Reid didn't say much at all when he was in to visit Richard — he didn't know what to say, and generally wasn't the most talkative fellow. He ended up slipping away without notice. He didn't know how to face Richard, and to be honest could barely face himself.
When the call to duty came in, Reid was afraid. Usually he would be almost excited at the prospect of action, but there's a first time for everything. He headed to the hangar dejectedly; this was going to be a long day.
Sanity not included
Mira's head turned sharply at the announcement.
"Pleasant," she stated, her voice flat and serious. She could feel the fire in her heart flaring up once again, and (with some measure of reluctance) pulled herself away from Rick, whom she was still slumped against.
"The nurses would likely advise you to stay put, Gundersen," she mentions as she pushed herself to her feet. "Bearing that in mind, our orders specified that the frames needed to be in fighting condition, and made no mention of the state of the knight."
Mira started to make for the door, but hesitated.
"...You smell nice, by the way."
As a Coltello, she refused to allow herself to be embarrassed by the forthright nature of her comment.
She did, however, permit herself to take off running to her frame.
It's kind of funny. Sufficiently advanced stupidity is like sufficiently advanced science; eventually, you find something you can't solve.
Sam Walker looked at the Marine dead in the eyes, his love of battle evident on his face. This was a time for seriousness and action!
"You want my opinion - we start stacking crates and form a defensible position somewhere and hunker down! Make those bastards pay for every inch they gain." the Apache said to the Marine, holding his gun and preparing for whatever happened next.
"Yes ma'am," Rick said, saluting Riley.
He blinked at Mira, then smelled his arm curiously. "What sort of soap have they been using on me... boysenberry? Boysenberry!"
He clenched his fists and ran out the room, following along with the other pilots to the hangar.
(Avatar by Coffee)
Eamon, huddled uncomfortably behind everybody else (how he managed to shove his huge bulk there nobody knew), counted on his fingers briefly.
“We gotta get t'our Frames,” he said. “We can't stay here, and hell if I'll let those bastards get the station.” He looked, disgusted, at his sidearm. “I say we charge 'em.”
Anti-Gnosis Weapon
"Very well," Valentine replied glumly, following just a little ways behind his new superior. Damn, how am I supposed to finish them now?! It's like the Feds know just how to get between me and my projects! Well, congratulations, whoever you are. You've succeeded in raising my ire.
The Duke's moody internal rant continued on his way to the lockers and as he suited up, at least until he set eyes on his formerly-bedridden teammate. "Oh, Rick!" he greeted as he shook out his precious cape and folded it, "You're looking better. Had a nice nap?"
GM of AGOG S4: Frontiers RP; Sub-GM of TABA, SOTR, & UUA RPs
"Nah, it was hell," Rick said to the duke. "Two days. Two. That's two days of missing out on my routine. And now this racket starting up again. It's like the Feds don't want me to ever benchpress again! What have you been up to since then? Chocolate?"
He held out the bag of chocolate he had been given earlier, offering him a piece.
「MENACING」
The combat engineer looked slowly from one knight to the other, before muttering something in Hindi beneath her breath. "Not much help, there," she said, flinching as another slug punched through above them. Whatever kind of weapon the miners had gotten their hands on, it sounded like it took a decent time to charge... "They'd gun us down before we got a barricade set up. I'm in favor of charging, but..." She waved her hands helplessly. "Any of you got a grenade, maybe?" she asked, hopeful.
"Not me," the marine replied. "They're mostly in the armory now, but no chance of getting over there." He gritted his teeth. "We could try charging, but... There's at least five of the Samsaran bastards over there. Maybe if we wait for them to come closer..."
Another slug. Their cover was beginning to look like the sort of box you kept live cargo in. "There's no time. We've gotta make our move now," the engineer said, struggling up from a sitting position. "We need a plan, and quick."
If any of them poked their head over, they'd have a decently clear sight of their opposition - the miners had spread out in the corridor ahead, coilguns raised for the expected attack. They were mostly using fuel lines for cover, with only one - carrying the largest weapon of them all, a man-portable railgun - standing near the back out of cover, hurriedly pumping the charging mechanism for his weapon. They were fairly obviously untrained - miners with guns, not soldiers disguised as miners. The riot, it seemed, had been real - just very well armed, far more than it logically would be.
