Terrans

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Anyone planning on posting for this soon. If not I’ll just kick to the next portion.

Paradise Lost

John

John might have been new to the command structure of big ships; but he was pretty sure an all hands briefing should have been more briefing then an open forum debate.

Sure, he was learning helmsmanship on the fly, but he had a basis at least in aerospace navigation. He was sure at least half of the crew crowding into the bridge got their ideas on space travel from Network shows and those articles that always popped up on news feeds.

“Hey? Course? We have a plan besides running from place to place, destroying our own space station and manually detaching an access tunnel with explosive bolts.”

@PrinceAlexus

The short kiellar that spoke up looked even shorter from the depths of the standard sized crash seat. John might have given a laugh at the dissonant if he didn’t feel the slight burn of shame.

“The station was an accident.” He jabbed back. Slightest bloom of color on his cheeks. On a screen behind him the station silently rocked from a secondary explosion. A flurry of metal and flame briefly flaring from the wound he had torn in the station. “As for the course. We have one out of system. Random jump. After that however…”

He trailed his voice off and met the short kiellar’s eyes. A hopeless shrug of his as he tried to puzzle what her function on the ship was. Her cobbled together outfit left him no clue other then she probably was like him; finding a function amidst the scramble to evacuate.

Then the pair of medical officers started talking on pirates. John resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Sure pirates were definitely on the threat list. They were just not anywhere near the top of his list of worries. More like a middle ground. All one had to do was make the chase not worth the reward.

"Don't get me wrong. I have the upmost faith in the ability of the soldiers and security personnel who made it onboard to repel pirate boarding parties. It's just that, as Chief Medical Officer, concern over potentially life-threatening risks to those onboard this vessel."

@Flarbinia

“Well as the one piloting this hunk of metal. You can be assured that I have concern for the well being of this ship well in hand.”

Perhaps a bit more hostile than he intended. But it had been a day.

Speaking of hard day.

A search of his survival pouch in his vest fielded a prize. The whiskey bottle from the bar. Half filled and still intact despite the tribulations of the day.

A swig tamped down his emotions and he passed the bottle to the nearest station. The short kiellar with the ridiculously large boots.

“Besides it’s not like the pirates send out a newsletter for their latest hotspots. “

Paradise Lost

John

Velia hadn’t bothered to answer John’s auestion; the comm officer being swept up in a conversation his adrenaline addled mind struggled to make sense of. So he left; wandering the corridors for something resembling a ready room or barracks.

On the eleventh door he tried he found what looked like a security room. A desk with a hardened monitor in one corner; a table next to an array of cabinets with what looked like a small fridge and a hot drink machine shoved on its counter. A row of lockers as tall as him dominated one wall and a small holding cell occupied a distant corner as an afterthought. But beside that small plexiglass cube was a door with a universal symbol. John gave a prayer to whatever deity was listening as he discovered a small washroom complete with a ridiculously small shower stall.

John took a moment to secure the room behind him and check the lockers for his second goal. Two of the lockers appeared to be equipment lockers; useful later but locked down for the moment and of no interest to John’s singular focus. The third lockers yielded what he wanted; pre-sealed stacks of security jumpsuits. Not the most fashionable maybe; but clean and one was in his size.

With that John crowded into the small space and took the most lukewarm shower he ever remembered. It felt glorious for all of three minutes before the timer kicked on and cut off the water. Leaving the pilot half-covered in suds but at least cleansed of grime, debris and gore for the moment.

He was in the process of scraping off the suds on his scalp when the intercom helpfully blared from its mount five feet from his head.

Taking a seat in the bridge as she waited for Ginny to catch-up, Vitiafa put on a headset, and dialed into the ship's intercom. "Could all available hands report to the bridge for an all-crew meeting? We shall decided our course here."

@Bingelly

“What the f-“ He bit back the curse as he caught sight of the PA and groaned. “So much for a breather.”

The last part muttered under his breath as he dumped his dirty and combat torn flight gear on the room’s break table. Taking time to strip his survival gear and TacPad and put it on the security gear’s respective mounts. Not that it fit perfectly but it would do till he washed the previous set or pulled a spare set from the Kestrel’s gear lockers.

With a reluctant sight he began to make his way to the bridge. Dark blue uniform and its vest feeling too stiff and unnatural. Obviously not broken in.

A price to pay for clean clothes.

