15 May 3025,
Dock 15 Waiting Room,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Over the past week you have found that you are in need of more gainful forms of employment to keep up with the bills that are mounting, or have the desire to go out and see more than the dust ball that is your present home of Galatia III. To that end you all found your way to the mercenary hall in the capitol and fished through the classifieds looking for something of interest. An advertisement that proclaimed that you would have room, board, fair wage, adventure and possible upgrades piqued your interest and so you replied.
The intriguing part of the job application was that there were no trials, or tests. Just paperwork to fill out and file, and then a note to be at Dock 15 of the primary space port at 09:00 hours on the 15th of May, 3025. When you arrive, you see others before you, and some who come in after. Everyone seems to be here for the same reason, and as 09:00 gets closer, a port service woman steps in with a push cart of refreshments, opening it up and setting out the displays.
"Mister Dante ordered this for the people waiting on contract here today," she says with a smile. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
The displays have cold sandwiches, fruit, sodas, coffee and tea service, cookies, and crackers with cheese, each packaged into portions. She seems attentive and friendly, but the letter board behind the service cart says On Time next to the name Red Horse, and the clock is creeping steadily toward 09:15 as you all wait for your new employer to arrive.
5
The Devil's Horsemen, Adventure RP
Started by Shadtiger77, Oct 10 2012 12:59 AM
54 replies to this topic
#2
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- Bridesmaid
- 2,953 posts
Member
- LocationAdelaide, Australia
Posted 10 October 2012 - 03:52 AM
09:05, May 3025,
Dock 15 Waiting Room,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Nelson vander Reece ordered two coffees, one for him and one for his protege, Oscar, though he didn’t bother asking Oscar whether he wanted one in the first place. He watched the service woman pour them, eyes sharply hooded.
“Pity you can’t get a good coffee anymore,” Nelson said as she finished and passed him the cups, “I remember dropping on Loric with the 6th Orloff Grenadiers in 3002. The Lyrans had us pinned in a dry ravine for five weeks. We couldn’t get supplies in or out, only had a small condenser to draw water from. And of course, we ran out of coffee.”
He raised his voice a little, to make sure he could be overheard by the others in the area. “So, there we were, almost three hundred of us, cramped in this tiny space, getting more and more crabby as we go through caffeine withdrawal. So, I start recycling the grinds and slops, brewin’ ‘em again and again, reheating the same old brew. As the grinds themselves faded away, we started using whatever else we could lay our hands on: leaves, seedpods, grass.”
Nelson took a sip of the local brew coffee and pretended not to notice as Oscar rolled his eyes and looked away. “By the end, that brew was strong enough to stand a spoon in, straight up. It had so much life it d*** near fought the Lyrans with us in their final push. Can’t get a good brew like that these days,” he muttered.
Dock 15 Waiting Room,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Nelson vander Reece ordered two coffees, one for him and one for his protege, Oscar, though he didn’t bother asking Oscar whether he wanted one in the first place. He watched the service woman pour them, eyes sharply hooded.
“Pity you can’t get a good coffee anymore,” Nelson said as she finished and passed him the cups, “I remember dropping on Loric with the 6th Orloff Grenadiers in 3002. The Lyrans had us pinned in a dry ravine for five weeks. We couldn’t get supplies in or out, only had a small condenser to draw water from. And of course, we ran out of coffee.”
He raised his voice a little, to make sure he could be overheard by the others in the area. “So, there we were, almost three hundred of us, cramped in this tiny space, getting more and more crabby as we go through caffeine withdrawal. So, I start recycling the grinds and slops, brewin’ ‘em again and again, reheating the same old brew. As the grinds themselves faded away, we started using whatever else we could lay our hands on: leaves, seedpods, grass.”
Nelson took a sip of the local brew coffee and pretended not to notice as Oscar rolled his eyes and looked away. “By the end, that brew was strong enough to stand a spoon in, straight up. It had so much life it d*** near fought the Lyrans with us in their final push. Can’t get a good brew like that these days,” he muttered.
Edited by Sparks Murphey, 10 October 2012 - 03:53 AM.
#3
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- Bridesmaid
- 286 posts
Member
- LocationAlegro
Posted 10 October 2012 - 07:03 AM
09:07, May 3025,
Dock 15 Waiting Room,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Katja idly smoothed her dress as she listened to the old man ramble. The story smacked of nonsense, but she'd heard and told less believable ones so she'd just tuck it away for later. Better that he took the attention of the room anyway, she had made the mistake of over-dressing for the event, thinking to make a good first impression on this Mr. Dante. After seeing the rest of the group though she quickly realised her mistake, plain though it was her floor-length dress and heels stood out like a sore thumb amongst the casual clothes and jumpsuits most of the others wore.
She glanced around the room, trying to guage the level of interest of the people in the room. The old man continued to ramble as his little sidekick drank the cup of coffee he had been given. Katja assumed it was a boy at least, the youth was so androgynous that she couldn't tell, although male seemed more likely. Her eyes kept going, scanning and appraising, they paused on the man in the camoflage cloak. It wasn't so much the man that interested her, although the cloak he had was certainly an odd detail, it was his companion, the cat on his shoulder. She had never liked cats and this one especially rubbed her the wrong way, something in its eyes... her hand twitched slightly from nerves.
A shiver ran down her spine and Katja opened her handbag. Holding it close to her so the others couldn't see, she checked on the needler pistol she had brought along just in case, making sure it was loaded. Let them call her paranoid, at least she would be ready if something stupid happened. She continued to pretend to dig around before pulling out a small vial of nail black nail polish and set to work painting her nails. Maybe they would see her for some kind of pampered priss who had decided being a merc would be wild and exciting, the idea brought a small smile as she played out the scenario in her mind.
Dock 15 Waiting Room,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Katja idly smoothed her dress as she listened to the old man ramble. The story smacked of nonsense, but she'd heard and told less believable ones so she'd just tuck it away for later. Better that he took the attention of the room anyway, she had made the mistake of over-dressing for the event, thinking to make a good first impression on this Mr. Dante. After seeing the rest of the group though she quickly realised her mistake, plain though it was her floor-length dress and heels stood out like a sore thumb amongst the casual clothes and jumpsuits most of the others wore.
She glanced around the room, trying to guage the level of interest of the people in the room. The old man continued to ramble as his little sidekick drank the cup of coffee he had been given. Katja assumed it was a boy at least, the youth was so androgynous that she couldn't tell, although male seemed more likely. Her eyes kept going, scanning and appraising, they paused on the man in the camoflage cloak. It wasn't so much the man that interested her, although the cloak he had was certainly an odd detail, it was his companion, the cat on his shoulder. She had never liked cats and this one especially rubbed her the wrong way, something in its eyes... her hand twitched slightly from nerves.
A shiver ran down her spine and Katja opened her handbag. Holding it close to her so the others couldn't see, she checked on the needler pistol she had brought along just in case, making sure it was loaded. Let them call her paranoid, at least she would be ready if something stupid happened. She continued to pretend to dig around before pulling out a small vial of nail black nail polish and set to work painting her nails. Maybe they would see her for some kind of pampered priss who had decided being a merc would be wild and exciting, the idea brought a small smile as she played out the scenario in her mind.
Edited by Brother Grim, 10 October 2012 - 07:05 AM.
#4
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- Philanthropist
- 4,525 posts
Member
- Locationsomewhere near a bucket of water and the gates of hell.
