(OOC thread here.)
Virtual advertisements flashed across interactive screens; companies and freelancers alike were offered currency and contracts. A bounty was to be won somewhere far away, on the life-harboring planet of Fraunus.
Little was known about that place, spare that it was far from greater civilization and served as the home to enigmatic aliens known as the Farrovii. It had three moons, long days and a massive variety of local flora dependent on its climate and annual cycles. From beyond the atmosphere, blue and green dominated its near-spherical surface.
The contract was simple, though the journey there would be long; converge on the impressive spacecraft known as the Battleship Pyrrhus and defend its crew as they operate in the world's atmosphere and on its surface. Interest in the objective was kept by means of distributing the first half of payment in segments for each registered contractor; once the objective was achieved the remainder would be dolled out, all in the currency the private contractor chose. The sum would easily make a loyal mercenary rich.
Some time later, as a small army amassed in the battleship, the Farrovii made their stance on the foreigners clear in the form of an ambush. Without time to draw plans the crew and mercenaries reacted violently, hatching a plan that unfurled so poorly it sent both the Pyrrhus and their foe's vessel careening into the atmosphere.
_
Alarms blared in even repitition throughout the vast body of the B.S. Pyrrhus as its shape was pulled through the mesosphere of Fraunus. Within its network of hallways, systems and living spaces masses of contractors and workers ran, most of which were bound for the hangar. Moments away from salvation in the shuttles one of the fighters tripped over an invisible shape, flying forward with a startled yelp and hitting the floor harshly. Others rushed past or over the fallen until that same invisible force pulled the man to his feet. He fumbled against it and cussed, rushing away as soon as he had balance.
When most crewman first saw the hangar they found it a bit easier to comprehend just how massive the battleship was. Even now, as its floor gathered a crowd of panicked inhabitants its ceiling hung far over their heads, almost out of reach of the room's lighting. Conveyor belts exchanged shuttles like clockwork while others departed the larger vessel in haste. There were enough for everybody-- or so the initial crew had claimed-- so no conflict sparked within the ranks just yet. There was an uncomfortable understanding that not everyone would escape in time, however.
The battleship shuddered as its body accelerated into the stratosphere. Despite claims to bravery boasted by those in the hangar, many screamed.The clumsy crewman was ushered by workers toward a shuttle but was blocked by a massive, armored alien. The thing lumbered into the shuttle, stretching so far in the craft to take up half the space. Those who were going to enter started arguing over who would have to wait but the fighter had no need to enter the discussion as he was unceremoniously pushed into the smaller spacecraft. Others climbed in rapidly until there was no more space and the shuttle was carried away to a launch pad.
Both it and another shuttle launched before localized gravity abandoned the room abruptly. A deafening roar of metal crashing filled the air as the bodies of mercenaries and workers left behind were sent flying. The lights shut out on impact, leaving the incident to play out in complete darkness, resolved shortly by even more metal pulling down on depressurized portions of the ship. The next few moments were spent by most in a tangle of destroyed shuttles, falling debris and other contractors.
Former crewmembers watched from safety in the troposphere as the battleship bent under the forces it built with its descent. It broke upon the cresting shape of a mountainside, sending a cloud of snow, dust and smoke into the air.
No longer than a minute later a second shape crashed into Fraunus with similar momentum, though its make was distinctly different. The Farrovii battlecruiser.
Though much of the mountain range was clear of artificial interference, many of its valleys were dotted by settlements dotted with undecorated, squat buildings. Even as the ships settled where they fell smaller ships emerged from some of these settlements toward the escape shuttles-- likely with less than favorable intent.
It would be precious little time before conflict arose again.
_
The once expansive room known as the hangar barely stood, its ceiling torn open to reveal intricate machinery, wiring and smaller chambers above. Riagan could faintly hear the sound of someone wailing and writhing in the ruin nearby. Wreckage clattered as those with better armor or improvised defenses sat and stood up. As for him, well, it would be another ten seconds before his armor unlocked. Lights-- most likely from personal headwear-- danced through the openings in the debris around him and a muttering duo closed in with the one who screamed. The shrill sound grew louder once the two were there before it cut off entirely.
The mercenary felt his form sink toward the ground as his armor released. Like the others, he pushed himself from the floor and fumbled to find his footing with a grunt. A focused light flickered over his figure, then left to scan the rest of the room. He ignored it and flipped through com channels in his helmet until finding the Pyrrhus' main channel. The signal fuzzed a moment and a voice broke through, never for longer than seconds at a time to inform those listening of the ship's status.
"...multiple breaches of the... in complete failure..." He waited.
"...Report to... immediately."
Great. Riagan decreased the channel's volume and looked around. It was time to move.
Virtual advertisements flashed across interactive screens; companies and freelancers alike were offered currency and contracts. A bounty was to be won somewhere far away, on the life-harboring planet of Fraunus.
Little was known about that place, spare that it was far from greater civilization and served as the home to enigmatic aliens known as the Farrovii. It had three moons, long days and a massive variety of local flora dependent on its climate and annual cycles. From beyond the atmosphere, blue and green dominated its near-spherical surface.
The contract was simple, though the journey there would be long; converge on the impressive spacecraft known as the Battleship Pyrrhus and defend its crew as they operate in the world's atmosphere and on its surface. Interest in the objective was kept by means of distributing the first half of payment in segments for each registered contractor; once the objective was achieved the remainder would be dolled out, all in the currency the private contractor chose. The sum would easily make a loyal mercenary rich.
Some time later, as a small army amassed in the battleship, the Farrovii made their stance on the foreigners clear in the form of an ambush. Without time to draw plans the crew and mercenaries reacted violently, hatching a plan that unfurled so poorly it sent both the Pyrrhus and their foe's vessel careening into the atmosphere.
_
Alarms blared in even repitition throughout the vast body of the B.S. Pyrrhus as its shape was pulled through the mesosphere of Fraunus. Within its network of hallways, systems and living spaces masses of contractors and workers ran, most of which were bound for the hangar. Moments away from salvation in the shuttles one of the fighters tripped over an invisible shape, flying forward with a startled yelp and hitting the floor harshly. Others rushed past or over the fallen until that same invisible force pulled the man to his feet. He fumbled against it and cussed, rushing away as soon as he had balance.
When most crewman first saw the hangar they found it a bit easier to comprehend just how massive the battleship was. Even now, as its floor gathered a crowd of panicked inhabitants its ceiling hung far over their heads, almost out of reach of the room's lighting. Conveyor belts exchanged shuttles like clockwork while others departed the larger vessel in haste. There were enough for everybody-- or so the initial crew had claimed-- so no conflict sparked within the ranks just yet. There was an uncomfortable understanding that not everyone would escape in time, however.
The battleship shuddered as its body accelerated into the stratosphere. Despite claims to bravery boasted by those in the hangar, many screamed.The clumsy crewman was ushered by workers toward a shuttle but was blocked by a massive, armored alien. The thing lumbered into the shuttle, stretching so far in the craft to take up half the space. Those who were going to enter started arguing over who would have to wait but the fighter had no need to enter the discussion as he was unceremoniously pushed into the smaller spacecraft. Others climbed in rapidly until there was no more space and the shuttle was carried away to a launch pad.
Both it and another shuttle launched before localized gravity abandoned the room abruptly. A deafening roar of metal crashing filled the air as the bodies of mercenaries and workers left behind were sent flying. The lights shut out on impact, leaving the incident to play out in complete darkness, resolved shortly by even more metal pulling down on depressurized portions of the ship. The next few moments were spent by most in a tangle of destroyed shuttles, falling debris and other contractors.
Former crewmembers watched from safety in the troposphere as the battleship bent under the forces it built with its descent. It broke upon the cresting shape of a mountainside, sending a cloud of snow, dust and smoke into the air.
No longer than a minute later a second shape crashed into Fraunus with similar momentum, though its make was distinctly different. The Farrovii battlecruiser.
Though much of the mountain range was clear of artificial interference, many of its valleys were dotted by settlements dotted with undecorated, squat buildings. Even as the ships settled where they fell smaller ships emerged from some of these settlements toward the escape shuttles-- likely with less than favorable intent.
It would be precious little time before conflict arose again.
_
The once expansive room known as the hangar barely stood, its ceiling torn open to reveal intricate machinery, wiring and smaller chambers above. Riagan could faintly hear the sound of someone wailing and writhing in the ruin nearby. Wreckage clattered as those with better armor or improvised defenses sat and stood up. As for him, well, it would be another ten seconds before his armor unlocked. Lights-- most likely from personal headwear-- danced through the openings in the debris around him and a muttering duo closed in with the one who screamed. The shrill sound grew louder once the two were there before it cut off entirely.