The Centauri fleet was slow to react to anything not an immediate issue - ships were arranging themselves by their loyalty, forming up with their allies and superiors. Technically speaking, no one led the fleet - not this one, in any case. It was a far cry from a true battle group. They would move when they were good and ready, and the Nirvanans would follow once they were certain they wouldn't be abandoned.
Gemma grimaced, standing at the helm as her crew filed in and took their positions. "Start charging the Mythril Drive," she said. "We might wind up there early, but that might make all the difference." At the very least, it would be a tick in their favor - willingness to fight was often rewarded, with bravery being one of the core virtues of the fleet. Curiously, many admirals cared less about the actual success of a ship than they did about whether it was willing to die for them or not. She had no intention of leading her crew to their demise, but they'd scrubbed the last mission hard enough that they could use some glory.
But this hardly made sense.
A riot aboard a mining station was certainly nothing good - but the entire fleet was gearing up to move. Why? They could hardly even be sure that the Federation would launch an attack there.
Could they?
Setting aside her uneasiness for now, the captain returned to her business - preparing the ship for its arrival on the battlefield.
The hanger was a hive of activity as last-minute checks and changes were applied. The knights' frames had been set into their rows, prepared to launch from the ship once battle was joined, and it wouldn't be long before the hanger was emptied of atmosphere again in preparation. A squad of marines in EVA suits were waiting near the doors - the ever-present nod to the possibility of a boarding action, although such attacks were absurdly rare in most situations. Ramps had been raised to allow the pilots to climb into their Frames, while last-minute supplies and ammunition was being loaded aboard by the engineers.
Sanity not included
Coltello swung herself into her cockpit. "White Chocolate, prepared to fight. Point me at them, Ma'am."
It's kind of funny. Sufficiently advanced stupidity is like sufficiently advanced science; eventually, you find something you can't solve.
Noticing a conspicuous absence of a particular Albatross, Rick changed course and jogged over to the mechanics. On his way there, though, he noticed Fergus. Poor bastard had gotten it worse than he did. However he doubted that the drunk Trio would have let himself get out of the loop - which meant he might know what was going on.
"Fergus, sorry to hear about the Hounds...." he said. After a momentary pause, he continued. "Not to be disrespectful to their memory, buuuut we're under attack here, do you happen to know what happened to my frame?"
Sam spat in the direction of the miners. He held his shotgun like one holds a beloved child.
"I'm down charging as long we can take those bastards down. One of us needs to go for that guy with the railgun. I got my shotgun and saber but none of them are really good for long range." Sam voiced his opinion, hunkering down for a battle.
(Avatar by Coffee)
While the other Centauri talked, Eamon acted. He popped out of cover, took aim with his sidearm, and fired. The miner with the big railgun was now sporting an additional hole in his head. “Guys, that's one down, go, go,” he shouted as he took aim at the next miner.
The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground
"It got compacted with you inside," Fergus replied, "Which is why you woke in the hospital. I assumed you knew, unless amnesia is one of the symptoms they missed."
Anti-Gnosis Weapon
Settling down into his old, familiar cockpit, Valentine sighed deeply and began working out a kink in his shoulder.
"Okay," he began, bracing himself for the onerous task of unit tactics, "We haven't really talked tactics or anything yet, but given the composition of our new Company, I imagine you will end up being the vanguard and star of our show, White Chocolate. Aegis and Malware will probably be stuck with supporting roles, while our three-" the way he stressed the number made his dissatisfaction apparent "-snipers will likely be best either focusing their fire or directly covering you. I have no idea what Gun Show is piloting, however."
GM of AGOG S4: Frontiers RP; Sub-GM of TABA, SOTR, & UUA RPs
Hangar
"No, I just woke up eight minutes ago so I haven't heard shit about any of this," Rick said. "What am I supposed to do, then? Did I have a replacement come in yet?"
Sam saw what Eamon was doing and shrugged. It looked like they were in for a fight! He grinned to himself. Sam charged forward with his shotgun and fired three or four times to provide himself with cover. He then dashed over to the closest miner and bashed his face with the butt of his gun.
"How was I to blood know?" Fergus said with a shrug from his chair, "You're after waking up eight minutes ago; it's not like I'd have been briefed. I'd assumed somebody was forgetting to tell me since most people have the bloody sense to lie around a bit after waking from a bloody coma."
