The civilian crowd is being ushered to the emergency bunkers by the MPs present. It seems they're having a hard time of it, though - apparently a large portion of the civilians think this is either a stunt or an attempt to prevent them from watching the launch. The progress is, therefore, slow going.
Meanwhile, at the 1st Platoon hangar, Lt. Orwell begins preparations for the coming battle while waiting for his team to arrive. First to arrive is Petty Officer Gregorov who made double time from the ceremony grounds. His lungs burning, he changes into his flight suit quickly and surveys the mecha arrayed in the hangar.
Damned impressive. Let's see what the enemy's got, he thinks to himself as he makes his way from the flight deck to the briefing room.
Sergeant Mason arrives a few minutes later in a taxi, the driver looking harried from the trip which was made at extremely unsafe velocities.
Both men enter the briefing room at roughly the same time.
Orwell nods to his team in turn as they arrive while patting his gear down as if he were about to engage in familiar combat as opposed to piloting a mecha. With his laser rifle slung across his chest he begins painting his face with the camo-stick already in hand.
"Gentlemen, we have an unknown composition and amount of hostiles in orbit... and after that opening salvo from the Mjolnir we are likely their primary target", Orwell begins briefing while glancing at the satellite image on his tablet.
"Currently we are charged with defense of the northern sector. R.O.E. will be to repel any non-U.N. forces that enter our quadrant. I don't care if they're flying saucers or cold-war era MIGs; if it doesn't say U.N.-something on the side you blast that shit. We'll deploy in two teams; Mac and Trout are on Air Team while Dr. Frankenstein and I will be on the Ground Team. Air team, you guys will be receiving the brunt of this but I want you to focus on destroying troop carriers while any escort fighters will be your secondary targets... hopefully we can get some artillery support from the Mjolnir but don't count on it. I'll focus on anything that reaches the ground in the Thor while Frankenstein will provide cover in a Beowulf. If you get any of their escort fighters on your tails I will designate avenues in which he will be waiting to swat them off of you. Does anyone have any questions, comments, or alibis?" Orwell concludes his briefing genuinely interested whether his men have anything to add.
Gregorov's brows furrowed. "Uh, sir, do we have any intel as to what the difference between what an alien troop transport looks like and, I dunno, whatever it is they used to abduct people for anal probes?"
Orwell cracks a grin. "Beats the hell out of me Trout... an exceptionally large whatever it is they used to abduct people for anal probes? Likely full of aliens readily intent on anal probing? But seriously, we're playing this one by ear as of right now. Just use your own judgement; you're a transport pilot so I'll be relying on you to call them out so anything that seems like it's trying to ferry troops to the ground in your opinion is the best we've got right now... I've requested a Combat Coordinator to supply intel but have yet to hear back", Orwell explains jokingly before steering the conversation back to a serious note.
"Generally speaking, Trout, the troop carriers will be doing their best to land and/or drop ground troops, and the fighters will be doing their best to shoot us out of the sky", Macabee said with a small grin. "Sir," redirecting himself to Iacrus, "You mentioned remaining in fighter mode during engagement. Any chance we can try out the the other modes as well? I'm dying to see how the hybrid mode works out under actual combat conditions."
"My bad for not being clear, Mac, simply taxi out in fighter mode. I reiterate, once we get into combat do whatever you are comfortable with... If you feel like transforming that god damned thing into a vodka filled watermelon then so be it so long you shoot down as many of those bastards as possible", Orwell responds with a slight shrug of his shoulders, hands poised at his sides.
"Understood, sir." Mason turns to Trout, "Let's saddle up. There are some uninvited guests who need a lession in manners. DO NOT crash UN Spacy's parties!"
Gregorov chuckled and rolled his eyes. "So that's marine logic, eh? Do you have to figure out which burner on the stove is hot by putting your hand on it, too?"
With a mostly good-natured smirk, he turns back to Icarus "So we don't know whether the aliens look like some wierd blob of snot or if they're more like bad black-and-white flicks from the 20th century? Wonderful. And I thought recognizing people at my last family reunion was awkward."