The mercenary felt his form sink toward the ground as his armor released. Like the others, he pushed himself from the floor and fumbled to find his footing with a grunt. A focused light flickered over his figure, then left to scan the rest of the room. He ignored it and flipped through com channels in his helmet until finding the Pyrrhus' main channel. The signal fuzzed a moment and a voice broke through, never for longer than seconds at a time to inform those listening of the ship's status.
"...multiple breaches of the... in complete failure..." He waited.
"...Report to... immediately."
Great. Riagan decreased the channel's volume and looked around. It was time to move.
He couldn't believe it. After so many godforsaken years enforcing the law in the Outer Crescent, with his respiratory condition deteriorating further, he needed something worthwhile. After even riding with Dwight Bann in his Sectoral Posse against the Harriers, he still craved more before his untimely yet expected premature death. The new expedition to Fraunus, naturally overjoyed him. Its supposed designated location was beyond the reaches of Confederate and Hispanian occupied space, further growing his excitement. He was going to die anyway, whether it'd take the next 10 years or even the next day, what was the use in waiting for that pale riding horseman? Naturally, he signed up for this expedition.
Despite the wailing of the sirens and the panicked screams of the crewmen, he remained as calm as a still sea. In fact, he was laughing. Having exited his sleeping quarters to the sonorous chime of the sirens, he made his way to the shuttles slowly, strutting with a sense superiority overhanging him. Still he laughed. His laughing turned a few heads as the crewmen scurried about the hallways for the shuttles. He looked as if he was in love. And in love he was, with Lady Death for she'd finally take him away in a marvelous display of fire and glory. To dust he came and to dust he would return. Well, to him it'd be nice if he survived. A shame if he did, but also a shame if he didn't. Oh well.
Once reaching the shuttles and noticing its less than absent qualities, he shrugged and went back to his room. His Pythiaplasm was going nuts. Damn, he completely forgot about that. He guessed it would be a damn shame to die with that feeling scratching at the back of your skull. Sighing, he took out a piece of Bubbletech and listened... The sound of the ship descending past the atmosphere roared into his ears. And just then, he activated the device, shielding him in a large bubble of energy. The ship's cacophonic descent prompted the reverend to stuff his fingers into his ears. Damn, it WAS loud. He held onto the device for dear life after seeing it slide away from him, subjecting him to the earsplitting roar of the ship's descent... He knew that if it fell out of his presence, he'd be sure as hell dead. He closed his eyes and sighed calmly...
He tumbled against the walls as the B.S. Pyrrhus was cut nearly in two by the might mountain. He had little idea what was going on and didn't care. Once the screeching sound of the ship's innards grinding against the monolith ceased, he opened his eyes. Putting his helmet back on, he climbed out of the rubble that was his room, to behold what was outside. He turned off the bubble shield, seeing that he was intact.
And then, his eyes widened at the sight of the mighty valley under the watchful gaze of the equally mighty mountain. He jumped from the rumble of his room and laughed hysterically. "Woo! Now that's what I'm talken' about!" The reverend caught sight of the cyborg mercenary not far from him. He crouched at the sunken fellow, studying his condition (albeit with just his eyes). He looked back up to see the vessels from the settlements emerge, darting towards them. He took out his peacemaker and nudged the cyborg with his shoulder. "You okay, brother?" The reverend inquired. "Best we make haste before those ships catch up on us."
***
Despite the wailing of the sirens and the panicked screams of the crewmen, he remained as calm as a still sea. In fact, he was laughing. Having exited his sleeping quarters to the sonorous chime of the sirens, he made his way to the shuttles slowly, strutting with a sense superiority overhanging him. Still he laughed. His laughing turned a few heads as the crewmen scurried about the hallways for the shuttles. He looked as if he was in love. And in love he was, with Lady Death for she'd finally take him away in a marvelous display of fire and glory. To dust he came and to dust he would return. Well, to him it'd be nice if he survived. A shame if he did, but also a shame if he didn't. Oh well.
Once reaching the shuttles and noticing its less than absent qualities, he shrugged and went back to his room. His Pythiaplasm was going nuts. Damn, he completely forgot about that. He guessed it would be a damn shame to die with that feeling scratching at the back of your skull. Sighing, he took out a piece of Bubbletech and listened... The sound of the ship descending past the atmosphere roared into his ears. And just then, he activated the device, shielding him in a large bubble of energy. The ship's cacophonic descent prompted the reverend to stuff his fingers into his ears. Damn, it WAS loud. He held onto the device for dear life after seeing it slide away from him, subjecting him to the earsplitting roar of the ship's descent... He knew that if it fell out of his presence, he'd be sure as hell dead. He closed his eyes and sighed calmly...
***
He tumbled against the walls as the B.S. Pyrrhus was cut nearly in two by the might mountain. He had little idea what was going on and didn't care. Once the screeching sound of the ship's innards grinding against the monolith ceased, he opened his eyes. Putting his helmet back on, he climbed out of the rubble that was his room, to behold what was outside. He turned off the bubble shield, seeing that he was intact.
And then, his eyes widened at the sight of the mighty valley under the watchful gaze of the equally mighty mountain. He jumped from the rumble of his room and laughed hysterically. "Woo! Now that's what I'm talken' about!" The reverend caught sight of the cyborg mercenary not far from him. He crouched at the sunken fellow, studying his condition (albeit with just his eyes). He looked back up to see the vessels from the settlements emerge, darting towards them. He took out his peacemaker and nudged the cyborg with his shoulder. "You okay, brother?" The reverend inquired. "Best we make haste before those ships catch up on us."
"A simple combat support contract. That's all it was suppose to be. Give support to the ships crew, collect the fee and retire. How in the world did it end up like this?" Suki thought to herself as she rocketed towards the hangar bay while pulling on her leathers. Arriving inside the hangar she bypasses the groups attempting to board shuttles, making a B-line towards the corner where her bike sat. Climbing onto her bike she straps herself in before moving to put her helmet on. As she was reaching to latch her helmet, the hangars gravity cut followed by the horrible roar of tearing metal. The last thing Suki saw was the body of one of the crew members coming her way before everything was replaced with darkness.
The wailing was what awoke her, it was faint and sounded like it echoed before it stopped suddenly. Fully coming to, she began taking stock of the situation and herself, realizing that she was still strapped in her machine on the hangar deck. Her helmet was gone and she could feel blood running down her right cheek. Despite the ordeal she had just endured nothing of importance was injured, though from the way her body throbbed, Suki knew she would be black and blue for some time. Satisfied that she was not dead or terribly injured, Suki blindly thumbs on the lights of her bike so as to inspect it. Besides many new scrapes and dents in the armor and thruster mounts only a few things brought any real concern. It looked like the power plant had taken some fairly nasty impacts. A quick diagnostic check showed there might be some damage internally, but that the bike should be flight worthy.
Wasting little time, Suki hits the emergency docking release. With a bang the clamps that had kept her bike, and herself, from being smeared against the hanger wall released. Jabbing the ignition button on her dashboard, Suki expects her bike to fire right up. What followed sounded like a shotgun going off, rapidly followed by a second one before being replaced by the low whine of the power plant spooling up....only to have it begin spooling back down. Cursing, Suki twice more hits the ignition button only to achieve the same results. "Come on. Start already. You've flown with worse damage! We need to get out of here!" Suki bellowed at the machine in frustration. So focused was she on launching that she failed to take note of anything or anyone else near by that would hear her outburst.
The wailing was what awoke her, it was faint and sounded like it echoed before it stopped suddenly. Fully coming to, she began taking stock of the situation and herself, realizing that she was still strapped in her machine on the hangar deck. Her helmet was gone and she could feel blood running down her right cheek. Despite the ordeal she had just endured nothing of importance was injured, though from the way her body throbbed, Suki knew she would be black and blue for some time. Satisfied that she was not dead or terribly injured, Suki blindly thumbs on the lights of her bike so as to inspect it. Besides many new scrapes and dents in the armor and thruster mounts only a few things brought any real concern. It looked like the power plant had taken some fairly nasty impacts. A quick diagnostic check showed there might be some damage internally, but that the bike should be flight worthy.
Wasting little time, Suki hits the emergency docking release. With a bang the clamps that had kept her bike, and herself, from being smeared against the hanger wall released. Jabbing the ignition button on her dashboard, Suki expects her bike to fire right up. What followed sounded like a shotgun going off, rapidly followed by a second one before being replaced by the low whine of the power plant spooling up....only to have it begin spooling back down. Cursing, Suki twice more hits the ignition button only to achieve the same results. "Come on. Start already. You've flown with worse damage! We need to get out of here!" Suki bellowed at the machine in frustration. So focused was she on launching that she failed to take note of anything or anyone else near by that would hear her outburst.
Somewhere within the layers of armor the cyborg wore Riagan could hear a whirring noise, followed by a low clatter. He sighed and looked up at the reverend when addressed, nodding and securing some balance on the wreckage. "Dirty," He replied to the inquiry. He nodded again when the other man mentioned the ships; undoubtedly there would be swarms of Farrovii upon them in minutes.
