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 Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2009 6:32 pm
[[ and to anyone unfortunate enough to be standing in the hangar... aka half the rp o_O
Lore: Correction: Just anyone happening to stand on the wrong side of the hangar, which the team of torchmen was supposed to make sure was clear. Tsk tsk tsk, pay attention Teddo.
AGH STOP HAUNTING MY POST!!! ]]
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Posted: Sun Mar 08, 2009 8:54 pm
((This is a really dry post. I am very tired at the moment but I really want to move things along.))
Frank pulled the box of equipment a bit closer to him. Tipping the box carefully he examined the contents of box making sure everything he needed was in it. Frank gave a slight nod then set the box down. Frank slid the release forms over and read them over quickly. He took the pen that was sitting on the counter and carefully signed his name on the dotted lines.
"Thank you." Frank said picking up the time card and stuffing it in his pocket.
"Now, about the volunteer work on the Cobalt Sky. I am interested in picking up the job."
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Posted: Thu Mar 12, 2009 3:17 pm
Evelyn smiled at the two women "Why thank you, Cibo, It might be nice to have an assistant, especially one with such a skillset as yours." she said, before turning to Aurelia "They are currently the only crew rated for solo missions within 100,000 lightyears of Drathos, so your assumption is correct, Miss Braxis" the Gynoid replied.
***
"O' course ya are. The 'Sky is currently outside the Hymn here, in the next bay over. You can actually see the Hymn's nose out the door, so i've heard" he muttered, pulling out a communicator and tapping a few commands in, sending a small map to Frank's own.
***
Emma grinned at the man who was talking to her "It seems fun, definitely not as difficult as I had expected, though it is more stress than the simulators had been." She looked down at the floor a moment, scraping her foot around in a small circle, her hands clasped behind her back "I managed to get myself taken off duty for a while" she muttered, though she didn't sound that downtrodden.
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Posted: Thu Mar 12, 2009 6:50 pm
Aurelia frowned a bit, looking somewhat off into space. "But one has to wonder if it's because they're just that good, or because everyone else is just that bad..." Aurelia wasn't the type to be negative, not by a long shot, but the gap in skill between the Sky and the entire rest of the fleet definitely couldn't be purely because of the former...
Raji, meanwhile, was biting her lip so hard that a rather discreet drip of blood trickled down her chin. She was trying considerably hard to force a polite smile and stand there quietly. Considerably hard. The edge of her lip twitched and quavered, the muscle not used to holding the unfamiliar position.
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Posted: Fri Mar 13, 2009 7:41 pm
"Hah! That's what she said!" Hank hollered at her. Cibo couldn't help but ask hesitantly, timidly,
"Who's she?"
__________________
The concussion made Cibo close her eyes out of instinct, otherwise, she just stood there, absorbing in what the Admiral said. To be honest, Cibo's despair could get worse; instead, the information on that particularly patchy looking ship was interesting, and her mind's coin flipped over again.
"No offense to anyone when I say this, but if we're all lucky, It'll be both. I honestly hope we're all that good, and the Drathonians that bad. Besides, we should never underestimate ourselves when pushed to the brink! We've come this far, haven't we?" Her outward professional seriousness practically evaporated in favor of optimism. Still, she couldn't help but notice that women from before....Cibo looked everyone over again, and noticed that one particular person was bleeding down the chin. She had to be biting herself; just a smidgen of course.
"Who's she? Could she be even more insane than me? Who's she?" Cibo thought. As soon as she thought that, she couldn't help but face-palm herself mentally; the uniform's bits usually told all.
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Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 11:22 pm
"Great, I will get on that right away." Frank gathered his stuff in his arms and backed away from the counter.
"Thank you for your time, really." After that Frank headed for the door, but he couldn't help but to give some advice before he left the room. "IT would be wise not to smoke around flammable or explosive materials. Just saying." With that said, Frank was off.
Frank headed down a few random halls looking for one that was empty. He eventually found refuge next to a janitorial supply closet. He checked to make sure that the hallway was clear before putting all of his things on the ground. He wanted to make sure no one was there to bother him during this special moment. Frank bent over and removed the smaller box from the rest of equipment and opened it. He struggled a bit with the tape at first, but it wasn't to long before he made short work of that. Inside the box was one brand new S.S.W.D.D, a data pad for aid in the diagnostic and repair of star ship weaponry.
Frank eyes lit up when he saw the device. He has been waiting for this for quite a while. He quickly installed the battery and turned on the device. The screen flashed on and greeted Frank. It already had is information on it. A few seconds later it prompted Frank to wear the earpiece which he did. A friendly female voice greeted him, because the sound was feed through the earpiece, only Frank could hear it.