With a bemused sigh, Gregorov grabbed his helmet and rose, pausing only to stare in incredulity at Icarus' suggestion that they transform their VFs into vodka-filled watermelons, "...they can do that, sir?" With a grin, he proceeded to head for the waiting fighters.
"Unfortunately I don't think they can... But I'm willing to bet at the end of the day we'll wish they could." Orwell let out with an exaggerated sigh, blending some more of the camo paint into his skin with the heel of his hand. He ran a hand through his longer than regulation hair then replaced his beret, covering it with a heavy duty pair of headphones with integrated comms and a microphone boom. With a last look around and grabbing a few last minute items including a long section of rappelling rope he followed his team to their waiting mecha.
As the team gets situated in their mecha, the radio crackles to life once more.
"*shhk* Fenris Three-Delta-One-Alpha, this is Ensign Noriko Fujikawa of Mjolnir Command. I'll be your coordinator for this sortie. Sorry, you'll be sharing me with most of the defense teams." The voice that comes over the radio is ephemerally beautiful; strong, but with a hint naivety that is just enough to be endearing.
"*shhk* Please link your combat control systems to frequency delta-niner-niner-foxtrot ... thank you. I see you'll be fielding a mixed combat group. Very well. I register two Valkyries and one Thor. Please make your way to your assigned positions, I'll alert you if there is any change in the situation."
The two Valkyries take to the air with ease, showcasing the grace becoming of their given name. Lt. Orwell's Thor makes it the designated location in under a minute.
The wait is almost unbearable. Several minutes pass with no updates. The only proof of the battle roiling in orbit are the brief flashes of light that indicate a loss of life to one side or the other; individual weapons fire is to faint to make out from the surface. The radio is only a source of depression as the Oberth destroyers, ARMD platforms, and orbital defense fighters telegraph the desperate battle.
"*shhk* Indigo-two, watch your six!"
"*shhk* Mayday, mayday, UNS Jericho is ... *sssssssss*"
"*shhk* This is UNS Arizona, all fighters regroup, repeat, all fighters regroup!"
"*shhk* Vermilion leader to Vermilion squadron, attack vector ... *ssssssss*"
"*shhk* Vermilion two assuming command of Vermilion squadron. Assume attack vector alpha-niner."
"*shhk* My god, there's so many of them! How can we hope to .... *ssssssss*"
Each time the radio cuts out in static, a new star is briefly born in the daytime sky, only to die in almost a sad homage to the lives just lost.
"*shhk* Fenris-three-delta-one-alpha, heads up! You've got incoming!" Ens. Fujikawa breaks into the silent reverie of the team.
As soon as she says "incoming", several large, almost egg shaped metal objects impact in the surrounding area.
This fact has not been lost on the remaining civilians, who promptly scream and panic in the worst way possible; they all run in opposite directions.
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At the moment Icarus is not sure what those things are (rolled a KNO check). Macabee and Trout are not currently aware of the drops beyond Fujikawa's alert.
Regarding Sasche - I'm leaving him out of the combat until Scott makes a post indicating what he'd like to do or gets back to me via email. Fortunately being a certified mad scientist gives me plenty of reasons for him to not be present.
A note on re-presenting what's been said in previous scenes: my goal is for this game to read as much like a novel as possible when viewing the blog. To that end, I reserve the right to edit your posts for clarity, grammar, and readability. Some specifics may be lost if it holds the overall narration together better. Don't take it personal, I just want the front page stuff to be shiny. That being said, dialog doesn't always follow proper grammar - I try to read the dialog and see if there's a vernacular to it that seems relevant (see Sasche's reply); if I trim something that you think is important to the way your character sounds to you, let me know. As always if there are questions shoot me an email.
Finally, do you prefer posts with dialog called out in color or the traditional novel format?