Posted 10 October 2012 - 07:03 AM
08:58, May 3025, (I am not in the same room as you guys yet, so I think being a bit earlier is ok)
Space Port Lobby,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
A young man in a desert camo cloak over a light fitting brown jacket and green shirt and brown cargo pants walked through the entrance to the space port. It was easy to tell that he was rather new to Galatia III. Not only was his clothing slightly unusual, there was also the matter of the fact that there was a small cat on his shoulder. Anyone who looked at the cat could tell that it was obviously annoyed to be here. It also had what looked like part of a laser pistol attached to a small helmet on its head. People understandably flinched when the cat looked in their direction, because it would look incredibly foolish if they were shot by a cat with a laser pistol.
As you got closer you could hear the young man talking to the cat. "there sure are a lot of people in here ser-pounce-a-lot. The only other time i have seen this many people in one room was on the Dynamo when the last pilgrim came back." said Janus Exodus, of the Junkers. The Junkers were a group of space nomads who salvaged planets where fighting had taken place for junk to sell. At the age of 21 they undertook a pilgrimage to gain a better understanding of the Inner Sphere. Janus had undertaken his a bit late at the age of 22. He was accompanied by his faithful companion, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot. Who was a cat.
"You don't have to treat me so coldly.... I know you don't like desert planets after that incident 2 years ago with that swarm of giant bloodthirsty crabs. But those don't live on Galatia III... I think." The cat just raised its nose at that like it was feuding with him. This just caused Janus to sigh. "well, I think we should get to bay half-score-five now.".With this, he went farther into the building, and showed up in bay 15 with the rest of the group awaiting GAD III and the red horse.
(I got bored so I decided to flesh out this post a bit.)
09:07, May 3025,
Dock 15 Waiting Room,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns
Janus stood towards the back of the room. While he was not by nature shy. He had grown up entirely surrounded by familiar people. While he could not say he knew every single junker by first name, he knew every member of the exodus
very well. There were a number of people here he had never seen before. Like the old man talking about his past to the young girl who seemed to know him already. Or the guy in the Hawaiian shirt, though Janus doubt he had ever been to Terra, let alone Hawaii. In fact the Junkers were banned from Terra by Comstar. The elders say that Comstar didn't want the Junkers unearthing any SLDF caches that may exist on Terra. The Successor States would get jealous if they realized just how much equipment was there. Then by far the most out of place looking person in the room was not Janus himself, but rather the lady in the formal clothing. She by herself looked nervous about how much better dressed she was than everyone else. Ser Pounce-A-Lot didn't like how she looked at him. Despite Janus's attempt to convince the cat to give the people in here a chance, Ser Pounce-A-Lot thoroughly disliked the lady. Janus thought it was because her clothes were more noticeable than he was.
(Grimm I think your character not liking my cat is mutual
)
Space Port Lobby,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
A young man in a desert camo cloak over a light fitting brown jacket and green shirt and brown cargo pants walked through the entrance to the space port. It was easy to tell that he was rather new to Galatia III. Not only was his clothing slightly unusual, there was also the matter of the fact that there was a small cat on his shoulder. Anyone who looked at the cat could tell that it was obviously annoyed to be here. It also had what looked like part of a laser pistol attached to a small helmet on its head. People understandably flinched when the cat looked in their direction, because it would look incredibly foolish if they were shot by a cat with a laser pistol.
As you got closer you could hear the young man talking to the cat. "there sure are a lot of people in here ser-pounce-a-lot. The only other time i have seen this many people in one room was on the Dynamo when the last pilgrim came back." said Janus Exodus, of the Junkers. The Junkers were a group of space nomads who salvaged planets where fighting had taken place for junk to sell. At the age of 21 they undertook a pilgrimage to gain a better understanding of the Inner Sphere. Janus had undertaken his a bit late at the age of 22. He was accompanied by his faithful companion, Ser-Pounce-A-Lot. Who was a cat.
"You don't have to treat me so coldly.... I know you don't like desert planets after that incident 2 years ago with that swarm of giant bloodthirsty crabs. But those don't live on Galatia III... I think." The cat just raised its nose at that like it was feuding with him. This just caused Janus to sigh. "well, I think we should get to bay half-score-five now.".With this, he went farther into the building, and showed up in bay 15 with the rest of the group awaiting GAD III and the red horse.
(I got bored so I decided to flesh out this post a bit.)
09:07, May 3025,
Dock 15 Waiting Room,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns
Janus stood towards the back of the room. While he was not by nature shy. He had grown up entirely surrounded by familiar people. While he could not say he knew every single junker by first name, he knew every member of the exodus
very well. There were a number of people here he had never seen before. Like the old man talking about his past to the young girl who seemed to know him already. Or the guy in the Hawaiian shirt, though Janus doubt he had ever been to Terra, let alone Hawaii. In fact the Junkers were banned from Terra by Comstar. The elders say that Comstar didn't want the Junkers unearthing any SLDF caches that may exist on Terra. The Successor States would get jealous if they realized just how much equipment was there. Then by far the most out of place looking person in the room was not Janus himself, but rather the lady in the formal clothing. She by herself looked nervous about how much better dressed she was than everyone else. Ser Pounce-A-Lot didn't like how she looked at him. Despite Janus's attempt to convince the cat to give the people in here a chance, Ser Pounce-A-Lot thoroughly disliked the lady. Janus thought it was because her clothes were more noticeable than he was.
(Grimm I think your character not liking my cat is mutual
)
Edited by dal10, 10 October 2012 - 07:36 PM.
#5
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- 487 posts
Member
Posted 10 October 2012 - 08:26 AM
08:40, 15 May 3025,
Galatian Skies, East of the spaceport,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
The pair of fighters cut through the morning sky, having once again been out sight seeing and watching the sun rise over this ever so beautiful, yet ever so boring tourist trap of a planet. The scenery was picturesque and the waterfalls and tropical birds of every shape, size, and color, truly divine. It wasn't paying the bills however, and even more so was costing them more then they were currently making doing these so-called dawning shots for some local travel agency to spot on holo-commercial throughout who knew where. What with what they were paying them and all, it couldn't be very far at all. That or because of the project they couldn't pay them much. Either way it was time to move on. Though he had to admit the LAMs were handling perfectly here,and switching modes was handling smoother than ever. He looked out his side port and watched as his cousin flipped and spun and did barrel roll after barrel roll chasing the flock of gulls down once more. Looking at the time he noted it was getting close, "Hey Pilot, you seen a space port around here anywhere?" He laughed to himself at the joke thinking back to when they kids and watching that silly Federated Sun recruitment movie "Star-Gun" before smiling to himself and continuing "It's about time Pilot let's get out of here and get to that appointment, with any luck maybe there will be a cute girl or two, some h'ordeuvres and decent enough pay to get on with the next set of trials." He ducked his craft in low under the flock then hit his burners to scatter them in mid flight as he headed towards the space port.
08:57, 15 May 3025,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
"Galatia Tower, This is Echo Delta one zero one. We are inbound and requesting landing clearance." The slightly tired voice on the other end responded, "Roger that one zero one, permission granted, welcome back, you're clear for bay eight." Victory thought about the layout a bit and the time constraints, "Hey Bill, any chance you could get us closer to fifteen, I got a meeting and Rubian Ale that needs a home." He knew the way to this controller's heart and a warn syrupy liquor was definitely the way to go, the response was almost quicker than words, "You got it Dallas, (smacking lips) Bay sixteen cleared for landing, proceed and I'll see you in a bit don't let Tony fool you into his deal." He smiled at the man's jealousy and worry "Roger Control. Confirmed bay sixteen, coming round."
