54 replies to this topic

[Listless Nomad]

Intel Briefing:
Commanders, the 13th Fleet is being ordered to investigate a little known star system nicknamed Prospector's Paradise. Probes and recon jumpships have reported picking up sporadic transmissions coming from the system. Intel reports decryptions of the transmissions indicate the central star of the system may be being used as a refueling and recharging point for the Taurian Navy. Recent reports indicate the Taurian 3rd Fleet has been identified within two jumps of Prospector's Paradise. High Command has ordered Admiral Coontz to take the 13th Fleet to Prospector's Paradise, engage any Taurian forces, and await the Taurian 3rd Fleet.

The system itself is quite bland, with a Class B star surround by 3 satellites. The closest sateillite is a small rocky planetioid. A small asteroid field separates the planetoid from two large gas giants.

March 15^th 2581 0800 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Bridge of the SLS Basel

Admiral Robert Coontz stood above the bridge, hands clasped behind his back as he viewed the 13^th Fleet outside the view port. Transport shuttles zipped back and forth between the ships in the fleet, as the final refit and repairs were finalized. The fleet was orbiting above an unnamed star in Taurian space, in preparation to jump into the Prospector’s paradise system. Intelligence had confirmed that the Class B star in the system was harboring a clandestine refueling station, allowing the Taurian 3^rd Fleet to engage in guerilla tactics, striking the SLDF supply lines. Its actions had hammered the SLDF over the past few months, crippling or destroying numerous ships and hampering ground troops in multiple systems. Little was known about the composition of the 3^rd Fleet, so the SLDF High Command had assembled the 13^th Fleet from the best ships available within the Inner Sphere. It had taken months to gather them all at this unknown star, in an effort to keep both their mission, and their composition a secret.

Robert turned from the window and observed the bridge crew of the Basel working diligently to prepare the ship for a combat jump. The fleet would depart the next day, but Commodore Striker was keeping after them to make sure the ship was as ready as possible. With a sigh, Robert took one last look out the window, observing the aerospace fighter wings fly by on combat air patrol, before heading toward the bridge hatch. Robert had no illusions as to the fighting capability of the 3^rd fleet, and he knew that tomorrow was going to be a bloody day. He just hoped that it was all worth it….

------------------------------------------------------------------

March 15^th 2581 0800 hrs
Location REDACTED
Bridge of the TCV REDACTED

The Signals Officer reread the communique and then passed it to his Captain. He let a smile creep across his face as he read the communique again and again, before crushing the document in a balled fist.

<LOCATION CLASSIFIED>
<COMMUNICATION CODE X RAY>
<AUTHENTICATION BL456YYD>

Attn. Cmdr Taurian 3rd Fleet

Intel confirms Package is go. Operation Manticor approved. Prepare as you see fit.

God Speed.

HC-FLTCOM Out.

<MESSAGE TERMINATED>

Edited by Listless Nomad, 30 May 2014 - 06:19 PM.

[RogueSpear]

February 24th 2581 1460 hrs
Location REDACTED
Bridge of the TCV Butterfly

"Commodore Burrough, jump point forming...It's the Night Caller." Lieutenant Marks called out from the sensor station.
"About time," muttered Burrough. "Signals Officer, patch me through."
Some seconds later, he held a mic to his mouth and a set of headphones to his ears.
"Commodore, this is the Night Caller. Do you read?"
"Aye Colonel-Space Master Snow, Butterfly is receiving. What news?"
"One of our Jumpships had been holding station at the rendezvous point for nearly two weeks, we're to break off from the established route and head to a new set of coordinates, which we will upload to you at the end of this call. We are to rendezvous with the 3rd Fleet, the intent being to arrive before a large action, details will again be attached. The Night Caller is to officially join you, under your command."
That surprised Burrough. The entire trip he'd been forced to relay all his orders to the commander of the Night Caller, the Ministry of Intelligence officer being in charge of all non-naval operations - which so far had been all of them. "Say again Night Caller, you are to join my command?"
"Aye Commodore. The Night Caller is fully at your service."
Burrough tapped the mic against his chin thoughtfully. "Colonel-Space Master, I think I'm going to have to break protocol and insist on your naval record."
"I assumed as much Commodore, you'll find it attached to the rest of the documentation we're sending you. By your leave?"
"You have it. Dismissed Colonel-Space Master."
Burrough turned thoughtfully, noticing the eyes of his crew. "It would appear we getting our blooding sooner than we thought. The Night Caller has been officially tasked to us while we join the third fleet for an action, should we arrive on time."
"Damn these drives! Why can't we have an LF battery like the 'Caller?" Grumbled his tactical officer, Lieutenant Trask. "We'd get there in half the time."
Burrough chuckled. "Well it doesn't matter for now, the 'Caller will still be charged and we've now recharged. Once they've sent the files, Signal Officer, give the order to jump. I'll take the files in my ready room."

Edited by RogueSpear, 26 August 2012 - 05:18 AM.

[G is for Gamma]

February 24th 2581
Portside Officers Messhall
TCV Heydes Pasture
In orbit over <redacted>


Force Sergeant Darroh Mayfly, was a barrel chested man with arms so heavily covered in tattoo ink that it had become difficult to see the complexion underneath. He kept his head shaved, but his clean scalp was offset by a wild beard of jet black. Every day his beard got longer and longer, and despite what military regulations might say about facial hair he’d been allowed to keep the beard, promising the nearly three dozen men under his command that he’d only shave once the war was over and the “high and mighty” invaders from the Innersphere had been driven back with their collective tails between their legs. Until that blessed day came, men would die, and his beard would continue to grow.

“Hey, chief.” The sound of one of his men addressing him pulled his attention away from the adult magazine he held in his hands. For the articles of course. “You sure it’s okay for us to be here?”