Orwell had been waiting for combat in a less than zen like state... muttering comfortable facts to clear his head. "Maximum effective range of an M16-A4 at a point target: five hundred and fifty meters. Maximum effective range of an M16-A4 rifle at an area target: eight hundred meters." He continued with a hand over the boom mic in fear he might be overheard, despite the fact his channel was closed.
ReplyDeleteMecha combat was an entirely new experience for Orwell, the moment he had entered his Thor he strapped in and tested the quick release function... three times in rapid succession until he was satisfied he could escape in a timely manner. Then in further irrational paranoia secured the rappelling rope to a bulkhead safely out of his view, the end of the rope coiled at his feet . Despite the warnings of mechanics and ground crew that guided him out of the hangar he had left his cockpit open to the air, much akin to a knight leaving his visor up to gain a better view of the battle around him. Some of the monitors adjusted with little hassle while others forced him to lean forward and crane his neck back to view their readouts... either way he'd make due.
"Maximum effective range of an M-4 Carbine..." He trailed off as he heard the screech of incoming projectiles. "Eyes out fellas, I have ground impacts. Maintain overwatch and keep hunting I'll scream if I need help." He informs over the radio before rapidly switching to Mjolnir control. "Noriko, this is Fenris Three-Delta-One-Alpha... I'm sorry may I call you Noriko?" Orwell begins falling easily into the feigned confidence he had lived his entire life by. "We are engaged, negative on visual over." He continues feeling a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth and allowing it to distort his face into the wicked smile he couldn't face in the mirror.
He pressed his Thor against the corner of a nearby building of at least equal height, angling the mech so the thickest part of his armor was between the impact sites and himself... as well as one of the particle beam cannons. He played the scenario out in his mind, shoot first, shoot second, and pirouette around the corner of the building into cover only to rush to the other side and repeat the procedure.
... or if nothing else shoulder the building over in a desperate attempt to reach cover he reminded himself, immediately realizing his agility on foot would not necessarily translate to piloting a multi-ton automaton.
((OOC) I've got no problem with your editing to streamline the scenes and I personally like the dialogue being colored.))
"*shhk* Fenris Three-Delta-One-Alpha, you may call me Noriko if it is more comfortable for you", she responds with a hint of a smile in her voice. "At present we have zero intel on the objects beyond their ballistic trajectory and the rough impact locations of three of them; grid squares 118156, 118111, and 118195." She pauses briefly before continuing, "We tracked at least five objects on descent but lost track of the others near impact."
DeleteOCC: Just curious, Steve, how large are these hexes?
DeleteOOC: It was in the email I sent out...
DeleteEach hex is supposed to represent 50 meters.
((OOC) By the way I'm not so concerned about it retroactively but if Icarus had read, seen, or heard anything about alien technology he has photographic memory (3))
Delete((OOC)... and failing that I just remembered Intuition as well.))
Delete(OOC: Not a problem. The reality is that outside of what was found in the SDF-1 there is little to no data on what the alien tech looks like. The current descriptions do not match anything mentioned in the data you've had access to).
Delete"This is Macabee, Tally-ho!," Mason checks his radar for the ground impacts and then visually scans the area for targets. "Ensign, I have no visual on those hostiles, can you help me out?" Without any clear targets, he checks that he has his wingman in sight. "Trout, do you have anything worth shooting at?" Continueing to scan the sky, Mason quickly considers tactics: stay in fighter mode, save hybrid as a surprise. Hopifully when the time comes that mode will be just like flying a Harrier with better agility.
ReplyDelete[(OCC): BTW, I'm fine with the way you are handling things]
Delete"*shhk* Impacts occurred roughly at grid squares 118156, 118111, and 118195", responds Ens. Fujikawa. "There were others, but we lost them on descent. They dropped just like debris, non-guided. We have no intel on what they might be."
Delete"Negative, Macabee," Gregorov says into his radio.
ReplyDelete"Combat control, have we got ground coordinates on the impacts, over."
Ensconced in the cockpit, Gregorov finds himself itching to gain altitude, but decides against making himself a more prominent target to any ground-based antiaircraft the enemy may have.