'Hello and welcome to the Star Ship Weapons Diagnostic Device. I am Stacy, your assistant.' Frank replied himself saying, "Hello." back to it in a very up-beat tone.
Frank checked through his messages on the device, as it also acts as a personal data pad. He checked the map and put the S.S.W.D.D in his shirt pocket and picked up his stuff. Stacy guided Frank to the Cobalt Sky by voice command.
((I would have done more, and I would have done it better but I am tired. I wanted to get something out here because I did not want to leave the rest of you guys hanging while I dink around.))
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2009 8:00 pm
Two weeks passed, both much too long and much tooshort a time, the crews thought. Sure, sitting around and enjoying yourselves, worry-free was nice, but the soldiers itched for their battle stations, wanting badly to help in the war. Soon, they would get their chance. All of the Battle Hymn's crew and personnel were recalled, all casualties accounted for, all injuries healed, and everything cleared up. All seemed normal again, as the ship bustled with activity, ready to depart.
Two days previous, the Pluto-class "Cobalt Sky" had completed its repairs, picking up their newly assigned comms specialist and heading out on a new mission, somewhere where no one really knew they were going, which was all well, as the Drathonians finding out where they were would be very bad.
In any case, it looked to be a good day for the crew of the Hymn.
Chapter 6.5, END
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2009 8:24 pm
Chapter Seven: Trying to Fix things
One of the main problems of such a hastily put together military is the fact that nothing is done right at first. The United Terran Republic was not immune to these symptoms, and had, for some time, been suffering them. The Hymn got to be the guinea pig that tested out all the new ideas for organization that headquarters came up with. This cycle, they made it quite simple for their soldiers, and quite a headache for the personnel management. Each and every soldier got personal orders, sent straight to their datapads, with as much detail as possible on their mission.
The next mission, it was noted on those datapads, was for the Hymn's battlegroup to head away from most of the Drathonian held space, and root out a small garrison on an imprisoned planet, freeing the Aliens in the process, and making new allies for the Republic to bolster its forces with. the way they would be doing this was quite interesting.
Inside the main hangar bay, a small captured Drathonian transport lay, much to the dismay of the hangar crews, who had ended up needing to improvise storage rack for the Scimitars and shuttles. The purpose of the transport was to go and sneak in a Terran squad or two, with a large number of weapons (Lightweight variants of the Sugar known as the Gurotte) to give to the natives, then form a resistance and beat the drathonians back from the inside while the fleet waited out-system, to come in when a signal came telling them that it was time for the fleet to pin down any major resistance. Very simple, in theory. the implementation was going to be a bit more difficult. So, loaded with commando gear, three shock squads huddled aboard the transport, not quite comfortable with the odd seats and strange layout of the design. Shock Squad 215 was among the groups, decked out in Saviour armor suits, carrying a Bro, a Sugar, and an EV-47 each, they also carried extra batteries, a weeks worth of condensed rations, and 4 Gurotte carbines.
Outside of the ship, a few technicians worked on last minute preparations to the shuttle, including one Frank Lumes, who was busily adjusting the weapons, his datapad constantly scolding him for fixing them too well, he kept knocking them out of normal Drathonian perameters, something which would tip off a scan of the ship.
On the Bridge, Evelyn sat, her computer mind racing about the ship, watching all the activity, and keeping an eye on the time. She turned to Cibo at some point, and smiled. The strange girl was now a normal prescence on the bridge, replacing Aurelia, though the Admiral had been rather fond of the blue-haired communications specialist.
In the hangar bay, someone from Green squadron was arguing with the man in charge of the Hangar bay. he seemed to be furious that his ships had been placed in the farthest corner of the hangar, where the Squadron could not get to them.
A normal day, on the Battle Hymn of the Republic, so far.
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Posted: Wed Mar 18, 2009 6:58 pm
((Woot! It's begun!))
Cibo typed away furiously on her console; she was sorting through reports, scraps of information and possible rumors all for the effort that lay ahead. Anything that could help them or not would and should be found by her personally. To be honest, however, she was still angry at getting what she called a desk job, but even she admitted it was for the better. Simply put, after all the field assignments, she could really use a more 'cushy' job to relax a little and cool off. As she went through the reports, something that particularly interested her came up; the new rifles. The GUR-02 was light, hard hitting, and accurate. It's specifications made her mouth water at the thought of using it against Drathonians. It could probably take on the role of Designated Marksman Rifle, something the BR-02 or S/GUR couldn't do perfectly well; the Bro was a sprinkler. Meanwhile the Sugar came closer but still didn't have the power she liked in normal mode and had a 'sniper' mode that was more like a cannon. In her opinion, the Bro was too little, and the Sugar was either too little or too much as well. The Admiral, Evelyn, turned and smiled at Cibo. She couldn't help but return it in kind; was Evelyn looking at what she looked at and knew that Cibo was looking at it too? Then again, who cared if she did anyways? She was the almighty Admiral...Paranoia regardless, something else came up that she found interesting; information on the species they were to assist.