09:05, 15 May 3025,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Victory did a lazy turn bringing the craft in over the bay that was normally assigned to the big egg shaped dropships, flipping his controls and lowering his speed. He smiled thinking to himself what the techs might be thinking and the others on the ground that "just knew" he was about to crash. He glided to the rod at his right and slid it carefully into position and the fighter began to break apart, no not break apart really but rearrange itself as it sprouted legs and began a slow hover before dropping down into the birthing area, kicking up dust and debris as it settled down. Victory waited then for his cousin smiling at the techs and docking crews shocked and slack jawed faces. (This never gets old) he thought as he awaited Pilot's grand entrance.
Galatian Skies, East of the spaceport,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
The pair of fighters cut through the morning sky, having once again been out sight seeing and watching the sun rise over this ever so beautiful, yet ever so boring tourist trap of a planet. The scenery was picturesque and the waterfalls and tropical birds of every shape, size, and color, truly divine. It wasn't paying the bills however, and even more so was costing them more then they were currently making doing these so-called dawning shots for some local travel agency to spot on holo-commercial throughout who knew where. What with what they were paying them and all, it couldn't be very far at all. That or because of the project they couldn't pay them much. Either way it was time to move on. Though he had to admit the LAMs were handling perfectly here,and switching modes was handling smoother than ever. He looked out his side port and watched as his cousin flipped and spun and did barrel roll after barrel roll chasing the flock of gulls down once more. Looking at the time he noted it was getting close, "Hey Pilot, you seen a space port around here anywhere?" He laughed to himself at the joke thinking back to when they kids and watching that silly Federated Sun recruitment movie "Star-Gun" before smiling to himself and continuing "It's about time Pilot let's get out of here and get to that appointment, with any luck maybe there will be a cute girl or two, some h'ordeuvres and decent enough pay to get on with the next set of trials." He ducked his craft in low under the flock then hit his burners to scatter them in mid flight as he headed towards the space port.
08:57, 15 May 3025,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
"Galatia Tower, This is Echo Delta one zero one. We are inbound and requesting landing clearance." The slightly tired voice on the other end responded, "Roger that one zero one, permission granted, welcome back, you're clear for bay eight." Victory thought about the layout a bit and the time constraints, "Hey Bill, any chance you could get us closer to fifteen, I got a meeting and Rubian Ale that needs a home." He knew the way to this controller's heart and a warn syrupy liquor was definitely the way to go, the response was almost quicker than words, "You got it Dallas, (smacking lips) Bay sixteen cleared for landing, proceed and I'll see you in a bit don't let Tony fool you into his deal." He smiled at the man's jealousy and worry "Roger Control. Confirmed bay sixteen, coming round."
09:05, 15 May 3025,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Victory did a lazy turn bringing the craft in over the bay that was normally assigned to the big egg shaped dropships, flipping his controls and lowering his speed. He smiled thinking to himself what the techs might be thinking and the others on the ground that "just knew" he was about to crash. He glided to the rod at his right and slid it carefully into position and the fighter began to break apart, no not break apart really but rearrange itself as it sprouted legs and began a slow hover before dropping down into the birthing area, kicking up dust and debris as it settled down. Victory waited then for his cousin smiling at the techs and docking crews shocked and slack jawed faces. (This never gets old) he thought as he awaited Pilot's grand entrance.
Edited by Oni Storm, 10 October 2012 - 11:31 AM.
#6
Posted 10 October 2012 - 11:36 AM
15 May 3025,
Dock 15 Waiting Room,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Mike wasn't used to dressing this way, buy boy he was comfortable. Clad in knee length khaki cargo shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap, he rolled back onto the heels of his offbrand leather sandals. Gratefully taking up a club sandwich and a orange pineapple flavored soda called Galeata Cooler, he smiled thanks to the lady offering the refreshments and looked about the gathered assortment of people. The usual fare he thought, mercs in fatigues or cargopants with one wearing the odd jumpsuit. The lady in the dress intrigued him though..
Painfully over dressed for this lot, must be a scientist or or Pilot of something...
He took a bite from the sandwich and looked at it as he chewed. He didn't see any tomato to which he was thankful, but he sure wished it had some avacado on it though... And some funions would be nice to. He then headed back to the girl and the refreshment cart and plundered it. He then went back to where he was waiting and answered any looks he got from the other interviewees with a nonchalant shrug.
Dock 15 Waiting Room,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Mike wasn't used to dressing this way, buy boy he was comfortable. Clad in knee length khaki cargo shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap, he rolled back onto the heels of his offbrand leather sandals. Gratefully taking up a club sandwich and a orange pineapple flavored soda called Galeata Cooler, he smiled thanks to the lady offering the refreshments and looked about the gathered assortment of people. The usual fare he thought, mercs in fatigues or cargopants with one wearing the odd jumpsuit. The lady in the dress intrigued him though..
Painfully over dressed for this lot, must be a scientist or or Pilot of something...
He took a bite from the sandwich and looked at it as he chewed. He didn't see any tomato to which he was thankful, but he sure wished it had some avacado on it though... And some funions would be nice to. He then headed back to the girl and the refreshment cart and plundered it. He then went back to where he was waiting and answered any looks he got from the other interviewees with a nonchalant shrug.
#7
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- 19 posts
Member
Posted 10 October 2012 - 11:39 PM
15 May 3025,
Dock 15 Mechbay area
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
08:30
Ivan sits reclining on the left foot of his Exterminator-4Ab called the nitro express in the mechbay with his boonie hat pulled down over his eyes .
08:55
Hearing a large group gathering nearby Ivan rises dusts himself off and arranges his gear as he walks toward dock 15 .
Dock 15 Mechbay area
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
08:30
Ivan sits reclining on the left foot of his Exterminator-4Ab called the nitro express in the mechbay with his boonie hat pulled down over his eyes .
08:55
Hearing a large group gathering nearby Ivan rises dusts himself off and arranges his gear as he walks toward dock 15 .
Edited by ivan the ghost, 10 October 2012 - 11:43 PM.
#8
Posted 11 October 2012 - 03:34 PM
Almost 20 minutes after the hour, the growing thunder of an approaching dropship can be heard. It takes about 10 minutes for the massive blood red and black globe of a Union to settle into the dock. At first glance it is obviously heavily modified with a vertical cylinder extending from just above the aerospace bays almost 12 meters, with the rest of the topsides of the vessel mounted on top. In the visible quarters of that extra decking you can see what look to be heavily clad turrets bearing some considerable weaponry. Once the docking arm extends and connects to the personnel door, you see the hatch to the room you are in hiss open, and you see a man in his late twenties to early thirties step out.
"Thank you all for being here, and I am sorry I am late," he says with a smile. "Gabriel Dante... War in the field." He proceeds around the room shaking hands, getting names, and finally stops in front of Katja. "Ma'am," he says with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes as he holds out a hand. Instead of shaking it, he lightly kisses her knuckles and then turns to the little side bar. Grabbing a soda he pops the top and turns back.