‘Here’ was an officer’s mess and galley that Mayfly had ‘requisitioned’ for his crew with the ‘implied’ use of force. To him the volunteer farmers, inmates, miners, and factory workers who made up the bulk of his platoon, the dreaded “China Ship Boys” deserved the high quality meals the officers where sucking down more than the sh!thead pretty boys ever did.

“Of course it is Johnny. The staff is serving us ain’t they?” He nodded towards the galley itself where the furious sounds of men and women cooking steaks to order for the volunteer marines. He turned his attention back to Miss December.

“Yeah, but…why are O’Hare and Kreilick pointing riot shotties at the door?” Darroh only sighed. Johnny Ackrin was a good kid, nineteen, proud to serve, and wiz with explosive ordnance, but damn did he ask to many questions.

“In case those fine lads we ‘escorted’ out of the mess decide they want their clubhouse back before us Boys have had our fill.” He turned the page, the centerfold spread tumbling out as he tilted the dirty mag. “It’s fine Johnny. The navel rates aren’t going to do anything.”

“Boss!” the baritone of Lance Corporal Kreilick carried a sense of urgency with it. “We’ve got ummm…a visiter.”

Darroh dropped the magazine and stood up. “Whats up Krei?”

“The Marshals here.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marshal of the Fleet Artem Tankian-Calderon, was shorter than the average man, but his presence filled the mess as he walked, nay strolled past the two armed marines at the door as if they we’re of no consequence. The assembled men, the so called “China Shop Boys” scrambled to attention as trays of food, tables of cards, and one makeshift tattoo gun, scattered to the four winds. He ignored the men he past as he walked steadily towards the mountainous Force Sergeant.

“Mr. Mayfly.” The Marshal spoke in crisp precise military tones. “You are aware that enlisted men such as yourselves have their own dining facilities?” He looked into the slate colored eyes of the barbarous looking Force Sergeant. The man looked as calm as a bull at pasture.

“Yessir, Marshal Tankian sir. I’m aware that there are alternative dining areas.” Artem could only smile at the larger man’s choice of words.

“Then why, Mr. Mayfly, if I may ask, have I been receiving reports of an armed siege aboard my vessel?”

“Because, sir, the noncommissioned officers primer says that an officers first duty is to see to needs of his men, and I made the executive decision that my men needed steaks instead of the p!ss gruel they serve in the enlistedmens’mess. Sir”

The collective gasp of twenty nine men rang out across the room.

“Ah. Well then, if your providing for the welfare of the brave defenders of our beloved Concordant. Carry on.” He offered his hand to the bearded man in front of him, for his part Darroh Mayfly took the proffered hand with a grateful nod. He clapped the older man on the shoulder and made his way towards the mess’s exit, stopping to speak to several of the men offering words of encouragement and gratitude for their service. The ‘China Shop Boys’ had one of the highest mortality rates in the fleet, he made sure that the noble sacrifice of the demo teams was respected and valued. As he reached the automated door he turned to the throng of men and asked them to save a choice steak for him for the “victory meal”

The men cheered, they always did.

Sun Tzu said ‘regard your soldiers as your own children and they will follow you into the deepest of valleys. View them as your own beloved sons and they shall stand with you even unto death’ wise words Artem Tankian-Calderon took to heart.

Edited by Gammadin, 26 August 2012 - 05:49 AM.

[Oni Storm]

March 15th 2581 0802 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Bridge of the SLS Basel

With a sigh, Robert took one last look out the window, observing the aerospace fighter wings fly by on combat air patrol,

"Truly a sight to behold. Is it not Admiral? It never ceases to amaze me how they look as they part the void and shoot off into the distance like stars themselves. That's what they are out there Admiral, you know? Each one fo those men and women are stars, be it in their own minds, the hearts of their families, or this great new Empire that we are striving to build and hold on to. Those are the stars of this whole thing. But fret not, Admiral. They know their part, they'll do their jobs, and eventually they'll win this war for you, but you make for d*mn well sure you do your job in this. The most important role you'll ever play. You make sure that those that don't make it back, are never forgotten. You do that and there will be no greater honor, no sacrifice, no role, they will not be happy to play for you." Spoke the soft almost mystical voice beside him, of Commodore Striker, before he abruptly about-faced and returned to his duties as if he'd never really been there at all.

before heading toward the bridge hatch. Robert had no illusions as to the fighting capability of the 3rd fleet, and he knew that tomorrow was going to be a bloody day. He just hoped that it was all worth it….



March 15th 2581 0803 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Starboard side of SLS Basel in the void of space

Adolf Striker brought his wing into a low roll as they passed by the Basel's Starboard launch bays and up slowing the formation to a crawl, letting the forward momentum carry them past the bridge. He knew somewhere in there his father was probably watching, and while technically considered a bit dangerous and just slightly in the gray area of protical, he knew his dad would appreciate it all the same. He figured if the old man were looking like he generally was it would bring a smile to his face. They were getting closer and as the formation began to pass the first set of windows he began to waggle his wings slightly in playful hello. As the formation came into full view of the screens however he flipped the switch and spoke to his wing mates "Light em up and show your colors." with that the squadron rolled slowly exposing their bellies to the viewing windows, where upon they had various depictions, of bulls in repose and the victorious matadors all of which seemed cloaked and bloodied in some freakish Inquisitional style revelry, painted and now lit up by the landing lights as they passed. He flipped back to an open channel and to broadcast throughout the fleet "No worries 13th. Tomorrow it's steak dinners for everyone... Those Taurians don't stand a chance..!!" He switched back to his squad's channel "3..2..1.." and the flashes of 6 shinning stars lit up the void and raced off into the distance and out of view.

A slight tear whiled up then in the Commodore's eye and he quickly turned from the window and Admiral to resume his duties...

Edited by Oni Storm, 27 August 2012 - 06:29 PM.