"Got a plan?" he asked as he manipulated the delicate interface on the interior of his helmet. He cast about, searching for his own personal spacecraft (one of many which previously sat safely in the hangar) but found the ruin of the ship too confusing to identify it. Already small groups of similarly clad groups gathered together, likely belonging to the same company, yet nobody seemed willing to give orders to anyone but their own. One such group started digging at the edges of a hardy shuttle that survived the crash. Others despaired at the wreckage of their own, chattering about alternative options in light of it. Nearby he heard the revving of a failing engine belonging to a small vehicle. He glanced in its direction to see the woman struggling with her hoverbike.
One of the escape shuttles stalled in the air over the opening in the ship's ceiling, beginning its descent into the belly of the ruined battleship (careful not to crush what it could see of fallen crewmen.)
Somewhere beyond the ruin, unfamiliar anti-aircraft weapons spat concentrated fire into the sky; the sound reached them as a muffled patter.
"Got a plan?" he asked as he manipulated the delicate interface on the interior of his helmet. He cast about, searching for his own personal spacecraft (one of many which previously sat safely in the hangar) but found the ruin of the ship too confusing to identify it. Already small groups of similarly clad groups gathered together, likely belonging to the same company, yet nobody seemed willing to give orders to anyone but their own. One such group started digging at the edges of a hardy shuttle that survived the crash. Others despaired at the wreckage of their own, chattering about alternative options in light of it. Nearby he heard the revving of a failing engine belonging to a small vehicle. He glanced in its direction to see the woman struggling with her hoverbike.
One of the escape shuttles stalled in the air over the opening in the ship's ceiling, beginning its descent into the belly of the ruined battleship (careful not to crush what it could see of fallen crewmen.)
Somewhere beyond the ruin, unfamiliar anti-aircraft weapons spat concentrated fire into the sky; the sound reached them as a muffled patter.
Dirty? He wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but he'll take it as positive. He stood up and offered a hand to the cyborg mercenary. The Farrovii fighters closing in on them filled him with a sense of excitement once again. Oh the fun he'd have here! He looked around to further identify the wreckage of the ship; no way is this sumbitch getting repaired any time soon. He'd at least hope by the time he would die here that people back home would remember him. Regardless, he'd be dying a glorious death, a 'warrior's death' as some ancient Apache medicine men would put it.
Once inquired about a plan (as per usual) he was dumbfounded. He laughed. "My plan is to shoot every alien sumbitch that closes in on us." He pulled the hammer of his peacemaker. "Yer free to run if you must though. Dunno if I'd follow suit."
He was too preoccupied with his adrenaline high to catch ear-shot of the revving engine. Once he had, he looked in its direction. Shaking his head, he laughed once again. "Oy! Missy! Where ye think ye'd be going after ye get that piece workin'?"
Once inquired about a plan (as per usual) he was dumbfounded. He laughed. "My plan is to shoot every alien sumbitch that closes in on us." He pulled the hammer of his peacemaker. "Yer free to run if you must though. Dunno if I'd follow suit."
He was too preoccupied with his adrenaline high to catch ear-shot of the revving engine. Once he had, he looked in its direction. Shaking his head, he laughed once again. "Oy! Missy! Where ye think ye'd be going after ye get that piece workin'?"
Brink cursed softly underbreath as she suppressed yet another wave of impatience. The journey to the B.S. Pyrrhus had taken MUCH longer than she had anticipated. Navigation systems beeped at her as she finished going through the last of the communication procedures, finally arriving at the intended destination. Her annoyance at how long initial docking procedures, spacecraft docking assignment, and checking in with command actually took was only skin deep. In reality she knew all precautions and extra measures taken were for good reason, usually.
The white ferret like animal curled along her shoulder meeped as if in questioning reaponse to her initial mutterings, and she consoled its echoing agitation with a flick of her mind through their cybernetic connection. Miko settled down again, watching the immense doors close behind her personal fighter craft as it cruised slowly to its assigned space within the hangar of the B.S Pyrrhus.
Her small but sleek ship, the Argonaut finally gave one last sigh as she finished shutting down its engines and unclasped her harness. The wires of her flight suit which automatically connected to the ship released as they recognized the power-down, releasing her from her seat and allowing freer movement within the cockpit. Before she opened the door, she glanced out into the vast hangar, her eyes going a bit wide as she took it in. She also glanced over the many bodies scurrying about, no doubt doing some job or other, none of her business really, yet she liked to take the first measure of things before she herself could be much scrutinized, feeling it gave her a head start, albeit a small one.
Knowing she had arrived on the scene much later than expected due to her miscalculation of the time it would take her to escape the crime riddled city of Stalus, she figured she'd better go present herself to command soon. Stalus, an outer-rim city of a lesser planet, had been her last stopover where she'd fueled up and visited a 'fly by' pub for a meal. Who knew when her next good grub would come?
Just as she reached for the button to engage her ship's hatch, the comm in her headset blared with frantic voices, and an alarm rang out sharp and cutting. Miko gave a pained yowl and Brink winced as well, partially because she was habitually connected to Miko's senses, which were much better than her own.
The events which unfolded with rapid succession after the initial alarm, gave Brink only enough time to power her ship back on and allow her flight suit to reconnect to the Argonaut. The quick action no doubt saved her life, as the ship's own air supply and gravity kept her firmly in place, even as the ship itself was hurtled around the failing, falling ship. Trying to keep the movement under control, there still wasn't enough space for Brink to maneuver back out of the hangar as debris and other ships floated through the gravity free hangar, ownerless. Several of these careened into her own ship, causing alarms of her own to blare and the ship to lurch.
Her breath held for a long moment, Brink tried to keep her ship out of the way of the largest things, yet didn't see the vessel which was flung from the B.S Pyrrhus' impact on Fraunus in time to avoid its collision. The larger vessel pinned her own against the side of the hangar, where soon other equipment also got hung up, further hindering her ship's escape.
As alarms from both her own ship and the B.S Pyrrhus wailed in her ears, Brink cursed again, keeping herself from the panic which threatened to close her throat. She wasn't prone to such indulgence, not anymore. Finally deciding there was no way for her to get her ship free, barring firing her weapons within the hangar to destroy some of what pinned her, possibly harming crewmen in the process, Brink once again began procedure to shut down her ship.
After grabbing her arrows and slinging them on her back, Brink exited through the small space in her hatch, which she was able to pry open. With Miko's claws digging into her shoulder, Brink surveyed the distance to the ground, then allowed her frame to drop the 15 or so odd feet, landing softly with knees bent. Her ship was suspended atop the other vessel, which she could now see had pinned the back portion, causing the immobility of the Argonaut. Frowning, Brink pulled off her stifling, alarm blaring headset, and allowed her messy blond braid to fall over her shoulder, her pale blue hues sweeping the rest of the damage she could see.
Finally, a sigh pulling from her lips, Brink turned to scan the hangar, seeing several others immediately, one seemed to be an armored cyborg, another a humanoid figure, and a third, judging by the ouburst, a humanoid woman. Perhaps she could find out more about the dangerous circumstances she'd arrived into.
Making a quick decision, she commanded Miko to stay near her ship to keep an eye on it, and proceeded to walk toward the two figures she'd first caught sight of. As she moved toward them her gaze caught the ships outside the wreckage, and the smattering of fire already beginning as they closed it. Her pace quickened, knowing time was short.
"Do either of you know what the blazes is going on?" She asked as she arrived at the other's location, forgoing pleasantries in the face of.. well... imminent death. "I arrived a bit late, just in time to enjoy the most recent events actually, comms weren't communicating any helpful information." Scanning the two a bit more closely, Brink waited for their response, her own face dusty and messy, but otherwise unscathed, thanks to her ship.
The white ferret like animal curled along her shoulder meeped as if in questioning reaponse to her initial mutterings, and she consoled its echoing agitation with a flick of her mind through their cybernetic connection. Miko settled down again, watching the immense doors close behind her personal fighter craft as it cruised slowly to its assigned space within the hangar of the B.S Pyrrhus.
Her small but sleek ship, the Argonaut finally gave one last sigh as she finished shutting down its engines and unclasped her harness. The wires of her flight suit which automatically connected to the ship released as they recognized the power-down, releasing her from her seat and allowing freer movement within the cockpit. Before she opened the door, she glanced out into the vast hangar, her eyes going a bit wide as she took it in. She also glanced over the many bodies scurrying about, no doubt doing some job or other, none of her business really, yet she liked to take the first measure of things before she herself could be much scrutinized, feeling it gave her a head start, albeit a small one.
Knowing she had arrived on the scene much later than expected due to her miscalculation of the time it would take her to escape the crime riddled city of Stalus, she figured she'd better go present herself to command soon. Stalus, an outer-rim city of a lesser planet, had been her last stopover where she'd fueled up and visited a 'fly by' pub for a meal. Who knew when her next good grub would come?
