[ORIGINAL] - Eisenhower

MyHatismyFriend

MyHatismyFriend

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Join Date: Dec 2012
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12/03/2013, 06:07 AM #11


Dissuader fire spanged off Callahan’s piece of cover as she waved her squad forward. “Yang! Cassidy! Move up and secure the second tree! I’ll cover!” The two soldiers she had ordered sprinted up towards the objective- Callahan rolled out of cover and into an upright position, shouldering her GAU-37 Heavy Dissuader as she did so. Eight warriors were perched in parapets above the Brood facility, adorned in war paint and crowned with Eaglet feathers. They opened fire first- the Lillium charges spattered across her armour and ricocheted into the battle around them. She ignored it- clamped her fingers around both triggers and the dual-barrelled weapon roared, spewing a stream of tracers towards the enemy. The suppressive fire worked- the enemy soldiers ducked, returning fire that bounced uselessly off her Armoured Combat Rig.

The ACR, as it was more commonly known, represented the pinnacle of York innovation, specially designed specifically for combat against the Brood. It boasted semi-autonomous power provided by a large steam battery capable of lasting up three hours depending on power load, and was covered by three-centimetre thick keratin-tungsten weave on top of a sleek black jumpsuit. The helmet boasted the same amount of protection as the armour, and while visibility was limited, it could stop all but the heaviest Dissuader fire. The ACR also supported the operator’s offensive arsenal with integrated hi-threat weaponry systems of its own- more specifically, two Multi Rail Launch System pods mounted on the ACR’s shoulders, each containing six pallet launchers holding four unguided micro-missiles for combating armoured threats.

Yang and Cassidy reached the tree, and the small group of warriors hiding in the crates behind them. She saw their Dissuaders spin to life, their flashes of light reflected in the ivory-coloured helmets of the Federation soldiers. Yang looked up at her and drew a finger across the right side of his helm- all clear. Callahan nodded and waved the rest of the squad forward. They assembled with the two point-men, huddled against the crates. “Alright!” roared Callaghan, “We’re moving into the upper deck- from there, Yang and Weiss will take the top floor and look for intelligence- the rest of us will proceed out the back and continue moving past the Silent Line. I want-” she was interrupted by the groan of tearing metal and a loud crash- a large mechanical device had smashed through the deck they were standing on and clambered out, mounted guns swivelling to face the team. “Brood Crab!” yelled Weiss, bringing her flak cannon to bear. “Gold Section, disperse and engage!” thundered Callahan, cycling magazines with a quick pump.

The six-legged walking tank opened fire with mounted Repeaters, tearing the crates to shreds and leaving copious amounts of holes in the deck with twin torrents of blue energy discharges. “Weiss!” roared Callahan, returning fire from a new position. “Got it, boss.” Tatyana Weiss racked the charging handle and opened fire with the flak cannon- oily clouds of smoke and flame exploded from the weapon’s four barrels and enveloped the Crab, which shrugged off the onslaught of tungsten pellets without so much as a scratch. Weiss threw herself to the right as the Repeaters whirred to life. Callahan tossed away her spent magazine and checked her steam battery. Satisfied that it would last another two magazine’s worth of firing, she drew a pair of orange-marked cartridge holders from her belt, rammed them into the receivers and pumped both charging handles.

She took careful aim at the thin armour on the leg joints as the Crab rotated to track Weiss, then opened fire. The armour-piercing rounds quickly worked their way into the thin armour and punched through the delicate joint machinery, and the Crab staggered as one of its legs seized- Corporal Graham rolled out from behind cover-aiming a rocket launcher. The soldier clamped the trigger and the missile exploded from its chamber, slamming into the Crab’s flank and detonating with a bang and a cloud of black smoke and smouldering parts. “All clear!” shouted Graham.

“Affirmative, all clear.” responded Callahan. Weiss crouched and peered into the hole the Crab had made in the deck. “More tanks below the deck- offline, though. It looks like the enemy uses them in surprise attacks when they get intruders like us.” She got to her feet. “Might want to be careful next time we’re standing on something like this.”

