Roger Davis
Marine Commander Staff
34 Years Old Major Aerilon Native
[brw1775|militaryapps]Sic Loquimur Omnes
Posts: 873
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Post by Roger Davis on Sept 15, 2013 14:59:34 GMT -5
0515 October 13th
Roger stepped up onto the "bridge" of the ship. The seated crew members in front of him were busy preparing for departure while the marines in the hold behind him were all occupied preparing as well. This Reconstar was Roger's secret weapon for the war game's boarding action. The entire plan had been kept close to the chest until the last minute and even then there had been hardly any time to actually practice for what was going to happen... not that anyone actually had much of an idea how any of this would play out.
The strength of the strategy was that no one had ever done anything like this before. Typically the two ships would touch, form a seal, and have a great big battle fighting over that tiny breach. Meanwhile maybe a few Raptors would assault through various other airlocks around the perimeter. A full blown Reconstar flying into your hanger with a full crew was something else. That they intended to gain control of the flight pod's lifts and lower Landrams down into their enemy's deck and wreck havoc was the true threat. Chaos was the goal of this operation and with luck it would be all they'd need to disrupt the enemy enough to pull out a win.
The actual battle had already begun. As they sat there in Hyperion's under-deck, marines were already pouring through the main breach battling hard for every inch of ground they took. Raptors were also simultaneously forming mini-breaches across the Battlestar Eirene. The Reconstar would be a late entrant to the fight, hopefully late enough so it would go unnoticed until it was too late and by then maybe the Eriene would have already deployed its reserves to the various other "fires" around the ship. Or maybe they'd get wiped out as they touched down...
"Ready when you are, lieutenant." Roger finally stated to the man sitting in the central captain's chair. He'd hand picked the old acquaintance to command the Reconstar for this op. He was that perfect combination of skilled, lucky, and crazy that was needed for this mission. He was also no slouch when it came to a fight which would come in handy once they got aboard the Eriene.
[I'm expecting Ty of course as the commander of the Reconstar. I'm thinking Vik could be in the pilot chair and we could have some other PCs jump into various positions (e.g. ECO, turret gunners, crew chiefs) if they show up. Now, get us over there, Mr. Tremaine.]
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Post by Viktoriya Gilyov on Sept 15, 2013 22:37:52 GMT -5
Wild wasn't really Viktoriya's M.O. Even so, she jumped at the opportunity to act as pilot for the Reconstar. She doubted anyone would be as excited about the chance to enact something insane as Tremaine himself likely was right now. This was probably the sort of thing Tremaine beat off to. Scantily clad women, vipers, and flying into an enemy hangar deck. Especially if the enemies were scantily clad women who spent their free time splayed out luxuriously in a cockpit. What the frak... this could very well be how lesbians were made.
Fox was excited about the plan (not Tremaine's alleged nude women). It wasn't so much about showing off for Fox as being a part of something. It wasn't her style to go so far off as to not even be on the grid of normalcy and expectation. That wasn't to say she couldn't pivot in combat, but she usually did so in far less radical ways. She wanted to see how it worked out, to take part in an unorthodox assault. It was as much about exploring a way that her mind wouldn't have worked as anything else.
Captain Striker's philosophy equated a loss inside a virtual arena with a loss in the field. To him, it was all equivalent. She sided with him... to an extent. There were ideas that panned out as just crazy enough to work. The victory was what separated those ideas from were you dropped on your head or is this an isolated incident of dumbass? If there was a time for an idea to fail, it was when there was no real danger. If the loss would have cost lives, Vik would have had a problem with the insanity of something with no basis for expectations of any kind. Some business-minded pricks would have weighed human capital, gains, risks, so on and so forth... but Vik measures people in souls.
It would be interesting to see whether this was a viable idea.
Somehow, she had faith in the cockamamie plan as being effective. She imagined the shock of their opponents was going to be amplified several fold from her own response... and the idea of it had been hard to wrap her head around. Still, she was going through the start up procedures as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It wasn't the most normal thing in the world... it was a tactic that was either one for the history books, or one for the cosmic blooper reel. Only time would tell.
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Tyler Tremaine
Viper Pilot Staff
37 Years Old Lieutenant Caprica Native
[brw1798|militaryapps]
Posts: 110
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Post by Tyler Tremaine on Sept 16, 2013 14:56:24 GMT -5
0438 October 13th
Tyler stepped onto the bridge a few minutes before the game started. It was a fine day, no solarwinds, no heavy wireless traffic, no bad mood. Those may not seem like a heightening order of anxiety, but in Tyler's mind, it was based on the odds of what ruined your focus most. If for instance, you were on your A game that day, but someone you know continually stops your focus, then it would become increasingly difficult to get yourself ready for the road ahead, and complete the task with a clear head. And there was nothing worse, hell, there is nothing worse, than going into battle, with your mind somewhere else.
That's why Tyler was down here so much earlier. That's why pre-flight had been done almost two hours ago. So he could clear his head. He wasn't the only one down here, there were a few deckhands, eyes coated in sleep and thoroughly angry about not being in their bunks. Not that military life didn't start early, but for a few of these boys, this was still work from yesterday. Major Davis had only very recently laid out his plan to the ship's men, so the Eos was being slammed into fighting shape at near the last minute. To be clear, it was already in combat shape, and consistently so. Reconstars weren't as well used as simple Raptors, but they were never thought of lightly. It wasn't in simulated combat shape, which simply meant that every weapon system had to be switched over in the boards, to generate the proper readouts when a hit was confirmed.
Tyler ran his hand across the Eos' pilot chair headrest, as a knuckle dragger pushed by. "Excuse me Sir," He said as he slipped by with a control adjustment. Ty nodded at him dismissively, going back to his revelry. He had been offered several pilots for the Eos, but it had ended up being given to Viktoriya. Recent events aside, she had never been one for showing off, nor accepting dangerous missions. Dangerous in that, 'This may physically damage your bird' sort of way. But perhaps she liked the tour busses. Almost no Viper pilot wants to drive a bus all day, though to be fair, Vik would have jumped in a Raptor just as quickly as it's bigger sister here. The Hyperion had two which was just one more testament to the damn thing's size. And today, he would command the Eos, with Vik at the helm. She probably prefered a god or muse or something that better reciprocated her life. Erato perhaps... nah, that was his wingman's.