((OOC)) I think the different colored dialog works fine. Also, we should probably all stick with the same tense. I was writing in past tense, but now I'm doing it in present tense to match the main post.
Delete((OOC) ^Indeed, I meant to write past tense up until the end of the scene setting then switch over but kind of forgot to...)
Delete(OOC: I write the main post in present tense as the events are currently unfolding in game time. You guys can write whatever tense you are most comfortable with as long as it's consistent - I'll keep a better eye on tenses when recapping the previous scene)
Delete"Alright, Trout, let's hit hex 52.06 and see what trouble we can get in. Do you have my six, or should I take yours?" Mason checks his on-board inventory, accounting for every bullet and missile. From the sound of things in orbit, he suspects that he will need every single one.
DeleteThe good doctor is doing during this battle what all good mad scientists should be doing. He's working on a pesky leg actuator design and is completely oblivious to everything going on around him! As the Veritchs and impacts shake his lab, he slides out from underneath the lab bench, shrugs into his armor (stupid regs) and walks out onto the flight line,squinting into the bright sun. "Can't anyone get some work done here! WHY are you guys buzzing the tower?"
ReplyDeleteOCC: Scott, did your character say that over the radio, or just to himself?
Delete"Thanks for the update Noriko, I'm Icarus by the way." He chats back while punching the grid coordinates into his equipment and zooming in on the locations. "If you could divert us some aerial drones with live feeds we'd sure be grateful... I need to contact our hangar and see if we have any available, if so I'll have my guys link it in with your system. Notify Mjolnir gunnery crews to keep an eye out to the north impact site, I'll have my air team divert to the eastern impact site first then jog back up north, over." Icarus requested as his eyes darted back and forth between displays.
ReplyDeleteHe crept towards the western impact site, torso twisted to the side once again taking advantage of its thickest armor. The Thor's beam cannons were perpendicular to one another covering his forward and left arcs, pausing occasionally to check a corner with the camera mounted near the end of each cannon. He kept his back pressed as close to building walls as his amateur piloting made him comfortable with.
"Hey Doctor Sasche, I have a challenge if you are up to the task. I'd like you to try and find as many drones as you can in the hangar and get them airborne and linked in with Ensign Fujikawa's combat network. Hell you could duct take camera phones to Frisbees and every little bit would help over." He asked politely, assuming that any "Order" given to the Doctor would be immediately discarded as a terrible idea. Instead he hoped to appeal to the genius's pride in his capabilities.
"Trout, Mac. I think it would be a good idea if you guys hightailed it to the eastern site to repel the enemy first. they have a better angle with Mjolnirs weapons on the north and I don't like how the eastern site is near their flank and engines... Search and Destroy then head back north and hammer them as they are moving towards the Mjolnir; it's guns will likely catch them in that killzone provided by the main runway and hopefully give them reason for pause. I'm moving in on the western point. How copy?" Icarus suggested as the plan continued forming in his mind despite having to divide his attention tactical displays, the sights of his weapons and movement.
*You're overdoing it Brody, you're no good to them dead... yet.* A small voice in the back of his minds cautioned, causing him to shake himself out of his trance-like planning session and encouraging him to begin sweeping his sectors of fire more attentively as well as focus on smoothing out his Thor's shuddering steps into a more predatory gait.
((OOC) I'm writin' chapters!))
Delete"Copy that, Icarus," Gregorov says, nodding as he quickly scans the tactical display. "Looks like it's 60.17, Mac."
DeleteSearch and Destroy. Nice and simple. No friendly fire to worry about, no conflicting orders, just targets.
The VF banks as he directs it to the south. Man, what do they call this? Reac technology? Reflex technology? Who cares, I want one.
"Mac, you're technically higher rank, so I'll step face first into danger like a good airman."
Forcing down another dig at the UN marines with a small grin, he guns the accelerator.