Just as she reached for the button to engage her ship's hatch, the comm in her headset blared with frantic voices, and an alarm rang out sharp and cutting. Miko gave a pained yowl and Brink winced as well, partially because she was habitually connected to Miko's senses, which were much better than her own.
The events which unfolded with rapid succession after the initial alarm, gave Brink only enough time to power her ship back on and allow her flight suit to reconnect to the Argonaut. The quick action no doubt saved her life, as the ship's own air supply and gravity kept her firmly in place, even as the ship itself was hurtled around the failing, falling ship. Trying to keep the movement under control, there still wasn't enough space for Brink to maneuver back out of the hangar as debris and other ships floated through the gravity free hangar, ownerless. Several of these careened into her own ship, causing alarms of her own to blare and the ship to lurch.
Her breath held for a long moment, Brink tried to keep her ship out of the way of the largest things, yet didn't see the vessel which was flung from the B.S Pyrrhus' impact on Fraunus in time to avoid its collision. The larger vessel pinned her own against the side of the hangar, where soon other equipment also got hung up, further hindering her ship's escape.
As alarms from both her own ship and the B.S Pyrrhus wailed in her ears, Brink cursed again, keeping herself from the panic which threatened to close her throat. She wasn't prone to such indulgence, not anymore. Finally deciding there was no way for her to get her ship free, barring firing her weapons within the hangar to destroy some of what pinned her, possibly harming crewmen in the process, Brink once again began procedure to shut down her ship.
After grabbing her arrows and slinging them on her back, Brink exited through the small space in her hatch, which she was able to pry open. With Miko's claws digging into her shoulder, Brink surveyed the distance to the ground, then allowed her frame to drop the 15 or so odd feet, landing softly with knees bent. Her ship was suspended atop the other vessel, which she could now see had pinned the back portion, causing the immobility of the Argonaut. Frowning, Brink pulled off her stifling, alarm blaring headset, and allowed her messy blond braid to fall over her shoulder, her pale blue hues sweeping the rest of the damage she could see.
Finally, a sigh pulling from her lips, Brink turned to scan the hangar, seeing several others immediately, one seemed to be an armored cyborg, another a humanoid figure, and a third, judging by the ouburst, a humanoid woman. Perhaps she could find out more about the dangerous circumstances she'd arrived into.
Making a quick decision, she commanded Miko to stay near her ship to keep an eye on it, and proceeded to walk toward the two figures she'd first caught sight of. As she moved toward them her gaze caught the ships outside the wreckage, and the smattering of fire already beginning as they closed it. Her pace quickened, knowing time was short.
"Do either of you know what the blazes is going on?" She asked as she arrived at the other's location, forgoing pleasantries in the face of.. well... imminent death. "I arrived a bit late, just in time to enjoy the most recent events actually, comms weren't communicating any helpful information." Scanning the two a bit more closely, Brink waited for their response, her own face dusty and messy, but otherwise unscathed, thanks to her ship.
Still cursing her machine, Suki had given up on a immediate start. Instead she had begun to tear into it's damaged side to personally inspect the internals. When she heard someone yelling, she already had her right arm and head completely inside the compartment. Removing her head from inside she stares at the source of the voice. While it was unlikely any of the three could see her twisted facial expression due to the darkness and distance, her harsh tone carried the evidence to anyone within earshot that she was an incredibly angry woman "Where else? I'm going to fight. My bike might be the only armed air vehicle left."
Looking up at the sound of the shuttle descending into the remains of the hangar bay, Suki buries her head once more into her bike attempting to correct whatever problem was keeping it from starting. After another several moments, she pulls herself free and yells across the hangar, her tone coming across not quite as angry "Someone come give me a hand...and bring a flashlight. I think found the problem."
Looking up at the sound of the shuttle descending into the remains of the hangar bay, Suki buries her head once more into her bike attempting to correct whatever problem was keeping it from starting. After another several moments, she pulls herself free and yells across the hangar, her tone coming across not quite as angry "Someone come give me a hand...and bring a flashlight. I think found the problem."
He smiled beneath his helmet. "Now that's what I'm talken' about!" He yelled in response to her proposition to fight. "And ah thought ye'd be bailin' out on us! Good on ya, missy!" He couldn't tell from a distance on her exact features; all he knew was that the figure was female.
His head turned to the newcomer. A cute one, it seemed. It'd be hard to discern what the reverend looked like due to his helmet (facially, at least) but he certainly embodied that New Hispanian look; a red poncho with jeans and cowboy boots and hat. His helmet scanned the newcomer through its T Visor. "What's going on in is that we were nearly blown to Hell..." He laughed, shaking his head. "Well... in my case, to Heaven, but you get the idea." His helmet's diagnostics focused in on the incoming Farrovii vessels. Looked they were running out of time. He giggled, before dismissing the focus and turning back to the newcomer. He noticed the quiver she was carrying. "Can those arrows do yah any good, child?"
His head turned to the newcomer. A cute one, it seemed. It'd be hard to discern what the reverend looked like due to his helmet (facially, at least) but he certainly embodied that New Hispanian look; a red poncho with jeans and cowboy boots and hat. His helmet scanned the newcomer through its T Visor. "What's going on in is that we were nearly blown to Hell..." He laughed, shaking his head. "Well... in my case, to Heaven, but you get the idea." His helmet's diagnostics focused in on the incoming Farrovii vessels. Looked they were running out of time. He giggled, before dismissing the focus and turning back to the newcomer. He noticed the quiver she was carrying. "Can those arrows do yah any good, child?"
Brink's gaze moved from her study of both figures, to center more fully on the one who spoke. He, for his voice seemed masculine, was an interesting character indeed, though her face betrayed very little of her interest. Taking in his outfit, she tried to recall if she'd ever come across anyone else who seemed similar in dress, which might give her a reference to where this man came from. Her mind drew a blank however and she mentally shrugged. Perhaps if she didn't die, there would be more time to dig up information later. For now, she allowed her right eyebrow to raise, her pale blues sharpening at the use of the term 'child'. There were several factors that might cause a person to use such a term. Perhaps he was old, which she couldn't rightly dicern due to his helmet, or perhaps his religion caused such a term to be natural to him, or, perhaps he looked down on her already. In any case, Brink chose not to take offense and made no comment on the word choice.
Flicking her gaze over her shoulder at her arrows, which gleamed slightly, the metal they were made of obviously razor sharp and very sturdy. "I suppose that remains to be seen." She said, voice lingering on the soft side, though a bit of amusement laced the words. "But I wouldn't carry them, if I didn't know their proper use, I assure you." Perhaps the man had asked his question because he saw no visible bow to accompany the arrows. Well... she would let him wonder on that. It wasn't her current concern to enlighten him on her equipment.
Finally, her gaze moved to the woman who seemed to be having a conversation at a distance with the space cowboy, while trying to fix her own craft. Brink didn't offer her help. She had her own craft to fix and free, and she wasn't the most adept at mechanical things in the first place. In fact, she had hoped to garner her own help. Better to not get in the woman's way than try to help and be a nuisance.
The continuing firefight just outside the wrecked hangar drew Brinks attention again, and she noted the fighters were drawing closer. She wondered about the races that inhabited Fraunus, and whether they were easily overcome in a fight. How advanced was their tech? How prone to war were they, or did they prefer peace? In her experience, too few chose the option of peace, preferring the more satisfying and fast paced option of jumping into a fight. She wasn't one to back down from her share of scuffles, but... she had tried to stay away from such politics as much as possible. She only took the job because her funds were dangerously low, and both she and Miko had been going stir crazy with a lack of business.
Flicking her gaze over her shoulder at her arrows, which gleamed slightly, the metal they were made of obviously razor sharp and very sturdy. "I suppose that remains to be seen." She said, voice lingering on the soft side, though a bit of amusement laced the words. "But I wouldn't carry them, if I didn't know their proper use, I assure you." Perhaps the man had asked his question because he saw no visible bow to accompany the arrows. Well... she would let him wonder on that. It wasn't her current concern to enlighten him on her equipment.
Finally, her gaze moved to the woman who seemed to be having a conversation at a distance with the space cowboy, while trying to fix her own craft. Brink didn't offer her help. She had her own craft to fix and free, and she wasn't the most adept at mechanical things in the first place. In fact, she had hoped to garner her own help. Better to not get in the woman's way than try to help and be a nuisance.
The continuing firefight just outside the wrecked hangar drew Brinks attention again, and she noted the fighters were drawing closer. She wondered about the races that inhabited Fraunus, and whether they were easily overcome in a fight. How advanced was their tech? How prone to war were they, or did they prefer peace? In her experience, too few chose the option of peace, preferring the more satisfying and fast paced option of jumping into a fight. She wasn't one to back down from her share of scuffles, but... she had tried to stay away from such politics as much as possible. She only took the job because her funds were dangerously low, and both she and Miko had been going stir crazy with a lack of business.
