Mythril Aces (Re)Union: Real Robot RP - Federation Roleplay Thread

"Human? Any more metal parts on him, and I'd mistake him for a Frame!" He coughed, almost as if to rebuke himself for that remark. "Regardless...nice to meet you, Mr. Pavle." His gaze was still fixated on the mechanical limbs, whose motions were most disturbing to him, yet also captivating.

"A pleasure," Isra said with a slight bow of her head, "For the most part, we'll be trusting you to get us to the co-ordinates assigned. Provided there's no issues, we'll be fairly hands off."

Outside of that she looked around, "Perhaps an extra-seat here would be of some service, but I'll leave that to yourselves."

She turned to Ganzo, "Are the Frames being loaded now? It might be worth seeing the hanger and inspecting our own frames and the launch protocal. After that, we have mobilization orders, if I recall."

"A volcano would have been... Preferable," the mechanical voice intoned, dryly.

Ganzo let out a laugh. "Pavle here, he's an old friend o' mine, and was one o' de best pilots in de business - and now? He's even better than before! Ah, but that's a long story, friends - for another time, I would say. Let me simply assure you that you'll find no pilot in the Federation or Commonwealth that can make a ship dance in the Flow like Pavle can."

The captain spun on his heel, giving his coat another tug. "Weell, we can make our way down there to th' hanger, if ye like. De frames are on their way aboard, or nearly there - we're quick about it, considering our business." And he winked at Angus, a grin on his patchwork face. "De Banshee indeed. Have you heard the name, I wonder? Lotta rumors 'bout her and de Federation, I suppose - an unofficial alliance, I might go as far as-"

Huangxi coughed meaningfully.

"- to say that... The rumors... Say?" Ganzo obviously didn't know quite how to change tack that quickly. Presumably this was why Pavle was the pilot. "... She's de boss o' us, is what I'm sayin'. 'Til somebody blows her up in turn, I s'pose." After a second he coughed. "But, er. You be right, commander. There's somethin' startin', if de fleet we saw out there is any indication. Mebbe we should hurry this up a bit, yeah?"

"That would be best," the rear admiral muttered, rubbing his forehead. "To dispel the illusion, captain, could you perhaps explain things... Clearer? While we walk?"

"About-"

"About your... Business."

"Ah." The captain shrugged. "Weell. Simply speakin," he said, starting around from the bridge after giving its arachnid-like occupant a wave, "We ain't pirates. If ye wanna be technical an' all. Legally, we are - but there's a difference between what this ship does and what your average cargo-raidin' breddas hunt."

"Privateers," Isra stated, simply.

Another laugh. "Privateer be just a fancy way o' sayin' 'pirate what raids people we don't like', commander. Na - we're shipbreakers. Ever hear de term?"

"I can't say I have."

"Really?" He seemed surprised. "We must be doin' our jobs right, den. But, ah... We're salvagers, I s'pose ye might say - huntin' down de old wrecks and ruins of lost stations an' ships, and takin' what we can sell from 'em. And not so old wrecks too," he added, with a sly grin. "Obviously we're too small t'take a whole ship - so we take the most valuable bits. Computers, generators... Engines, too. Our flow drive, de big one, you probably saw it? Came from a Centauri super-cap. After all's said and done in a fight, lady, ye'll find there are many crows looking to find a feast, no?"

"Interesting," Isra replied, coldly. "This must be quite the change for you; you'll be showing up early for battles now instead of late."

A wider grin, although it didn't reach so far as his eyes. "Perhaps the big kids of the galaxy could stop leaving their wreckage in everyone's orbits, and people like us wouldn't be necessary. Ever been to Midgar, commander? After all those years o' war? I hear you still can't go into low orbit without a military-level debris shield." He tugged on his coat and increased the speed of his steps, slightly. "And with things like they are... No one's really in a position to complain where the money comes from, hmm?" He gave a pointed look at Huangxi. "Or the help."

The admiral frowned. "We can discuss this later."

"Speaking of money, I assume we didn't hire their ship for the sake of filling out the hanger," Isra replied, "Where have we been assigned, commander?"

"What do we even have a security policy for?" Huangxi wondered aloud, staring at the ceiling. "Yes, there's an offensive coming. We're moving out very soon - to seize a key position and secure our offensive on Bodhi's core. In all honesty, we don't have the manpower to stop the Centauri's raids - we're spread too thin. Our only choice is to hit Nirvana as soon as we can, at least earn an inner-system link that we can organize around."