[Listless Nomad]

March 15^th 2581 0800 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
10,000m below SLS Basel
Bridge of the SLS Prometheus

Captain Markov Kafarov marveled at the holographic image of his Avatar class battlecruiser floating before him in the holotank. Floating gracefully in the void of space, a few thousand meters below the fleet's flagship, Kafarov couldn't help but drink in every swoop, every bulge, every gunport of his new vessel. A dangerous fly by of the Basel by an ASF fighter wing on patrol brought a smirk to his face.

They will be doing a lot more of that soon enough, and in combat no less. We need more pilots like those.

Recently launched from the spacedock, his crew were still working out some of the electrical bugs inherent to this class of warship, but most things were fully operational. A few more hours, and his ship would be combat ready. Stepping out of the holotank, Kafarov strolled toward the navigator's station.

"Lt. Berryman, report."

The navigator calmly spun in his chair, and faced the Captain.

"Aye Captain. We are currently on station 10,000m below the Basel, and holding position nicely. Maneuvering thrusters are 100%."

Kafarov nodded curtly to the young man and approached his XO across the bridge.

"How are we doing Commander Ramadin? Everything is in order I trust."

"Of course Captain. All dropships are docked and locked securely, and all fighter bays are in order. Only those providing CAP for the fleet are not secured for jumping. Commander Masterson reports that his Marines are stowed and secured."

Kafarov smiled at the report. His officers and crew were competent, capable, and dedicated. What they were not, was battle tested.

They will be soon enough...

"Excellent Commander. I would expect nothing less. Send word to Admiral Coontz and the Basel that we are prepared to jump, with my compliments."

----------------------------------------------------------

March 15^th 2581 0815 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
10,000m below SLS Basel
Utility Duct 47C of the SLS Prometheus

"OUCH!"

Yeoman Tommy Wattson yanked his hand back reflexively from the circuit box, wincing as he did so.

"Marcy, hand me up more of that insulator tape, this friggin box shocked me again."

Reaching awkwardly downward, Wattson tried to wriggle his arm low enough to grasp the roll of tape being held aloft by Yeoman Marcy Perkins. After a few near misses, he finally managed to grasp it, pulling it back into the utility duct.

"Thanks Marce. I've got to close off one of these circuits - it's dumping power into a adjacent one and shorting the whole shebang. Mark it down will ya?"

"Sure thing Tommy boy..." Marcy replied. Her voice trailed off as a trio of heavily muscled Naval Marines passed her in the corridor. Licking her lips reflexively, she winked at them as they passed, hoping to catch one of their eyes. Her face changed into a pout, as none gave her a second glance.

Damn tech jumpsuits don't do much for me...

The sound of electricity arcing brought Marcy back to reality.

"OUCH! I need the friggin soldering gun now Marce. Pass it up will ya?"

With a wistful glance toward the departing Marines, Marcy held aloft the soldering kit toward the outstretched fingers of Wattson.

Edited by Listless Nomad, 28 August 2012 - 12:50 PM.

[Oni Storm]

March 15th 2581 0800 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
10,000m below SLS Basel
Outside the bridge of the SLS Prometheus

"Excellent Commander. I would expect nothing less. Send word to Admiral Coontz and the Basel that we are prepared to jump, with my compliments."

No sooner had the words come from Captain Kafarov's lips and been transmitted intra-ship to a nearby shuttle for dispatching than it was intercepted by Bambi; Pilot and Communications RIO, of the Wailing Banshee Squadron housed aboard the SLS Basel. "Message received. Don't worry we'll get it there in a few." She responded back over the ship to ship frequency to the Prometheus' radio operator in charge of flight control around the hulking ship. Usually this meant an extended radius of about 500 yards in any direction, but today's had been cut to a mere 300 in preparation for the day to come before the jump, on command of Commodore Striker himself.

The six bronze Stuka fighters closed in tight formation and formed a five pointed star as they headed straight up and winked out of the Prometheus's window as their afterburners kicked in. The Wailing Banshees were one of the premiere squadrons aboard the Basel and the only one known in the fleet to consist of an entirely female crew of both fighter jocks and aero-techs. A pride with which each girl held like a baton and twirled expertly before using it as a hammer to get their Bad-A$$ girls message across to the rest of the fleet and the boyz club mentalities as a whole. Bambi was no different having joined the wing as a fresh faced cadet warrant officer a little over a decade ago. She'd seen the squadron make even the most timid girl into a fine and sometimes scary fighter pilot, time and time again. This upcoming tour would be no different and she knew Captain Durango would make sure all her girls made it home safely once more, "Doe" always did.


March 15th 2581 0802 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Outside the bridge of the SLS Basel

As the ships closed within scant seconds to the SLS Basel, a small childlike smile escaped Bambi's lips as she flipped open her mic "Basel incoming communique signed Captain Kafarov for Admiral Coontz; Compliments to the Admiral, they are prepared and awaiting." With that the ships slowly changed into an infinity loop and chased one another, their bronze colors glimmering and shinning in the sun's rays as they danced on and awaited the Basel's next set of orders.

Comm Officer Lt. Alexandra Mineiro's silken voice responded "Roger Bambi, you girls are looking great out there. Take up position Delta Niner and fly CAP for now. You guys have another two before you can rest. Commodore's orders girls, don't forget tonight's game night. See you there." She watched then as the Banshees' reformed into their patterned "Star" formation and proceeded off to their assignment.

Edited by Oni Storm, 28 August 2012 - 09:00 PM.

[guardian wolf]

March 15th 2581 0802 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Hangar of SLS Basel

John sighed, his life all he had known was the marines, and now, some fool in higher command, thought he needed to be back, training marines. John had been, and always will be, a frontline marine. He squad, Delta, part of Charlie Company, was an experienced unit. Every man here had seen a lot of action, watched comrades die, killed many more in vengeance, except for the rookie. He looked out over his squad, doing weapons checks. They always did this, you check, then recheck your weapon, and then do it all again. He field stripped his AR, cleaned it, and then reassembled it. A weapon jam kills, and he had lost one due to such problems. Harvey had fired his weapon, and the faulty bullet, had literally fell out the end of the barrel. Then his gun had jammed, and a shotgun blast pretty much ended it. John always blamed himself for the incident, as that was the one time they had traded weapons, Harvey's shoulder had been dislocated mid-fight, and so, John had passed him the AR, which didn't kick so hard, for his shotgun. John shook his head, and went through the motions of cleaning his other weapons. Once done, he checked his equipment, everything was operating okay.