*shhk* Icarus, Fujikawa. The Mjolnir has been ordered to avoid firing into the urban areas. Apparently top brass are concerned about property damage." The disgust is plainly evident in Ens. Fujikawa's voice.
Delete"That's not a problem at all, just tell them to keep an eye out and inform you of any enemy troop movements. This might just be a technicality but I don't think the runway counts as incredibly urban... take from that what you will." Icarus responds suddenly happy at the distraction as he gingerly crosses yet another intersection.
Delete"Copy that, Icarus, diverting to eastern impact. Trout, rank has nothing to do with it, so why don't you take my six, and let the Marines lead the way," Mason stops himself from continueing with: as we always have and always will. Now is not the time to restart old Corps-Navy rivalries. Mason banks the Veritech to the new course, thrilling to the mecha's response and power. It may have been based on the F-22, but no conventional fighter ever handled like this. It was almost like the craft was sensing what he was thinking, and responding to that.
ReplyDelete"Ensign Fujikawa, this is Macabee. I'm concerned about possible colateral at our target. What is the current disposition of any civilians at 60.17?"
"*shhk* Macabee, Fujikawa. The civilian presence in that area is light, although firm numbers aren't available. Be watchful."
Delete(OOC: Most of the civilians would have been in the southern quadrant, specifically the south eastern area as that's where the stage was.)
(OOC: Also, for the two of you in fighter craft - because of your speed you're basically going 15 hexes per hex side turned; it'll be a cumbersome routing to get to the eastern impact zone. Since you'll be operating in an urban environment, might I suggest the hybrid mode? You retain the element of air superiority against any ground targets but will be much more maneuverable.)
Delete((Duly noted))
DeleteWith slight irritation, Gregorov realizes that a supersonic jet is not the most ideal platform for fighting hostiles in an urban environment. The jet configuration of the VF1, though ideal for aerospace superiority and passable as a bomber, is completely unsuited for close range search-and-destroy.
DeleteOkay, in the urban simulations, closing ground quickly without overshooting was best handled by the.. uh.... Ground Effective Reconfigure- no, Reinforced ... Wing? Wings? Winged? Ah chto za huy. Guardian mode. So much for a clean dogfight.
Moving his hands across one of the levers, he just barely remembers to ease off on the acceleration from the Overtechnology Reaction power plant at the heart of the craft. With a shudder that he is still unaccustomed to, the VF's aft thrusters suddenly bend forward as the fuselage seems to sprout arms, resembling a bizarre bird of prey.
"Trout, switching to, ah, GERWALK mode for approach. Eyes peeled."
Icarus eases his Thor into a suitable spot of cover and turns to view the Veritech transformation for the first time. "Fuckin' A Trout, it looks like your bird has scoliosis!" He forces out a laugh over the radio before returning to his arduous pattern of clear area, move, and wait before repeating the process.
Delete"Damnit, I wanted to save this for a surprise!" Macabee growls into his comm. "Switching to guardian mode." With his wingman switching modes, he had no choice, as to remain in fighter mode would most likely split them up. Never leave your wingman. Besides, given the urban envirment, and the possibliblity of civilians in the area, the guardian mode allowed for more control and agility. Mac eased the trottle and settled the controls for the transformation sequence. As the Veritech sprouted limbs, it suddenly gained many of the characteristics of a helicopter. With the practiced hand of someone would had flown both Apaches and Harriers, Mac guided his mecha through the change into a VTOL. "Alright, Trout, if we are finished playing around, let's go hunting. We'll approach low over the terrain and see of we can catch the bastards napping. Ensign, do we have any movement from the impact zones yet?"
Delete((OOC) It just occurred to me that when I was a kid I got this toy mecha from a flea market or garage sale as that was where most of my toys came from as a child. It was an olive drab that was obviously sun-faded and no more than six inches tall... I know now that it was a Defender Mech that was missing the radar on top... It's just kind of crazy that I played with that thing my entire life not knowing what it was until now after having looked through the Robotech Mecha databases.))
ReplyDelete