He arrived back on to the bridge with little fanfare; keying it open with what was already becoming a familiar process. Plopping into “his” seat and pulling open the shakedown manual and the current readings. All looked steady and the random heading from before was still being cheerfully followed by the autopilot.

“Well the ship’s not about the hit an asteroid. What’s the hurry?” He twisted in his seat look back at the bridge.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Commander Stader Volger

CO 89th LSC (Onyx-9)

Volger supposed his first mission with this command couldn’t have ended in a straightforward manner.

His tactical display populating a worrying amount of new symbology and hulls that were marked in that dull red color of hostile. Securing the Venture meant nothing of the pirates retained naval superiority.

A scream, distorted by a helmet’s voice modulator, echoed from a nearby vent. Faint buzzing and rattling accompanied the warbling cries of terror. Volger ignored the sound of the buzz bots at work as Captain Ganishka tried to task Onyx-9.

"Onyx-9, does this rust bucket have anything that can shoot at the Cores dancing on its hull? Ironside, Hypo and Armatus, try and keep the frigate distracted if you can. Phantom, we have incoming strike crafts with nuclear mining charges strapped to their missiles, try and take out as many as you can before they can fire."

@Wernher

The commander shrugged as he keyed to one of the platoons securing the bridge. The platoon leader helpfully already on the vital deck; consulting with the ship’s XO on potential crew holdouts when Volger’s query arrived.

The answer that came back was as he expected.

“Onyx-9 Actual to Indomitus. Negative on the guns. Pirates slagged them all in their way in. Frigate picked them-”

Volger paused as a bolt of inspiration struck him. The Shrike-class frigate nearby that moved abroad of the [i]Venture[/i; fearing nothing from what it thought was a few cores or a stricken merchant. A class of frigate that had been replaced mostly due to a few design flaws. One of which alone would be crippling but if exploited in tandem…..

“Onyx-9 Actual to Lance. I have a plan to deal with that frigate. Peel those cores off our hull and we will make you an opening. For the Empire!”

Volger didn’t much care for signing off like that. But he found that it was an effective way of ensuring someone didn’t try to pick the conversation back up.

He pulled up Lt. Diaz and the platoon leader for the troopers still clearing the debris field on the TacNet. The latter group now mainly hunkering down amidst the increasing expenditures of ordinance.

“Prep two squads of hull breacher’s. Pack them on frames and make sure they have a code breaker with them. Wait for the lance to make an opening.”

Down the hall a access hatch opened. A pirate, a professional in that drab blueish gray armor came out sans weapon. The man had just clambered out when the trio of buzz bots that had been tailing him in vents followed the pirate’s escape.

Buzz bots were expensive. Volger never quite understood how that trio of chrome machines cost as much as a stomper mech. But the rapidly vivisecting pirate in front of him was a testament to well spent imperial credits.

Or partial vivisection judging by the continuing scream of pain turning gurgle. The buzz bots, their programming satisfied, trundled back into the vents in search of more pirates. Their signature buzzing fading in their wake. Their victim, still alive, if one could call the mess of armor and flesh still living.

Volger paid the body no mind as he made his way to the starboard airlock to prep his part of the plan. Behind him a trooper took pity on the pirate.

“Bad way to go mate.” The trooper offered, half sympathetically, as he leveled a handgun at what he nominally identified as a head and pulled the trigger.

Empire of the Clouds

Aden

Aden never found whether Zoe had followed his earlier advice to stay in as his eye caught movement out a porthole. A column of uniforms making steady headed to the airship.

Normally, Aden would have attributed such a movement to the daily life of the aerodrome. But Carter’s stunt and the event surrounding it had made his blood pressure spike. Alarm bells rung at the back of his head as the private spun in a boot and hurried for the airship’s main passageway.

Stopping briefly on his route to slip his R-01M over his back; from where it had been resting neatly against his bunk. Then it was back to the frigid air of the gantry and the now familiar thunk of the catwalk as his machine gun post grew nearer.

Below the formation of soldiers was closer. The angle was awkward but the gun’s mount was very lenient. The private peering over the oversized sight as he settle in.

He had no intention of firing first. But he also had no intention of dying here. Shot up over a pile of gold that technically belonged to no one at the moment.

The fact that the post he currently manned was the one he had been shot at during the last firefight over the gold; was not lost on him.