"So, no trials needed to sign on is a little strange, but I think we are all going to be working on relearning our skills in the coming months anyway... Maybe with the exception of you two," he gestures to the LAM pilots. "I have been following a number of leads and they are pointing to both Quentin Three and right here to Galatia. I think we can find a Star League Depot, and I need the support to get it cracked open and find what is inside."
[EDIT] Too right Rogue. The gentleman you see before you is six feet flat and weighs about 175 pounds in a trim build. His hair is dusty brown, and he has blue eyes set into a well tanned face. One other thing of note is that he has a black glove on his right hand.
"Thank you all for being here, and I am sorry I am late," he says with a smile. "Gabriel Dante... War in the field." He proceeds around the room shaking hands, getting names, and finally stops in front of Katja. "Ma'am," he says with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes as he holds out a hand. Instead of shaking it, he lightly kisses her knuckles and then turns to the little side bar. Grabbing a soda he pops the top and turns back.
"So, no trials needed to sign on is a little strange, but I think we are all going to be working on relearning our skills in the coming months anyway... Maybe with the exception of you two," he gestures to the LAM pilots. "I have been following a number of leads and they are pointing to both Quentin Three and right here to Galatia. I think we can find a Star League Depot, and I need the support to get it cracked open and find what is inside."
[EDIT] Too right Rogue. The gentleman you see before you is six feet flat and weighs about 175 pounds in a trim build. His hair is dusty brown, and he has blue eyes set into a well tanned face. One other thing of note is that he has a black glove on his right hand.
Edited by Gabriel Alexander Dante III, 12 October 2012 - 12:35 AM.
#9
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- Legendary Founder
- 2,018 posts
Member
- LocationOn the dim edges of the map labelled only: Here be Urbanmechs.
Posted 11 October 2012 - 03:57 PM
08:43, 15 May 3025,
Galatian Skies, East of the spaceport,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Althalus watched his cousin blast apart the flock of birds with his afterburners and sighed. Despite Victory's military career, notable achievements and awards, he was still hugely undisciplined. Here they were far from home, running out of funds and he was still taking every possible excuse to burn more precious fuel with his afterburners rather than just use the limitless power supply of his fusion reactor and go slightly slower.
Althalus' years as a test pilot had taught him much discipline, pulling in his passion for flying and flying as directed for the majority of his time in the air. The science of flying was what he'd spent years practising, watching gauges, testing reaction speeds on manoeuvring surfaces, exactly where to place the throttle to go a certain speed.
It was this that he used to keep pace with Victory, not his nigh irreplaceable fuel. He'd lag a few minutes behind, but that was fine. More flying for him. Bringing himself up to full cruise speed, he angled his craft downwards into Dallas' slipstream, using thermals for height and graceful dives to gain speed. The acrobatics helped him calm his mind, simply zone out and enjoy himself, even as he noted the mild resistance of some of the conversion gear through clouds.
Seeing Dallas landing in theatrical style, he shook his head again. So much for keeping a low profile. Switching to AirMech mode, he lazily glided in to the drop pay, curving in a spiral to reduce speed before finally triggering his jump jets to rob the last shreds of horizontal movement and settling to the ground on flaming heels. Looking at Dallas' Stingray, he could feel his mechjock cousin looking at him disapprovingly and grudgingly converted to mech mode. Try as he might, he just didn't feel anywhere near as comfortable as a mech as he did even as only half a flier.
"To the bay, Dallas?"
"Yeah, time to power down and step out. We shouldn't be gone long and it's not like this place is busy anyway, leave the LAMs here."
Althalus ground his teeth. Dallas was used to military life, he reminded himself, not corporate life where industrial espionage was the norm. But he'd grown tired of the arguments with his cousin and simply made another mental note to refuse any further 'field testing' operations and quietly request that he officially gain command of the operation before someone robbed their fighters while Victory was fooling around burning fuel.
09:30, 15 May 3025,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
After watching the strange dropship descend and unload their employer, Althalus nearly choked on the cookie he'd been munching on as a renegade chocolate chip made a dash for his lungs as 'Gabriel Dante' finished his speech. Spluttering crumbs, he squeezed out hoarsely through a mouthful of cookie and chocolate, "Phyew vwant uph to phwat? Fftah hweague Keepoh?" He stared bug eyed at the obvious lunatic, no eccentric if they're rich-no still a loony, star league depot? This is ridiculous!
"Phwictory?" He could feel the eyes upon him from the gathered mercs, for what else could they be - even the woman, as he looked at his cousin, who incredibly worryingly seemed to be genuinely considering the man's words and to be genuinely embarassed by him.
Galatian Skies, East of the spaceport,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Althalus watched his cousin blast apart the flock of birds with his afterburners and sighed. Despite Victory's military career, notable achievements and awards, he was still hugely undisciplined. Here they were far from home, running out of funds and he was still taking every possible excuse to burn more precious fuel with his afterburners rather than just use the limitless power supply of his fusion reactor and go slightly slower.
Althalus' years as a test pilot had taught him much discipline, pulling in his passion for flying and flying as directed for the majority of his time in the air. The science of flying was what he'd spent years practising, watching gauges, testing reaction speeds on manoeuvring surfaces, exactly where to place the throttle to go a certain speed.
It was this that he used to keep pace with Victory, not his nigh irreplaceable fuel. He'd lag a few minutes behind, but that was fine. More flying for him. Bringing himself up to full cruise speed, he angled his craft downwards into Dallas' slipstream, using thermals for height and graceful dives to gain speed. The acrobatics helped him calm his mind, simply zone out and enjoy himself, even as he noted the mild resistance of some of the conversion gear through clouds.
Seeing Dallas landing in theatrical style, he shook his head again. So much for keeping a low profile. Switching to AirMech mode, he lazily glided in to the drop pay, curving in a spiral to reduce speed before finally triggering his jump jets to rob the last shreds of horizontal movement and settling to the ground on flaming heels. Looking at Dallas' Stingray, he could feel his mechjock cousin looking at him disapprovingly and grudgingly converted to mech mode. Try as he might, he just didn't feel anywhere near as comfortable as a mech as he did even as only half a flier.
"To the bay, Dallas?"
"Yeah, time to power down and step out. We shouldn't be gone long and it's not like this place is busy anyway, leave the LAMs here."
Althalus ground his teeth. Dallas was used to military life, he reminded himself, not corporate life where industrial espionage was the norm. But he'd grown tired of the arguments with his cousin and simply made another mental note to refuse any further 'field testing' operations and quietly request that he officially gain command of the operation before someone robbed their fighters while Victory was fooling around burning fuel.
09:30, 15 May 3025,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
After watching the strange dropship descend and unload their employer, Althalus nearly choked on the cookie he'd been munching on as a renegade chocolate chip made a dash for his lungs as 'Gabriel Dante' finished his speech. Spluttering crumbs, he squeezed out hoarsely through a mouthful of cookie and chocolate, "Phyew vwant uph to phwat? Fftah hweague Keepoh?" He stared bug eyed at the obvious lunatic, no eccentric if they're rich-no still a loony, star league depot? This is ridiculous!
"Phwictory?" He could feel the eyes upon him from the gathered mercs, for what else could they be - even the woman, as he looked at his cousin, who incredibly worryingly seemed to be genuinely considering the man's words and to be genuinely embarassed by him.
Edited by RogueSpear, 11 October 2012 - 04:11 PM.