“Noted.” Callahan turned to the squad. “Plan’s unchanged. Weiss, Yang, jettison your pods- I want you mobile when you’re inside. Make your sweep quick- the rest of us won’t wait for you.” The two soldiers turned and hit the jettison clamps on their missile pods- the four heavy boxes dropped to the deck with a dull clank. Callahan indicated the rest of the squad as Weiss and Yang moved into the base through a side entrance. “Alright- the rest of us will move deeper into the Silent Line.” her eyes narrowed inside her helm. “Let’s see what the Brood is hiding from us.”

***

“Two bedrooms?” Kasturba had asked incredulously when Langley had talked to the receptionist. “What happened to saving up?”

Langley had smiled at her. “We’ve worked hard today- nice to treat ourselves once in a while.” Now he dropped his meagre luggage on the floor of the inn room and locked the door. Langley sat on the worn bed sheets and felt around in his waistcoat pocket for the Brood pendant. He found it, pulled it out and looked at it for a long while.

“Nothing Else Comes Close. Non Exedra.” August Ubique breathed out slowly- his hands rested loosely on the grip of Squall. Behind him, the evaluators watched impassively.

First wave- twelve Wretches tore out of the ruins, snapping and snarling as they scrabbled towards him. The Dissuader rubbed smoothly against the leather holster as Ubique drew the gun. The barrel pointed steadily at the small horde- he squeezed the trigger. The Dissuader roared. Wretches fell- the hammer hit the last shell with a distinct ping, and Ubique thumbed open the cylinder as the survivors scrambled towards him, drooling blue energy out of their mouths in anticipation.
Shell casings tinkled as they hit the polished floor- the acrid smell of gunpowder began to permeate the battle and the student moved through strands of wispy smoke. He inserted a new package of rounds and Squall downed the six Wretched within seconds. Five seconds reprieve- Ubique reloaded. In the depths of the Forbidden Forest, more cages clattered open- fourteen more Wretched. Squall fired- six fell. Empty casings dropped out of the gun and Ubique pressed new ones into the cylinder. The Dissuader thundered again, six more dropped to the ground. No time to reload- the last two were almost upon him. Ubique pulled a combat knife from his belt- brought his arm up to meet the first assailant’s outstretched arms. His elbow connected squarely with the Wretch’s chest- its claws brushed his hair. Ubique pivoted, using the thing’s momentum to bowl it over behind him- he spun and plunged the knife into the side of its neck. One more to go- it was behind him, in the air.

Ubique stepped to one side, reversed edges with a quick spin of his fingers, and parried the Wretch’s next swipe- the blade’s smooth edge sparked as it met hard armour. Ubique spun- slamming his elbow into the nape of the thing’s neck, then swiped the blade upwards in a powerful lateral swipe, trailing blue blood behind the edge as he recovered. The target slumped to its knees and toppled.
Five seconds reprieve- Ubique reloaded from another pouch with one hand- casings tinkled on the floor. Last wave. Last target, rather. Something was lumbering forward, snuffling and snarling from the depths of the Forest- it rounded the corner and skittered into the hall- a Skuttler Tangant. The creature’s eight legs clacked against the floor and its grey metallic tail, shaped like a hammer, crackled as it waved high above its body and Ubique, nearly brushing the metallic roof of the hall. The Tangant chittered and its eight black eyes locked onto Ubique.

The wide-headed tail froze. The eyes focused on the student and the blade-shaped stinger, over two metres long, slid into position from the head of the appendage with a rapid series of clicks. The attack was silent- the tail lashed forward at near-light speed, blade dripping with super-toxic venom- The knife flashed. The treated edge met the tip of the stinger for one fleeting instant and a single, sweet note- the tail deflected and Ubique’s arm trembled with the shock. He recovered quickly- deftly grabbed the tail, twisted it around his left elbow and allowed himself to drop to the floor with the Tangant’s tail wedged firmly in between his elbow and his hip. The stinger lashed furiously and the Skuttler chittered- the blade danced erratically and jabbed at the floor several times.

Ubique remained calm and pushed Squall against the tail- the gun fired once- twice-three times before the Tangant summoned the strength to throw the student off its stinger with a brutal upward swipe that launched him a fair distance into the air. Ubique landed on his feet and looked up as the Skuttler lashed out at him again- then the delayed-explosive rounds he had fired into it went off in a trio of sharp cracks- the upper tail was shorn apart instantly, hanging in strips above the Tangant, stinger dangling uselessly from it suspended by tatters of Lillium veins and bone. The Skuttler screeched and skittered forward with its claws raised- but the tail was gone, and that was what mattered to Ubique. He adopted a shooter’s stance and emptied the cylinder- the Skuttler continued to run towards him as its carapace began to spiderweb- Squall clicked empty, and Ubique holstered the gun. He sauntered forward, spinning the knife in his right hand- and one of the assessors snorted in bemusement as he saw the student’s ploy.