Instead, he shoved the bundle of worry and laid a hand on a charging handle. Waiting.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Apologies for the wall of text. Had free time and a lot of thoughts.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Commander Stader Volger

CO 89th LSC (Onyx-9)

There was a common misconception about ships. Most entertainment Volger had watched in the last decade tended to portray the inaccuracy. It was that Engineering was one giant room deep in the bowels of the ship. With everything vital to it’s functioning crammed into its own corner.

If such was the case Volger would have been done twenty four minutes ago and with significantly less effort.

The reality was that Engineering was a warren of armored compartments, tight spaces and fatal funnels that was often packed with delicate components or hazardous materials. The upside was that the pirates didn’t want to trigger a rogue jump or light off a tenth of a starship’s fuel supply with themselves still on the ship. The downside was that such considerations took off a fair chunk of the more lethal and effective toys Onyx-9 had brought aboard.

Volger took a knee as he orchestrated the chaos. Piggybacking helmet feeds and squad TacLinks to keep his assay up to date. Down the corridor, a team tossed a stun grenade though a half melted door; piling though in the aftermath of its detonation. The whine of lasers and chattering rifles following their entrance.

Volger ignored it and took shifted through links.

A stomper, cannon stowed, dug armored gauntlets into a door’s seam. Crumpling the metal like paper. A pirate, clad in the surplus garb of the debris shooter’s stood shaking. Hands raised to the air. A stubby sub gun smoking and forgotten on the floor. In the corner lay another pirate, a professional, riddled from head to toe. Troopers flooded into the room; shoving the pirate into a corner and slipping cuffs on.

Another link.

A squad of Onyx troopers battled over Heat Exchange Manifold #2. A trio of the professionals held the high ground in the form of a catwalk. A crew served railgun highlighted in angry red. Five of the surplus clad pirates ducked among the machinery. The link was a confusing array of symbols, noise and tracer fire. The camera owner leveled their IM-31 at the catwalk and triggered the underbarrel; the resulting explosion was bright and long lasting. The screams picked up in perfect audio quality as the thermite grenade burned through high grade armor. The catwalk buckling slightly under the now compromised structural integrity. The pirates below tried to fall back against the now surging teams of troopers.

Another link.

Two pirates were in the frame. A surplus and a professional. The former had discarded his weapon in the remains of a maintenance area. Hands raised amidst the dead bodies of three former comrades. Or at least they were raised before the professional had drawn their sidearm and shot the surrendering pirate though the back of his dome shaped helmet. The professional had tried to turn but the camera owner and her partner let loose disciplined bursts of 8mm. The pirate joining his “colleagues”.

Another link.

Five pirates lined against a wall. Dead. Blood spattered at head height. All clad in the surplus of the debris ambushers. Single gunshot wounds to the head. No weapons in their hands. Behind them a trio of professionals; twisted in death with shattered visors and broken chest plates. Two had rifles in dead grips; one still clutched a sidearm. Five pistol casings on the deck. The troopers responsible for the trio’s demise stepped up for a cautious coup de grâce.

’Someone doesn’t want prisoners.’

Volger checked the ship’s layout with the location trackers of his two platoons in engineering. Good progress and dwindling resistance pointed to Onyx’s part winding down. At least for the immediate future.

Not that the job was done.

Movement in the corner office eye had him turn a split millisecond before his HUD screamed at him. A maintenance hatch in the floor revealed an unshaven face, surplus armor and an old bullpup carbine. The man had been trying to hastily clamber out when Volger’s PDW had turned on him.

Two meters separated them. The pirate’s eyes were wide and his mouth beginning to form words.

All Volger noticed were the barrel wavering in his direction and an unfriendly uniform.

A sustained burst gave the pirate a good impression of being electrocuted. The body collapsing out of sight back into the hatch. A very feminine scream of shock accompanied the falling body.

Volger rose and crossed the short distance; PDW raised. A trooper mimicked him from the other side. The hatch yielded a very dead pirate and a very alive pirate stuck under the dead weight of the first. The second pirate was also clad in the off brown surplus armor but she had no visible weapon. Her efforts at the moment attempting to shove off a dead body that looked like it outweighed her by forty kilos in kit.

She paused her struggle however as the pair of Onyx-9 troopers loomed over her. Visible lasers of green centering on a forehead sheened in sweat above wide brown eyes.

Volger debated the trigger pull but thought better of it. Instead, he motioned at the hatch and the trooper that accompanied him.