Riagain didn't interject in the conversation that the reverend shared with the two women; his eyes turned upward, toward the vessel attempting to dock in the shell of the B.S. Pyrrhus. At closer inspection it certainly seemed similar to the escape shuttles used by the mercenaries moments before but it bore modifications; it was somewhat smaller and sported defensive turrets on its port and starboard. Mechanical limbs stretched from within th belly of the vessel as it landed; a minute afterwards, a figure in bright red combat gear emerged from within. Two others followed him out but he stuck out due to a purposefully decorative visor and mask; it looked like the image of a stylized cat, parting its maw in an open-mouthed smile. His voice was anything but jubilant. "Come on! If you can move, get in!"
Multiple groups started to approach the shuttle; too many to be taken all at once. Were they planning on coming back? "Looks like they're all ready to die, too." The cyborg quipped. "Might have a rendezvous point." If only he could get his comm to work. Despite his desire to leave with the well-equipped shuttle being loaded with mercenaries the cyborg took his chances approaching Suki. He was not a particularly skilled technician but between living a synthetic life and managing his own hardware, perhaps he could help fix something. Not like there's any point. I gotta fish my ship out of this dump afterwards.
Multiple groups started to approach the shuttle; too many to be taken all at once. Were they planning on coming back? "Looks like they're all ready to die, too." The cyborg quipped. "Might have a rendezvous point." If only he could get his comm to work. Despite his desire to leave with the well-equipped shuttle being loaded with mercenaries the cyborg took his chances approaching Suki. He was not a particularly skilled technician but between living a synthetic life and managing his own hardware, perhaps he could help fix something. Not like there's any point. I gotta fish my ship out of this dump afterwards.
The reverend opened up the loading gate and thumbed out all five shots of his peacemaker. He then reached into his pocket hidden beneath his poncho and loaded five shots worth of Conductor Rounds (colloquially referred to as 'Imp' rounds after so many people began pronouncing it that way as opposed to 'emp') in preparation for combat against any mechanised adversaries. Hell, it'd at least be more effective against mechanised transport or starfighters compared to some measly arrows. He closed the loading gate and spun the cylinder, then the gun itself. "Well, child, these 'ere poppers will certainly do us good. Let's just hope our dear cyborg friend don't get in the way." He indicated to Riagan, unbeknownst of the newcomer's cybernetic relation.
His Pythiaplasm was once again going nuts in his head. Like a wild animal trapped in a cage, clawing at and shaking at its imprisonment. He moved his free hand to his head and placed his gloved palm on his visor, bending down. Great, it was giving him a headache now. Well, at least it was a headache he couldn't be blamed for, especially if he were to drink a gallon of whiskey before this. He stood straight once again once he managed to control it, taming that sonorous beast. Sometimes he really hated that damn feeling. Would always make dying a pain in the ever-loving ass.
The reverend's eyes suddenly darted upwards along with Riagan's. He then looked to the fixer woman, then back to the vessel. His eyes caught the cat-helmeted fellow and chuckled. Almost as goofy looking as I am. He thought to himself. He rolled his eyes as the mercenaries poured in; the notion of being blown to Hell (or Heaven, in his case) in some cramped in cell of a transport full of pissy-ass yellow bellies was certainly not an appealing concept to him. Just imagine how much unneeded blood would cover him by the time his body (or what was left of it) rag dolled out of the sky? No thank you.
He looked to the newcomer. "Well, that," He motioned his head to the vessel, "ain't happenin' darlin'. Ye obviously arrived by different means, so ah suggest ye employ that as best you can. Either way, ah'm goin' with dear cyborg feller and fixer." He tipped the brim of his hat to her as if to say 'adios', then tailed alongside Riagan.
His Pythiaplasm was once again going nuts in his head. Like a wild animal trapped in a cage, clawing at and shaking at its imprisonment. He moved his free hand to his head and placed his gloved palm on his visor, bending down. Great, it was giving him a headache now. Well, at least it was a headache he couldn't be blamed for, especially if he were to drink a gallon of whiskey before this. He stood straight once again once he managed to control it, taming that sonorous beast. Sometimes he really hated that damn feeling. Would always make dying a pain in the ever-loving ass.
The reverend's eyes suddenly darted upwards along with Riagan's. He then looked to the fixer woman, then back to the vessel. His eyes caught the cat-helmeted fellow and chuckled. Almost as goofy looking as I am. He thought to himself. He rolled his eyes as the mercenaries poured in; the notion of being blown to Hell (or Heaven, in his case) in some cramped in cell of a transport full of pissy-ass yellow bellies was certainly not an appealing concept to him. Just imagine how much unneeded blood would cover him by the time his body (or what was left of it) rag dolled out of the sky? No thank you.
He looked to the newcomer. "Well, that," He motioned his head to the vessel, "ain't happenin' darlin'. Ye obviously arrived by different means, so ah suggest ye employ that as best you can. Either way, ah'm goin' with dear cyborg feller and fixer." He tipped the brim of his hat to her as if to say 'adios', then tailed alongside Riagan.
Watching the various crash survivors attempt to board the shuttle, Suki leans against her bike to take a moments rest. She could not properly fix what she believed to be broken inside of her bike, it was simply too dark inside of it to really see. With her helmet knocked off of her during the crash, she had no flashlight or other means of illumination. As much as she hated to to even think of it, she was tempted to leave her bike and get on the shuttle.
Suki was still on this train of thought when she notices the cowboy and another of his group approaching. She hadn't bothered responding to the man. She had answered truthfully and despite feeling anger at his comments, did not feel the need to respond to his thoughts on her running from the fight. Looking towards the approaching figures Suki couldn't tell if the cowboys partner was either armored or had extreme cybernetics. She honestly found the sight of the two somewhat absurd, but considering it was a gathering a mercs it was not uncommon to find such strange sights.
Waving in greetings she thumbs at her bike with a sour expression, though her tone was no long one of anger "Thank you. I suppose you have a light or can see in the dark? I think I know what the problem is...but I can't see well enough to really be sure or to fix it. If you have a light that's great. Otherwise...well I'll just have to try and walk you through it....and hope nothing explodes. Should be fun."
Suki was still on this train of thought when she notices the cowboy and another of his group approaching. She hadn't bothered responding to the man. She had answered truthfully and despite feeling anger at his comments, did not feel the need to respond to his thoughts on her running from the fight. Looking towards the approaching figures Suki couldn't tell if the cowboys partner was either armored or had extreme cybernetics. She honestly found the sight of the two somewhat absurd, but considering it was a gathering a mercs it was not uncommon to find such strange sights.
Waving in greetings she thumbs at her bike with a sour expression, though her tone was no long one of anger "Thank you. I suppose you have a light or can see in the dark? I think I know what the problem is...but I can't see well enough to really be sure or to fix it. If you have a light that's great. Otherwise...well I'll just have to try and walk you through it....and hope nothing explodes. Should be fun."
Brink turned her own gaze quickly to the shuttle as it docked, watching as swarms of mercenaries and crewmen attempted to board. She studied the red armored man, her eyebrows lowering just slightly as her lips turned down in a soft frown of contempation. People were so quick to trust... at the slightest word from the man in red they put their lives in his hands and fled to his shuttle. Was he on her side? Or was he one of the enemy? Certainly his ship resembled the B.S. Pyrrhus' shuttles, but that didn't mean anything, really.
Making the decision to roust her own space craft free if she could, taking her chances, she looked to the space cowboy as he loaded the new bullets into his gun, her lips suddenly sparking with a smile. Yes, those would offer some fun for sure. If she could have read the man's mind she might have laughed that he thought her arrows were the simple weapons they appeared to be. Sure, the warlord who'd given them to her had said the bow and arrow was a timeless weapon, but really? She'd made some... upgrades... as soon as she'd gotten free of the man.
Giving a quick nod in response to the last words from the space cowboy she watched him join the others who tried to fix the space bike. While she did wonder how many could fit in the machine, she turned to quickly make her way back toward the Argonaut a mental flicker from Miko telling her that the ship hadn't moved since she'd left it.
With hangar now much more empty, as so many people tried to pile into the shuttle Brink decided to take a chance with blowing her ship free of the danged craft that pinned it. If she could get it free, she thought perhaps it would run well enough to get off this infernal wreck before needing its own repairs. As her targets for help had become occupied elsewhere, she didn't see many other options.
Standing just below her ship, Brink unclipped a mechanical cylinder from her belt, intricate workings etched into it where it had obviously been gripped many times before, the metal smoother now than when it had been crafted. With a flick of her wrist, the bow released from the cylinder, its parts whirring quickly as it elongated and put itself together to form a near seamless longbow. Simultaneously, Brink reached behind to grasp one of her arrows, a red band encircling the shaft marking it for the one she wanted. The tip, blunter than the others, needn't peirce anything to do its job.