"HEY SIR,"

John looked over, it was private Derek, he was carrying a piece of equipment.

"Yes, private,"

"Sir, we have the new torches to try and cut through the armor plating, doors, things like that,"

"And?"

"Well, I thought I should let you know,"

"Alright Derek, just get your things together,"

The private turned, and walked away, taking the torch with him. John looked back to his equipment, it was scattered about him in an organized chaos. Rookies, the really green ones were always gung **, always charging head first into a fight. Always getting killed. He smiled as he remembered his time as a rook in the corps, and he was not any different. He lucked out though, he had a good squad, they had made sure that he knew his stuff. His CO had chosen to fight to the death, rather than retire. Now that John was in his position, he knew why. One of the truths he had come to know as a marine, was that, they are all dead men, but it's how they choose to die, that is their choice. Darren had chosen what John thought a fitting end, his men by his side, his rifle in hand, making a sacrifice so that he could make sure his men got to see another day. John looked toward the ceiling of the hangar, and mumbled something, so quiet he could barely hear himself.

"Semper Fi, do or die. Only in death does duty end,"

John gathered his equipment, his NANG suit was in pieces, the armor plating was decent, but didn't inhibit maneuvering. The air tanks checked out. His men had been offered jump packs, with actual thrusters like on the battlemechs. When John had viewed it, he was a definite critic. The tanks were more fragile than air tanks they currently used. The hoses were also prone to rupture. John had watched one of the other squad leaders jump at the chance, and knew that his team would be jealous that they were stuck with old equipment. Delta squad was known to get a lot of the older equipment, but John did it on purpose. He always took what was battle tested, and would stand up in the field. Less deaths due to equipment that way. John looked out over his squad. Delta was anxious, Delta, was ready.

[ChaosGrinder]

" Battlegrid is online, ... recieving scanner data ! Stay clear at all hangar bays, dock hatch is closing in ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... docking hatch closed, fuel hose is off ... engines at 20% ... we´re undocked. "

Examining the cold blue screen in front of her, a woman in her 40s frowned.

" Jackson, get me a detailed map of Prospector´s Paradise. " She said without looking up to the young man behind her.
" You could just zoom in. " He answered calmly.
" ... Well played sir, i could. But i tell you what ... i don´t want", and with a rather silly smile she turned around.

Stroking a wisp of her raven black hair fron her vision, she looked around. This was her new ship, refitted, repainted and refueled.

Her round face turned toward the helmsman.
" Get us into orbit Mr. Sunshine, i have seen enough. You have the data of the fleet meting spot, now get us there, we are already late. "
With those words she disappeared to her private rooms.

Meredith Joane Jansen, from her crew mostly nicknamed Mrs. Frost . In her mid 40. The first signs of old age crept into her face and she hated that. She hated growing old. Big time.

Slipping in her battlesuit she thought about days to come and years past.
She was eager to see how this operation would turn out. She had seen many battles lost and won, but the tides of war where relentless. There was no escape, no peace, no place to hide. Somewhen, somewhere you would always find your way to the roads to war.

" Get me a link to FleetComm Jackson. " she commanded over the comm. That´s why she loved that suit. Airtight, skintight, and vision blocking. Plus she could command her attaché from everywhere on this ship.

[RogueSpear]

February 24th 2581, 1840 hrs;
Location REDACTED;
Bridge of the TCV Butterfly;

Malcolm Burrough ran a hand through his hair, thinner than he remembered it being before he began this 'Diplomatic Mission'. He had to concede Snow had an impressive record, much as he wanted to dislike the man - but he'd served in the battles of the Case Amber initiative against the Federated Suns before joining Military Intelligence - and his dated Bonaventure class ship had claimed a kill on a Vincent class, despite it's p*ss poor arnament. He could see why MI chose him.
He stood up from his desk, swiping the open file on his screen shut. He could see why MI chose him. He wasn't entirely sure why Snow accepted, and even less sure what MI was doing here. Nominally, they were overseeing the acquisition of the corvettes from the RWR - but any fool could see the Night Caller was a ship apart. Assuming they could see it.
He tossed a salute to the crew as he reentered the bridge with a mumbled "As you were," and ordered the ship rotated to bring the Night Caller in front of his armoured viewport. An odd feature, he could never understand why the bridge wasn't buried deep within the hull - armoured blast shields blocked the view during combat anyway. But now he was glad of it.
His officers watched him from the corners of their eyes as he stared out into space at the other ship, stroking his beard with a frown on his face.
Unlike the bronze and blood theme on his own ship, a surprise he hadn't expected from the Rim Worlders, the Night Caller was a deep midnight, plain and simple. Unless it were between your own ship and a light source, most men wouldn't see it by eye but for the luckiest happenstance.
A pitifully minor consideration for a spacecraft. But with it's Lithium Fusion battery, reduced jump, and even sensor profile (Right down to a better heat containment signature), it was downright sneaky.
Something he'd have been proud of if it were his own ship, but it wasn't. So instead he stood, and watched, and worried.

[Sparks Murphey]

March 15th 2581 0740 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
SLS Voidwalker


The three Stuka attack fighters cut through the space between the giant WarShips, closely preceded by their escort of three Eagles. Around them, the void glittered and sparkled as the two fleets exchanged fire.

“Shieldbreaker Four to Shieldbreaker Squadron. Two-five-hundred metres to LRM range on Target Indigo,” Lieutenant Dwayne ‘Sleepless’ Oyler radioed from his Stuka, “Shieldbreakers Five and Six, confirm weapons hot.”

