WlfSamurai
Maelstrom Engineer
IC thread.
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Futuristic Legends of the Empire (Closed)
- Thread starter WlfSamurai
- Start date
WlfSamurai
Maelstrom Engineer
The shuttle door opens revealing the scorched pavement outside. The engines are deafening with the shuttle maintaining a hover a few feet off the ground. Military protocol calls this a combat drop. Jakev has always called it Sitting Duck. The idea is to come in low, drop the payload—in this case he and Talia—and then bug out. But, the time it takes for the cargo door to open is too long. At least in Jakev’s estimation it is. If the Rebels had the right firepower, they could put this shuttle down for good in the pull of a trigger.
But, they don’t. Not on Rykov IV anyway. The Rebellion here had exploded like a thermite grenade as soon as the Empire had landed ships four months ago. They were a bunch of farmers with patched-together blasters and no central command. They had no right even putting up resistance. And yet, it had been four months of brutal fighting. The Rebels had adopted hit-and-run tactics. Old-school guerrilla stuff. They didn’t have the numbers or the equipment for a stand-up fight. Instead, they’d target a key installation, depot, or cache and conduct a raid. Even if they were fought off, it always disrupted Empire operations in some way.
And on it went. The leadership was looking for an end, clearly. Why bring a crack-shot like Talia and her errand-boy down here? Jakev considers his part—the errand-boy. He had been leading an elite strike force just months ago. And here he is, getting coffee for a camping pot-shooter. Ah well. It beats latrine duty.
He leaps off the ramp to the ground. His training taking over, he crouches and sweeps the area for targets while waiting for Talia to give her orders next to him.
Tagging:
Tabby
But, they don’t. Not on Rykov IV anyway. The Rebellion here had exploded like a thermite grenade as soon as the Empire had landed ships four months ago. They were a bunch of farmers with patched-together blasters and no central command. They had no right even putting up resistance. And yet, it had been four months of brutal fighting. The Rebels had adopted hit-and-run tactics. Old-school guerrilla stuff. They didn’t have the numbers or the equipment for a stand-up fight. Instead, they’d target a key installation, depot, or cache and conduct a raid. Even if they were fought off, it always disrupted Empire operations in some way.
And on it went. The leadership was looking for an end, clearly. Why bring a crack-shot like Talia and her errand-boy down here? Jakev considers his part—the errand-boy. He had been leading an elite strike force just months ago. And here he is, getting coffee for a camping pot-shooter. Ah well. It beats latrine duty.
He leaps off the ramp to the ground. His training taking over, he crouches and sweeps the area for targets while waiting for Talia to give her orders next to him.
Tagging:
Tabby
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Tabby
Derpsichord
Another day, another drop. At least that was the impression she had taught herself to embody. If she was to be completely honest Natalie wasn't quite sure she would ever get used to going in hot and loud and bumpy - but she did like the rush of adrenaline it brought, the prickling sensation on her skin as if every hair on her body was ready to stand upright. This is where the action is, her body seemed to say, and she could but follow it blindly to the unknown future.
So yes, she got up despite her misgivings. Despite the tiny flicker of - not fear, obviously, a true Imperial soldier would know no such weakness, but... concern perhaps, yes, that sounded much better. And they weren't going in quite so hot and loud, exactly. Just another Imperial shuttle dropping off cargo and soldiers. The usual. At least that was how it was supposed to look. She moved, despite the concern. And as she felt each segment of the Artemis IV armor power fully, the armor's OS running diagnostics pending full usage, she felt - almost a little bit like the huntress it was named after. Goddess of the hunt. Well. Last time she checked, little Natty didn't have any magic space magic like the jedi of old. But she did have something better.
Her right hand snaked out to the monolithic mass of metal at her side, curling almost tenderly around the bloated 'barrel' of the weapon. About as useful as a tree branch in melee combat and half as agile - but oh, how a tender touch could make it trill, and how sweetly it sung. A scalpel of the Empire. And she the surgeon wielding it in His name. Cradling it in her arms. Performing the same checks she had a hundred, perhaps a thousand times before. Metrics she should have performed before launch - and had, repeated now for peace of mind and doctrinal certainty. Talia knew far better than most that the imposing beast of a weapon in her hands could be as much of a danger to its wielder as anyone else if treated improperly. Advances in Gauss technology had been fruitful so far, but the volatility of its mechanics had not changed.
Her... counterpart was already off the ramp, eyes open, surveying the clearing. Military for sure. She supposed she should be grateful it wasn't some fresh out of the Academy recruit, but she was also feeling a little bit uncomfortable without her usual spotter. Not much to be done there, though. Not much left of him either. Talia lowered herself from the ramp more smoothly, taking special care with her weapon, though the jolt of hitting the ground was mostly absorbed by the suit anyways. Last minute checks of her ordinance. Thumbs up to the dropship. And just like that, they were gone, a twisting column of smoke and fire into the heavens. And she was all alone again.
Well. Mostly, anyways. At least she didn't have to follow constant orders. She liked solving puzzles. Kept things interesting. Probably her favorite part of the job.
As for the operation... they had a number of possible dissidents to identify as possible. A few suggested targets, suspected local leaders. That was the official position anyways. She had another set of orders, Imp/Int, that suggested there was a ringleader hiding in the shadows of this circus. It was her own intuition that led her to agree. Based on what she had seen of the operation reports, these filthy terrorists were working too effectively on a strategic level for it to just be the work of farmers. Maybe it was just luck. Maybe one of them just happened to have a knack for tactics. But if there was someone pulling the strings from behind the curtain - well - that was why she was here.