Taking a moment to calculate the exact spot Brink thought she'd need to send the explosive to free her ship without damaging it much more, she then lifted her bow, fluidly notching the arrow on the mechanized yet sleek string and took aim. Inhaling a habitual breath she held it, then fired. Watching the arrow strike the offending ship, blink once, then explode.
The portion of the ship directly in contact with the explosive rocked violently, creating a metal on metal screeching as her own ship rocked as well. For a moment Brink thought her aim had been off, that her ship was still pinned, but then it slowly dipped down to the side, falling the last fifteen feet with yet another crash, tremors moving up Brink's legs at the impact. The result was at least what she'd hoped, and she hadn't had to resort to using her ships own weapons, which would have wreaked far more damage on the other craft.
Signalling Miko with her mind, she jogged to her ship and engaged the hatch, which grumbled as it opened, yet aquiesced all the same. Well at least that works.... thought Brink as she stowed her bow once more and slipped inside. A small flash of white and black shifted nearby and Miko was soon upon her shoulder. Seating herself at the controls, Brink to took a deep breath, wishing she still believed in providence, or even luck, and initiated the startup sequence, hoping the damage wasn't too great. A shudder went through the Argonaut and she patted the dash affectionately. "Come on boy, you can do it. Give me a bit of love, just till I can tend to you." The murmered words seemed to have the desired effect and Brink grinned, pale blue eyes gleaming as she checked over the systems. Her shields were malfunctioning, as well one of her laser turrets, yet the flight capability seemed to be working, if begrudgingly.
Ship ready now, Brink thought about immediately following the shuttle, knowing there was a better chance of surviving with others to back her up, if the shuttle would do so. Yet her glance when back to those still bending over the bike, and with a sigh she opened the hatch once more, leaving it at the ready as she slipped out, jogging toward the others.
No doubt they'd heard the explosion and noise she'd made while freeing her craft, yet with all the other chaos around them, perhaps they hadn't even noticed. Upon reaching their location, Brink slowed and cleared her throat. "I have room for a few in my fighter, it'll be cramped, but, we can follow that shuttle. My comms are down as well as some other systems, but it will at least get us out of this wreck before it becomes a death trap."
Making the decision to roust her own space craft free if she could, taking her chances, she looked to the space cowboy as he loaded the new bullets into his gun, her lips suddenly sparking with a smile. Yes, those would offer some fun for sure. If she could have read the man's mind she might have laughed that he thought her arrows were the simple weapons they appeared to be. Sure, the warlord who'd given them to her had said the bow and arrow was a timeless weapon, but really? She'd made some... upgrades... as soon as she'd gotten free of the man.
Giving a quick nod in response to the last words from the space cowboy she watched him join the others who tried to fix the space bike. While she did wonder how many could fit in the machine, she turned to quickly make her way back toward the Argonaut a mental flicker from Miko telling her that the ship hadn't moved since she'd left it.
With hangar now much more empty, as so many people tried to pile into the shuttle Brink decided to take a chance with blowing her ship free of the danged craft that pinned it. If she could get it free, she thought perhaps it would run well enough to get off this infernal wreck before needing its own repairs. As her targets for help had become occupied elsewhere, she didn't see many other options.
Standing just below her ship, Brink unclipped a mechanical cylinder from her belt, intricate workings etched into it where it had obviously been gripped many times before, the metal smoother now than when it had been crafted. With a flick of her wrist, the bow released from the cylinder, its parts whirring quickly as it elongated and put itself together to form a near seamless longbow. Simultaneously, Brink reached behind to grasp one of her arrows, a red band encircling the shaft marking it for the one she wanted. The tip, blunter than the others, needn't peirce anything to do its job.
Taking a moment to calculate the exact spot Brink thought she'd need to send the explosive to free her ship without damaging it much more, she then lifted her bow, fluidly notching the arrow on the mechanized yet sleek string and took aim. Inhaling a habitual breath she held it, then fired. Watching the arrow strike the offending ship, blink once, then explode.
The portion of the ship directly in contact with the explosive rocked violently, creating a metal on metal screeching as her own ship rocked as well. For a moment Brink thought her aim had been off, that her ship was still pinned, but then it slowly dipped down to the side, falling the last fifteen feet with yet another crash, tremors moving up Brink's legs at the impact. The result was at least what she'd hoped, and she hadn't had to resort to using her ships own weapons, which would have wreaked far more damage on the other craft.
Signalling Miko with her mind, she jogged to her ship and engaged the hatch, which grumbled as it opened, yet aquiesced all the same. Well at least that works.... thought Brink as she stowed her bow once more and slipped inside. A small flash of white and black shifted nearby and Miko was soon upon her shoulder. Seating herself at the controls, Brink to took a deep breath, wishing she still believed in providence, or even luck, and initiated the startup sequence, hoping the damage wasn't too great. A shudder went through the Argonaut and she patted the dash affectionately. "Come on boy, you can do it. Give me a bit of love, just till I can tend to you." The murmered words seemed to have the desired effect and Brink grinned, pale blue eyes gleaming as she checked over the systems. Her shields were malfunctioning, as well one of her laser turrets, yet the flight capability seemed to be working, if begrudgingly.
Ship ready now, Brink thought about immediately following the shuttle, knowing there was a better chance of surviving with others to back her up, if the shuttle would do so. Yet her glance when back to those still bending over the bike, and with a sigh she opened the hatch once more, leaving it at the ready as she slipped out, jogging toward the others.
No doubt they'd heard the explosion and noise she'd made while freeing her craft, yet with all the other chaos around them, perhaps they hadn't even noticed. Upon reaching their location, Brink slowed and cleared her throat. "I have room for a few in my fighter, it'll be cramped, but, we can follow that shuttle. My comms are down as well as some other systems, but it will at least get us out of this wreck before it becomes a death trap."
Riagan spent most of the short (if obstacle laden) trek focusing on the walk. The sounds of voices behind him seemed much quieter all of a sudden, the cyborg's mind going blank. It wasn't that he forgot what he was doing, rather that for the moment he couldn't seem to make himself care. This was about the time Brink shot the explosive round to free her ship; he glanced in her direction but otherwise kept walking. He looked up as Suki spoke to him. "Yeah." He replied to her inquiry about having a light. "Don't worry about it." The man raised his right forearm as if checking a watch, activating a tiny holographic interface from some hardware on his wrist. Scrolling through several menus, the hologram eventually produced a tiny, focused light from nothingness. He guided it with his other hand outward, to focus on the damaged innards of the bike.
"Take your time." He added, almost too dryly for his sarcasm to be detectable. He had already acclimated to the presence of the reverend by his side so when the man moved to follow the cyborg was somewhat reassured.
When two-thirds of the visible crowd entered the shuttle the man with the cat-mask spoke to the rest curtly before climbing aboard himself. The spacecraft hovered off of the ground and the remaining mercenaries (most of which seemed to belong to a single company) jogged back to dig something out of their own. They exchanged information and orders by shouting- another indicator that there was no signal to be found in the belly of the ruined ship. One of them forewent laboring with their comrades to close with Brink (after the explosion, of course) and the group near the hoverbike. "The weird bastard from that shuttle said everyone's regrouping northwest of the ship; they're setting up camp already. Apparently the Farrovii are screwing with comm channels."
When Riagan heard this he did little to address the company mercenary, other than by mumbling something about 'damn plants'.
"Take your time." He added, almost too dryly for his sarcasm to be detectable. He had already acclimated to the presence of the reverend by his side so when the man moved to follow the cyborg was somewhat reassured.
When two-thirds of the visible crowd entered the shuttle the man with the cat-mask spoke to the rest curtly before climbing aboard himself. The spacecraft hovered off of the ground and the remaining mercenaries (most of which seemed to belong to a single company) jogged back to dig something out of their own. They exchanged information and orders by shouting- another indicator that there was no signal to be found in the belly of the ruined ship. One of them forewent laboring with their comrades to close with Brink (after the explosion, of course) and the group near the hoverbike. "The weird bastard from that shuttle said everyone's regrouping northwest of the ship; they're setting up camp already. Apparently the Farrovii are screwing with comm channels."
When Riagan heard this he did little to address the company mercenary, other than by mumbling something about 'damn plants'.
The sudden explosion from Brink's end jerked his head to her direction, obviously shocking him all of a sudden. He smiled once again, letting out a soft 'woo' in response, clearly he was enjoying this. "THAT is how it's done, ye see?!" He shoved the cyborg as he faced in the direction of the explosion, before laughing hysterically. "Oh, brother... this gon' be fun." His Pythiaplasm didn't react prior to the explosion, so he knew that it wouldn't affect him grievously. Not like those Farrovii starfighters closing in on them, like vultures to a corpse.
