[RP] Nothing Ever Goes According to Plan
Posted 02 May 2012 - 07:11 AM
When the meeting adjourned, Murdoc had stood and silently left the room to head to the Mech bay, as the commander had suggested. His Cyclops 10-HQ was there waiting for him, looking more streamlined than the typical Cyclops without the barrel of an autocannon jutting out from the right torso. The large, armored cockpit of the machine housed two command seats, with one riding behind and somewhat above the forward seat. The Cyclops 10-HQ was equipped with a much more complex and powerful communication suite, which allowed for direct uplinks to satellites and regimental-wide communications.
Posted 02 May 2012 - 03:38 PM
The tactical map sitting near the bottom corner of his HUD flashed once, telling Felix that the they were nearing the first drop zone. It was still many klicks out, but it wouldn’t be long before they’d be in position for the hot drop. Command and Alpha Lances would hit dirt first, and then the DropShip would take Bravo Lance to the secondary site. As soon as they were all grounded, they’d proceed to where the pirates were hiding. If everything went according to plan, they’d engage Linda’s Raiders within a half hour and returning to base in a few hours more.
As wary and overcautious Nelson had been, Felix knew that Linda’s Raiders weren’t that tough. His people were very good, and he didn’t expect to have much trouble dispatching the pirates. But nothing ever went according to plan, Felix reminded himself, and so he was prepared to spend the better part of the evening and early morning pursuing these pirates.
“Commander Maan,” came the voice of the DropShip’s captain, Kurt Renzer. “We’re about three minutes from drop. Four until we reach LZ bravo.”
“Thank you, Captain Renzer,” Felix replied. He switched frequencies back to the general company channel. “Okay men, three minutes until Command and Alpha drop. Four until Bravo drops. Report in.”
Posted 02 May 2012 - 06:44 PM
"Sir, this is Command Three checking in. All systems nominal, Command Three is green light." He watched one of his communication panels to make sure the unit was broadcasting clearly to each other. The signal strength on their current channel was strong.
While the rest of the unit checked in, he pulled a cable down from where it was connected to the cieling of the cockpit. He plugged it into the side of his helmet and gave it a slight twist to lock it into place. He felt a tingle run up and down his spine as he became one with his mech. He was ready.
Posted 02 May 2012 - 07:11 PM
Mac's body shook for a moment as the massive mech's functional controls and system connected to Mac's own neural system. "Oh momma, dat feels better than that h00ker I had on Perth a few weeks ago." He smiled broadly and chomped down on his cigar."
Mentally he opened the comm unit. "Commander. Auntie is primed and ready ta git her groove on!"
"Command and Alpha kiddies, I'll hae da LAMs, Beagles and Angels online on touchdown, so keep ya a$$e$ tight to ma skirts, an' i'll relay any bogies. "
With that, the Atlas moved to the edge of the drop doors, it's massive feet clanging deafeningly against the bay's steel enforced floors. Her giant metal hand reached up and grabbed a large mech sized handhold over the drop doors to steady the mech.
Edited by Dreadstar, 02 May 2012 - 07:12 PM.
Posted 03 May 2012 - 01:35 AM
Now if I was on defense... I'd put my guys there, there, there and there. Mine the Hell out of the easy approaches, and make the enemy bleed themselves dry... Not much to work with here, these bandits aren't fools.
He made a mental note to update his will. No reason his exwife, despite how much he hated her guts, should miss out on some extra cash. She already took him for everything else.. He took one last look at the maps then headed off to double check all the systems on his mech. Just in case... He hoped that all the Yahoos in his unit was doing likewise. He had a feeling that he was gonna have to rely on his lancemates... They had all the heavy hardware.
Posted 03 May 2012 - 05:40 AM
"This is Bravo Three, checking in, my systems are up, and good to go. Hey Barrett, race you down?"
He threw in the Hell Jumper joke, as to kinda lighten the mood. Barrett was a damn good pilot, and command sent him to cover Barrett's back, though something didn't feel right about this one. Pirates always have the home field advantage, and they knew where to run, where to defend, and what to do. He sighed, and stepped up behind Mac's Atlas. He looked over the jump pack on the back, seemed good, wasn't anything wrong. Chris settled into his seat, awaiting the order to go.
Posted 03 May 2012 - 05:15 PM
Out of nowhere a warning klaxxon blared, startling him. He jumped, dropping the dog tags under his command couch. Several screens in his HUD started flashing red screens displaying various warnings. What the hell? Everything was green to go just a second ago...
Nelson looked at his center console.
A list of problems to troubleshoot formed, scrolling down the screen faster than Nelson could keep up reading.
...Critical Failure - Hip Actuator L
...Critical Failure - Hip Actuator R
...Critical Failure - Foot Actuator L
...Critical Failure - Foot Actuator R
...Critical Failure - Gyro Calibration
...Critical Failure - Engine Power Level
...Critical Failure - Ammunition Feed System (AC/2-1)
...Critical Failure - Ammunition Feed System (AC/2-2)
...Critical Failure - Particle Cannon Capacitor (PPC-A)
...Critical Failure - Particle Cannon Capacitor (PPC-
...Critical Failure - Sensors
Nelson's HUD displaying the output from his Garret computer went blank.
...Critical Failure - Life Support
The internal lights of his cockpit dimmed and emergency red lights hummed on. The air conditioning shut off, making the inside of his cockpit nearly silent besides the beeping of his computer printing out errors and the slowly dying hum of his fusion reactor.
...Critical Failure - Engine
"Shutting down," said his JagerMech's computer in an emotionless female voice.