"If you asked me yesterday, I'd say so that our crew don't end up bunking with Pirates," Isra smirked, "But while I have my reservations, I understand this is not a decision made lightly. You have done your best in the circumstances and I will do everything I can to make things a little easier on you. Give the co-ordinates and we will be there."

With that, Isra snapped a salute.

Huangxi nodded slowly. "Indeed. I'll have them sent to the ship's navigator - and to you, of course - before the briefing begins soon. I hope the ship is satisfactory, until then." He turned to go, but paused. "... Commander, perhaps we should discuss one more thing. The rest of you, if you please, head on to the hanger."

So they turned out to be salvagers rather than pirates. Technically thieves, but not plunderers — it managed to put his mind at ease just a little, and if help was indeed as hard to come by as they implied, it might have been the lesser of two evils.

"Yes sir", he briefly replied as the order was given, and left towards the hangar, not waiting for the others. Perhaps it was not entirely the right mindset for him to have, but he was itching to jump into action, despite their earlier losses. Standing around was uncomfortable right now, but he should beware he didn't become one of those people. Lilith and Becky were more than enough commotion for one team.

He went over to his Frame and decided to check the loadout had been properly prepared. It would be unforgivable if he forgot to bring a long range weapon twice in a row.

Isra paused and frowned but assented. It was clear that she remained somewhat nervous.

"The rest of you go ahead," She instructed clearly to the group, "Don't wait for my sake."

She sort of hoped that the rest of them were a little worried for her sake as she had given the Admiral no small amount of berating for this decision. Still, she would stand by her position.

It was possible they were just confused or tired and there wasn't much unity, but she'd just have to do her best. Fate had cast a heavy lot in her hands, but she'd do her best to carry it, even if she had to drag them all herself.

She looked over the group and waited for them to go.

edited 18th Dec '14 12:27:25 PM by Fauxlosophe

Kara spent most of the tour in a daze after her interaction, snapping out of it in time to see Pavle's body. For a few minutes, she just sat and looked. I wonder how he handles them. I doubt I could deal with more than what I have, and that's not counting phantom fits. Coming back to reality she threw a small wave and a smile at Isra before turning to leave. "Good luck, see you in the hangar." And tread carefully

Arriving in the hangar, Kara noticed Graham's presence. How did he get here so fast? "Making sure everything is ship shape Harris?"

"Yeah. This time I'm personally making sure my gear's all here. Came up a bit empty handed during our last battle."

Kara quirked an eyebrow. "This time?" "Empty handed?"

"Is this about the last operation you guys were in? What exactly happened to you all anyway? I heard it didn't go so well." She paused for a moment before continuing, "Or if you don't want to talk about it, I can just ask the Commander later."

"Well, it was our first mission together, so our squad was barely organized. Those guys we were fighting really had their act together in comparison. The thing about being empty handed...you see, we were going to be fighting in tunnels a lot so I focused on close range combat and brought a sword. Soon as we reached a wide open space, I was useless against long range attacks. The lack of coordination quickly resulted in us being routed. Dunno if asking the commander would have been a good idea, she seemed really down about this affair. I don't envy her position, being in command at a time like this."

"Still better than being in the other commander's shoes," Angus said before he could stop himself. Well, might as well keep going. "Anyway, long story short, the enemy must have mined the caves or something, because as soon as it was clear they were losing the fight the ceiling came crashing down on us."

Becky split off from the others, heading to where she reckoned the living quarters were. From what 'de captain' had said, yellow lights meant she was in the right place.

"Hey," she called along the passageway, both to be friendly and make herself known. "Anyone home?"

The captain tried not to look curious as he listened in on their conversation - so the aces had met with a bad fight, eh? Well, with any luck they'd avoid that in the future. Especially since this crew's fate was more or less tied to theirs now...

And when the little girly wandered off on her own, he didn't even pretend to be surprised. The rest of the boys won't trouble her, he thought. They know the score.

... But hopefully she doesn't hurt them too bad.

Quinn would shortly find herself emerging into a different room from those before - gone were the stark, utilitarian hallways and dim lighting. The lights here were brighter, and a comfortable yellow reminiscent of fluorescent bulbs. There was even a carpet on the floor, although it had the frizzy, hairs-on-end look of one that had been freshly scrubbed by someone on a deadline. Several chairs and a couch surrounded a wall-screen, while behind them was a table and chairs, and even a pool table - all bolted to the floor or easily strapped down, and all looking similarly recently cleaned. The TV was on, although all it displayed was static; out of system transmissions were being jammed by the Federation fleet.