Ubique grasped the knife by the blunt edge- tapped his palm over the hilt of the weapon- the knife clicked, and Ubique lobbed it in an overhand toss towards the advancing Tangant- the blade spun three times as it carved through the air- hitting the Skuttler dead-centre in the spiderweb of cracks Ubique had smashed in it before with a meaty thwack. The monster took two more steps before the sixteen-gram directed charge embedded in the hilt of the blade detonated- the explosion was directed along the blade of the knife and into the carapace- the Skuttler howled- bleeding torrents of blue energy from its shattered shell- took one more faltering step towards the student, and collapsed in a pool of rapidly crystallising blood.

Ubique turned to the applauding evaluators. “A formidable performance, Ubique.” Sureshot Crux stepped forward. “As required of you under the Proving, you entered and survived combat against two waves of the Wretched, and one Tangant, using permitted weapons.” He smiled warmly. “At the tender age of eleven, too. Your teacher must be proud.” His old eyes sparkled with energy. “The evaluators have made their decision. You will leave this hall a Gunslinger of the Brood.” The five evaluators nodded in approval.

“As a Gunslinger, you shall uphold the Brood’s most core values- respect, honour, independence, and endurance. You shall defend us from the monsters that stand at our doorstep, and those who seek to exploit us.” He produced something from a pocket- a silver pendant of a Wraith Hawk. Even in the dim lighting of the Proving Grounds, it glinted menacingly. “This pendant is proof of your skills and tenacity. Always remain true to it.” Crux pressed the pendant into Ubique’s hand.
“It is up to you now. Training, Learning- that is your decision to make, but promise the Brood one thing- In our darkest hours, will you respond?”
Ubique closed his hand around the pendant and bowed. “I shall respond.”
Last edited by MyHatismyFriend; 12/08/2013, 06:50 AM.
MyHatismyFriend

MyHatismyFriend

Builder

Join Date: Dec 2012
Posts: 558

12/22/2013, 11:02 AM #12


Wentworth stopped in surprise as she entered her office- a mundanely ordinary affair compared with the gilded railings, lounges and water features that usually adorned a Brood captain’s workspace. “Councillor Granitites.” She blinked. “I was not informed that you intended to see me today.” Granitites was one of the more vocal critics of Wentworth’s disregard for Brood tradition- the two often traded verbal blows on the rare occasion that Wentworth attended a council summons.
“Indeed, the reason behind this visit occurred while you were on deployment. I must apologise for intruding, Athena.” Granitites waved a hand dismissively, standing beside Wentworth’s mahogany desk. The gold dangles and bracelets of his Councillor’s Robe tinkled quietly as he turned towards her. Wentworth fumed. “It’s Wentworth, Councillor.” The old man’s eyes flashed. “You will use the name given to you by your father. There is no need-”

“We’ve been through this before, Councillor. I am Wentworth.”

“Very well, Wentworth.” She blinked- Granitites would usually have continued to argue. Instead, the Councillor shook his head and smiled. “I heard you took down a six-spouter from your previous deployment.” He produced a crystal flask of wine from his black sleeves. “I wanted to congratulate you on this momentous occasion.” His shoes tapped against the floor as he sauntered over to Wentworth’s drink cabinet and took two glasses. Wentworth eyed him suspiciously as the Councillor returned to the table. “Thank you.” she replied simply. The spiced wine tinkled as Granitites poured. She accepted her glass and ignored Granitites’s toast. The Councillor coughed quietly and raised the wine to his lips. “I must say, a six-spouter will feed the Brood for a week at least. Your dedication to the council is to be applauded, even if you must bend our rules to do so.”

Wentworth put the glass down- she had had enough. “Councillor. There must be another reason for your visit. While I humbly accept your congratulations and commend your amiability today, I do not think you would simply pay me a visit just to pour me some wine and talk about food.”