Ty slid into the pilot's seat and tried to see the view screen as it would look in an hour or so. He tried to see the fights around him, Raptors touching the enemy ship against the ink of space. The hulking Pod of the Eriene spreading before them, the ship offering up her insides to the team more deserving. Ty turned around and saw that they were loading the first of the Landrams. Time to get his game face on. He set his coffee down into it's slot on his chair, feeling it clip into place. Then he walked over to navigation, and began prepping the packets for Major Davis.
0515 October 13th
"Ready when you are, lieutenant." Davis said over Ty's shoulder. Ty turned his head towards the Major's direction and cadenced;
"Copy Sir." He looked to his Navigation officer for confirmation. The man checked his panels, then seemed to lull over the comms screens. Then he turned and announced, "Command says ASAP LT, the battles in swing, Marine insertion have the fight on the far side... that's the greenest light we're gonna get."
Tyler turned his head and looked at Major Davis somewhat sheepishly. The Major had a solid plan going. The Reconstar wasn't designed to take on fighters straight up, which is why they still flew with an escort during landings. But there would be no escort today. Not that there would be a ton of personnel on the deck at this stage of the fight anyway. At least... not yet. Once the Eos got there, all that would change. His look was something between an assuring 'It will work', while simultaneously being, 'You think this will work?' He turned back to the team around him, and cleared each station.
"Flight Control. Navigation. Engineering. Combat. All hands, grab your OSBs." Every station reported back all clear and ready by simply saying 'Check'. Tyler looked to his Nav Officer, Cronus the-ever-ready and willing to do something stupid, and said, "Call it in." Cronus reported in to the Hyperion that the Eos was ready, and the air hissed out of the station. Then, the big plates over head pealed open and the elevator's scissor arms extended, lifting the entire ship. Every man here felt the vertigo, but Tyler couldn't imagine any of them actually comprehending it. Even the Marines at the bottom of Davis' command had certainly seen enough combat and drills to have made such things second nature. And most of the team around him were Viper pilots straight out of the Shadowhawks. Any one of them were worth a hundred specialised Spacemen. The ship came to an easy stop at the top, far different than years gone by, when such things would have jerked at the fullest height, a sure fire way to make everyone nervous.
"Ok Fox, take us out, three quarter speed, and put us under her belly." As the RS raced out of the pod, and darted into the black, Ty could imagine the chaos that the Marines were creating on the far side of the ship. The Eos slipped out of the Pod, and reeled around shooting into the dark side of the Hyperion, Gilyov was skirting so close to the hull of the Titan, that everyone in the huge canopy of the ship had their anus in full clench. He considered telling her to back off, this was just a game, but he didn't want her to break concentration during her maneuver even for a second. Instead, he just gripped his cold coffee cup, and stared wide eyed at the passing super-structure. This was easily the hardest part of commanding a ship, putting your trust in other's ability. Tyler would doubtless be skimming even closer than Gilyov was now, but since the stick was in her hand, he had a massive knot in his stomach.
Cronus looked over the consoles stretching before him and sent two packets to Tyler, simple DRADIS observations, detailing sweeps as they revolved and pinged. Ty consciously forced his eyes off the canopy's show, to look at the information. Perhaps Cronus was just looking for some reason not to stare at the spectacle, or perhaps he just trusted Gilyov that much. With his wingman and her knack for theatrics, he was perhaps used to this sort of thing. "Every two seconds just like you said Sir." The ship slowed, and then rotated around, facing the Eirene. He let out a slow breath.
"Standard Colonial Active ping... copy that Cronus, prep for max speed. Fox, take us in on my mark," He said as he watched the screen ahead, timing and calculating their moment. The DRADIS swept over, and then the second. Then he counted. "Get us closer, take us to the edge of cover."
The ship inched along, hugging the hull so tight that as they passed one heat vent, Ty held his breath and tensed his back until they passed. The dorsal gunner cursed half the planet of Virgon in one low breath, but everyone on the bridge could hear him. Ty breathed out relief quietly. By the sound of the guy's voice, they'd passed it. Fox was nuts.
He looked ahead again, at his panel, and recalculated their time gap. Satisfied, he said, "Ok Gilyov, on my command." The DRADIS swept by, and then started its arc back, and he counted aloud, "Three." Then it swept by. "Two." The second one flopped around coming down. "One." It arced and right as it came against their position he shouted, "GO!"
The Eos slammed into motion, jumping ahead as the co-pilot dumped all power to the four main drives, and Gilyov drained everyones blood of heat with he straight shot to the Eriene's port pod! Tyler wanted to watch but he couldn't, instead, he watched the precious seconds slip by as they tried to make the gap under the DRADIS. With Active pings bouncing everywhere, they were just another ripple in the whitewash of the Hyperion's cyberwarfare sweep, but if the dish caught them, then Major Davis could kiss his Initiative goodbye. The ship stormed ahead, and entered the pod, slamming through their gravity barrier at close to full speed, gunners opened fire on several elements that were unavoidably stationed on the flight deck, taking out the DC teams in short order, with strafing strobes of simulated 35 millimeter cannon fire. Tyler saw the DRADIS dish swish down as the engines swept in, they wouldn't make it!
"Rotate Starboard!" He started to say, but about the time that the 'row' of 'rotate' left his lips, Fox was swinging the ass around and the world turned tight as the massive bulk of the Reconstar took all the space she could coming in on an angle. The Dish swooped by, and Tyler breathed out. They cleared it.
"Get us straight Lt..." He said, suddenly aware that he'd managed to stand at some point in the two second trip. He looked around the bridge with his mouth opened a bit, and shook his head. The gun team reported all clear as the thudding strobes came to a close. "That was fun... Good work everybody." He turned and nodded to Davis, then turned back to Fox before speaking to him, "You have your opportunity Sir. Fox, land us on the marker. Cronus, get your mark on those sensors, and hit 'em with the big girls."