They were known as the SeFlaurinds; plant people. The Drathonians sometimes called them "Greens" or "Greenies" due to their skin color and how they remind the lizards of plant matter. Both were derogatory terms used by Drathonians and most likely because they didn't like to eat their vegetables. Regardless, a theory came up suggesting ships composed half of the SeFlaurinds and Oxygen breathers in order to save energy on air scrubbers, and in case of total air scrubber failure, a kind of 'ecosystem' to keep CO2 and O2 in check. Evelyn probably already knew that...but she probably didn't know This. Cibo spoke up, "Admiral? I've found something you might be interested in; I'm forwarding it to you now." Cibo had sent the Admiral Bot an intercepted Drathonian report on scheduled SeFlaurind executions.
"It looks like these ones are quite the freedom fighters...other than the fact they got caught of course." Cibo continued to smile.
((How's my Grammar looking? sweatdrop ))
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Posted: Thu Mar 19, 2009 2:37 pm
Steven was enjoying a pleasant nap in the pilot’s seat of his scimitar, much like he had been doing for the past two weeks now, when he heard the beginnings of an argument. He half opened one eye to see what was going on. He chuckled a little and went back to his nap after discovering that it was only Aaron complaining once again about hangar assignments. Five minutes passed by and Aaron continued to pick fights with the hangar captain. Once Steven had been sufficiently annoyed by the bickering, he sat up in his seat and hoisted himself out of the cockpit and onto the wing. After taking time to stretch he cleared his throat and called out to Aaron who was standing maybe thirty meters away.
”Aaron! Would you shut up already? The only thing you are doing is making Green Squadron look bad,” Steven shouted, “Now find something to do that doesn’t include patronizing the head of docking assignments.” With that having been said, Steven moved over and sat down on the edge of the wing. From his seat he looked past the other fighters in the hangar towards the captured enemy transport he and everyone else had to share the hangar with.
At least the marines have something to do, Steven thought to himself.
Unfortunately for him as well as the rest of the pilot, the rest of the crew still needed to wait for a mission of their own.
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Posted: Sat Mar 21, 2009 1:25 pm
Jack Gallagher sat quietly in the much-too-big Drathonian trooper seat. They were designed to be as small as possible to cram as many troops in as they could, but 'small' for a Drathonian was usually 'enormous' for a Terran. His legs dangled in the air, not long enough to touch the ground.
Jack had made himself a ghost for the past two weeks, spending most of his time planet-side, or in a dark, uninhabited corner of the Hymn. He tapped his Sugar idly................[gtg, tbc]
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Posted: Sat Mar 21, 2009 2:26 pm
"Excuse me?" an annoyed voice interrupted the Marine's silent contemplation in the large Drathonian chair. In front of him was an Engineering Technician with a shoulder bag full of straps on one arm and a rivet gun in her other hand. She looked up at the gruff sniper with stern red eyes. "How about moving so I can finish installing these?" the Engineer asked, adjusting her tote on her shoulder to indicated to the man on his high seat what she was referring to. The patch on her coat read "PFC HINOKI" and the left sleeve was missing, a tattered hole in it's place, likely the result of a Drathonian blade slicing though an arm, though the technician's arm seemed to be fine despite the state of her jacket.
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Posted: Wed Mar 25, 2009 5:43 pm
Jack rose an eyebrow as he was addressed, looking at the woman who stood, just about eye level with him, beside the chair. The expression on his face remained placid. Noting the straps and the bolter, he patted the hideous protrusions at his sides that looked like horribly deformed arm rests. "No thanks. I'm a big boy, I can make do with lizard grips." He turned his attention away from her, looking around the dim compartment. There wasn't really much to turn his attention to. He stared at an ugly series of scratches on the far well, the unpleasant script of the Drathonians.
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Posted: Wed Mar 25, 2009 6:39 pm
"Yeah, you and every other he-man out there," the technician said dismissively, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "Now, get out of there before I strap you in as-is." The wry grin and mocking tone indicated that she wasn't being that serious, but still, PFC Hinoki had a job to do and her job was making sure that everyone was going to get there safely. "I can tell you it'll be a whole lot harder when you need to get out."
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Posted: Fri Mar 27, 2009 7:51 am
Jack's eyes flicked back to Hinoki. "Looking forward to it," he said, with his signature devilish grin.
[[short post is short smile ]]
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