There was no response to her call - at least, not immediately. But a few seconds later someone wandered in from one of the adjoining rooms, freezing in shock when he spotted the girl in the doorway. He looked young, with neatly combed brown hair to his neck and a clean-shaven face, with either some sort of black jumpsuit or matching shirt and pants as his outfit. He also had on bright yellow rubber gloves, which rather ruined any kind of effect that might give.

And on his shoulders was a uniform jacket that, while tattered and worn, was unmistakably Centauri.

"Uhh." The moment he spotted her Federation uniform he looked split between panic and trying to maintain a facade of calm. After a moment he grinned nervously and leaned against the wall, inclining his head smoothly. "Well... Hello there."

It was entirely possible, if she listened closely, she might catch muffled sniggers of laughter from behind one of the shut doors.

"Watch the corners, Fed, that junk's worth more than your paycheck for a year!"

Ganzo smiled tightly as the next set of doors opened - above them was written simply 'Hanger'. "And that would be me sister. Charmin' girl. Sometimes."

The salvagers' hanger seemed unexpectedly small - the ceiling just barely high enough to fit the frames, which were being loaded aboard via crawlers. All but one had already been placed aboard, probably due to the fact that it had been knocked over by their entrance. A single catapult took up most of the central floorspace, and judging by its polished exterior compared to the beaten, oily metal of the rest of the hanger it was a new addition. The loading mechanism attached looked refreshingly new as well - their deployment speed would not be hindered by the unorthodox nature of the ship, it seemed.

Their frames had been left in rows along the back wall, with makeshift scaffolding set up to allow for equipment modification and repairs. Oddly enough, there was one extra - an ancient, beaten up old-model Quicksilver, although so modded as to be virtually unrecognizable, and having both its left and right hand replaced with a welding torch and a mechanical grinder respectively. Presumably, it was the salvagers' - for cutting open ships, perhaps?

What room wasn't currently occupied by Frames was occupied by an odd collection of junk. Most of it was technical in nature, computer banks and hardware tied down in rows, marked with what appeared to be literal post-it notes. A row of empty cryo-pods close to the door had a label near enough to read -

Cryobank, 'Hula Star,' Centauri Noble Yacht - Sailed into asteroid and abandoned. FUNCTIONAL.

Another, attached to an older server box that appeared to have a bullet hole straight through the case, read:

LIU-112-HC Box, 'SFS Ultimatum', interdicted and boarded, left to drift. TO BE SCRAPPED.

An archaic sort of catalog, and a morbid one at that.

A woman stood on what looked to be a long-sealed crate, perhaps to offset her height compared to the Federation workers she was berating. Similar to Ganzo, she had patchwork-colored skin and dreadlocked hair, and wore a pair of sweatpants and a tanktop - a jacket tied around her waist. One of her feet was obviously artificial, the cheap mechanical limb amounting to more or less a brace that kept her standing, and the outline of a metal protrusion on her chest stood out against her shirt - almost certainly an artificial heart or lung.

When she saw Ganzo enter, she hopped down from her perch and started towards him. "You didn't tell me there'd be so many," she said, firmly, stopping in front of him. "We've had to drop half our damn spoils from the last haul for them - not that we'd ever find a fecking buyer like this anyways!" She crossed her arms, eyeing over the newcomers with a curious expression. "And these are?"

"Aces, dear sista, and I'm sure ye chose the cheapest pieces to drop. Let the Feds take out our trash, no?" He laughed, stepping aside with a flourish. "Me sister, friends! Magdalene Zacharie-Geroux, or-"

"Please. I can introduce myself." She gave a lazy salute to the aces. "Call me Mag. I'll be handling the upkeep of your machines while aboard this dump - it'll be a nice change to work with something built in the last decade for once, I can say that."

Huangxi watched the crew leave before he turned back to Isra. "Good. I'll keep this brief; we're cutting it close as it is, and I need to get to my own ship soon enough." The asian man sighed, rubbing his nose. "I think I owe you an explanation for this."

He glanced along the corridors. "To put it... Far too bluntly, you're being assigned to this - And I use the word loosely - carrier, because we simply can't afford to get you a proper one. How much do you know about the, ah, state of our funds? And how this entire operation in the Bodhi system is being funded?"

edited 23rd Dec '14 4:05:12 PM by Hydrall

"I know the Federation is stretched thin with rebuilding," Isra replied with a look of visible relief, "We've stretched the deficit, but coming in so under-equipped? I didn't imagine it had gotten this bad..."

edited 23rd Dec '14 4:55:48 PM by Fauxlosophe

Becky folded her arms over her chest, eyeing the young man with unconcealed suspicion. Her aunt had taught her not to hate the Centauri, not as individuals and not even the Commonwealth itself. But if it turned out the carrier her flight was supposed to be operating on had more loyalty among its crew with their enemies... There was no way that could end well. She marched up to the not-technically-a-pirate, trying to look imposing while being quite a bit shorter than he was.