Two blinding flashes blinked as the eighty five millimeter gauss cannons registered hits against the sensors that would be alerting every sensor in the ship that the pad just took on several hundred tons. The pad was theirs. "All clear Sir."
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Roger Davis
Marine Commander Staff
34 Years Old Major Aerilon Native
[brw1775|militaryapps]Sic Loquimur Omnes
Posts: 873
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Post by Roger Davis on Sept 16, 2013 16:18:06 GMT -5
Tyler responded in the affirmative and within seconds his small crew had the ship underway. Tyler gave him one last look both trying to reassure and looking for reassurance himself. Roger merely gave a calm nod to the pilot. This would work or at least they all better believe it would. Simulated or not, this was no time for defeatism. Maybe they wouldn't hit all their marks perfectly but the chances that they'd fail horribly were... within an acceptable range.
Roger turned back to his men and likewise gave them a nod, this one with a bit more meaning. The forty or so marines, Davis included, all pulled on their helmets. These men were not dressed as the others were in BDUs with kevlar buckets. Due to the nature of the plan they were in the uniforms of the gunners, similar to the pilot flight suits but jet black. A few audible seals could be heard as the helmets locked in place and the suits pressurized. Some of the men fidgeted with their combat equipment on-top of the suits but for the most part they were ready. There was no time to spare getting suited up once they arrived in the other flight pod, and something told Roger that no one would have time to do it en route.
Sealed and ready, there was one final quick weapons check among the marines while the Reconstar was lifted smoothly out of the deck and into the open Hyperion pod. Major Davis moved back toward the front of the ship, close enough to observe but not too close as to be looking over Ty's shoulder. Although the ranking officer aboard, this was Tyler's vessel and Roger trusted him to get them to their destination.
With Gilyov at the helm, Eos moved on a flight path precisely as planned. She quietly slipped out of the pod and used the larger Hyperion for cover. As the small Reconstar maneuvered into position, she kept them dangerously close to the hull of the parent ship and actually managed to hug closer and closer as they moved along it. Roger was once again thankful that he and his boys had suited up already. Gods forbid they end up with a gaping hole in the Eos, at least there'd be a chance that there'd be some survivors.
After a few tense seconds, the Eos launched from its position tight to Hyperion and lept across the black to a similarly close position to the Eirene. The theory was that they could cross the distance in between sweeps and continue to remain undetected. One could only hope it worked.
As the ship slid alongside the opposing Battlestar, the gunners quickly made short work of the obstacles in their way. The hanger's sensor pad was pinged by the big 85, and knocked offline. 35mm fire swept the few engineers, deckhands, and whoever else had been unlucky enough to be space walking out in the pod at this moment. All of their suits locked up from the simulated hits. Some fell. Others in the low gravity merely remained stationary as their mag boots kept them rooted to the deck.
The Eos hovered right up next to the inside wall of the pod and touched down on the deck. The marines were already lining up to go as the clear was given. The ship's lower airlock opened and the ladder dropped down. This was followed by the platoon sliding down as fast as three dozen men could possibly get out of the vehicle. It was unfortunate that they could not merely use the ship's drop-down platform but the Landrams were currently sitting right on top of it.
The first men off the ship quickly moved to the nearest lock and began to work overriding the door. Roger glanced up at the LSO's tower high above them. It was impossible to see in from this angle so logic would indicate it was just as hard for them to look directly down at them. However, if anyone up there had been paying the slightest bit of attention in the last minute they would have glanced the Eos slip in, land, and simultaneously open fire on a fair few targets in the pod. Whether alerted or not, that little room was their objective. There had been contemplation of merely scaling the hull and cutting into the booth, but, well, the war games frowned on making hull breaches, venting atmosphere, and inadvertently killing crew members. Instead, they'd have to fight their way there the old fashioned way.
As the last of the marines slid down the ladder, Roger looked up to the Eos' bridge directly above him and waved for the crew to follow them down. They'd all been chosen not only for their various skills in crewing a Reconstar but because the plan also called for a crew that could hold its own in a fight. They'd all be joining the marines in the assault.
Just before turning back to his men and the airlock, Roger keyed his wireless and said one word. "Nomad."
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Erica Weiss
Raptor Pilot
31 Years Old Captain Virgon Native
[brw1814|militaryapps]The difference is my flaws are personal, yours are professional
Posts: 105
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Post by Erica Weiss on Sept 18, 2013 23:33:06 GMT -5
Out in the field of battle, Weiss grabbed at her headset and reflexively turned her Raptor around. "Graves. Moving out now." she reported. Early on for the war games, she immediately fell into her role as a transport ship. She was finishing up her assistance with a troop deployment when she got the call.
Recognizing the voice and being called out specifically was all that she needed to hear. Well ahead of time the captain understood that this particular move was small but significant, and required the finesse of a fantastic pilot.
With ease Erica made her way through the battlefield and returned to the Hyperion. She barely touched down on the deck and opened the side hatch when she started to bark orders. Through her headset she continued to relay information. "Cocky, Deny, Grinch -- this is it. Meet us at rendezvous coordinates in five" she muttered over the wireless. From the deck she signaled Christophe and his team over, ushering them inside. She assumed her seat back at the cockpit once everyone was situated. "Chris." she said shortly, turning in her seat and nodding over to the special forces.
She was doing final checks on her raptor when she called out once more. "Faker, are we clear?" she asked her ECO. Charting a stealthy path through a chaotic battlefield was no easy task, but for the sake of their highly important mission, precision was necessary.
Raptor One sailed out from the Hyperion and shortly found its way in a group of other raptors. "Deny, Grinch, and Cocky: assume formation alpha. Let's get going" she ordered to the other raptor pilots over the wireless. The small group flew silently then, between the two Battlestars and on to their objective. Once they got close enough, the group would then break off into different directions, making it difficult for the enemy to pick up on what was about to transpire. Hopefully, the other two wandering raptor signals would get their attention, while the third would assist in hiding the DRADIS signal and getting them that much closer.