“Pull her out and get them to the holding area. No accidents. And get some buzz bots into the rat spaces.” The trooper gave a nod and motioned to his team. A pair of additional troopers shrugging past Volger to pull the pirate out from under the corpse. The first trooper holding an unwavering muzzle on the pirate.

Volger, satisfied, left his troopers to it. He stepped back and spun on a heel. Queuing up his comms to the ship as he backtracked from the Engineering deck. Passing the debris and signs of the firefight. Pockmarked walls, shattered makeshift barricades and gore. Occasionally rows of bodies neatly arranged as Onyx-9 troopers shifted through secured sectors. Collecting the dead and wounded into some semblance of order.

”Onyx-9 Actual to Indomitus. Main areas of engineering under control. Securing secondary areas now. Appears two factions among-“

A loud detonation resonated through the deck. Volger stumbled and caught himself on the bulkhead. An alarm blared through the ship’s PA system.

Lt. Diaz helpfully clued him in on the general channel.

”Onyx-9 Delta here. Pirates in aft shuttle bay just blew up their shuttle. Look like they had a few scuttling charges on board. Don’t know extent of damage but I’m sealing off the bay.”

Volger gave a sigh and righted himself. Toggling the channel back to the Indomitus.

Onyx-9 Actual, will add ordinance sweeps to follow on actions. Request brig prepped for prisoner’s with transport to follow.

Empire of the Clouds

Aden

There were many things Aden wanted to do at the current moment.

Hit the idiot medic who kept shooting.

Fire at Carter’s rapidly dwindling shape with his pistol no matter the improbability of hit.

Tell everyone in the bay to clear out.

Dump the damn gold out he rear and let the fates take it.

He did none of those however. Instead, he watched as Carter’s hasty foolish escape for a few seconds before he shoved his weapons back in their respective places.

Toggling the ramp so that it would raise back to its original state.

“Someone watch the ramp in case he tries to come back. I’m getting a drink.” He said it with the finality of a defeated man. The insanity of the moment taking its toll on what had been a day of rest.

His boots carried him out of the cargo bay and back to where he had been when this venture had started. He wondered whether Zoe had heeded his words as he went to open the door and take part in the sports he had previously declined.

“Zoe?”

Empire of the Clouds

Aden

‘What is this day?’

They were supposed to be safe. No frontlines anywhere near the airship. Now there at least three armed people he could see in the bay with a fourth, Carter, lurking out of sight.

Or at least that was what was purported to have happened.

All he had was the word of a foreign soldier. And call Aden crazy, but the rows of gold were definitely not buying any leeway to crazy theories.

“Watch them.” Aden gestured from the Inburian policewoman to the pair of Favisians. Apology was better at this particular junction than possible betrayal. His pistol sights turning to the now open cargo ramp. Carter’s voice ringing out indistinct in the echoing bay and machinery.

“Carter. Don’t move!!!!” Careful steps as he inched his way to the ramp at the end. Pistol up and free hand unsheathing the double edged fighting knife. “If you run you will be shot! Gold or no gold!”

An overreaction perhaps; but this situation was well. Greed, misunderstanding, broken promises… the reason for this whole debacle was secondary.

Now Aden just wanted it over with before he caught a bullet.

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Commander Stader Volger

CO 89th LSC (Onyx-9)

There was a saying about the best tactics being the ones you couldn’t predict. But Volger could say he had never encountered a mech slamming a piece of debris into the line of fire of enemy mechs. Especially when that mech used their own chassis to do it.

But it worked. The debris blocked the majority of Onyx-9 from the AC’s fire. Leaving their rapidly diminishing amount of shooters in the debris field their only defense. As the Lance engaged their “counterparts”; Onyx dealt with theirs.

The pirates in the debris field reflected their mechs. Rough, well used surplus that was great against the surplus or low grade security equipment civilians bought for peace of mind. Armor good for space debris punctures and hastily modified with scraps and aftermarket parts for combat.

There had been a good forty of them in the debris field for the ambush. With the mechs they had stood a chance against a company.

Now they dwindled rapidly. Puffs of air and shattering visors marked Onyx’s better optics. The company snipers clamped onto debris; their magnetically assisted rifles rated for anti material work. Overkill for their current targets.

A pirate gunner in a former cargo container never noticed the pair of rocket assisted grenades that decimated him and his drum fed weapon.