"What's the meaning of your disrespect?" she said in her best imitation of Commmander Arath. "This ship has been contracted to serve The Sol Federation and its people. You dare to walk around on a Federation vessel clothed in the uniform of our former enemies? This is treason, mister!" She reached up to poke his shoulder sternly.

"I see," she said a few moments after hearing the story. Damn, not only am I a patch, I'm a patch for a unit that got pushed in badly. This is exactly what I don't need to be coming back to. She sighed. "All I can really say is that I'm sorry for your losses. I hope I can be a decent replacement for you guys." And knowing me, that's a pretty tall order.

Noticing the newcomer, Kara turned to Mag and waved. "Name's Kara Cheslock. Knowing how I pilot, you'll probably be seeing me and my Rain Maker more often than is healthy." She looked over to the loading effort and noticed her frame being loaded in last. "Speaking of, how is she? Nothing too scuffed up I hope."

edited 24th Dec '14 9:44:14 AM by GIG

"To be more honest," Huangxi said, lowering his voice, "the Federation is effectively bankrupt. Supposedly, we have money - but effectively we have nothing. Not here, anyways. We own maybe a tenth of the ships in our fleet now - maybe less. The rest? Rented. Licensed. Some of them, even the crews. We're so deep in the manufacturers' pockets that we're sharing space with pocket lint - and they decide if we get our ships or not."

"The Schnellbahn Company were the ones that agreed to fund this... Excursion, you could say. Ships, ammo, mythril... All of it is technically paid for by them, on the condition that they are given parts of Samsara, namely mining sectors, as special economic zones under their control. It's not a new thing, I'm sure you're aware. But they've been strangling us - they don't want to escalate the conflict, for whatever reasons, and they're too blind to see the Centauri will walk all over us if we don't!"

He cleared his throat, his voice having risen a tad at the end of his previous sentence, tight with frustration. "... And, as such, I was forced to go over their heads. It was either this, or nothing... Or, beg them for more carriers, which would undoubtedly have prices attached."

The Centauri stared at her, his brief demeanor cracking in bewilderment. If anything, he almost looked... Intimidated? By her? The 'pirate' raised his yellow-gloved hands protectively, taking a stumbling step back. "W-wait, I've always worn this! There's nothing wrong with wearing a jacket, is there?!" He bumped up against the wall and glanced back, gulping audibly. "It's just a jacket! I don't work for them anymore, I swear!"

The laughter from behind the closed door was louder now, hastily and badly smothered. Someone was having a giggle at this, apparently.

"Pleasure," Mag replied, following her attention. "Well, uh." For a moment, the girl actually managed to look somewhat embarrassed. "We did knock it over, didn't we? Sorry 'bout that, blame the spider-man. Well, nothing's busted, maybe the paint's a little scuffed. We can fix that easy - same with most battle damage you'll probably take - Not like we haven't got plenty of potential spare parts lying around." She grinned. "And we're contractually obliged not to sell your wrecks for scrap, so don't worry about that, either."

Isra nodded.

"Thank you for your respect in this matter, sir," She said with a sincere smile that quickly faded into a polite one, "And I must admit that, now that I've seen the ship and have been informed on a few details, I feel more reassured than when I was introduced to them as Pirates and without any other authority. I will talk with their crew and my shipmates and do my best to try and make the situation as tenable as possible."

Her smile faded now entirely to a more serious look.

"Still, we are taking on a great deal of additional risk and I'd ask for that to be considered in our records. I imagine the records will attempt to downplay your use of pirate contracting; if you do, then please do make it so that our records reflect our willingness to co-operate with command decisions and undertake risks for the sake of greater strategic advantage."

She looked at him without loosing her straight face, hoping to read him.

edited 28th Dec '14 10:48:10 PM by Fauxlosophe

"If it's such a trivial matter, why are you so quick to defend your clearly reprehensible behaviour?" Becky challenged, her poking finger now an accusingly pointing finger. "So easily you abandoned your old allies, but a souvenir of those times can't be removed on command. Ha!" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'll see that Centauri uniform tossed out the airlock, it's your choice if you want to be wearing it or not!"