"You ready?" she asked openly, directing the question to Christophe and his team. Weiss was not one to usually make small talk during missions, but the tense situation motivated her to find alternate means of calming down.
Transporting wasn't the hard part, it was the upcoming drifting that worried her the most: without using any systems to assist and adjust her flight path, she was expected to hit a target no more than a few meters wide in length. She had to drift completely, to maintain the element of surprise over DRADIS.
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Post by Alexander Christophe on Sept 22, 2013 23:58:54 GMT -5
Alexander had been given his mission and only fifteen minutes to prepare. Alexander's men where already on the deck when the orders came down.
They where going to put them to good use. They had been training for many months now on infiltrating Large ships. They trained on frigates battle stars and assault stars. They where well versed in many different forms off assault on these vessels.
It seemed that Davis had a few tricks up his sleeve as well. Alexander and his team where to go into the battle star through a garbage shoot. The gap would be small and barely fit the larger Christophe but he would make it work. After receiving his orders he relayed the message to his men quickly
"Alright boys, it seems they're going to put us to work in these games. oorah!" He grinned. His men replied with oorah's and grins of there own.
Alexander pulled up a quick schematic of the other ship and showed it to his men."Alright the mission is easy enough on paper but its up to us to execute this plan flawlessly. We are going to enter this garbage hatch here." He pointed. It was the closest access point to the cic. From that point they would only have to go up two floors and down the hall about five hundred yards in all.
"Our mission is to gain control of the CIC and shut down the ship allowing the Hyperion to mop it up and get an easy win." He paused for a moment.
"We will be wearing the same gear as the gunners. These suits will allow us to be in space for a short time but allow us the mobility once we get on the ship. "
He then looked up at his men. They all seemed excited to get some action, and finally be able to put some of this training to use. "We will fire a mag lock to the hatch climb up and then open the hatch. Once inside we will secure the immediate area take off our suits and proceed to the CIC. We are to take out any threats on the way. Make sure you have your sim rounds and sim knives." The knives they had where special training knives, they had the same wait and shape. They where blunted and released a red ink when pressed to flesh, that allowed them to signal a kill.
His men quickly grabbed the gear they would need and they all assisted each other in getting suited up.
They moved quickly to the rendezvous and loaded up sharply. As they loaded the Pilot looked to Christophe. He nodded back to reply that all of his men where aboard and ready to go.
they where all seated except for Alexander he stayed standing. He was going to make the shot and be the first man up the shoot. "Alright men i know these are the war games, but we are the best of the best. We will go and execute our mission with professionalism and accuracy. We got the call because we where made for this. Lets show these Sally's why we are the men they aspire to be. OORAH!!" His men replied with a simple OORAH! and then everyone rechecked his gear.
After they where on their way Weiss looked back and asked Alexander if he was ready.
He simply smiled and said."Sir this is what we do."
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Post by Viktoriya Gilyov on Sept 23, 2013 0:20:35 GMT -5
”Three quarter speed.”
She both recited and confirmed as she hugged the Reconstar close to the Hyperion. When Fox was told more or less to kiss the Hyperion on the way, she didn't frak around about it. A lot of tape worms were likely strangled in the process, but she was their pilot, not their teddy bear---it would be the same in real combat, and there was no reason to start sandbagging now. -This- wasn't the questionable portion of the plan. They had the gods for their comfort, and Fox for the thrusters. If she had to take the frakking Reconstar a hair's breadth from the Hyperion's hull to get the job done, she would; until that was the order, they had a small margin of comfort. She was in control of that ship, moving it as if it were her own body.
She was tuning out the unimportant. The uncertainty of others wasn't a part of the Hyperion, and it wasn't something she had to skirt around. She was listening to Tremaine, listening for orders, and absorbing every ounce of awareness in her to the controls she held and the gauges she monitored. Even Cronus's voice couldn't shake her---the two of them had been at odds since she'd severed her engagement to Lieutenant Luther Trenton, his brother, aboard the Patrolstar Achilles. Cronus had been close to her best friend. Right now, he was probably wishing everything on her from boils and locusts to somehow knocking a hole in the hull and, from some strange and malevolent turn of events, it becoming reasonably necessary and possible to use her vital organs to seal it.
Get us closer, take us to the edge of cover.
”Yes, sir.” Love it or hate it, they did rely on each other, and trust each other. Cronus knew Fox wasn't getting them killed. He could just keep hoping she choked on something later, but she was really just too ornery to die. Fox forgot Cronus and frak near everything else when she had the Reconstar Eos at the edge of their cover.
Ok Gilyov, on my command.
This was where the rubber met the road in the sense that she'd quickly know if Eos was going to prove formidable or the short bus of this encounter. Her breath was slower, more shallow, and she was poised to drive the machine forward with all its power. The Eos didn't have sinewy muscles to coil, haunches to lower and hackles to raise, but the pilot and the machine were both prepped to push the vessel to the limits of her capabilities after their mission. Both ladies' attentions were hinged on a single sound and none else.
Three. - Two. - One. - GO!
Punching it didn't seem an adequate expression of what they did. Decimating it? More appropriate, because everything the Eos had to burn was hurling them toward bravado or idiocy---or an adequate measure of both, for what they had planned. As many white faces as the Eos sported, it was really frakking likely that she'd just incited erectile dysfunction in the crew for weeks to come---about as long as it would take their circulatory system to replenish the rest of their organs. There was a very stark difference between wet nurse and pilots, and it seemed the Reconstar was a great tool for demonstration of that principle. The command was no gentler on the comforts of the crew than the immediate execution.
With every heartbeat that passed, their success as a collective wavered like a mirage in the desert. If they didn't get there, it would be because the time was inadequate. It wasn't going to be because the pilot or the machine held back. There was that moment when one could feel that constriction in the back of their throat and the flop in their stomach from the jolt, as if about to vomit. It wasn't a new experience, by any means. A body didn't take part in such abrupt motion without feeling it.