#10
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- Philanthropist
- 4,525 posts
Member
- Locationsomewhere near a bucket of water and the gates of hell.
Posted 11 October 2012 - 05:13 PM
09:30, 15 May 3025,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Janus shook hands and greeted his new employer as he made his rounds. Even watching as he kissed the hand of the overly dressed-lady. Ser-Pounce-A-Lot didn't like that GAD III didn't attempt to shake his paw (seriously, you never ignore cats when they want attention.) but understood that most people just saw him as a cat.
"So, no trials needed to sign on is a little strange, but I think we are all going to be working on relearning our skills in the coming months anyway... Maybe with the exception of you two," he gestures to the LAM pilots. "I have been following a number of leads and they are pointing to both Quentin Three and right here to Galatia. I think we can find a Star League Depot, and I need the support to get it cracked open and find what is inside."
Even Janus and Ser-Pounce-A-Lot were surprised at this. As junkers they had heard stories of caches that were found, but not even they had ever seen one in person. Ser-Pounce-A-Lot even fell off of Janus's shoulder, which surprised Janus almost as much as the news of the cache. The more he thought about it, the less likely he thought that this planet would be the location of a cache. The junkers searched their records all the time for evidence on the locations of caches. The prices that those locations could fetch from a successor state would buy a planet or 2. The location of one would probably be enough for him to end his pilgrimage already. The temptation to go running to the Junkers over this find was great, but a little thought held him back. How does this stand with every value in myself that I value. If I did this, I would be no better than those vultures of bandits that took my parents from this world 10 years ago. It is not right to do this.
Janus looked at Ser-Pounce-A-Lot. Like always the cat seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. The look in Ser-Pounce-A-Lot's eye told Janus he had reached the correct choice in not betraying GAD III to try and get back to the fleet early. If he did that he would get nothing from his pilgrimage, Except the knowledge that he was not worthy of the trust the junkers put in each other. (moral crisis averted)
"Phyew vwant uph to phwat? Fftah hweague Keepoh?" Came from the mouth of the man with a cookie. Janus knew he could talk weird at times... but had absolutely no idea what language the guy was speaking. also, talking with your mouth full is rude.
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Janus shook hands and greeted his new employer as he made his rounds. Even watching as he kissed the hand of the overly dressed-lady. Ser-Pounce-A-Lot didn't like that GAD III didn't attempt to shake his paw (seriously, you never ignore cats when they want attention.) but understood that most people just saw him as a cat.
"So, no trials needed to sign on is a little strange, but I think we are all going to be working on relearning our skills in the coming months anyway... Maybe with the exception of you two," he gestures to the LAM pilots. "I have been following a number of leads and they are pointing to both Quentin Three and right here to Galatia. I think we can find a Star League Depot, and I need the support to get it cracked open and find what is inside."
Even Janus and Ser-Pounce-A-Lot were surprised at this. As junkers they had heard stories of caches that were found, but not even they had ever seen one in person. Ser-Pounce-A-Lot even fell off of Janus's shoulder, which surprised Janus almost as much as the news of the cache. The more he thought about it, the less likely he thought that this planet would be the location of a cache. The junkers searched their records all the time for evidence on the locations of caches. The prices that those locations could fetch from a successor state would buy a planet or 2. The location of one would probably be enough for him to end his pilgrimage already. The temptation to go running to the Junkers over this find was great, but a little thought held him back. How does this stand with every value in myself that I value. If I did this, I would be no better than those vultures of bandits that took my parents from this world 10 years ago. It is not right to do this.
Janus looked at Ser-Pounce-A-Lot. Like always the cat seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. The look in Ser-Pounce-A-Lot's eye told Janus he had reached the correct choice in not betraying GAD III to try and get back to the fleet early. If he did that he would get nothing from his pilgrimage, Except the knowledge that he was not worthy of the trust the junkers put in each other. (moral crisis averted)
"Phyew vwant uph to phwat? Fftah hweague Keepoh?" Came from the mouth of the man with a cookie. Janus knew he could talk weird at times... but had absolutely no idea what language the guy was speaking. also, talking with your mouth full is rude.
Edited by dal10, 11 October 2012 - 05:15 PM.
#11
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- Bridesmaid
- 286 posts
Member
- LocationAlegro
Posted 11 October 2012 - 09:14 PM
09:30, 15 May 3025,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Katja watched the heavily modified dropship descend. It took her a moment to identify it as a Union class ship, especially since the upgrades caused it to look so... awkward. Although, the extra weapon mountings would be good in a firefight, she supposed. In a hot drop you could never have enough firepower on your side, so more guns would help any offensive actions they might undertake. Hopefully there were some nicer quarters in those added decks than the standard shoeboxes of most Unions.
She blushed when their employer kissed her hand instead of shaking it, the move taking her completely by surprise. She was more surprised when he revealed his true goal behind assembling their little band. The implication that her skills might have been rusty irritated her though. Crossing her legs, Katja leaned back and chuckled softly as the cat fell of the young man's shoulder, and harder when one of the other mercs choked and sputtered his disbelief. She would have laughed at the prospect of the man's offer too, but she had gone through some of the bays and seen some serious hardware. If he was hiring most of that hardware, and judging by the numbers in the room he probably had at least a chunk of it, there had to be something more behind this.
"I believe he said that, yes," she said to the choking man, his dismay at the prospect was hillarious. "That would explain why that hulk of a salvager is in the 'Mechbay I assume. There's also quite a bit of combat power in there, which I assume comes from this lot," she waved her hand to encompass the others sitting in the room. "A lot of guns to bring on a little archeology trip don't you think? Especially if you already have an idea where your goal is."
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Katja watched the heavily modified dropship descend. It took her a moment to identify it as a Union class ship, especially since the upgrades caused it to look so... awkward. Although, the extra weapon mountings would be good in a firefight, she supposed. In a hot drop you could never have enough firepower on your side, so more guns would help any offensive actions they might undertake. Hopefully there were some nicer quarters in those added decks than the standard shoeboxes of most Unions.
She blushed when their employer kissed her hand instead of shaking it, the move taking her completely by surprise. She was more surprised when he revealed his true goal behind assembling their little band. The implication that her skills might have been rusty irritated her though. Crossing her legs, Katja leaned back and chuckled softly as the cat fell of the young man's shoulder, and harder when one of the other mercs choked and sputtered his disbelief. She would have laughed at the prospect of the man's offer too, but she had gone through some of the bays and seen some serious hardware. If he was hiring most of that hardware, and judging by the numbers in the room he probably had at least a chunk of it, there had to be something more behind this.
"I believe he said that, yes," she said to the choking man, his dismay at the prospect was hillarious. "That would explain why that hulk of a salvager is in the 'Mechbay I assume. There's also quite a bit of combat power in there, which I assume comes from this lot," she waved her hand to encompass the others sitting in the room. "A lot of guns to bring on a little archeology trip don't you think? Especially if you already have an idea where your goal is."
Edited by Brother Grim, 11 October 2012 - 09:15 PM.
#12
Posted 12 October 2012 - 12:57 AM
"I have planets..." he smiled at Katja. She was sharp that one. "And a bit more. Something of an archeologist and mathematician, and I play to the 'loony' side," he added gesturing to the LAM pilot choking on his cookie. "Helps ward off too much unwanted attention..." he glanced meaningfully back out at the ship. "I would like to give you all a tour and introduce you to the quartermaster while we are about it... safer to discuss it aboard, less prying ears..." he gestured to the gangplank for them all to board.