Once the two made it to the bike, Jesse quickly stared off into the distance of the starfighters. Due to how far they were and the winds picking up on them, getting a hitting shot off on them would be incredibly difficult. No matter, there will be plenty of time for bloodshed when it comes. He turned to the fixer. "So, ah'll keep ya'll covered while yell tinker with that piece. Ah agree by the way, take yer time. Hell, we might share a grave together if we're lucky."
It hadn't crossed his mind yet, but the over reliance on shouting to communicate wasn't one hundred percent appealing to him. Although he also never favoured hearing voices directly transmitted into his ears. It's even worse when he forgets to adjust the volume before logging in. Finally, he attempted to log in to the main Comm Channel with little success; like white noise to him, although that could be due to the obsolete design of his Predator Helmet. After only 4 seconds worth of white noise, he logged out. Damn that sound was infuriating. He stood for a moment, pondering why it wasn't working. He quickly got his answer when the mercenary mentioned the Farrovii tampering with the Channels. Just out of earshot of the mercenaries screaming, he heard the cyborg mumble about plants... or something like that...
"Call me ignorant, but what exactly are these Farrovii sumbitches? Sumthin' tells me they ain't very human." He scoffed.
Once the two made it to the bike, Jesse quickly stared off into the distance of the starfighters. Due to how far they were and the winds picking up on them, getting a hitting shot off on them would be incredibly difficult. No matter, there will be plenty of time for bloodshed when it comes. He turned to the fixer. "So, ah'll keep ya'll covered while yell tinker with that piece. Ah agree by the way, take yer time. Hell, we might share a grave together if we're lucky."
It hadn't crossed his mind yet, but the over reliance on shouting to communicate wasn't one hundred percent appealing to him. Although he also never favoured hearing voices directly transmitted into his ears. It's even worse when he forgets to adjust the volume before logging in. Finally, he attempted to log in to the main Comm Channel with little success; like white noise to him, although that could be due to the obsolete design of his Predator Helmet. After only 4 seconds worth of white noise, he logged out. Damn that sound was infuriating. He stood for a moment, pondering why it wasn't working. He quickly got his answer when the mercenary mentioned the Farrovii tampering with the Channels. Just out of earshot of the mercenaries screaming, he heard the cyborg mumble about plants... or something like that...
"Call me ignorant, but what exactly are these Farrovii sumbitches? Sumthin' tells me they ain't very human." He scoffed.
The cyborg took the shove pretty well but didn't respond to it much. He grunted, tempted to say more on the impressive display but refraining as he assisted Suki. To Brink he said, "If all goes well I'll take it." before addressing Abrams' question. "They're uh, something like... rye? But-- ah, screw it. I'll let someone else--" He tampered some more with the interface on his wrist. "--explain it better."
Another hologram appeared above the device; this time it took the form of a man, slowly coalescing from a blurred figure to a near-exact image. The hologram's proportions hinted at the figure being average height, sporting a red-dyed faux-hawk and a cropped beard pointed at the chin. He wore padded under armor, especially over his left hand and legs. Over his head hung the name 'O.F.C. Cindersoul.' The officer held a tablet in one hand, facing a non-existent audience.
"The Farrovii originated as a type of intelligent flora that experts believe communicate via pheromones. They are blind; instead of eyes, they use proprioception and thermoception to detect their surroundings. As a side effect of their communication system they exude a sweet fragrance, a byproduct of their pheromone glands. Farrovii do not conform to a single standard body-type; most take a bipedal form but certain combat-dedicated individuals are altered in development to suit specialized classes.
We know there are at least three, labeled Grunts, Glass and Cowbells.--" a disembodied voice in the recording asked aloud, "Cowbells?! This some kind of joke?" The officer raised a hand, calling for patience. "This isn't what they call themselves. Those who have interacted with them in the past call them that because they're capable of making a noise similar to the instrument. Moving on."
"Grunts are humanoid shaped, the ones we're most familiar with. They most often use weapons with thermal rounds, though this isn't universally true. They are the foot soldiers and can serve in a variety of ways on the field or off it.
Then you have the Glass. These are quadrupeds with lean builds, made for speed. Intelligence suggests they take supportive roles, such as engineering, but they are capable of combat. Then we have the Cowbells." A rumbling in the background suggested amusement from the audience.
Cindersoul seemed unmoved. "These are the shock troops of the Farrovii forces. Though technically bipedal, they most often move on all fours. All of them are equipped with turrets that provide them a barrage to cover their advance. Electromagnetic enhancements provide them a charge capable of destroying cover and certain types of armor. They have similar devices on each front arm."
"Communications suggest that there are even more forms we don't know about, so be ready for anything." The hologram froze afterward; an indication that the message was over.
Riagan prodded at the hologram until the officer's figure was replaced with that of a seemingly dead Farrovii; clearly a Grunt, this alien was stripped of all its gear. It had a reedy build, with long limbs (and fingers.) Where one might expect a face there was a collection of petal-like growths; two of said petals draped over the majority of its front and were dotted with black splotches.
The cyborg turned the image on an axis to allow the others to get a better look.
By then the other mercenaries had unearthed part of their own ship; a stout thing bearing the company's respective logo. Most of them climbed aboard but the second last to approach its recently open door jolted and cried out; a hissing projectile clipped his neck and sent him sprawling into the spacecraft. If one looked up they would see a figure, silhouetted by the light in one of the ship's floors overlooking the hangar.
The last to enter the company's ship fired in retaliation at the figure; it shied away, replaced by two others of a similar build. These shadowed foes opened fire on the remaining contractors in the hangar without discrimination.
Another hologram appeared above the device; this time it took the form of a man, slowly coalescing from a blurred figure to a near-exact image. The hologram's proportions hinted at the figure being average height, sporting a red-dyed faux-hawk and a cropped beard pointed at the chin. He wore padded under armor, especially over his left hand and legs. Over his head hung the name 'O.F.C. Cindersoul.' The officer held a tablet in one hand, facing a non-existent audience.
"The Farrovii originated as a type of intelligent flora that experts believe communicate via pheromones. They are blind; instead of eyes, they use proprioception and thermoception to detect their surroundings. As a side effect of their communication system they exude a sweet fragrance, a byproduct of their pheromone glands. Farrovii do not conform to a single standard body-type; most take a bipedal form but certain combat-dedicated individuals are altered in development to suit specialized classes.
We know there are at least three, labeled Grunts, Glass and Cowbells.--" a disembodied voice in the recording asked aloud, "Cowbells?! This some kind of joke?" The officer raised a hand, calling for patience. "This isn't what they call themselves. Those who have interacted with them in the past call them that because they're capable of making a noise similar to the instrument. Moving on."
"Grunts are humanoid shaped, the ones we're most familiar with. They most often use weapons with thermal rounds, though this isn't universally true. They are the foot soldiers and can serve in a variety of ways on the field or off it.
Then you have the Glass. These are quadrupeds with lean builds, made for speed. Intelligence suggests they take supportive roles, such as engineering, but they are capable of combat. Then we have the Cowbells." A rumbling in the background suggested amusement from the audience.
Cindersoul seemed unmoved. "These are the shock troops of the Farrovii forces. Though technically bipedal, they most often move on all fours. All of them are equipped with turrets that provide them a barrage to cover their advance. Electromagnetic enhancements provide them a charge capable of destroying cover and certain types of armor. They have similar devices on each front arm."
"Communications suggest that there are even more forms we don't know about, so be ready for anything." The hologram froze afterward; an indication that the message was over.
Riagan prodded at the hologram until the officer's figure was replaced with that of a seemingly dead Farrovii; clearly a Grunt, this alien was stripped of all its gear. It had a reedy build, with long limbs (and fingers.) Where one might expect a face there was a collection of petal-like growths; two of said petals draped over the majority of its front and were dotted with black splotches.
The cyborg turned the image on an axis to allow the others to get a better look.
By then the other mercenaries had unearthed part of their own ship; a stout thing bearing the company's respective logo. Most of them climbed aboard but the second last to approach its recently open door jolted and cried out; a hissing projectile clipped his neck and sent him sprawling into the spacecraft. If one looked up they would see a figure, silhouetted by the light in one of the ship's floors overlooking the hangar.
The last to enter the company's ship fired in retaliation at the figure; it shied away, replaced by two others of a similar build. These shadowed foes opened fire on the remaining contractors in the hangar without discrimination.
