• If you were supposed to get an email from the forum but didn't (e.g. to verify your account for registration), email Wes at [email protected] or talk to me on Discord for help. Sometimes the server hits our limit of emails we can send per hour.
  • Get in our Discord chat! Discord.gg/stararmy
  • 📅 February and March 2024 are YE 46.2 in the RP.

RP: Francia [The Francia Frontier] Ep. 1 - Velkommen!

Status
Not open for further replies.

CadetNewb

Well-Known Member
The war was over. The battles were won. The Squids were either roasted on a fire Yammie style or were sent packing. There was an alliance that kept the cats from going crazy(er)! All was right in Nepleslia's little slice of the universe! There was peace at last!

Unfortunately, given the circumstances, nobody really knew what do do with it. It was actually kinda weird.

The general assumption was that this meant taking it easy, kicking back and relaxing, but, that very quickly became boring, and all sorts of other things started cropping up. Food demand and production. Overpopulation and overcrowding. Lack of housing. Economics? What the hell was that? Without a cow-titted redhead or something or someone just as miraculous to tell them what it all was and what to do, Nepleslians had to figure it all out themselves again. Without war constantly eating away at their numbers, the amount of mouths to feed didn't go down and was actually going up. They needed to figure out how to do more than just vat grow mycoprotein, keep building bigger mega-blocks in their mega cities to house more people, or only trade 'high priority' items like even more guns. Not that there was anything wrong with all of that.

And that was why several marines found themselves crammed together in 'economy-ultra' seating.

In other words, amongst cargo containers stacked on top of cargo containers all fastened down onto the deck. The deck of an even bigger cargo container fastened onto a cargo-ship. Hauling cargo. Through space. There honestly wasn't that much room to maneuver in between all this, but there was one bright highlight to all of this. The captain of the ship told them there was a tropical paradise of a colony waiting for them all! Marking the end of a long, drawn out war with nice warm beaches, babes, blackjack and hookers was the Nepleslian way, and hearing this good news got the troops excited - Peacetime Marine Corps was here. One person however, didn't seem to get the memo.

Off in one corner, a tall, slender woman with long black hair paced back and forward. She would have looked quite good with the white turtleneck sweater and jeans she had, considering how they hugged her, but the scowl on her face negated any points the woman got for this.

' - believe I got this crap assignment on some backwater, undeveloped colony world. Who cares if it's tropical? They likely got jack and shit going on, and it probably all got leveled for cows. Stinking, smelly, shit making cows! And all on top of what that bastard did! Of all the bimbos and whores he could have cheated on me with, he had to do it with the Neko Secretary at The Embassy. And probably her Twin Sister too! They're probably the local heavy machine-guns; everybody's had a go! Stupid, stupid men with their brains in their pants - don't they see? D.A.T.A.S.S. is a lie! They're getting ready to pull off a second genocide, but this time, with us! And their embassadors say they want to trade more food. It's incredibly obvious, isn't it? A foreign substance is introduced into our precious bodily fluids without the knowledge of the individual. That's the way the hard-core Neko works! It's a Neko Conspiracy to sap and impurify all our precious bodily fluids! All so they can drain us dry! Those women sense Nepleslia's power and they seek the life essence!'


And then she thought about how she was dumped by her ex for the sexy cat-eared secretary and sniffed back a sob, her anger vanishing.

Needless to say, she definitely had a lot on her mind.
 
Last edited:
THUMP!

Upon waking, Ran's forehead collided against the corner of an overhanging cargo box that served as shade against the ceiling lights that were blazing down on him. Recoiling from having his forehead colliding against a hard metal cargo container, his head jerked back, and the back of his skull collided against the top of the cargo container he was sleeping on top of.

"MOTHERFU-" Ran raised his hands up to squeeze the front and rear of his head in pain, only to send a punch upward at the offending cargo box that started this entire process. Unfortunately the concept of having a new body - one without a prosthetic metal arm - was still a relatively new concept for him, and his very organic arm met the cold and unyielding surface of non-organic metal.