As they filed in, he offered Katja an arm and waited for everyone to precede him before walking in at the end of the line, the doors hissing shut behind them. A man in naval duty fatigues met them at the hatch and guided them through halls that seemed a little wider and taller than those of a usual drop ship, rounding a corner and going up two flights of stairs before he stopped and waited for the group to bunch back up. Opening the door beside him he gestured into the room, and stood aside.
"Thanks Cob," Dante said as they all filtered in. The room was a command center, obviously, with a dozen communications and control stations spread around it, four obvious weapons stations, and a door opposite the one they walked in. At fifteen meters in diameter, it was big, but the ten meter recessed floor with two staircases leading down to the floor two feet below and the matching three foot hollow above was seemingly excessive for the simple table standing in the center. It was solidly built and as smooth as black glass across the entire surface. There were a dozen chairs scattered around it for the command staff to sit in, but the place was empty and quiet aside from themselves.
As he stepped in, he nodded to the man at the door who turned and snapped something over his shoulder, then headed down to the table, walking to the far side before he released Katja's arm. He was obviously enjoying having a lady around and was apparently going to treat her like it as long as she was dressed as one.
"So..." he grinned at them as they filtered down around the table. It was easily fifteen feet across and circular without a single seam anywhere. "As to finding Star League gear... it is something of my hobby... especially since the first realdiscovery a few years ago." His fingers brushed the surface of the table gently, and something within hummed and the surface flickered to life. "This is Galatia Three," he said as a ten foot orb sprang up above the center of the table. There was a green dot and a reddish orange smear. "The dot, is us... that smear is the location of what I believe to be one of the facilities that General Kerensky shut down a hundred and fifty or so years ago... Called Death Valley... no one that went there for a hundred years came back..."
As they filed in, he offered Katja an arm and waited for everyone to precede him before walking in at the end of the line, the doors hissing shut behind them. A man in naval duty fatigues met them at the hatch and guided them through halls that seemed a little wider and taller than those of a usual drop ship, rounding a corner and going up two flights of stairs before he stopped and waited for the group to bunch back up. Opening the door beside him he gestured into the room, and stood aside.
"Thanks Cob," Dante said as they all filtered in. The room was a command center, obviously, with a dozen communications and control stations spread around it, four obvious weapons stations, and a door opposite the one they walked in. At fifteen meters in diameter, it was big, but the ten meter recessed floor with two staircases leading down to the floor two feet below and the matching three foot hollow above was seemingly excessive for the simple table standing in the center. It was solidly built and as smooth as black glass across the entire surface. There were a dozen chairs scattered around it for the command staff to sit in, but the place was empty and quiet aside from themselves.
As he stepped in, he nodded to the man at the door who turned and snapped something over his shoulder, then headed down to the table, walking to the far side before he released Katja's arm. He was obviously enjoying having a lady around and was apparently going to treat her like it as long as she was dressed as one.
"So..." he grinned at them as they filtered down around the table. It was easily fifteen feet across and circular without a single seam anywhere. "As to finding Star League gear... it is something of my hobby... especially since the first realdiscovery a few years ago." His fingers brushed the surface of the table gently, and something within hummed and the surface flickered to life. "This is Galatia Three," he said as a ten foot orb sprang up above the center of the table. There was a green dot and a reddish orange smear. "The dot, is us... that smear is the location of what I believe to be one of the facilities that General Kerensky shut down a hundred and fifty or so years ago... Called Death Valley... no one that went there for a hundred years came back..."
#13
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- 487 posts
Member
Posted 12 October 2012 - 04:29 AM
10:05, 15 May 3025,
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
"I have planets..." he smiled at Katja. She was sharp that one. "And a bit more. Something of an archeologist and mathematician, and I play to the 'loony' side," he added gesturing to the LAM pilot choking on his cookie.
Victory gave Althalus a swift pat on the back, sending the cookie flying and breaking into crumbs on the tarmac. He waited for the 'loony' to finish and as he started to walk off Victory whispered into his cousin's ear "I swear I kept hearing that silly old Terran song they used play on Robinson Public Broadcast "I did it all for the cookie" being played at you funeral cousin." He smiled somewhat childlike at Althalus. "Lets got see what this eccentric loony has gotten us into shall we? Hell if he's willing to pay in upfront money and a percentage of the salvage, we might as well huh? Besides if he's got enough green backs, we can spend all the time in the field testing our babies and still get paid big money for it, right?" He smiled like a childlike dreamer. Then began heading up the gang plank whistling some old Terran tune about whistling while working.
10:12 - 10:20, 15 May 3025,
Interior Modified Union Class Dropship
Docked Planetary Space Port, Bay 15
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Once inside Victory kept looking at the construction and design, whispering once more to his cousin "What a total waste of space, and extremely jarring and confined, not at all well prepared for inner ship combat, or living space for that matter. Why would anyone expand things to this level? What does he have the Robinson Raiders' linebackers staying here with the Caph Cutthroats' offensive line? Wasteful." They continued to the dias of a table and listened intently.
"The dot, is us... that smear is the location of what I believe to be one of the facilities that General Kerensky shut down a hundred and fifty or so years ago... Called Death Valley... no one that went there for a hundred years came back..."
Victory almost lost his cookies this time [which would have been something since he didn't have any
] (Huh? What? Who? where? Why? This nut job is even beyond me. and that's saying a lot) Victory raised his left hand, index finger raised, but didn't wait before speaking. "You just said Death Valley, right there boss? We talking about the same Death Valley I'm thinking of? Cause if you plan on us attacking Terra and Com Star you're loonier than even I care to deal with, and that's saying a LOT. I specialised in Star league history back at the academy and focused it primarily on the military aspects, and I'll tell you now, even if the Tech Priests did miss anything, they aren't going to let you extract anything from their baby without a fight, and well that's one place I'm pretty sure even all the combined might of the commonwealth couldn't crack without utter chaos befalling the Sphere. You can count me out, no sir, no way, no how am I facing those loons, no offense or nothing, I'll watch your six and your ship and all against just about anything you can come up with including krakens and titans and snakes, pirates, whatever, but if Com Star is your target, nope not going there."
Planetary Space Port,
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
"I have planets..." he smiled at Katja. She was sharp that one. "And a bit more. Something of an archeologist and mathematician, and I play to the 'loony' side," he added gesturing to the LAM pilot choking on his cookie.
Victory gave Althalus a swift pat on the back, sending the cookie flying and breaking into crumbs on the tarmac. He waited for the 'loony' to finish and as he started to walk off Victory whispered into his cousin's ear "I swear I kept hearing that silly old Terran song they used play on Robinson Public Broadcast "I did it all for the cookie" being played at you funeral cousin." He smiled somewhat childlike at Althalus. "Lets got see what this eccentric loony has gotten us into shall we? Hell if he's willing to pay in upfront money and a percentage of the salvage, we might as well huh? Besides if he's got enough green backs, we can spend all the time in the field testing our babies and still get paid big money for it, right?" He smiled like a childlike dreamer. Then began heading up the gang plank whistling some old Terran tune about whistling while working.