Fox outmaneuvered Tremaine's own orders in the starboard rotation, preparing their ship for the board as rapidly as she could manage. While her focus was on maneuverability, she had to extend that same trust (less wavering from the end of someone who know the ship's movements before it made them, of course) to the crew that had been put in herself, to take out their marks with the simulated fire. She only began to cut their speed at such proximity as not to lose the time they needed. Inside required a dramatic cut, but the crew was braced. This wasn't safety; far from it. This was phase one.
She brought the ship down in what must have been a blessedly dull landing for the crew at Griffin's command. The execution had been exhilarating, but it was only when the Eos was settled that Fox's expression changed at all – a brief smile for all the fear and effort of the crew. She was relieved to have cleared it. The rest was out of her hands, but she thought they stood a good frakking chance of winning this one. If they didn't... well, they'd be blaming the jarheads out of earshot. She'd passed the frakking buck, and she wanted to win this one. Badly.
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Tyler Tremaine
Viper Pilot Staff
37 Years Old Lieutenant Caprica Native
[brw1798|militaryapps]
Posts: 110
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Post by Tyler Tremaine on Sept 24, 2013 12:17:06 GMT -5
The team was quiet, no doubt still collecting their stomachs from their pants after the theatrics of Vik's landing. The marines were true to their hard core reputation though, and filed out in what seemed to be the spirit of 'Lets go kill somebody'. Ty nodded to the last man as he exited the Eos, grabbing the rails to the ladder, and whipping out of sight. From the wide canopy of the Reconstar, Ty could see the marines start forming into their positions, and fire teams. It had been a while since he'd had a chance to work with the Jarheads on anything more than a pint, but the men of Hyperion looked anxious to go get some action. Perhaps a bit too anxious. It was no secret that everyone the CO passed to serve on the Hyperion was a fighter, not one sole in five thousand was a quiet one. All had that edge. But these marines, Ty chuckled, they still wanted to storm some beach head and punch a Tauron in the face. He slid his chair around and stood up.
Ty checked his rifle to see that it was charged, and then slung it across his back. He tapped several ammo pouches, and then grabbed the gear that the marines left, slipping on twenty pounds of body armor, and then checked the pouches across the chest. Satisfied, he grabbed his helmet, clipped the carabiner around the chin strap, and waited. Not long after this, Cronus snapped his fingers to Tyler and got his attention. Then he pointed out the canopy and Ty followed his direction down to Davis, it was the signal to follow. "Looks like we get to go help after all, Dibs, you owe me five cubits. Lets go people, move it, move it, move it." He said in an air of authority he hadn't even tried to simulate in years. Dibs climbed up from the ventral gun an smirked at Ty before grabbing his weapon and sliding down the hatch. "Let's go Fox, you too," He said to Gilyov, plucking two rifles from the hatch's backside open locker, and tossing one to her.
Ty was the last to exit the Eos, and before he did, he caught the glint of the Landram's viewport. He smiled with half his mouth, and saluted them. It wasn't a salute of military readiness, but one that said, Eat well boys, then he slid down ladder, and unzipped from the airlock. The freeze of space was immediate, even deep in the guts of the Pod, and Tyler was glad for the newer high count thread weaves of the flight suit. Once upon a time, this would have been a cold walk indeed. The Hyperion wasn't sporting any old tech, unlike the Eirene apparently. The DC teams had been in basic warfare positions amidst the deck, which meant that as he hustled across the metal floor, whumping with each magnetic step, he passed three men who were floating limp, anchored upright by their mag boots. All their suits were the old kind, not... that old, only two generations of tech behind, but certainly these boys had drawn the short straw today. Or perhaps they thought that the Pod was unbreachable. How many times in history had developers claimed to have had the perfect ship? Unsinkable, unscuttleable, unbreachable? No such thing, and today, this poor sap, who'd just got a thirty five millimeter simulated shock, to explain that no fortress, no matter how well conceived, was impenetrable.
It helped to perpetuate that myth, that not many men possessed Major Davis' love for death defying strategy, but all it took was planning, and a little moxy. And one crazy pilot. He stood in front of the DC Corporal and smirked as he slowed and wondered if the guy knew the trip they'd just taken, would he have been happier to just be where he was? The guy mistook his smirk for one of impudence, and mouthed a curse. Ty didn't take it well, before he moved on, he took the knife from the small of his back, and sliced a new shock register point on the sap, and watched him jerk with satisfaction.
The rest of the team seemed to be getting ready to breach, so Ty double timed it to the formation, setting up close to Major Davis, hoping that he wasn't going to have to actually live out his own threats. He'd been told by two Jarheads in a rather belittling fashion, that his crew was to be put on airlock guard once they breached. Of course, Davis wasn't the type of guy who take requests to 'not be put on douche patrol' in a friendly way, so he hadn't quite gotten to hear what his exact mission was yet, only that he would get further instructions based on the needs of the mission. So by keeping two steps behind the Major, his plan was to sneak into the team, and thereby, sneak into the ship with them. Besides, Ty had no intention of missing the show...
He stood with the others for a second, then decided to say screw it, and moved up directly beside Davis. He checked around once he was beside him, sweeping his muzzle across the deck, then caught a marine doing the same. The guy seemed to be checking for something specific, though what, Ty could only guess. He turned one last time, then saw Tyler's look, and nodded, then held up his thumb. Ty felt like some kind of special op's guy when he turned and gave the marine Major the universal signal for 'All Clear' and readied his rifle on the hatch.
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Roger Davis
Marine Commander Staff
34 Years Old Major Aerilon Native
[brw1775|militaryapps]Sic Loquimur Omnes
Posts: 873
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Post by Roger Davis on Sept 24, 2013 20:17:53 GMT -5
A brief reply over the wireless ensured Major Davis that the final piece was being moved to the board. Otherwise completely misallocated to the Hyperion, the small SF team was perfectly suited for this task. In the hands of a skilled pilot, more like an artist at the control stick, they would insert in a much more stealthy manner than the Reconstar had. More importantly, their insertion location was much more remote. Who would expect a daring insertion through the cramped, dirty, and open-to-the-void, garbage chutes? More importantly, who would post guards to defend against such an insertion? It wouldn't be pretty but the plan was that Christophe and his men would travel right under enemy noses behind their lines and pop out in the interior of the ship. From there they just needed to do what they did best and the day would be theirs. Checkmate.