Out of frustration, Ran got up and kicked a much smaller and much more fragile wooden box next to him off the ledge of the stacks of containers he painstakingly climbed up, sending it away with a very loud and almost impressively extensive string of profanities shouted. Somewhere below, what was once a wooden box was reduced to pieces of broken wood and several broken toy parts, something that some poor child would no doubt be distraught over.

Gaining control of himself, Ran reached down and slid his duffle bag over and sat down at the ledge next to it. Fumbling through one of its pockets, he produced a packet of Nepleslian Greens. Extracting the lighter shoved among the cigarettes in the pack, as well as a single stick, Ran Rui lit a cigarette and burned through a good quarter of it in one drag, letting several tendrils of smoke escape from his nostrils.

"Damnit..." Ran kept the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and shook his right hand to somehow stop the throbbing pain that was now starting to recede, and looked out at the sea of cargo containers that dominated his view of the cargo bay. "HEY, JACKASSES" Ran screamed out to noone in particular, "Which one of you pissed off some higher-up and got us this 'luxury'-" Ran indicated his sarcasm with the best display of air quotes "-ass assignment out to, where the hell was it?" Ran pulled up information about Francia on his Data Jockey "...Francia?!"
 
The Data Jockey in his hands lit up as the search query for "Francia" turned up a scant amount of results. A cursory glance showed him a small, colony in the middle of nowhere, in a frontier star. Krex let out a sigh of frustration, and laid his head back on his packed duffle bag that contained everything he owned. He elbowed a boot that was jamming into his back, closed his eyes, and attempted to get some sleep.

A loud crash followed by a string of profanities that would make a sailor blush, woke Krex. Awake, but not wanting someone to acknowledge his presence, he kept his eyes open and listened to someone rant about the destination of their luxury liner. He silently wished that it was a corporate type or some other businessman shoved off to a shitty posting. Knowing well that it was probably a marine, and more to the point, a loathsome infantry type, he ignored the shouts and started swinging his boot to the tune of a metal track he had heard and enjoyed.

"From Angel's Blades We Ride," was not a typical metal song, but damn was it catchy. Blowing up the radio that Krex enjoyed on his free time, it had quickly invaded his subconscious and crossed into the memorized realm. Growing tired of the shabby accommodations he was given, he slowly shambled to a stand and stretched his arms high above his head. Dropping his hands into his pockets, he started walking the cluttered and pale grey maze of containers, placing a headphone into his ear almost as an afterthought.

As one, we run, to the sound of battle!

A small shadow and giggles brought forth a young girl no older than six being pursued by an older boy in bright yellow shorts. Smile worthy, but not very entertaining to pass the time, he slowly shuffled on.

We charge, we march, to the sounds of battle!

An older pair of gentlemen playing cards, some disenfranchised youths, and a sleeping grease trap awaited Krex around the next container. Not bothering to see the game nor smell the dirty man, he passed close by the three teens in leather jackets. He noticed an awesome, sewn on, patch of a snake on their left breast as he passed by. "Yeah man, trust me, Francia has TONS of tunnels on it...," turning his head in their direction, "We can totally rule there, no law to tell us what to do." Youths bound for disaster most likely, but not his problem. He shifted his pacing in the general direction he had heard the loud crash and shouts earlier, for lack of something better to do.

Time to fight, for our last rites, to the sounds of battle!
 
Last edited:
Some people were actually doing their work.

"...!" Elina was happily minding her own business filling out inventory checklists for the military-grade medical supplies that were coming along with her when some idiot in the cargo bay suddenly startled her with his screaming. She jumped a bit and stood up straight, only managing to muffle an embarrassing peep by biting down on her lip.

