!! lol.

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

Leave it to Gerard to pick you back up.

@Harbringer

Gerard our wonderful knight in shining armor. And while he acts all chivalrous, I don't think Trapp is going to allow too much harassment of his pilots. And no Beowulf he will always be your evil twin. XD