“Shieldbreaker Five, confirming weapons hot,” called Lieutenant Adrianna Bullock, echoed moments later by her younger sister Alexina.

“Shieldbreaker Four to Shieldbreaker Lead. We good to go, sir, lead us in.”

“Roger that, Sleepless,” Major Gary ‘Snitch’ Kyle replied, “Two and Three, prepare to assume overwatch on our friends on my mark. Three...two...one...mark.”

In the lead Eagle, Kyle pulled back on the control stick, exulting in the agility of the craft. He’d been flying big waddling bombers for too long. The Eagle made a great attack escort, though; manoeuvrable enough to screen the heavier Stukas but carrying a big enough punch to aid to the fight when they got to their target. He wished he’d switched earlier.

To Kyle’s left and right, the Eagles of Lieutenants Mfaki and Eichendorf rolled away as well, each taking a separate arcing course away from the flight path of the Stukas. Interceptors could be hard to spot as different from the sky’s countless stars when they came at you head on, but if you could get a better angle on them, their parallax movement gave them away. By diverging, the escorts would hopefully pick up anyone trying to stop the squadron well before weapon range.

“I’m picking up a couple of Sabres on long range. They haven’t turned towards us yet, but I reckon that’s them,” Maynard ‘Skyknight’ Eichendorf reported after a moment.

“I got them too,” Jim ‘Shambler’ Mfaki replied, “Don’t know why you think that’s them, though.”

“Four more on scope. Come on, a full squadron of Sabres?”

“So what? They’re not a rare frame.”

“I bet you ten that’s them.”

“Cut the bickering,” Kyle ordered, “Skyknight, keep an eye on those Sabres and anything else from that sector. Shambler and I will...”

“They’re turning towards,” Skyknight cut in, “They’re in attack formation and hitting full thrust.”

“Roger,” Kyle called, “Two and Three, on my wing. Four, Five, Six, turn fifteen degrees starboard and hit maximum burn.”

The Stukas turned in a tight formation, angling slightly away from their target to give them more cross speed against the incoming fighters. The three Eagles flew a few hundred metres away, between them and the oncoming Sabres. Major Kyle took a deep breath, steadying himself for the coming dogfight.

“Two and Three, break to port and engage in three...two...one...mark.” He yanked the stick hard left and opened up with the three large lasers on the incoming Sabres, six other sapphire beams cutting through the darkness as Skyknight and Shambler added to the barrage. The Sabres had already scattered, peeling off in a half dozen separate directions as soon as the Eagles made their turn. Kyle saw one of his lasers glance across the wing of one of the fighters, but it seemed to only cause armour damage. The tiny craft rocketed past, their thrust-to-weight ratio far outpacing that of the heavier attack fighters. Medium lasers flashed past, though it was obvious that they were mostly ignoring the Eagles to focus on the larger Stukas.

Kyle cursed and pulled back to chase the nimbler craft. The Stukas had broken formation and were engaging as well, though were obviously struggling to match their aggressors. Kyle sighted in on the tail of a departing Sabre and fired, the sapphire and emerald beams slicing into the rear assembly of the fighter. It tried to jink, but the stresses simply tore it in half.

A red symbol appeared on his HUD. ‘Sleepless’ Oyler’s Stuka had just been claimed. Kyle rolled the Eagle, trying to get sight on the other two Stukas in the squadron. He caught sight of Adrianna ‘Spice’ Bullock’s fighter being chased by three Sabres, which were in turn pursued by Shambler’s Eagle. Alexina ‘Sugar’ Bullock was chasing another Sabre through the melee - her target seemed to be slower, so perhaps she had damaged it. He angled in to try to shake a pursuer off Spice, when Sugar’s target suddenly jinked and shot across his field of view. Sugar turned her Stuka to chase...and smashed into her sister’s Stuka. The two attack fighters exploded in a ball of flame.

“Shieldbreaker Lead to Shieldbreaker Squadron, abort, abort, abort. Disengage and pull back to the Voidwalker,” Kyle radioed, fighting to keep the anger out of his voice. He wondered how Alexina had graduated sometimes. Her sister was competent, but Alexina repeatedly showed poor piloting abilities.

Tomorrow, it might not be a simulated death, but a real death that cost many more lives than even her own, he thought bitterly, as he opened the simulator door.

[Col Nighthawk]

March 15th 2581, 0840 hrs
Location REDACTED;

Commodore Sulagna watched the ships floating there in formation near his through the enhanced display HUD of the command screen of the bridge. Each was a buzz of activity as the dropships and shuttles worked at final preparations. He marveled at the gathered might and how quickly they had assembled the task force. The newest equipment had been afforded to those gathered here and while most were fresh out of the various academies. He knew that each cadre had come up together. They were all trained to company level or above with the exact same equipment, the exact same ambitions, exact drives, and exactly the same goal. To stop this war before it got completely out of hand. No matter the cost this was what had to be done to end this bloody conflict. It was heartening to know that they all felt that way, he thought. That will hopefully make our actions easier to digest for the lads. He wondered just how long it would be before they got the go and he found out.


March 15th 2581 0840 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
3,000m South Southwest and up 500m of SLS Basel

The SLS Natasha arrived on a diagonal path near the Nidar jump point and some 3000 meters away from the rest of the fleet. upon arrival and still fighting her maneuvering thrusters to stay stationary, she launched a single small shuttlecraft that closed the distance to the Basel. It sent the proper codes and was ushered into the landing bay.