Brink watched the armored man bend over the mechanical bike. She was now nearly sure he was a cyborg, and most likely to a greater degree than she was. Lingering with the group despite her own instinct to return to her ship and leave the wrecked Pyrrhus, Brink turned to listen intently as a mercenary from another group approached to deliver news of the rendezvous. Offering short nod of acknowledgement, Brink then flicked her gaze over Suki, then to Jesse, who it seemed was prepared to try and provide cover all by his lonesome. An eyebrow went up, showing she thought this would be a futile effort against the incoming hoard of aliens. Then, she shrugged, took a breath and moved to stand by the cowboy, releasing her bow once more as she did so. If cover was needed, she dang well would help, after all, she did sign on for the job, and while this hadn't been part of the job's description, Brink was no coward. Threading a razor sharp arrow onto her bow, a blue band encircling this one and flickers of electric power arching over the tip, showing its charge, Brink readied herself, eyes for the moment on the hangars entrance. A flashed image of her ship from Miko told her that it remained untouched and waiting, ready for flight.
As Riagan displayed the information about the Farrovii, Brink's attention was momentarily diverted from the incoming threat, to watch as the display continued. Eyes widening in a bit of surprise, her voice emerged sounding wry. "Plants? We're about to fight a bunch of intelligent plants?" With that her gaze flicked down to her arrow which was momentarily lowered, wondering if it would do any good against such beings, but first the armor would have to be breached, and these arrows would almost certainly help.
Giving a nod to Riagan's words, taking up the offer of transport, she resumed her watch for the enemy, her lips falling into a concentrated purse, posture straight but loose and ready. As the first beings showed their outlines against the light glowing outside the hangar, Brink raised her bow, waiting another moment until they came into closer view. Even watching as closely as she was, Brink nearly missed the projectile as it was freed, a sharp cry resulting from its flight path.
No sooner had two more shapes appeared, close enough to fire, that Brink judged their range, lifted her bow a little and loosed at the one on the left. The tip, honed to a very sheer edge, able to cut through most armors, and crackling with an electric burst, shot from her bow, its speed increased by the boost of propulsion her bowstring gave it. Her aim had been directed at the alien's visored head, right where eyes might be on a humanoid figure, hoping there would be a weakness there her arrow would find.
As Riagan displayed the information about the Farrovii, Brink's attention was momentarily diverted from the incoming threat, to watch as the display continued. Eyes widening in a bit of surprise, her voice emerged sounding wry. "Plants? We're about to fight a bunch of intelligent plants?" With that her gaze flicked down to her arrow which was momentarily lowered, wondering if it would do any good against such beings, but first the armor would have to be breached, and these arrows would almost certainly help.
Giving a nod to Riagan's words, taking up the offer of transport, she resumed her watch for the enemy, her lips falling into a concentrated purse, posture straight but loose and ready. As the first beings showed their outlines against the light glowing outside the hangar, Brink raised her bow, waiting another moment until they came into closer view. Even watching as closely as she was, Brink nearly missed the projectile as it was freed, a sharp cry resulting from its flight path.
No sooner had two more shapes appeared, close enough to fire, that Brink judged their range, lifted her bow a little and loosed at the one on the left. The tip, honed to a very sheer edge, able to cut through most armors, and crackling with an electric burst, shot from her bow, its speed increased by the boost of propulsion her bowstring gave it. Her aim had been directed at the alien's visored head, right where eyes might be on a humanoid figure, hoping there would be a weakness there her arrow would find.
Having seen Brink's display Suki just whistled softly at the precision of the shot. Of course no sooner than Riagan had produced a light, Suki practically dived back inside of her machine, giving a thumbs up as her upper torso disappears inside. Now with a proper light inside, she could see exactly what the damage was. It was worse then she had expected but still fixable. Several system control linkages had been knocked out of place along with a fuel compression chamber. While it was an easy fix, it would take time...something they had very little of.
She was beginning to reseat the compression chamber when she heard the cry and responding gunfire. Pulling herself out of her bike she quickly takes a look at the emerging situation "That was quicker then expected. Can you cover me for five minutes? I need five minutes." she says to the small assembled group around her before pulling herself back inside.
She was beginning to reseat the compression chamber when she heard the cry and responding gunfire. Pulling herself out of her bike she quickly takes a look at the emerging situation "That was quicker then expected. Can you cover me for five minutes? I need five minutes." she says to the small assembled group around her before pulling herself back inside.
"Oooh very interesting..." He stood and watched the display. "Ah don't eat my vegetables as much as ah should. Ah could always use the extra nutrition." He joked. "Ah'll be looking forward to a personal 'meeting' with these unholy abominations. God be praised." With his free hand, he motioned the sign of the cross, a habit he had picked up from his early childhood. That was until it was stripped away of him by the time he was a man.
His attention was soon shot at the screaming mercenaries. He smiled beneath his mask and placed his peacemaker to the temple of his helmet, as if praying. "Blessed are you o' lord, give us strength in adversity." He moved the peacemaker forward towards the shadowed figures. As the Farovii came into distance, he pulled the hammer back. "I'm your huckleberry!" He fired. Using the trajectory of the wind, he managed to lead his IMP rounds towards the Farovii's armour. He was unsure how much damage the IMP rounds would do to them.
"Ah'll give ye all the time in the Outer Crescent, darlin'! Yeehaw!" He moved his free hand from his side and fanned the hammer, unloading a barrage of IMP rounds, guided by the prodigal winds. After all five shots were out, he unloaded the cylinder of the empty rounds, then fitting six shots this time. Five shots were too little and too safe for this situation; six shots was just right for active combat. He reloaded and fired with the speed of a lynx; it was like watching a sped up slideshow.
"Nice shootin' darlin!" Jesse called over to Brink, attempting to drown the sound of gunfire.
His attention was soon shot at the screaming mercenaries. He smiled beneath his mask and placed his peacemaker to the temple of his helmet, as if praying. "Blessed are you o' lord, give us strength in adversity." He moved the peacemaker forward towards the shadowed figures. As the Farovii came into distance, he pulled the hammer back. "I'm your huckleberry!" He fired. Using the trajectory of the wind, he managed to lead his IMP rounds towards the Farovii's armour. He was unsure how much damage the IMP rounds would do to them.
"Ah'll give ye all the time in the Outer Crescent, darlin'! Yeehaw!" He moved his free hand from his side and fanned the hammer, unloading a barrage of IMP rounds, guided by the prodigal winds. After all five shots were out, he unloaded the cylinder of the empty rounds, then fitting six shots this time. Five shots were too little and too safe for this situation; six shots was just right for active combat. He reloaded and fired with the speed of a lynx; it was like watching a sped up slideshow.
"Nice shootin' darlin!" Jesse called over to Brink, attempting to drown the sound of gunfire.
With the company mercenaries safely within their shuttle, hostile fire turned on the ragtag group that were still in the open. White-hot projectiles flitted into the wreckage around them, hissing as they fell. The Farrovii on the upper ledge were skilled marksmen despite their blindness; one of the bullets bounced up off of the armored cyborg's shoulder. He growled both in anger and alarm; though his armor protected him, waiting in the open for five minutes would be difficult to pull off.
Since Suki was still at work with his holographic light he couldn't travel far from his position. The cyborg knelt, hoping to make his figure smaller to their enemies while he produced a stout, seemingly square piece of machinery from behind his lower back. As Riagan brought the contraption to his front the metal unfurled itself into the shape of a rifle; he raised the weapon and tilted his head to peek through its scope, firing in retaliation when it seemed he had a good shot. Like the Farrovii's, his rounds were thermal.
Brink's arrow sung true, crashing through the colorful visor of her target's helmet. It jerked a bit on impact, starting to shake a second later as it was shocked by electricity. From the ledge its 'voice' carried as a rattling chime as it fell forward. One of its arms dangled over the edge as it continued to convulse.
An instant later one of Jesse's IMP rounds shattered a section of the other Farrovii's helmet; it lowered its weapon and slunk away, keen to avoid the rest of the barrage out of sight. The dangling limb of the first enemy lifted as it was pulled out of their view by its comrade. Then something flew from that ledge in an arc through the air, heading right towards them. Impulsively Riagan aimed and fired at the thrown object as it flew.
Since Suki was still at work with his holographic light he couldn't travel far from his position. The cyborg knelt, hoping to make his figure smaller to their enemies while he produced a stout, seemingly square piece of machinery from behind his lower back. As Riagan brought the contraption to his front the metal unfurled itself into the shape of a rifle; he raised the weapon and tilted his head to peek through its scope, firing in retaliation when it seemed he had a good shot. Like the Farrovii's, his rounds were thermal.
Brink's arrow sung true, crashing through the colorful visor of her target's helmet. It jerked a bit on impact, starting to shake a second later as it was shocked by electricity. From the ledge its 'voice' carried as a rattling chime as it fell forward. One of its arms dangled over the edge as it continued to convulse.
An instant later one of Jesse's IMP rounds shattered a section of the other Farrovii's helmet; it lowered its weapon and slunk away, keen to avoid the rest of the barrage out of sight. The dangling limb of the first enemy lifted as it was pulled out of their view by its comrade. Then something flew from that ledge in an arc through the air, heading right towards them. Impulsively Riagan aimed and fired at the thrown object as it flew.
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