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9 yrs ago
Current You did good, McGregor. Made us proud.
4 likes
9 yrs ago
No offense intended. But there's a sweet spot on the sliding scale of realism, and most of the interest checks I usually see skew too far to the realism end for me.
2 likes
9 yrs ago
Can't describe how quickly I go from excited to sad when a mecha premise turns out to be realism wankery.

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The Japanese pilot tilted her head, just a few degrees, to regard the trio above her.

"Sure," Ayane answered, after considering a moment. More likely than not these three would have a better idea of where she could find White, and the balcony seemed like a better place to watch the parade from than the street level. She didn't especially feel like going to find the stairs, though; she hadn't technically been invited by the owner of the establishment, at least she suspected not, and getting past the door with her duffel might raise a few eyebrows from the other occupants. Better, then, to raise the eyebrows on the street where there were other spectacles to watch. "One moment."

Ayane let go of the end of her duffel, and instead swung the strap over her head so its weight was borne across her shoulders and freed up her hands. The balcony was only a story up, and clearly robust enough to support a person thanks to the sandal-wearing-one. She planted a foot on the low concrete ledge that indicated the edge of the property, taking care not to step in the planter set into it, and stepped the other up; the Japanese girl wasn't exactly tall, but the bottom of the balcony was aaalmost within reach. A few seconds to gauge the distance, confirm her estimates, and she sunk halfway into a crouch. Leg muscles coiled, and released. Little lower than she would have liked, considering the duffel, but it was enough for her hands to catch around two of the railing's bars. Bars that, thankfully, did not give out under her weight. Another on target guess.

The easy part was pulling herself up enough to plant a foot on the balcony's edge, and use it to push herself level with the others. She swung the other leg over the railing, taking care not to accidentally kick anyone, and stepped onto the balcony proper. A faint smile played at the edges of her mouth, and after a breath she inclined her waist a few degrees in greeting.

"Lieutenant Inoue Ayane, formally. On leave for the moment. Good to make your acquaintance, Ms. Harken."


"Hm?"

Ayane pivoted, tearing her gaze away from the Walkers and searching for the speaker. It took a moment to find her; the cheerful young woman seemed to be with the one dangling sandals above her head. Looking for a shop to get one from, maybe? That seemed unlikely. Horizon had a large enough garrison that such garments were probably easily identified as being of military issue, in some form or another. Perhaps a servicewoman herself, then. Still, she seemed a friendly sort. Energetic in the way she held herself, an unmistakable sign of emotional buoyancy. Still, no matter what it would do no harm to answer her question. She turned her shoulder a little to better show the emblem to the balcony, pointing at it with one finger.

"Federation Far East Brigade," She began, endeavoring to keep her accent out of the words. She hadn't conversed entirely in English in a couple years. Still fluent, of course, but her pronunciation was a little rusty. "Out of Tokyo. My previous posting. Inoue Ayane, ma'am. You are...?"

Benjamin Armbruster

@Crimmy @Norik @Selvariabell


"Yankee? God, no. Ich bin aus Deutschland." Ben may have laid on the accent a little thick, but it wasn't often he indulged in his native tongue around others. Especially not for such an entertaining purpose. He shook Hassan's hand cheerfully, half the fun of having the old man about was using his last name. He was a good-natured sort, he took it in stride. The other woman still didn't seem familiar. The uniform she wore wasn't quite standard, but it did identify her as a Captain. Not that he cared overmuch. The other old man was the only one that got much deference due to rank. "I tell you, Hassan, it's a crime. Kebabs would go over great."

"That,"
He began, looking the same way as the other Captain. "Is a Chinese Walker. Jiangnan Arsenal, I think. No disrespect, Ms. Winston, but we know plenty about 'em. I'd heard we had one on base, hadn't gotten to take a look. Under the hood they're pretty much the same as what I'm used to, it's the gear that's different. I could pull up specs on most of 'em, but I don't want to get any screens greasy."

"Pilot's real good. Looks like maybe a parade-spec unit? Close combat, for sure, don't see anything except the vulcans. Whatcha think, Hassan, those hands look like melee weapons to you?"


Horizon really was quite nice.