He paused, "If you're still keen enough to charge off into battle half-cocked with your arse hardly woken from the last bloody incident, we'd have to dig up a spare."
Hangar
"Well what other option do I have?" Rick said to Fergus. "It's either that or leaving the Roses down a man."
"Well, if you care to owe me a favour," Fergus said with a smile he reserved for when he had a recruit cornered or a free bottle of good liquor, "I might be able to tell you about a Spitfire I've been keeping for just such a situation where my Hive has been shredded, or one of the Hounds was short a suit. ...It might also have been a tax dodge or something of the like. Honestly, I barely remember ordering the thing, only thinking that it was a good idea afterwards and having a glass to celebrate my own foresight."
"Unfortuantely," He said as he wheeled himself around to lead the way, "It looks like I won't be using the thing, not in the immediate future at least."
He turned to Rick, "You fancy giving it a go?"
edited 15th Jan '15 2:31:33 PM by Fauxlosophe
Hangar
"I don't care what it is, as long as I can use it now," Rick said to Fergus. "I'm not going to let them get torn apart out there."
"Alright, alright then," Fergus said, "But do keep in mind, I'd like to be able to count the pieces left when you bring this one back."
With that he lead the way through the hangar. This one was kept fairly well to the back, relatively hidded. Fergus nodded and smirked at the various bickering engineers on the ground, some of whom were on break, more of whom had a bit of whiskey courtesy of Fergus himself.
Scrap and repair parts littered the floor where it was but contrary to expectations, the Clarent itself was in quite good condition. It seemed to have been pretty well unused, though customizations were obvious; It was coloured a deep Maroon colour, sporting a Golden harp over what looked to be a brown river on one shoulder, on the other was a white hand.
The armourments were a Cowl Uzi Rifle and a Beam Sabre. Both of which looked slightly modded, but largely aethetically rather than functionally.
"It pays to keep the mechanics watered," Fergus said by way of explaination, "There's some other weapons kicking about if you'd fancy using them, but that's the lay out as it stands."
edited 15th Jan '15 2:38:30 PM by Fauxlosophe
Hangar
"With the tilt booster on this tin can, I'm not going to want to waste my time using a peashooter," Rick said, sizing up the frame. "I'll just replace it with a Plasma Saber so I can do a one-two punch."
"Launch." Riley instructed Mira on the team's channel. "Everyone, launch as soon as you are ready! We shall group up outside."
Like Valentine, the mix-and-match form of the team annoyed Riley, but there was no time to worry about that now judging from the captain's tone. An unexpected attack. What game was the Federation playing now? Was this something the had been planning for some time? If so who knew what they could be bringing to bear. Or was it a slapdash effort after the failure on the space elevator? Then they might be getting antsy and trying something new and desperate. Or maybe she was wrong on both accounts and this was something she flat out was not thinking of.
Whatever! Riley gripped the steering handles of her frame while the mechanics wrapped up their last check-ups. She could worry about that latter. Assuming she stayed alive. Riley gritted her teeth and forced such morbid thoughts out of her head. She could worry about that latter too, not like that made any sense. Right now she had a battle to win.
"Eye on the prize." she whispered to herself. "Red Rose! I'm taking off!"
-Grin-
Victoria strapped herself into the seat of the Aegis she'd found. Although it wasn't exactly like her old Clarent, the cockpit felt comfortingly similar. She studied the frame's specifications as the screens lit up around her; in addition to the signature nanomachine deploying tool, it seemed the frame was equipped with a RLW-4 'Peltast' beam rifle.
"Scrap Aegis launching," she reported dutifully over the company's channel, bracing for the rush as her AMF was hurled out into the void.
"No rest for the wicked," Victoria muttered. Getting thrown into battle so soon after the previous mission's disaster was going to be a challenge, the regiment was only organized in an official sense. A crisis now was either going to solidify their ranks or tear them all apart. And Mac Morna expected her to be enough support for Lady Lee to see things through.
"I'll see you in the hanger," she nodded to Duke Goldschmidt, already hurrying out the door. Whatever he'd been trying to learn about her would have to wait.
edited 12th Jan '15 12:26:11 PM by Satinel