Leaving that threat hanging in the air, she followed the sound of the poorly muffled laughter. Marching over to the door it was emenating from, she threw it open as violently as her small frame allowed.

This post was thumped by the Stick of Post Thumping

"So, any ETA on departure?" Angus said, taking a sidelong look at his own frame. It seemed to have been loaded without incident, as far as he could see. He still wasn't thrilled with these arrangements, but no need to agitate about it. That he'd leave up to...

He looked around. "Uh, anyone seen Becky?"

"She was with us a moment ago, wasn't she? Ugh, it would be just like that foolish girl to go wandering off in a place like this. I'd swear her mental development must've gotten stuck somewhere...aside from that — Mag, could you make sure a machine gun is added to my Frame? My previous loadout didn't work too well."

edited 31st Dec '14 10:31:43 AM by Fluid

"And make sure I have a railgun," Kara added, "My frame is fresh and new, plus I've only flown it a few times since I got it." She turned and sighed slightly. "Since I don't have any of my old toys and mods, I'd like to have at least one thing that's familiar to me." She paused a moment and added. "And make sure my second weapon isn't a knife or sword. Trust me, no one wants to see me in a sword fight. Learned that lesson years ago."

"Gee, nice to know you guys care," Angus said, shooting somewhere between reproachful and apathetic. "I'll go find her. And I'm fine with my halfsnipe and foamer," he added over his shoulder as he headed back the way they had come. It shouldn't be too hard to find her, he figured. It had been pretty much a straight shot from here to the bridge, with the only major branch he recalled being the way to the living quarters. Hopefully he'd find her there getting into no more trouble than testing the bunks for the comfiest one.

Roland couldn't conceal his surprise when Ganzo mentioned the flow drive was scavenged from a Centauri super-capital ship of all things. The former pirate doubted they left wreckage from those just lying around for any old scavenger to pick through. But it was a big galaxy; who knew what folks got up to half the time?

He followed some of the others towards the hangar, worrying that his Magellan might have ended up getting dinged during the transfer. It wasn't that he didn't trust these guys per se, just that... well okay, he didn't trust them that much. For one thing, the new arrivals' Frames were probably the most modern pieces of kit aboard this old bucket of bolts. Roland half suspected that things would go "missing".

Much to his relief, Bull appeared to be in exactly the condition he had left it in. But he'd need to get closer to make sure. Magdalene - or "Mag" - seemed to be yet another colourful member of the ship's crew. Roland decided to keep his mouth shut for now.

"Don't worry. If somebody takes the fall for this, it won't be you. As long as you can get results, the hats won't complain - at least, no more than usual." The admiral turned to go, rolling his shoulders tiredly. "We've got a fight ahead of us, regardless - this is a chance to prove yourselves, and prove that the Federation isn't completely without balls nowadays."

He smiled, though it had a grim set to it. "Let's just hope it all works out."

Out from the closet tumbled a pair of salvagers that had been leaning against the door to listen in. They burst into another round of laughter as they caught sight of the Centauri's face - who seemed to be alternating between fear and indignation. "What's so funny?!" he demanded, pounding his fist into his palm.

The rubber gloves squeaked pathetically, which only brought the pair to laugh more.

One of the two, a man with a military haircut and a decidedly unmilitary beard, picked himself up, grinning and shaking his head. "Duke, you're dense as a goddamn neutron star, you know that?" He glanced over at the ace, jerking a thumb in the Centauri's direction. "We told this moron that you guys were gonna kill him if you knew he was Centauri. Figures he'd still not take that damn ratty jacket off."

"It's a memento!" 'Duke' insisted.

"Ha. It's scrap cloth that you should have thrown out years ago," the other salvager replied. Unlike the rest of the crew, she seemed fairly clean-cut - barely out of place in your average Federation city, apart from the well-disguised scars here and there. The woman glanced at Becky, nodding. "Evening, Ace."

"Yeah, guess you're one of the new tenants, huh?" The bearded man blinked, looking down the corridor. "... Ain't just you, is it?"

Duke, meanwhile, casually began to sidle away from the group, attempting to salvage some dignity as he went.

Mag shrugged. "Soon as your officers give us the all clear, we'll be out of here. Probably shortly after these frames get all in place. From what I hear, we're jumping straight to a fight. As for the guns..." She raised an eyebrow. "Now, I can guess which Frame's yours, Janus, since I knocked it over, but the rest of you I'm not so sure about. Send me the stuff over the 'net so I don't mess it up - We don't exactly have time for too many detailed introductions right yet."