Six pirates tried to reorient as a pair of Onyx troopers scythed laser and 8mm fire respectively from above. The fire team that had suppressed the half dozen now moved forward. Vectoring in on a trio of pirates fleeing for the Venture.

The threat display was still muddled by debris and the battle but the path forward was for the most part clear. Volger watched red indicators of hostiles turn the dull orange of eliminated threats.

“Onyx—9 Actual to Onyx-9 Alpha. Clear the debris field. All other callsigns; proceed to Venture. Stand by to board.”

The excitement was palpable as the platoons turned to their respective tasks. In the distance Volger watched the dizzying background that was the AC’s fighting. Beams, blasts and even blades at work. Another stage for the same play Volger and Onyx-9 were playing.

’Just hope they can keep the ship mech free for the next twenty minutes at least.’

********

“Someone get me a stomper to the mess deck!!!!” Volger yelled into his comm. Ducking behind a pillar as an array of enemy fire struck the cover. Volger’s retaliation came from two of his troopers. The pair letting loose ripping bursts of 8mm fire from their own cover.

The two sides had roughly stalemated themselves in the former dining facility. Ironically, both parties having taken this route to flank another stalemate that had developed in the main access corridor that ran parallel to the engineering damage control station. Itself, not important but a node one could use to fast track their way to the critical location.

Volger had detailed Diaz to double back and find a way to the next level. Using their heavy equipment to punch though the deck above the pirates while Volger would flank to catch them from hopefully three directions.

Instead they had run into a force of pirates of equal number to his two squads. To make matters worse; these weren’t the same caliber as those outside. Their armor was current gen kit. The latest model of the independent and paramilitary types with credits to burn. And if the trio of wounded icons flashing in his helmet was any indication; they’re weapons and training were above their ill fated debris bound brethren.

Volger used a lull in the fire to drop low left. PDW tucked tight; HUD targeting reticule dragging up onto a visor peaking over a nearby table. The stubby weapon jerked in his gauntlets and the visor fell back. The faint spray of chipped visor mingled with pink accompanying the falling the pirate’s plasma repeater.

Volger allowed-

“Grenade!!!” The warning was verbal. Not in any comm-

The room shook as the explosive detonated in the small no man land the pair of sides had established through their crossfire. Volger felt the rattle though his armor and gave a curse. Another icon blinked rapidly; one wounded trooper.

The Onyx-9 retaliation came in the form of a trooper dumping seven rounds of underslung 25mm heat seeking munitions that could barely maneuver in the clustered space. The munitions lacking the power or flight time to kill the pirates through their cover or near misses given their armor as well.

What it did do was take apart the tables and knock the eight assorted pirates using them off their feet. Exposed and shell shocked; they died in the sudden resurgence of Onyx gunfire. Which picked up with the trio of figures that poured into the room.

Two were troopers with heavy armor inserts; cradling shotguns and lugging packs full of ammo that didn’t fit any weapon systems they wielded. The third figure was the nine foot tall armored stomper that bore the callsign “Prancer” stenciled on his chest.

A pair of 20mm cannons were in both of the suit’s weapon arm mounts and they swung into play with rapid fanfare.

As the screams of pirates drowned under cannon, shotgun and automatic fire; Volger toggled his comms. The distance thump of a deck charge accompanied a report from Diaz. The flank had been complete.

His other platoons were having an easier time on their way to the bridge. The remnants of the ship’s crew and security having hardpointed there. The pirates caught between the massed fire of the crew and the encroaching platoons of Onyx-9; the bridge area would be secured within the hour at the most. As for engineering…

”Onyx-9 Actual to Indomitus. Hostile pirates still aboard Venture. Bridge still secure at this time and under friendly control. Heavy resistance enroute to engineering. Unknown status of control. Be advised; hostiles within Venture displaying better equipment and training then exterior forces. Unknown if this extends to their AC’s as well. Out.

His report done Volger stood from his cover. The immediate gunfire having died out. A medic worked on the Onyx wounded. Troopers swept through the blown apart section of the mess hall. Following in the wake of the stomper and his ammo handlers.

A wounded pirate dragged himself on his two remaining limbs. His destination forever unknown as the stomper’s namesake became apparent. The stomper pilot gave a violent grinding of its foot before continuing on; bloody footprint marking its path.

Volger ignored the mess and stepped into the stream of troopers.

“Alright boys and girls. Let’s see how engineering is looking.”