Upon arrival the dark black clad woman who stepped out immediately spoke "Take me to the Admiral. These are for his eyes only" her Russian accent driving her words. Once in front of the Admiral she relinquished her hold on the case. Inside are numerous reports and the compensation of all ships and personnel assigned to operation "Sleepy Weasel" hence forth referred to strictly as Code Name "Void Stompers". Lt. Nathia relaxed into an at ease stance showing her tight leather capris and knee high boots as her dark leather trench coat parted. She had still refrained from removing her oversized black sun hat and the Admiral had just about had enough of the so-called "Agent" to say something but he knew better. While the crew of the Natasha and her "Agents"might be eccentric and bat-sick crazy. They were also known for always getting the job done right. The Admiral spoke "So their ready then?" Nathia replied simply "Da, Admiral. They but await your orders upon my return," She shifted slightly and stared at the document awaiting his signature and reply at the top of the case.

Edited by Col Nighthawk, 01 September 2012 - 06:16 AM.

[Thom Frankfurt]

March 15th 2581 0940 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Vulture class dropship, Blue Buzzard

"I'll's see your fives, an raise you a pint of 'merlot'."

Raymond ended his slur with a chuckle while tossing a crumpled bill and an old green glass bottle upon the heap of 'infantryman treasue.' An odd asortment of crumpled bills, trinkets of jewelry, and cold hard cash. Sitting back he skewerd Private Williams with an unsettling glare and smiled. The tention was thick, the lights dark. And the only sound was the rythmatic thump, thump, thump coming from the 'thump keg' of Raymond's homemade still.

Chewing her lip, Shelly Williams' eyes drifted to her squad leader then back to her cards. Reluctantly she folded, she'd never known Sarge to bluff, which meant he had a decent hand, easily better than the pair of eights she was holding.

"Too rich for me boys, I'm quiting while I'll still have my shirt." She stated causing some of the other marines in the painfully small room to groan out in protest.

Looking around the small table Ray saw the three other gamblers also cutting their loss as they folded. With a lecherous grin the man from Knoxville tossed down his cards face up revealing a fullhouse with archons over dukes. He leaned back and took a deep pull from a flask of his newest homebrew and savored the buring sensation as it worked its way through his body. Seeing no protest, the sarge racked in the 'treasure,' but left the bottle upon the table.

"Keep the... bottle. HICK! Drink up... HICK Maybe then's.. you'll give HICK..d*mn, the boys hick a show." Raymond chuckled while taking another pull off the flask.

Edited by Thom Frankfurt, 03 September 2012 - 11:07 AM.

[Listless Nomad]

March 15th 2581 0850 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Bridge of the SLS Basel

Admiral Coontz frowned slightly as he looked over the reports, his eyes scanning each document with a practiced ease. His frown increased as he leafed through each page in succession. The young woman standing at ease in front of him shifted slightly, her impatience growing as the admiral took his time.

She shows up out of the black and then lays THIS little gem on me? She can damn well wait.

Seeing that the orders had come directly from fleet command, Coontz sighed and resigned himself, and his fleet to this new burden.

"So they're ready then?" The admiral growled out.

The young lieutenant replied simply "Da, Admiral. They but await your orders upon my return."

"Very well then." With a look of disdain upon his face, Coontz signed the orders and handed them back to black clad agent. "I expect them here on the double, and I expect their operations to be clean. no foul ups!" Coontz was using his best command voice, and from his peripheral vision he noticed a few of the bridge crew attending to their duties a little more diligently than before. "Dismissed."

A curt nod and a well executed salute were his only response from the mysterious woman, before she turned on her heel and departed toward the shuttle bay. Once she had left, Coontz made his way over to Commodore Striker.

"Looks like High Command saw fit to give us an extra week to prepare. Join me in my cabin later and I'll discuss this new adventure." With a slight shake of his head, Coontz headed for the bridge doors, and eventually the comforts of his cabin.

[Oni Storm]

March 15th 2581 0900 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Bridge of the SLS Basel

Admiral Coontz made his way over to Commodore Striker; "Looks like High Command saw fit to give us an extra week to prepare. Join me in my cabin later and I'll discuss this new adventure." With a slight shake of his head, Coontz headed for the bridge doors.

Commodore Striker knew the look all too well, he himself had that very look too many times in the past years. (So the Intelligence boyz are living up to reputations again I see) "Alex, inform all wings we are extending exercises today by one hour. Let the squad leaders know, we are to stay on station til I inform them otherwise. Double the Cap for the fleet and inform the Wing Commanders I'll address them at 1300 and they d*mn well better not be late. Bring the destroyers in by 300 meters and get yourself some tea, and rest your voice dear. We're in for one of those long ones again I'm afraid." The Commodore found himself shaking his own head now and pulling at the bridge of his nose. (freaking idiots, I wonder what great insight they have come up with this time?) He looked out at his crew and noticed they looked a bit apprehensive and on edge like any group gathered to jump into the unknown. He approached the the ship-wide communications comm, "Well I've got some good news and bad news boys and girls. Seems we scared those bull heads so bad that they may have up and left. So you all get a bit of a breather for right now. However, I'm not one to allow a Pearl Harbor while we're at anchor. Patrols will increase and I want no one man, woman, or space monkey to let up in their duties. We shall have a simi-celebration to our own good fortune today and reopen the lounges, track, and zero-G pools for your entertainment. I expect you all to stay in top fighting order and rest assured that any insubordination or drunkenness will be dealt with by a day in the Brig. Tonight's entertainment will be steak or fish and the movie "When the Wild Things Run Free" followed by a recast of last year's "Terran World Cup" Championship game. Get some rest and be prepared, That is all, resume your duties, Commodore Striker out." (Maybe that'll put their minds at ease for now.) He looked out the window at the still buzzing fighter formations and the closest destroyer SLS Montigue, (enjoy this time while you can boyz. Soon enough you'll long for this boredom, at least if any of us are lucky enough to make it back.) He turned and strode from the bridge with large sigh, before heading off down the hallway.
(Well let's go see if I can't catch up with the Admiral and get all this new fun over with.)

Edited by Oni Storm, 05 September 2012 - 11:50 PM.

[Sparks Murphey]

March 15th 2581 0805 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
SLS Voidwalker

Dwayne Oyler was waiting for him when he got out. The quiet second of the squadron said nothing as Major Kyle shut the simulator down.