Granitites sniffed. “Your intuition shines through, Captain. I do indeed have another reason for visiting you.” He drained his glass. “While you were away, the Council came to a decision regarding the future of you and your crew.” Granitites sighed. “Despite what me and my comrades think, there is no denying that your actions have achieved much for the Brood. You’ve sacrificed so much of your own time and effort to hunt down these Sweepers, and you and your ship have kept us happy and fed from your first hunt. Truly, a most commendable achievement.” He smiled. “That is why two days ago we suggested to the Council that in light of your actions, we promote you to Admiral First Class.” Wentworth froze.
“You must be mistaken, Councillor. That is a military rank.” Granitites’s smile widened. “Upgrades and modification of your corvette have already begun. Because our Hunting fleet is fairly similar to our War fleets, changes will be finished especially quickly.” He put his glass on the table. “I have been informed, however, that your… changes have been proving difficult to remove to make way for military equipment.” Wentworth shot to her feet.
“The Council would never approve of-”

Granitites produced another item from his robes- an official Plaque of the Council Order, carved from treated redwood and engraved with orders to retrofit the Trapper Vauban for military duties. It was signed in golden ink by all forty members of the Brood Council. “They did. I must admit getting the vote past your friends in the Council was rather difficult, but we managed to pull through.” His voice dripped with satisfaction.
Wentworth dropped back into her seat. “Where am I being assigned to?”

“Azaria, of course. Fleet Marshall Ragno expresses his enthusiasm for having such a distinguished ship join his efforts in defending our sacred borders. When the Vauban is fully restored, you’ll be on your way out with the Third Fleet.” The Councillor got to his feet. “I wish you the best of luck, Athena.” He swept out the door.

Wentworth digested the information for a full minute, then hurled her glass out of the room. She swore. Twenty-seven Brood vessels had been lost in the ongoing war against the York foreigners in Azaria. Wentworth got to her feet and fumed. Escape was not an option- the Brood would blow the Vauban and her crew straight out of the sand if she tried to make a run for it- trying to get out by herself without the corvette and her crew was also impossible.
After she composed herself, Wentworth made her way out of the office. The Brood Nest City of Nos spread itself out in front of her- gold and silver towers and cascades of water climbed out of the sands and into the sky. To the east was the Forbidden Forest, a mess of charred wreckage from the Ancients that the Brood worshipped and the Gunslingers’ Chambers. The Nos dry docks were located to the West, and Wentworth climbed down the stairs and took a shuttle to the facility. The Vauban was docked at Seventh Pier, and she looked on the corvette as a small army of workers took it apart. She sighed as she saw the Hunting Shrine being broken up by a man with a large axe. “Pity, isn’t it, ma’am?” Ottoman approached her from behind. “Yes.” Wentworth bowed her head. The First Mate rested his arms on the railing beside her. “Sorry we couldn’t stop them. Saimhaim and the others tried to make a fight out of it though.” He sniffed and smiled wryly. “Didn’t work out. They’ll be back tomorrow.”
Wentworth’s gaze remained downwards. “We’re going to Azaria. Third Fleet.”

Ottoman lit a cigarette and inhaled. “The lead engineer told me. Bit of a bummer, eh?” The orange glow from the paper stub highlighted the lines over his face. “Where do we go from here, Captain?”

“Can’t fight it. Brood plaque. Commissioner Taupes really went all out on this one. We’ll be vaporised if we try and run for it as well.”

She shifted her arms to a more comfortable position. “Get me all the books you can find on naval tactics for both our fleets and the Yorkers. Might want to study up as well.”

***

“Langley! You there?”

“Yeah, yeah.” The cartographer stretched out on his bed and opened his eyes. “I’m hungry!” Kasturba clawed at the locked door. “Let’s go downstairs- get dinner!”

“Alright, alright. Jesus- wait up, okay?”

Langley rolled off the bed and onto his feet, tucking the stolen Brood pendant in his waistcoat pocket. He opened the door. Kasturba looked him up and down and frowned. “You look preoccupied.”