10:12 - 10:20, 15 May 3025,
Interior Modified Union Class Dropship
Docked Planetary Space Port, Bay 15
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Once inside Victory kept looking at the construction and design, whispering once more to his cousin "What a total waste of space, and extremely jarring and confined, not at all well prepared for inner ship combat, or living space for that matter. Why would anyone expand things to this level? What does he have the Robinson Raiders' linebackers staying here with the Caph Cutthroats' offensive line? Wasteful." They continued to the dias of a table and listened intently.
"The dot, is us... that smear is the location of what I believe to be one of the facilities that General Kerensky shut down a hundred and fifty or so years ago... Called Death Valley... no one that went there for a hundred years came back..."
Victory almost lost his cookies this time [which would have been something since he didn't have any
] (Huh? What? Who? where? Why? This nut job is even beyond me. and that's saying a lot) Victory raised his left hand, index finger raised, but didn't wait before speaking. "You just said Death Valley, right there boss? We talking about the same Death Valley I'm thinking of? Cause if you plan on us attacking Terra and Com Star you're loonier than even I care to deal with, and that's saying a LOT. I specialised in Star league history back at the academy and focused it primarily on the military aspects, and I'll tell you now, even if the Tech Priests did miss anything, they aren't going to let you extract anything from their baby without a fight, and well that's one place I'm pretty sure even all the combined might of the commonwealth couldn't crack without utter chaos befalling the Sphere. You can count me out, no sir, no way, no how am I facing those loons, no offense or nothing, I'll watch your six and your ship and all against just about anything you can come up with including krakens and titans and snakes, pirates, whatever, but if Com Star is your target, nope not going there."
Edited by Oni Storm, 12 October 2012 - 04:42 AM.
#14
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- Philanthropist
- 4,525 posts
Member
- Locationsomewhere near a bucket of water and the gates of hell.
Posted 12 October 2012 - 07:02 AM
Janus walked into the dropship in the middle of the group, not wanting to be the first onto it, or the last. He filed into the command center with the rest of the group. After listening to GAD III's presentation, Janus had one question. "Will there be giant bloodthirsty crabs there? Ser-Pounce-A-Lot hates giant bloodthirsty crabs."
#15
Posted 12 October 2012 - 11:06 AM
"Not Terra," Gabriel said, massaging the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "Death Valley on Galatia Three... Here..." he added, waving at the globe spinning lazily over the massive holotable. he looked over at Janus and his question, then up to the cat and back. "I honestly have no idea what is there... Like I said, everyone that had gone in, didn't come out..."
"Alright... Death Valley, Galatia Three..." he said, settling into a chair as a couple men arrived with coffee and handed out mugs. "Have a sit folks... let me explain."
"So, up until 2785 the valley in question is never on the record books. Oddly enough, most of the rest of the planet was explored before 2400, but this valley is... missing from all records?" he paused for emphasis. "Then, in 2785, a pair of Star League "hunters" who went up, turned up missing." he glanced around. "Again, with the two rescue parties, and Death Valley there got its name..." he rubbed his face with his gloved hand, grimacing slightly. "There were three other incidents of the following hundred years or so, all missing, all had reportedly been going to look in Death Valley for whatever they listed that they were 'Prospecting' for and all disappeared without a trace... So, there is evidence that their may be a facility that is still at least partially functional up there."
"The other most hopeful lead we have is Quintin Three..." he said with a lopsided smile. "The core I pulled from the wreck I found on a mission garrisoning on Addicks directly stated a couple names, that was the most accessible of them... Also where I picked up this wondrous little chunk of tech." he gestured to the table.
"Alright... Death Valley, Galatia Three..." he said, settling into a chair as a couple men arrived with coffee and handed out mugs. "Have a sit folks... let me explain."
"So, up until 2785 the valley in question is never on the record books. Oddly enough, most of the rest of the planet was explored before 2400, but this valley is... missing from all records?" he paused for emphasis. "Then, in 2785, a pair of Star League "hunters" who went up, turned up missing." he glanced around. "Again, with the two rescue parties, and Death Valley there got its name..." he rubbed his face with his gloved hand, grimacing slightly. "There were three other incidents of the following hundred years or so, all missing, all had reportedly been going to look in Death Valley for whatever they listed that they were 'Prospecting' for and all disappeared without a trace... So, there is evidence that their may be a facility that is still at least partially functional up there."
"The other most hopeful lead we have is Quintin Three..." he said with a lopsided smile. "The core I pulled from the wreck I found on a mission garrisoning on Addicks directly stated a couple names, that was the most accessible of them... Also where I picked up this wondrous little chunk of tech." he gestured to the table.
#16
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- Bridesmaid
- 286 posts
Member
- LocationAlegro
Posted 12 October 2012 - 01:36 PM
10:12, 15 May 3025,
Interior Modified Union Class Dropship
Docked Planetary Space Port, Bay 15
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
'I could get used to this,' thought Katja as GAD III escorted her to the dropship's briefing room. Having only been an NCO during her time in the AFFS she hadn't had many opportunities to dress up and prance around or be waited on. She'd worked for a living. The larger spaces in the modified section of the dropship had given her a bit more hope for some nicer living arrangements than one usually found on Unions as well. Being a merc was starting to look much more comfortable than soldiering.
She listened as he mentioned the outline of the plan, trying to judge the size of the facility from the projection. It must have been huge if it registered as much as it did on GAD's map. Much larger than the half-empty supply depot she stumbled on. A facility of that size had all kinds of possibilities, she only half listened to the conversation as she imagined them. Weapons systems, possibly SLDF variants of battlemechs. If she could find a Pillager.... Her reverie was broken as one of the crew served her some coffee, asking if she would like milk or sugar.
Declining the offer she sipped the drink as GAD filled them in on the area's background. To be sure, there was something there, half a dozen people just didn't up and disappear like that over an empty valley. Hopefully it wouldn't come down to too much of a firefight though, she'd seen enough heavy combat in the last decade that she wouldn't mind a few milk runs. On the other hand, travelling to Quentin meant two jumps, which meant two days hugging a toilet bowl. Not an exciting prospect either. Easier to fight an enemy in front of you than one inside, though.
"Why bother with jumpships when we've got a target here? I'd just as soon stay on planet and hit the close objective. We'll save time and money, not to mention we all already know this planet at least a little bit." She stopped, realising it was starting to sound a little desperate.
Interior Modified Union Class Dropship
Docked Planetary Space Port, Bay 15
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
'I could get used to this,' thought Katja as GAD III escorted her to the dropship's briefing room. Having only been an NCO during her time in the AFFS she hadn't had many opportunities to dress up and prance around or be waited on. She'd worked for a living. The larger spaces in the modified section of the dropship had given her a bit more hope for some nicer living arrangements than one usually found on Unions as well. Being a merc was starting to look much more comfortable than soldiering.
She listened as he mentioned the outline of the plan, trying to judge the size of the facility from the projection. It must have been huge if it registered as much as it did on GAD's map. Much larger than the half-empty supply depot she stumbled on. A facility of that size had all kinds of possibilities, she only half listened to the conversation as she imagined them. Weapons systems, possibly SLDF variants of battlemechs. If she could find a Pillager.... Her reverie was broken as one of the crew served her some coffee, asking if she would like milk or sugar.
Declining the offer she sipped the drink as GAD filled them in on the area's background. To be sure, there was something there, half a dozen people just didn't up and disappear like that over an empty valley. Hopefully it wouldn't come down to too much of a firefight though, she'd seen enough heavy combat in the last decade that she wouldn't mind a few milk runs. On the other hand, travelling to Quentin meant two jumps, which meant two days hugging a toilet bowl. Not an exciting prospect either. Easier to fight an enemy in front of you than one inside, though.