With the final stroke moving into position, part one of the Reconstar's large diversion was ready to begin. His marines were stacked up and ready, the crew of the Eos had also joined them, and the combat engineers had been at work just about... there! The control console to the door flashed to a nice red override color. The central latch automatically rotated and then a nice satisfying hiss escaped as the doors opened to admit them.
Roger gave a low armed wave to gesture the men forward and gave a silent nod to Ty for him and his men to follow. Together the large group pressed forward into the airlock. Big as it was, with so many men it soon became a bit cramped... and a bit of a death trap. Couldn't be helped. They needed to breach hard and fast. Roger was only willing to leave a team of ten behind as a second wave lest they get stuck inside the airlock and need to be rescued. Opening the doors and getting cut down by a well armed welcoming committee was something else.
The lock pressurized and the interior doors cycled open revealing no enemy force waiting to halt their advance before it had started. As a wave of warm air rushed toward them, the boarders quickly rushed out into the ship. Two inattentive marines, a wandering deckhand, a custodian, and two maintenance workers quickly went down as the team fanned out into the corridor in both directions.
"Go. Go." Roger said as soon as they had all cleared the lock. "Press fore." he ordered before then tapping his wireless and calling to the ten men he'd left as their failsafe wave. "Team four, enter and press aft." Without waiting for the fourth team, the other three and their pilot auxiliaries pressed briskly moved out down the hall.
The host of over thirty trained rifles in unison cut through what sporadic resistance appeared in their path as if the Eirene's men were warm butter. By the time they had traveled down past two intersecting corridors and reached and access ladder, there had yet to be any determined defense against them. Without a word, as soon as the group reached it marines started up the ladder to the deck above. However, the main bulk of the force continued to press forward. Before the pilots had a chance to go one way or another, Roger grabbed Ty by the shoulder and gave him a soft shove to the ladder to follow the smaller team.
"The boys know where they're going." he explained. "Go with them to the LSO booth, storm it, and take control." He started to back pedal to catch up to the larger marine force steadily progressing down the hall past the ladder. "Well cause as much trouble as we can down here. If you get in a jam we'll try and double back but no promises. Get it done at any cost."
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Post by Viktoriya Gilyov on Sept 25, 2013 22:43:08 GMT -5
Everyone had their forte. Vik's... well, Vik's had gotten them this far. If she'd ever had pride, she'd left it in the atmosphere over Aerilon. She just served her purpose efficiently, and she took pleasure in it, like she always had. She thought of the gunner who'd gone through every swear he knew and perhaps invented more. She could hear him, but she couldn't really afford to hear him at the time. He may not appreciate it, but it wasn't a stunt. It was necessary.
Let's go Fox, you too.
She'd known it was a possibility that she'd be asked to abandon her station to assist with the occupation... just like she'd imagined the possibility that she be asked to remain prepped for flight in the event they'd needed an escape. She stood and caught the rifle, gearing up behind Tyler as rapidly as she could manage. Griffin allowed her and the rest to leave before him.
It shouldn't have been an awkward moment to pass by the soldiers planted by their mag boots whose suits had been paralyzed by the simulated fire. A woman from Picon just couldn't avoid the similarities between the bodies with a kind of drifting quality in low-gravity and seaweed. She couldn't decide if it would be more of slight to make eye contact or to pass them by stoically, but she decided there really was no protocol for having boarded the hangar deck of a group of enemy friendlies (frenemies?). She passed by the grumbling deckhands without a second glance, deciding that she just didn't want to know it if someone in a locked-up space suit was giving her stink eye as she passed. The corpses in live combat just didn't present this sort of problem.
Fox had hoped that she would get to be a part of the breach. She was genuinely excited to see how this worked out. From working with archaic strategies of pilots long before her time to this very event, she loved taking part in strategies. She loved to learn about what worked, and what didn't. She hadn't had many opportunities in her career to do anything like this outside of a simulation pod, and she was stoked. Having to only look at her surroundings in brevity as she exited for fear of striking one of the “corpses” as smug put a damper on that, though. Why did she even think like that -? She doubted any of Major Davis's marines had that hangup in going straight for the gold.
Ty bolted past, slowing to a stop only when he reached Major Davis, so Fox fell in line behind him. She didn't know exactly what their end was going to be, but she had a simulated rifle, and she was more than willing to give it her all. Particularly when she wouldn't have to be in the same room with the “corpses” long. She just couldn't imagine any scenario where that wouldn't get uncomfortable eventually. So... How's it hangin'? No, there really was no opening for that.
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Tyler Tremaine
Viper Pilot Staff
37 Years Old Lieutenant Caprica Native
[brw1798|militaryapps]
Posts: 110
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Post by Tyler Tremaine on Oct 1, 2013 15:37:18 GMT -5
The door hissed open, and the men started moving. At Davis' nod, Griffin went to war. Well, not really, just to an airlock, but depending on what the other side looked like, all this eerie ass silence could be what they were enjoying for the remainder of the days games. When the big doors cycled open, Tyler's gut wrenched as he held his rifle in what had to be white knuckles under his gloves. It had been so long since he'd had this much excitement, he'd forgotten the feelings of adrenaline and the rush of each moment. It wasn't bad at all, in fact, it was a bit anti-climatic when the doors opened and no one was there. Tyler felt sheepishly stupid. He'd gotten all tensed up for nothing. Like having a friend hand you a big shotgun, and jerking when you squeeze the trigger, only to find that your friend hadn't loaded it for you. Embarrassing. However, just like with the shotgun, he wouldn't be caught in that moment again, by Horus he swore it.
They marched on, and Tyler was shuffled into the ranks according to value of rank, despite his eagerness to get more action. Davis' boys led the way, and handled everything the way you might expect Christophe's kind too. That whole, one shot one kill mentality? Yeah, these boys exemplified it. Tyler was no slouch, but this was a crew he could learn a lot from, and he made a mental note to do so. As they neared the fork in the road, Marines began to file up a ladder, and he found himself led that way unexpectedly.