“Working out fuel loads for the Skimmer, for the Brachial leg- that’s all.” She huffed suspiciously but let it pass, turning away from him and making her way down the stairs. “Are we good?” Langley ran a hurried set of calculations through his head. “Should be. I’ll work on it later.” They emerged onto a paved cobblestone road filled with temporary stalls erected by yelling hawkers selling anything from custom gunsights to fried desert turkey strips- the city as just as busy as it was during the day. The inn was two blocks away from an open-air diner, full of roaring crowds and sweating waiters. Kasturba pushed the door open and looked around, before being pulled to a seat by an enthusiastic employee, Langley joining her a few moments later. “Heck of a place you picked.” The cartographer had to shout above the hubbub of the crowd. “How much did you make?”

“Two fifty!” Kasturba waved a roll of Kons at him. Langley nodded in mock contemplation. “Not bad.” A waitress approached and they both ordered. “I want to stay in New Kingsford a while longer,” began Kasturba. “There’s a nice workshop I spotted on my way here- it’s selling some Iluka-Saturn AL-29B6s I want to get my hands on.” Seeing Langley’s eyebrow shoot up, she waved her hands. “I’m serious! Four of those adhesives, and we could be pushing a kilometre per gram! I haven’t told you about the Veritech lubricants either!”

“As team treasurer, I’m going to give you a budget of six hundred Kons. Discussion ended.”

Kasturba frowned. “But-”
The waitress returned with their meals- two plates heaped full of desert turkey strips hastily tossed through basil-thorn rice and suspicious yellow sauce. The pilot immediately abandoned all attempts at conversation and reached for some chopsticks. Langley looked at the conspicuous amount of steam billowing to his plate and came to the conclusion that it would probably be better to let it stand for a while. He rocked back in his chair and looked at the orange paper lantern strung above him. Kasturba chewed furiously and glanced at him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing. Just waiting for my dish to cool.”

“Pus-” Kasturba spun as somebody coughed explosively. At first glance, it looked like somebody had escaped from a mental institution, standing in the middle of the road wearing a set of battered trousers and suspenders. The man was old, maybe seventy at first glance, but still brimmed with energy- he hopped from one toe to the next and looked about excitedly. “Friends!” He bellowed melodramatically. His arms nearly hit several confused bystanders. “Come closer! Gather round!” A couple who had stopped to look was covered in spittle, but people were stopping and the man was gaining an audience. He pointed an accusing finger at another man- “You there! Come closer, you won’t hear a thing! Gather round, while I recounted the epic of…” He paused for dramatic effect, then practically jumped and screamed “Eisenhower!”

A small group of pilots led the audience in a cautious round of applause and curious mumbling. Langley poked at his food. “Let’s hope it’s something different, eh?”

***

The Noble accelerated away from her construction yard, thrusters glowing blue. Third Admiral Claude Ashcroft dropped into his padded seat and brought up start-up diagnostics on the seat’s integrated displays. “How was the ceremony, sir?” Ashcroft glanced at CEREBUS’s holographic projection, hovering in a projector array near the centre of the bridge. “Typical corporate-political bullshit. I’m just glad we’re underway.” The doors pinged as they opened, and the rest of the bridge staff filed in as Ashcroft turned to face them.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen-take your seats. I want a full ship-wide shakedown underway in two minutes and reports in as soon as we can churn them out.” He spun the chair back towards the centre of the room. “CEREBUS, status of the passengers?” The AI’s projection, nothing more than a blue glow, flickered as it processed the order.

“All personnel accounted for, sir. Group 1 is on station and preparing to move the rest of the ship’s population into the cryo-deck.”

“Very good, continue to accelerate until we’ve reached minimum safe distance to engage the Second Layer. After the shakedown’s complete rendezvous with our escort fleet over Ganymede.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Engineering report ready, sir.” Ashcroft glanced at Engineering Officer Jeremiah Peyton, seated in front of his displays. “Let’s hear it.”

“First Lillium Layer is functioning at 4 percent capacity- debris point-defence barrier is powered up and auxiliary propulsion systems are coming online. The first thirty blocks are now receiving power from the Matrix. We’ll be ready to spool up to full power once we get the ship clear of the minimum safe distance.”

Ashcroft nodded. “Very good.” He blinked and took a moment to organise his thoughts- Defence, Navigation and Management’s reports would filter in as their equipment began to feed off the rapidly increasing power supply. For now, all there was to do was wait.

MyHatismyFriend

MyHatismyFriend

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Join Date: Dec 2012
Posts: 558

02/26/2015, 04:01 AM #13


not dead yet