"What the hell is going on?" Nelson started the power up sequence again, but his JagerMech did not respond.
Posted 03 May 2012 - 05:35 PM
Xin took a moment to collect himself, and then opened the comm; his voice was crisp and professional, belying his restrained laughter.
"Command One, this is Bravo Four. All systems nominal; prepared for drop. Over."
Posted 03 May 2012 - 07:20 PM
Worse yet, the shut down of his life support system and power supply kicked in the emergency cockpit support systems, which included emergency locks...
Posted 03 May 2012 - 07:45 PM
"Alright techs, we've had our laugh get the kink out of his damn mech, or I start spraying these MGs over you,"
To show he meant business, he turned his mech's torso, and spun the MGs, the techs immediately ran for Nelson's mech, and one of them climbed up, and pulled a small box off of the back of the torso. In a few seconds, the mech began to whir back to life, and the tech scrambled back down as the mech powered up. Chris silently hoped he tripped in front of the foot of the mech, when it took its first step. He switched back to the comms, and radioed Nelson.
"You alright, seems like we had a bit of friendly sabotage going 'round. Keep your damn head, **** happens,"
He saw the mech start up, and the hatch pop, and he saw Nelson scramble out. Damn techs, always ******* with the rookies. He sighed, at least he got to it before Barrett, that crazy ****** would have really started shooting, with his temper.
EDIT: didn't see Doc's post in OOC thread.
Edited by guardian wolf, 03 May 2012 - 07:48 PM.
Posted 03 May 2012 - 08:13 PM
With those words leaving his lips, the engine began to hum. The computer continued in that annoying tone telling him all the systems were nominal, though Barret left little attention to it. His fingers gripped the control white-knuckled, feeling the worn and torn leather at his fingertips. The coolant vest felt restrictive, and he could feel it gripping his lungs. A smile cut his face like a cruel razor wound, as he flicked on the com button.
"Command One, This is Bravo 2, Poison reads all systems are a go." He could feel his heart race, and the blood pump behind his eyes.
"Hey Barrett, race you down?" Chris making a bad joke on the com, to which Barret decided to respond in kind. "I would, but love to see you miss your mark six feet vertically."
Leaning back, he felt the weight of his neuro-helm weigh his head back, the strain in his neck after so long wearing the heavy gear had made Barret convinced that his neck was already half-broke. The cramped cockpit wasn't making things any better, it was bringing about a moment of anxiety that could only come from the claustrophobia induced by some previous experience of a downed mech.
The Vindicator began to move into place for the Hot-Drop, the express elevator to hell, going directly down with the hardest stop most human beings could fathom before boned broke and internal organs turned to jell. Barret placed his hand on his collar, feeling the missing dog-tags that would have been there if he had not given them. He had his own take on the Wolf's show of trust, and it was never to his squad-mates.
He looked over Bravo Lance as he moved into possition. Chris was tormenting engineers like they needed to be threatened to do their jobs. "And they accuse me of bravado?" he snickered. His hand dropped from his chest and felt the knife closed and secured to his hip right next to his pistol. His fingers traced over it as he begun to remind himself of the horrible things he had to do with the sharpened blade, and more so a hope he would have to do it again. He imagined getting shot out of the sky, and ejecting into atmosphere, and having to once again survive a gruesome guerrilla campaign until evac was made possible.
The sound of his Vindicator being locked into place pulled him back to the present. His hands gripping controls tightly again, he awaited the eternal four minutes until he would be plunged planet-side, and then the real work would begin...
Posted 03 May 2012 - 09:15 PM
Edited by Joe Davion 86, 03 May 2012 - 09:17 PM.
Posted 06 May 2012 - 07:21 PM
They weren't pretty images. His mech was designed for open ground where he could use his speed to harass and annoy the enemy. With the probible defences laid out by the pirates he'd most likely be slogging through the forsest to get to their base of operations. He didn't like that idea either... but it sure beat the idea of tapdancing his Hermes through a minefield.
And there he was, standing at the foot of his mech. He took a moment and looked over the 40 tonner with a loving look, then began to climb up the rungs welded up the mechs leg and torso, to the Hermes shoulder. He pulled himself on up to the shoulder and entered through a hatch in the side of the mech's head.
There in the shadowy confines of the cockpit he took a moment and relaxed. He stripped down to his skivies and doned his mechgear, an ancient coolant vest a battered neural helmet and a set of plasteel boots that covered him from foot to knee. Orson plopped down into his command chair and began the start up sequence. A boney finger stabbed away at buttons on the console and lights began to light up on the various monitors.
"Voice pattern match initiated." Chimmed the mech.
"Oh, shut up and let me drive." He answered absentmindedly.
"Voice pattern match check complete. Controls now reliquished to you. Give them Hell, Mechwarrior."
Orson sat back and breathed in the musky stale air as the consoles lit up with data informing him on coolant levels, ammo loads, and various other things.
"Well girl, you ready to do this?" He asked out loud, not expecting an answer. But really wishing for some words of encouragement. But only silence answered him.
"Yeah, me neither."
Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 07 May 2012 - 06:09 PM.
Posted 18 May 2012 - 06:54 PM
"Why am I as nervous as a virgin on prom night." He asked out loud.
Posted 19 May 2012 - 11:12 PM
"Maddie's hot-to-trot, time to let some pirates reap the whirlwind." he intoned over the coms. Even if you weren't 100% confident, malcontent or fear could grow like a disease if one gave into them in front of others. Better to be thought an over-confident blowhard, than to undermine one's fellows.
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