The forest around them sang with life, but tasted like death. Too many reports of ambushes for her tastes. It was likely the shuttle had been noted. And while she wasn't expecting much of a rebel army, that didn't mean they were entirely safe.
"...We need to get moving," she stated quietly, keeping her eyes peeled as well. "Too many eyes saw that shuttle. I'll need a good position as well..." the voice, trailing off. Thought clouding her mind. She had located a few on the map before arrival and identified some of them on the shuttle ride down, but not all, and which would actually be ideal would depend heavily on where they actually went from here. It was habit more so than actual thought that led the sniper to continue sneaking, too used to hearing her spotter's opinions and almost unused to NOT getting fed them whether or not she wanted the damn things. "What's your take on this whole mess?"
So yes, she got up despite her misgivings. Despite the tiny flicker of - not fear, obviously, a true Imperial soldier would know no such weakness, but... concern perhaps, yes, that sounded much better. And they weren't going in quite so hot and loud, exactly. Just another Imperial shuttle dropping off cargo and soldiers. The usual. At least that was how it was supposed to look. She moved, despite the concern. And as she felt each segment of the Artemis IV armor power fully, the armor's OS running diagnostics pending full usage, she felt - almost a little bit like the huntress it was named after. Goddess of the hunt. Well. Last time she checked, little Natty didn't have any magic space magic like the jedi of old. But she did have something better.
Her right hand snaked out to the monolithic mass of metal at her side, curling almost tenderly around the bloated 'barrel' of the weapon. About as useful as a tree branch in melee combat and half as agile - but oh, how a tender touch could make it trill, and how sweetly it sung. A scalpel of the Empire. And she the surgeon wielding it in His name. Cradling it in her arms. Performing the same checks she had a hundred, perhaps a thousand times before. Metrics she should have performed before launch - and had, repeated now for peace of mind and doctrinal certainty. Talia knew far better than most that the imposing beast of a weapon in her hands could be as much of a danger to its wielder as anyone else if treated improperly. Advances in Gauss technology had been fruitful so far, but the volatility of its mechanics had not changed.
Her... counterpart was already off the ramp, eyes open, surveying the clearing. Military for sure. She supposed she should be grateful it wasn't some fresh out of the Academy recruit, but she was also feeling a little bit uncomfortable without her usual spotter. Not much to be done there, though. Not much left of him either. Talia lowered herself from the ramp more smoothly, taking special care with her weapon, though the jolt of hitting the ground was mostly absorbed by the suit anyways. Last minute checks of her ordinance. Thumbs up to the dropship. And just like that, they were gone, a twisting column of smoke and fire into the heavens. And she was all alone again.
Well. Mostly, anyways. At least she didn't have to follow constant orders. She liked solving puzzles. Kept things interesting. Probably her favorite part of the job.
As for the operation... they had a number of possible dissidents to identify as possible. A few suggested targets, suspected local leaders. That was the official position anyways. She had another set of orders, Imp/Int, that suggested there was a ringleader hiding in the shadows of this circus. It was her own intuition that led her to agree. Based on what she had seen of the operation reports, these filthy terrorists were working too effectively on a strategic level for it to just be the work of farmers. Maybe it was just luck. Maybe one of them just happened to have a knack for tactics. But if there was someone pulling the strings from behind the curtain - well - that was why she was here.
The forest around them sang with life, but tasted like death. Too many reports of ambushes for her tastes. It was likely the shuttle had been noted. And while she wasn't expecting much of a rebel army, that didn't mean they were entirely safe.
"...We need to get moving," she stated quietly, keeping her eyes peeled as well. "Too many eyes saw that shuttle. I'll need a good position as well..." the voice, trailing off. Thought clouding her mind. She had located a few on the map before arrival and identified some of them on the shuttle ride down, but not all, and which would actually be ideal would depend heavily on where they actually went from here. It was habit more so than actual thought that led the sniper to continue sneaking, too used to hearing her spotter's opinions and almost unused to NOT getting fed them whether or not she wanted the damn things. "What's your take on this whole mess?"
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WlfSamurai
Maelstrom Engineer
Jakev took one more sweep mentally noting cardinal directions in his helmet’s HUD. He considered a moment, the map of the area hanging in his mind.
“A rabble of farmers,” he said, “four months of fighting, and now you. Seems like fishing with a thermite grenade, Ma’am.” He stood keeping his weapon close. It felt like a security blanket—a security blanket for murder. No matter where or how, it felt better to be on-mission. Even if he was the low-man on the totem pole. His beloved modified E-11e blast cannon was his constant companion and reminder he was in the field.
“There is a small village north,” he said. “Map showed a few usable high-points that might suit. What are your orders, Ma’am?” He didn’t feel comfortable enough with Talia yet to say what he really wanted to say. She was more a celebrity in his mind. One of those individual soldiers—with a nice rack—the Empire made up to get new recruits. The boys hadn’t let him forget when he had been assigned, passing old pinups around of her. He shook the thought, trying to focus. She was real. Here. Now.
“A rabble of farmers,” he said, “four months of fighting, and now you. Seems like fishing with a thermite grenade, Ma’am.” He stood keeping his weapon close. It felt like a security blanket—a security blanket for murder. No matter where or how, it felt better to be on-mission. Even if he was the low-man on the totem pole. His beloved modified E-11e blast cannon was his constant companion and reminder he was in the field.
“There is a small village north,” he said. “Map showed a few usable high-points that might suit. What are your orders, Ma’am?” He didn’t feel comfortable enough with Talia yet to say what he really wanted to say. She was more a celebrity in his mind. One of those individual soldiers—with a nice rack—the Empire made up to get new recruits. The boys hadn’t let him forget when he had been assigned, passing old pinups around of her. He shook the thought, trying to focus. She was real. Here. Now.