The climate was comfortable, the sun felt nice beating down on her head and shoulders. It was a little warm, she still had her jacket from the Far East Brigade on and her duffel tossed over her shoulder, but pleasant. A cab would probably have gotten her to the base quicker, but the traffic would have been killer. And walking through the city seemed like a nice idea. Aya could catch a cab when she got to the other edge of the hubbub. She'd be back once she dropped off her bag, anyway, she didn't want to miss the air show. If she had to guess where White was, it'd probably be in that show. Someone at the base would know.

Still, it was strange being off duty. She was a tourist for the moment, or at least close to it. No work to be done.

The parade was kicking into gear, and she found that she happened to be picking her way along its route. A little slower, slow enough that she could feel the Walkers approaching. Steps that shook the earth, heralding the parade's honor guard. They never failed to bring a smile to her face. They were marvelous, and Ayane would never get tired of seeing them. So she settled into a shady spot, for a moment, to watch them approach. Somewhere above her head someone was clambering over a railing to perch, and for a moment she idly hoped that they wouldn't drop a sandal on her head (or worse, fall) but the mood was irrepressible. Such concerns only bothered her for a moment.

The Warriors simply looked too good to care. They weren't for field-use, it was easy to tell. They were too clean. Unmarred. Their weapons were ceremonial, their paint schemes uniform. The garrison's markings were freshly painted on their shoulders, and she wondered for a second if her own machine would get the same markings. Something about removing the Brigade insignia just didn't feel right.

But those were questions for duty. She could ask them then.
Benjamin Armbruster

@Norik @Selvariabell


"Come on, now."

The sentence, half plea and half growl, wasn't directed at another person. Not that you would guess, since the man in question seemed to expect an answer. Ben had the day off, actually, but work was play in his mind. He planned to go out and catch the parade, but his morning diagnostics were throwing some wonky errors. What should have been a quick fix turned into full scans, taking off panels, getting elbow deep in wires and cursing. He wasn't going to make the parade. But that was kind of liberating. Meant he could just focus on actually fixing the issue. The festivities could wait til later, there'd be plenty of things to see in the afternoon. Vernichten needed him now.

After about an hour of digging through power couplings and software diagnostics, he finally narrowed the issue down to a fault within a single meter-long section of cabling. Could he patch it? Probably. But it'd be quicker just to replace it. He pulled his arms back out of the cramped space he's been fishing around in, and glanced at his hands. Absolutely covered in grease. Somewhere along the lines he'd gotten it in his hair, too. Probably ran a hand through it when he was thinking. Whoops. Not really any point in cleaning off, not until he was done. Ben was glad he rolled up his sleeves, though; the gunk that got worked into Walker components was a pain in the ass to get out of fabric. Didn't want to have to clean off another work shirt.

He clambered down off the catwalk two steps at a time, leaving his jacket hanging on his work station. Activity in the hangar was pretty much at a minimum, so he was honestly content. No one to bug him about keeping his workspace clean, or ask why he was talking to himself. Nothing of the sort. He'd have to make a note of the components he grabbed out of storage, but that was easy enough. Vernichten's bay was closer to the testing fields than the main complement. Made for a bit of a hike towards the parts he needed, but a little exercise did the body good so he took off at a jog towards the other end of the hangar. Something else the boss wasn't around to lecture him for.

There were a couple other officers in the hangar, though. Whoops.

"Hey, Ahmad!" He called out, slowing down to a walk on his way over. The bigger man was a familiar enough site on base, though for the life of him he didn't know why he wasn't at a barbecue or something. He was always looking for an excuse to fire up the grill. Protocol might've been a salute, but when did he ever pay much attention? The little wave'd do. He didn't have any idea who the young-looking girl with him was, but that didn't say a lot. Took him a while to learn about the new pilots. "Don't you have a grill to man somewhere? Isn't that usually your thing?"

"They got you working today?"



@Crimmy @Norik, both good to go.

@Silvan Haven, I'd appreciate a little more detail regarding how effective the additional thrusters are for Stream. And in the vein of experimental technology, I'd request a flaw within the tracking software. My personal suggestion would be that too many enemies or weapons tends to bog it down, but considering the potential efficacy combined with the thrusters, I do think it needs some kind of drawback. I'm open to talking about what, these are just my suggestions.