“What’s your take, Dwayne?” Kyle finally asked.

“I think Alexina’s getting better. Her rolls are cleaner. Acceleration is smoother. She’s starting to fly like she knows ahead of time where she wants to be, rather than making it up on the spot.”

“She still needs better battlefield awareness.”

“No doubt, sir. But that’s just a matter of time. She’ll get there.”

Kyle humphed. “She doesn’t have time. Tomorrow, there’ll be no reset,” he glanced at Oyler, “What happened to you out there? I was chasing down a bandit and missed your departure.”

“I happened, sir,” said a voice from the door. Captain Lewis Bass, leader of the wing’s Sabre squadron, the Snowmen, stood there. He’d been flying aerospace fighters for twice as long as anyone else in the wing and had been Kyle’s CO when he first joined after graduation. He’d turned down the wing command purely because it would mean he’d have to step away from his precious Sabre and fly something slower and more survivable. “Me and young Tagmaç, swept in on him like a pair of **** cats. I’m telling you, that girl has potential.”

“Glad someone in this outfit does,” Kyle muttered, “Who was the one who lead Sugar to her death? Tagmaç again?”

Bass shook his head. “No, that was Griff Cooper. Another one destined for a promotion, if he can get past his own ego.”

“Was it a plan? Or just a lucky coincidence? Or worse, assumed knowledge?”

“Assumed knowledge? You mean that Alexina can’t fly? Sure, could have been, but I doubt it. He’d have been in for a shock if it had been Adrianna or Dwayne here. I think he was just thrilling in his own ability to outfly the Stukas, and got exceptionally lucky.”

The speakers overhead crackled. “Senior officers, report to the Commodore’s stateroom for briefing. Senior officers, report to the Commodore’s stateroom for briefing.”

Kyle looked back at his two offsiders. “Lewis, debrief your squadron. Tell ‘em I was impressed, but stress that we don’t have the luxury of having flown against the Taurians before. We won’t know what’s out there, or how they’re going to react. Dwayne, run the Shieldbreakers through a few more exercises, concentrating on combat awareness, but keep them short and quick.”

Oyler nodded. “You think this is it? We’re going to make the jump?”

“Can’t say. But don’t forget to say hello to your mother.”

[guardian wolf]

March 15th 2581 0907 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Hangar of the SLS Basel

John listened in to the overhead comms, and a scowl crossed his face. Damn overheads, always making decisions like these. It was things like this that got people killed. He shook his head went back into checking his gear once more. Satisfied that he had checked everything nearly five times, he looked out over the group. The marines were practicing basic hand to hand combat maneuvers, nothing advanced, as you only could go full contact with advanced for it to work. John heard the summons for senior officers, and wondered if that meant him. If it didn't the most it would do would be a wasted walk. He got up and grunted at Dmitri.

"Sir," He had a heavy Slavic accent.

"Watch them for me, and if they start something, I trust that you and Sasha can take of it,"

"Aye, sir," he tapped his LMG, named Sasha.

John nodded, and began his walk down to the Commodore's State Room. What John thought as the biggest waste of material he had ever seen. (The admirals and their bloody luxuries.) John chuckled at the thought, if any of the admirals had actually seen what the marines go through, on the ground, and in space, they would go mad. John had remembered being on some jungle planet once, in the mud up to his waist, and fighting against not only the enemy troops, but the fauna as well. He shivered at the thought of it, there were flies there that if you gave them the chance, would eat you alive. John pushed the memory from mind, he had to focus on the here and now.

[Thom Frankfurt]

March 15th 2581 0958 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Vulture class dropship, Blue Buzzard

"Heh, ah, what... hick! what are all you pukes looking at?" Raymond demanded as he hiccuped his way out of a quick booze induced slumber.

"Umm.. Waymon, you were sleeping with your eyes open again." Shelly replied while gathering up the few things she brought to the sarge's quarters.

"Bah!" Ray waved her statement off with a dismissing hand. "You guy's..hic..keep trying to bullsh*t me." he then checked his chronometer. "Ah H3ll, it's late." He added then looked up at the few members of his squad that didn't leave when he passed out. "I think it's time we call it a night. hic and will meet up with you guys... hic at 15:00 in bay one."

Raymond smiled as the troopers under his drunken command made to leave, he then took another pull at his flask and set out to counting up his winnings from the night.

He blacked out shorty after starting.

[guardian wolf]

March 15th 2581 0915 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Hangar of the SLS Basel

Shortly after realizing that the meeting was indeed on another ship, John went back to his marines, all of which were now suited up, all their gear was going through their pre-combat checks. He figured now that most senior officers were gone, they wouldn't object to him running a few live combat sims in the hangar. He looked at a nearby tech, and waved him over. The slim tech shakily walked over to John's hulk, and saluted meekly. John chuckled, and then spoke.

"You don't need to do that" he said giving a steady gesture. "I need you to kill the lights, and depressurize the hangar to 15% atmosphere,"

"Uh, why sir?"

"We need to test equipment, make sure everything is working,"

"Ah... well, this is one of the smaller hangars, okay, just let me clear it with the captain,"

"Do it when he clears it, I will be waiting,"

John then got his NANG suit gathered up, and began to put it on. It took about five minutes, and when he finished he put his helmet on, and engaged the atmosphere seals. A small heads up display showed that his pressure was, normal, supply of oxygen was at 100%. His lungs had a slight burn at the purer oxygen source, but it was mitigated by the other mixed gases. He looked back over to see the tech walking towards him. He hoped that the captain was agreeable this time.