The Major took a handhold of Tyler's flight suit patch, and shoved him towards the ladder. "The boys know where they're going. Go with them to the LSO booth, storm it, and take control. We'll cause as much trouble as we can down here. If you get in a jam we'll try and double back but no promises. Get it done at any cost." The Major said, the last bit while already backpedaling down the way. Ty felt that small lump you get in your throat when you drop out of a plane, and remember that you don't know which cord open's the parachute.
"You can count on us sir!"
He turned and saw that marines were already making their way up the ladder, and making excellent time. He chambered the first stun round of his new mag, and nudged Fox to the ladder first. He and another Marine covered the ladder and waited until the forward man signaled back all clear. Ty looked to the sergeant beside him, Caleb Jackson, and widened his brow enough to ask who went first. Jackson bounced the muzzle of his carbine and went back to covering them all, he'd be the last man.
When he reached the top, he came out in a narrow corridor that was low to the ceiling. Two marines were at the top, helping each man come off the latter without any noise, by holding loose gear for those stepping off the last rung. Ty nodded his thanks, and crept down behind the next group who were using a small mirror to peek around the corner. One looked to the other, and started a whirl of hand signals that Tyler knew thanks only to his time served under Bainbridge. One thing about the Reapers, they'd stayed busy. Kind of like some other outfits... The marine was relaying silently which was automatic proof of soldiers on some kind of guard. Two marks, no sustained marker points, attack quietly, go now. The other marine nodded as silent as the devil, and both handed off their rifles to Tyler, and he got the idea. He handed one back to the marine behind him, and then waited, feeling honestly awesome, with a big black rifle in each hand.
As the men of Davis' command swooped into the hall and began attacking before Tyler could get to cover them, he heard sounds of smashing and gurgling. Good gods! They weren't! He poked his head around the corner, yes. They were. One had a man around the neck, and continued to hold him in a vice grip until the fellow quit struggling and raised his arms in submission, which was followed by a sharp stun knife to the ribs over the heart. The other was struggling far more, as his quarry was much bigger. It was only a flash of action, and it ended when the Hyperion Jarhead smashed the head of the man into the wall with a unusual amount of force. Tyler swept down the hall angrily. "Hey, hey, hey!" He hissed in a hoarse whisper, "Are you allowed to smash men's skulls SERGEANT?"
The staff sergeant looked incredulous. "My orders are to subdue the enemy element by any means necessary without breaking Article One One Eight. Sir." He didn't say it with disrespect, he didn't show disdain. Just a man who believed he'd done the right thing. Were all Davis' men this way? Or had he sent the worst known rulebreakers of the Shadowhawks with his own rulebreakers on accident? Either way, the man sounded sincere, and it set a precedent for the mission that just made it that much more fun. Davis had said any means necessary.
"Hell yes, carry on." Ty said, rapping the Sergeant on the shoulder and handing him his weapon back, before turning to face Vik directly behind him. He mouthed, I should have been a marine, to her and smirked.
It wasn't a long hump to the LSO station like it would have been on the Hyperion, specifically because of the difference in the size of the ships. And they didn't have tons of men at every station either. The fact was, they probably didn't think anyone would come here like this. Most of the guard were likely holding the CIC, gods only knew how Davis planned to handle that one. The marines stacked on the door, and Ty motioned for a flashbang. The Sergeant considered it, and then shook his head no, and motioned the international sign for "too many cubits." Fine fine. He had a point. The other one made a shooting gesture with his fingers, and then pointed in. Then Ty nodded, and looked back to Vik and made the actual breach signs. His way of showing that the Shadowhawks all knew the language, not just him.
They opened the door slightly before the actual rush, the sound of a man on the other side asking someone something indistinctly and then the crash. Tyler's boot. The scene was a blur of flashes. Tyler came off the door with a strong drop, rolling out of the way, as several soldiers stormed in, taking two men out with a spray of stun rounds which flashed a bright blue muzzle flare, and a quieter sound than normal. The rest of the team filed in and the majority of the Shadowhawks came in last, Cronus was the last, securing the exit, and sealing the hatch with a zip tie to bar further entrance. On the other side one lone soldier, a Lieutenant, bolted out of a close door, even as Tyler grabbed the LSO by his collar, and shoved his barrel into the guys ribs. He barked orders after them, "FOX AND YOU! GET THAT GUY! HURRY! No no. You stay here." He slammed the LSO Major against the console, and pinned him boring the muzzle into him hard. He looked to the Marines to see if they would follow his lead, and they seemed to silently adjust to a pilot making the calls without question. It had to irk them, a pilot in command of a ground op. Or maybe his reputation of being a Reaper preceded him. Or maybe they were just that well trained. The LSO didn't appreciate being manhandled.
"What are you doing? This is just a wargame, ease off. You have the surrender of the LSO station of the starboard pod, congratulations LT. Now go play with someone else."
Tyler was already looking him back in the eye. "Not today Major. Your key and your personal ID input if you please."
The man looked floored by the demands. "What?"
"I don't have time to repeat myself Major."
He didn't even twich. "What do you think yo..."
Ty made the LSO's situation more apparent for him, by slamming him against the console so hard that he lost his footing, and then Ty picked him up by his collar as best he could and leaned his body weight against the Major, pressing the console edge into the man's kidneys roughly. "Boy you just don't get it. THE KEY, AND YOUR NUMBERS! NOW! YOU THINK I CAN'T HURT YOU? THE KEY!"
The Major's eyes grew afraid for a moment, but he succeeded to Tyler, pulling the key from around his neck, "Here here!"
That was nice, but it was only half of what they needed to be fast and not spend time waiting on the engineers. "THE CODE!"
"I don't have the authority to.." He started to say, but Ty rammed his forearm into the guys neck holding his sleeve fiercely.
"CODE!"
His voice rose to anger as he said, "That's against the Law Lieutenant!"