My own personal CSes are in the Char tab, now, approved by @Plank Sinatra to ensure I'm following my own rules. Had a bit of writer's block for the past couple weeks, but we're starting to get back into gear now.
@Selvariabell Eun is good to go, for the moment. I have some reservations, but we'll handle anything that comes up if it comes up.
Colony Day, Horizon (Downtown) 9:00 AM


On some level, nothing could dampen enthusiasm for Colony Day.

For children, of course, it was just a day off. The political implications of the holiday meant nothing to them, nor could they truly grasp the technological marvels that it was meant to celebrate. They had lived with it their whole lives. The existence of settlements beyond Earth was just a fact of life, as certain as sunrise. Even most adults hadn’t lived through the thrill of the very first settlement on the Moon, but they had surely lived to see humanity expand from there. And some had been young when Armstrong earned its city status. For all that the world had complicated since then, the achievement was still remarkable. Remarkable enough to be worth celebrating.

And nowhere was it celebrated better than Horizon.

The seven cities that boasted Mass Drivers took special pride in Colony Day, but Horizon went above and beyond. Locals and tourists alike flocked to the beaches, the commercial districts, the restaurants; the day had begun at dawn, and would not end until last call at the bars. The parade would draw immense crowds to its route, and even bigger swells for the businesses lucky to be along it. Even though towards its periphery would benefit from the crowds. The mayor was slated to give a speech, before the parade began, and while that held little attraction the parade itself most certainly did. Horizon’s military would be on hand, with events of their own, and anyone with an imagination would flock to see the Walkers on display. The air show wouldn’t be until later in the day, but it was sure to draw as much attention as the parade itself.

The atmosphere was electric, and for once without the looming anxiety the Ark Union caused. Colony Day was as sacred, if not more, for the colonists as it was on Earth. Footage of the festivities, planet- and colonyside alike, would be streaming on every major network all day. The occasional war hawk would find their soap box; some network would be willing to give them some air time, if only to try and differentiate themselves from the other networks. But few would be inside to watch, anyway. Even if they were smaller than the celebrations around the spaceports, every small town in the Federation would have their activities planned.

The civilians weren’t the only eager participants, either; Colony Day was a holiday for all non-essential military personnel. Enlisted men, women, and officers alike would flock to the streets to enjoy their day of freedom. The favorite local bars would have specials going on all day, even on top of the Colony Day specials. Horizon had a lot to offer, as its military personnel knew very well, and held something for everyone’s downtime preferences.

The day was just beginning, and it promised to be a good one.




“What’re you doing here, sir? Wouldn’t let you out of the home for the day?”

“Watch it, LT. I sign your leave slips.” Major Patrick McKinley half-growled, blinking his eyes open to glance at the speaker. Ops was quieter than usual, seeing as everybody who could vacated when they got half a chance. He knew the Colonel was in her office, even if he hadn’t seen her yet. The boss was as essential as essential personnel got, so the day wasn’t a walk in the park for her. Wasn’t for him, either, but he didn’t have a whole lot to see to. “What’re you doing here? I wasn’t aware I’d need phone calls answered today.”

“Ha ha.” The Lieutenant picked her way through the room to her station, ignoring the fact that McKinley had his feet kicked up on his console. Again. No one was exactly sure how the commander of the Walker garrison beat everyone to work every day, but the running theory was just that he never left. He wasn’t ever volunteering any answers, other than “the ex can’t get on base”. But Noah would have thought, at least, that he might have been less eager on a holiday. “Someone has to remind you how your email works. Sir.”

“True.”

The silence went on for a bit, after that. McKinley resumed reading the reports on his tablet, Noah ran through any memos for the day, and the handful of other officers in Ops continued their business. Nothing out of the ordinary. A few requisitions from the crew chief down in the hangar to sign off on, notices of delivery for a few units, summaries of the R&D department’s progress for the week. Not that they technically answered to him, directly, but they used his division’s resources and pilots so there were certain niceties. He’d worked for them, way back when, so there was respect, too. But still, nothing especially worth giving too much thought.

“Lieutenant, run me through the docket. What’ve we got today?”