"Why bother with jumpships when we've got a target here? I'd just as soon stay on planet and hit the close objective. We'll save time and money, not to mention we all already know this planet at least a little bit." She stopped, realising it was starting to sound a little desperate.
#17
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- 487 posts
Member
Posted 12 October 2012 - 04:49 PM
10:20, 15 May 3025,
Interior Modified Union Class Dropship
Docked Planetary Space Port, Bay 15
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
"Why bother with jumpships when we've got a target here? I'd just as soon stay on planet and hit the close objective. We'll save time and money, not to mention we all already know this planet at least a little bit." She stopped, realizing it was starting to sound a little desperate.
"Well she's got a point there, and perhaps with this tourist spot here we shouldn't have to worry about too many professional claim jumper, unless you were followed or there is something more you haven't divulged yet? You got any fly over information or satellite images of the area? Have there been any disappearances of aircraft around that area or magnetic discrepancies or troubles?"
Interior Modified Union Class Dropship
Docked Planetary Space Port, Bay 15
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
"Why bother with jumpships when we've got a target here? I'd just as soon stay on planet and hit the close objective. We'll save time and money, not to mention we all already know this planet at least a little bit." She stopped, realizing it was starting to sound a little desperate.
"Well she's got a point there, and perhaps with this tourist spot here we shouldn't have to worry about too many professional claim jumper, unless you were followed or there is something more you haven't divulged yet? You got any fly over information or satellite images of the area? Have there been any disappearances of aircraft around that area or magnetic discrepancies or troubles?"
#18
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- Legendary Founder
- 163 posts
Member
- LocationSomewhere in the Periphery...
Posted 12 October 2012 - 06:33 PM
10:21, 15 May 3025,
Interior Modified Union Class Dropship
Docked Planetary Space Port, Bay 15
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Suddenly the doors opposite to where they entered opened, and in strode a large, heavily muscled man dressed in black combat fatigues and a substantial amount of body armor. He stood approximately 7' tall, with mid length black hair, matching gotee, and icy blue eyes. A long scar ran across his left eye, from just above the eyebrow to high on the cheek.
He descended the staircase, coming to a stop before Gabriel.
"Boss", he growled in a deep, booming voice, "My gear's all ready, and our rides are ready to rock and roll. Whenever you're ready to get this show on the road, that is."
He turned to face the rest of the group, slowly eyeing each person. His eyes stopped a moment on the cat, a small smile touching the corner of his mouth.
"So, this is the best you've managed to dig up, eh? Well then, let me introduce myself. Gentlemen, lady... feline, you may call me Altruin, that's all you get. I've been a merc since I was 16 and I've been from one side of the Inner Sphere to the other and everywhere in between."
He pulled out a chair and took a seat.
"And to answer your question, no, we've been unable to obtain any visual information about the region. When we tried to get within sighting distance, we picked up an energy signature that built up and was reaching dangerous levels, fast, so we had to abort. And as for magnetic discrepancies, there are minor readings, albeit within the possible range of error."
Interior Modified Union Class Dropship
Docked Planetary Space Port, Bay 15
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
Suddenly the doors opposite to where they entered opened, and in strode a large, heavily muscled man dressed in black combat fatigues and a substantial amount of body armor. He stood approximately 7' tall, with mid length black hair, matching gotee, and icy blue eyes. A long scar ran across his left eye, from just above the eyebrow to high on the cheek.
He descended the staircase, coming to a stop before Gabriel.
"Boss", he growled in a deep, booming voice, "My gear's all ready, and our rides are ready to rock and roll. Whenever you're ready to get this show on the road, that is."
He turned to face the rest of the group, slowly eyeing each person. His eyes stopped a moment on the cat, a small smile touching the corner of his mouth.
"So, this is the best you've managed to dig up, eh? Well then, let me introduce myself. Gentlemen, lady... feline, you may call me Altruin, that's all you get. I've been a merc since I was 16 and I've been from one side of the Inner Sphere to the other and everywhere in between."
He pulled out a chair and took a seat.
"And to answer your question, no, we've been unable to obtain any visual information about the region. When we tried to get within sighting distance, we picked up an energy signature that built up and was reaching dangerous levels, fast, so we had to abort. And as for magnetic discrepancies, there are minor readings, albeit within the possible range of error."
Edited by Xetherius, 15 October 2012 - 10:29 PM.
#19
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- 19 posts
Member
Posted 12 October 2012 - 09:30 PM
15 May 3025,
Interior Modified Union Class Dropship
Docked Planetary Space Port, Bay 15
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
09:35 Ivan enters the briefing room with his gear and leans against the railing of the left hand staircase to wait for the briefing to start while he chewed on some spiced jerky meat .
10:22 Having heard the briefing and swallowed his jerky Ivan has a question . Lady and gents we all have likely been on a few missions that were a bit light on intel . But as I see it if go after ether target area we are left with two options . Do we drop in blind or do we poke at the hornet's nest with a long stick and see what happens ?
Interior Modified Union Class Dropship
Docked Planetary Space Port, Bay 15
Galatia III, Fed Suns.
09:35 Ivan enters the briefing room with his gear and leans against the railing of the left hand staircase to wait for the briefing to start while he chewed on some spiced jerky meat .
10:22 Having heard the briefing and swallowed his jerky Ivan has a question . Lady and gents we all have likely been on a few missions that were a bit light on intel . But as I see it if go after ether target area we are left with two options . Do we drop in blind or do we poke at the hornet's nest with a long stick and see what happens ?
#20
Posted 12 October 2012 - 10:36 PM
Sip! Mike sipped loudly from the orange/pineapple soda, earning him several annoyed looks from the mercish people standing around him. He smiled meekly at them and lowered the soda.
"Sorry." He offered by way of apology.
A Star League Cashe? Here? He looked at the small dot on the map then smacked his lips. He had a feeling that he knew just what part his Planetlifter and himself were gonna play if they were sucessful. Pack mule.
But he also thought about what defenses could be lying in wait at a such a complex. Automated defense systems that wouldn't take kindly to this bunch of yahoos kicking down the doors of the stash to start looting. It turned the sickly sweet taste of the soda sour as he thought of it. As he eyeballed the rest of the assembled mercs, scratch that, he wasn't a merc, well not like some of these knifemen anyways, that if anyone could do it it was these guys. They had a couple of LAM pilot's for Christ sake.
He went back to sipping at the soda once again catching annoyed looks.
"Oops. Sorry."
"Sorry." He offered by way of apology.
A Star League Cashe? Here? He looked at the small dot on the map then smacked his lips. He had a feeling that he knew just what part his Planetlifter and himself were gonna play if they were sucessful. Pack mule.
But he also thought about what defenses could be lying in wait at a such a complex. Automated defense systems that wouldn't take kindly to this bunch of yahoos kicking down the doors of the stash to start looting. It turned the sickly sweet taste of the soda sour as he thought of it. As he eyeballed the rest of the assembled mercs, scratch that, he wasn't a merc, well not like some of these knifemen anyways, that if anyone could do it it was these guys. They had a couple of LAM pilot's for Christ sake.
He went back to sipping at the soda once again catching annoyed looks.
"Oops. Sorry."
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