Tyler looked back only a minute to see the still hard expressions of the Marines at his back, and Cronus nodding his approval. When Tyler turned back, he was two shades crueler, and beginning to understand why it was a pilot known for his rule breaking who got this duty. Davis was either incredibly smart, or flat out lucky. Ty was going to be the guy who didn't let him down. "Ok, heres the deal. My orders are very specific. So give me code, or I'm gonna shoot your ass with a stun round every ten seconds until we take this battlestar. Projections were what sergent?"
"Forty five minutes Sir." Todd said without hesitation.
"Forty five... minutes." Tyler repeated with hostile contentment, "Every ten seconds, once I start, I don't stop."
"You can't," The major bellowed.
"Sergeant, can I?"
Todd's index finger was already held up when Ty turned to face him, he was counting for sure, using his lips as though his thoughts were spilling through his lungs. "Two hundred and seventy, dropped two mags back in the hall... uh... yeah, he needs ten mags."
Tyler smiled eerily and turned back to the Major as the magazines were collected for him. That wasn't exactly what he meant, but he'd take it. It wasn't an idle threat any more. "Hmmm. Where do you want them? I've heard that the stomach isn't half bad."
The look on the LSO's face almost made Tyler feel bad for him, fear or the gut feeling that he'd eaten the wrong breakfast. Either way, it was a bad morning for him indeed. "Eight Nine Four, Alpha Four Gamma."
"Thank you," Griffin said, and then shot the man in the chest once, sending him convulsing to the floor.
Todd stepped up beside him and took the outstretched key from his hand, and began to plug it all in. "Zeus and Apollo LT.."
"You men secure those POWs and get word to the Major, he has his prize."
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Post by Viktoriya Gilyov on Oct 2, 2013 4:03:32 GMT -5
Tyler's mannerisms just oozed the message Let's go break something that looks really, really important. It was just a war game, yes, and she was just the pilot that had reacquainted all of the marines with their respective deities of choice. Her moment of almost frightening immersion had been en route. This portion of the mission was when she was involved, yes, but more of a spectator. She only thought she was in the game. She honestly felt sorry for whoever those marines laid their hands on. If nothing else could be said for the colonial fleet, they had some frakking harsh-looking marines.
And a few somewhat askew pilots in the Shadowhawks.
The split had her on the way to the LSO booth, pressed forward by Tyler. She moved to the side of the corridor, opening a small portion of the hallway to her from this angle. She watched the marines at the very edge of the wall, positioned with mirrors to survey the position and communicating the report. When they handed off the rifles to Griffin, he held both with the oddest sort of energy in his eyes, as if it was bringing back some sort of memory, or perhaps from the thought of having firepower. She'd never had a reason to think that Griffin was a tinge of a megalomaniac, but she suspected it now.
The marines bolted out as abruptly as striking snakes, incredibly fast to be so large and imposing. The sight of one of the soldiers choking the consciousness out of a man, and the other cracking the skull of another into the wall, had Fox very concerned that they'd just witnessed a war crime in the war games. How frakking far were they allowed to go, leaving a fellow soldier concussed on the floor?? Tyler spoke her thoughts exactly with his interjection: Are you allowed to smash men's skulls SERGEANT? As it turned out... apparently skull-smashing a friendly was one of those subjective gray areas to the marines. Holy frak.
”Hell yes, carry on.”
Fox looked incredulously at Griffin for the brief moment of his conversation. ”So we're just -” and she considered the unconscious man when Griffin turned to her almost excitedly with I should have been a marine. That was code for yes, yes, we are just going to leave him there without seeing if he rouses with perhaps a dash of I've always wanted to use the wargames as an excuse to see how far we can push the things that aren't specifically spelled out in the letter of the law. Those were some length messages to convey in an excited and impressed glance, but oh, they were most certainly there. Enough that Fox slapped a palm to her face when Griffin turned around and fell into stride with him. ”Alright then.”
And no. No, she didn't check on him either. Moral dilemmas were what medics and last-guys were for.
When they reached the LSO booth, the plans involved the financial prudence of using a flashbang. This silent debate over the price of a flashbang was given quick but more consideration than skull-smashing (which would prove to be a mind-boggling prospect for Vik in many retellings to come). Frakking priorities. She was eager to see this out, although hoping they wouldn't end up accidentally killing anybody did a little something to the immersion.
They cut the conversations inside short, and the team fired their stun rounds indiscriminately. The LSO booth was officially occupied, with Cronus securing the exit. Fox glanced up in time to see the Lieutenant run for all he was worth, and was in pursuit from the second the word 'FOX' began Griffin's order. Cronus was at her side, turning the corridor to look on the back of their quarry.
”STOP OR WE FIRE--” It would have had longer to register if Fox hadn't actually taken a shot. The stun round had their quarry crumpling to the floor with a yell, groping the back of his cramping left leg while the muscles jolted. Cronus looked at Fox as they slowed to either side of the man on the floor.
”Told ya.” Fox didn't consider the man for long, moving to examine the closed hatches of other doors. She didn't know where they led, but he had no doubt hoped to escape through one of them.
”What are you doing?”
She looked back to see that Cronus had the man in tow. She let her rifle hang by its strap and moved with her knife to pry open the service panel that blended almost seamlessly into the wall next to the hatch. She disconnected the wiring. Which wires did it? She really didn't have a clue, she just knew how to open the panel and then started unplugging things that looked important. When she couldn't open the door, it felt sufficient enough. She repeated that procedure for the other panels and nodded.
”No damage done, and we'll hear 'em coming if they do.”
Cronus nodded, the soldier still in tow and looking wildly between them. Fox thought, when all was said and done, the crew would appreciate the things that they hadn't damaged. For instance, this soldier was pissed now, but he could be Johnny back in the hallway and drinking meat out of a straw for a while. Silver linings and all.
”Sorry. Orders.”
”How the frak did you get on board??”
”Magic.” Cronus muttered, and pressed the Lieutenant into walking. The two escorted their new POW back toward the LSO booth, emerging in time to watch Tyler zap the LSO. Again. Tinge of a megalomaniac on their hands.
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