“Usual reps are setting up for the PR stuff in town. The flyboys are getting their last prep in for the airshow this afternoon. Local PD has already called to make sure we’ve told the kiddos to behave themselves on leave.” Noah went through the list easily, rolling her shoulders to stretch the last sleep out of her back. “Nothing unusual, other than the usual reminders to keep vigilant. Customs flagged a big shipment coming from the Union, later, but the credentials all seem to be in order. If there’s anything to worry about, we should hear it from Luna long before it gets to us.

“So, nothing.”

“Pretty much, sir, yes.”

McKinley sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Well, shit. I’m gonna need more coffee, or I might just take a nap.”

“Don’t worry, sir, I’m sure the Colonel will have you home for bed by five.”


One down.

The impromptu cremation of one despicable Crusader was proof that they were unaccustomed to dealing with a Psycodriver. That was an edge, for her. Something to make this four versus one doable. Not easy, it was key that she stop all of them before they could reach the Loch. She had the attention of two, but two more were still speeding toward their objective. She needed all of their attention on her. Relief seemed to be on the way with two of the Irish Lions, but then-

Two friendly IFFs lost.

Three enemies gained.

She zoomed in, unconsciously, but she didn't need the help for identification. Three black AMs. Two Barrelions. A Guarlion Custom. She saw, in her mind, Barrelions tear through allied Gespensts. Punching through armor like paper. And the Guarlion. That black-plated demon from the depths of Hell, with optics of the cruelest amaranth. If the Guarlion squad leaders were skilled, then the pilot of this Custom was better still. It was out of her weight class. Not even the TT, the embodiment of what strength she had, could even those odds. Maybe if she were stronger. If she were its original pilot. But she...

In that haze, between the lingering effects of her maneuver and the settling despair, she almost forgot her enemies. The screaming klaxon brought her back to her senses, senses enough to mostly evade the Landlion's returned fire. It scraped hard against her PT's shoulder, gouging a nasty line in the armor, but functionality remained. She needed to focus. The new units were too far away. She needed to stop this formation in its tracks. The two that were not focused on her, she needed their attention. A flick of her finger brought up the Split Missiles, and fired where she intended. Not at the Landlions, no; in water, she doubted her ability to land a direct hit. And the conflagration would not spread as far as in air. But the river in front of them?

That would get their attention. The two missiles fired split into submunitions on their parabolic arc down into the river, blanketing the area in front of the charging Landlions with small-scale detonations. Enough, she hoped, to make them stop. Her Gespenst may not have been fast, but it was more than enough to close the gap if she could gain even that small respite. The ones focused on her were another matter. Her Rippers were still in motion, and she directed them to the AM that still remained above the surface of the water; the one below was targeted, and she let loose with a burst from her handheld Railgun.

One, two, three, all eyes on me. Come on, now.

The visor of her PT flashed, as the droplet broke loose from her lip. That would stain. She had to trust that her allies could handle this development. She would stop the Landlions. Once she did that, she could assist. But four against one? Her hands were full.

Come on, Corinne.


"I don't care what brand of chips you buy. I do care what brand of milk we buy."

It was a little odd that he wanted to go to the bank. Not extremely, it happened from time to time. But it was Academy City, and most of their banking was done online. If even on a computer, much of it was on their phones. Actual trips to the bank were usually reserved for larger occasions, like renting their apartment. Umeko couldn't think, off the top of her head, of anything that would warrant a visit. Still, it wasn't out of their way. If Brennan said that he needed to go to the bank, to the bank they would go.

And then she'd get to find out why.

Her curiosity could wait. Grocery shopping was first. She squeezed her arm around his waist, bumping him affectionately with her shoulder. Her other hand fished around in her interior jacket pocket, looking for the grocery list. And the parts list. It wasn't a small amount of stuff that they needed to obtain, but that was alright. The errands were nice. Time to hang out, get some things done,and enjoy the weather. Later in the day it would be too hot for her tastes and she would long for the air conditioner, but for now the morning straddled the line nicely between cool and warm.

"Which grocery store are you thinking, Brennan?" Again, the syllable stretched. "The one near my model store, or the one near the store for our rocket parts?"
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