[Oni Storm]

March 15th 2581 0920 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Hangar of the SLS Basel

As the young tech approached Captain Ian Dupre, his senior looked at the young man suspiciously then forced a smile; "What you need Willie?" The young man relaxed a bit and looked up at the engineering officer before say "Umm Sir. One of the marines is asking if we can clear the hanger and adjust the atmospherics for a drill?" He noticed a slight twitching above the Captain's right eye before the man spoke again "Sure Willie, just tell them that they are cleaning up their own mess this time and there better not be any scorch marks left behind like last time. They can have two hours for atmospherics and another hour for policing and cleanup." With that the Captain turned and began rubbing his nose vigorously as he walked away.

Edited by Oni Storm, 11 September 2012 - 05:07 AM.

[guardian wolf]

March 15th 2581 0935 hrs
Nadir Jump point of Star X541C
Hangar of the SLS Basel

When the tech explained the time frame, John smiled, last time the captain was pissed about him trying to do that. The tech went to the C&C in the hangar, and all the marines assembled around John and Delta squad. John explained the drill, or "war game" for them. Each squad would start at an end of the hangar, and they would use the laser tag system, and proceed to try to fight each other, to either exterminate or pin the enemy. The other squad leaders immediately began to amongst each other, John knew alliances were forming. Dmitri crossed his arms, and smiled.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Dah, we split, and fight our way through all of them,"

One of the other privates squad leaders let out a shout to voice a concern.

"Hand to hand acceptable?"

"As long as we don't go for each other's air lines,"

The marine nodded, John gathered Delta and began walking towards his designated point in the hangar. His magboots stuck to the wall, as his marines prepared to do things the marine way, assault the enemy, and never stop moving forward. On cue the other squad leaders checked in, ready. John signaled to the tech in the C&C. The lights then cut out, and the atmosphere began to decrease, with the computer commentating on the percent atmosphere left. Then the crates began to shift, apparently the tech had added another variable, all non essential equipment, that was sturdy, was now floating, their magclamps disabled. John shouted into his comms, his adrenaline was beginning to pump.

"GO"

As one, he and his marines, leaped off the far wall, and connected with the nearest crates, the laser tag sound systems already simming gunfire in all directions. The crates provided some cover, as the marines began to shoot all around them, several went back to back. After they were about a quarter of the way across, John commanded his troops to the roof, and they once again leapt from the crates to the ceiling of the hangar. Thing with zero g, no way was up, and no way was down, the ceiling was north, and the floor was south, and that was it. His marines landed, and immediately took cover, as Alpha and Bravo had similar positions nearby. John poked his head out, fired a couple of burst and ducked back as return fire came from Bravo squad. John looked over to Derek the recruit, and he was shooting as well, when a crate floated past him. Reacting, John took off sprinting, and leaped through the air again, his foot aimed in a kick towards the crate. It connect, surprising the two marines behind it, and sending them careening back. They righted themselves quickly, and fired grappling hooks into the hangar ceiling, the magclamps on the end catching it quickly. They also drew their pistols, but before they could aim, John fired his own grappling hook into the floor. He rocketed past them, sending them veering even more off course, by splitting them. He landed on a three point stance, using his hand to steady himself. Disengaging his "hook", he drew out his shotgun, and leapt back toward the ceiling, watching as Alpha now closed to hand to hand range, a mistake they wouldn't have a chance to repeat. Bravo was still having their weapons trained on the melee, waiting to see who came out on top, probably to slaughter the victor. At least, until John landed behind them. He fired seven times into their turned backs, and got all seven before they realized he was there. Bloody recruits. They turned and one of them flipped John the bird, and John clapped as sign he was laughing his *** off at the gesture. John then ran to join the melee only to find that it was already over, the only loss, was Derek. Dmitri motioned to the floor, and John nodded, they jumped to the floor, aiming for a stack of crates that were several feet off the ground. They landed quickly, and took cover as the last squad, Charlie opened fire. John looked around as his squad was for the most part, pinned due to fire. He made a sign for Charlie, and ideas? Dmitri smashed his fist against his open palm. John then looked at the crates, Dmitri had made a sign for assault. They were situated behind the crates that were floating, but they needed something to be able to push off of, as the crates were too high off the ground to try and push from the ground, and risk getting shot. John then remembered the air canisters, he made a thumbs up, and pointed at his back mounted tank. He then pressed the air tank's 5 sec. burst, and catapulted forward, planting his feet into the crate. It shot forward, and the rest soon followed suit, they flew right overhead of Charlie's position, most of them ducking from the flying crates. Several chatters of sim AR fire silenced them. John then used his air tank to maneuver next to the C&C, signalling to the tech, that they were done. The lights came back on, temporarily blinding John, but his eyes adjusted. Then the air rush back in, as the computer counted it back to 100% synced with the rest of the ship. The marine's unsealed their NANG Armored suits, and then began to put all of the crates back to their original positions, and clean up any messes that had been created in the sim firefight. It was made easier by the fact that once the magclamps on the crates went back on, they didn't move anymore. After about an hour, the squads had cleaned their mess, and began to review equipment. John and the other squad leaders reviewed the fight. John immediately started the conversation.

"So, what are your thoughts,"
The squad leader of Alpha spoke
"Well, Alpha is good at general infantry tactics, but, still not as good as your assault squad. Bravo is still green,"
Then the yellow squad leader of Bravo began to speak
"That's because we didn't have any vehicles to kill, speaking of which, does that make us in charge of defending the gap we enter?"
John spoke to Bravo Team lead
"Only as long as there are marines on the surface, once inside, you follow us in. And Charlie, your guys' LMGs are still good to go?"
The green sqaud leader looked at John through the tinted visor
"What do you think? Or should I play back that last bit,"
Alpha and Bravo leaders had a laugh at that, but, John quipped back
"What the part where we kicked your ***? Anyhow, good session if you ask me, I'll be seeing you guys in the ships when it comes time to go,"

The others nodded, and the squads went back to checking and rechecking systems. The air tanks filled themselves when the atmosphere returned to normal, another thing that John liked about them. John then took off his armor, and began his systematic check of it, again. It was a never ending process.

Edited by guardian wolf, 11 September 2012 - 09:22 AM.