"HEY YOURSELF. Who the fuck said that?" The smallish marine doctor stood up on her tiptoes and began looking around furiously, eventually orienting herself to the marine's continued muttering. She was a bit of a rare sight, quite a bit bellow the average height of the crew, a woman and decked out in clean-looking, white plastic prosthetics rather than the more fashionable beaten chromed steel. Her steps towards the source were light and springy, each bound accompanied by the mechanical squeak of pneumatics cycling for the next step. After just a few seconds of running, she was already beneath the little plume of smoke emanating from an overhead container.

The doctor bounced off the ground and vaulted up to around eye-level for the offending marine, slamming her hands at the edge of the container where Ran was loafing and glaring at him, one hand clamped between his thighs and another at his right. "You. Mid-Corporal."

"I better not be hearing you whine or smelling you smoke, because there's none of that in the cargo area." Her prosthetic eyes flashed in an icy blue, her brow furrowed. Segmented white fingers gripped around the edge so that she could hold herself up, causing and audible sound of the metal being stressed. Her voice is firm, suggesting that she's entirely serious. "Chew or vape like a civilized man, or use one of the ventilated workshops to do that in."
 
Raw, unfiltered data and virtual reality. Two pillars of what was polysentience these days. At least in part it was ncomprehensible to outsiders, who would likely never experience anything of its nature. Even with the stretch of light-years between Slip-Ring and the mothership "Warm Tidings" floating out in space, It was not disconnected from Its friends.

A game of chess with Chief Engineer Automaker had been wrapped up while they rested just outside the event horizon of a black hole the home-fleet had spotted four months back. After that the two had talked of his family, Slip-Ring had been sure to say hello to the three children before they'd been awoken from their slumber.

All while this went on in silence as the Mimic repeatedly stripped down and went over its equipment. In fact had It only been having its conversations and games with the distant fleet, save for its very clear custom work and being the only Mimic present aboard, Its form might have been mistaken for a piece of cargo destined for some shop or facility down on the planet.

Tucked away in a back corner, out of sight and out of mind, and only at one point briefly holding the attention of a young boy and his older sibling who wanted to know what such a curious looking machine was doing heading for a place like Francia - and why it was wearing a Marine uniform as well. For most of the trip this had been enough for It. Until it heard the commotion coming from somewhere closer to the bow of the vessel, still in the cargo bay. With a well practiced motion the cylinder of It's HHG was secured back in place, sporting a full load of hybrid "Whites".

Rising to Its feet, Slip-Ring began making its way up through the cargo bay, walking down the "hall" made by the cargo containers around It. Until It looked up to see a most curious sight. Below her on the ground in front of Slip-Ring's host form was a messy array of wooden splinters and what appeared to be parts to - children's toys. Mimic looked back to the more interesting sight: a person, a Nepleslian - female - gripping to the edge of a container and suspending herself above the open air below her. A facial recognition scan took a few moments. Elina Vanhanen, Staff Sergeant, Nepleslian Marine Corps - Medical.

That was all the farther Slip-Ring researched before calling out, "Excuse me, Staff Sergeant." It waved one hand to her to get her attention, "Is something the matter?"

More than anything, the rainbow-haired machine had a genuinely curious expression on Its face.
 
Ran withdrew another cigarette from his pack with an upward flick of his wrist and used the lit end of his current one to light it, twisting the end of the used butt and flicking it to the side to join a fairly sizable pile of curled up and abused filters. And that's when he heard a response to his previous vocal displays of displeasure at his current situation.

"HEY, I WASN'T FUCKING TALKING TO YOU, B-" The anger that he felt almost immediately vanished when he realized it was a woman's voice, and by the sound of her running to meet him, it wasn't your typical battle axe of a woman who hangs out in cargo bays, either. Struggling to make himself look as presentable and handsome as possible - disregarding the fact that he was knee deep in cancer smoke - Ran struck a very laid back pose reminiscent of a cover page from one of those gaudy romance themed holo-books.

As if it were slow motion, Ran took in the sight of this pint-sized bombshell flying up from the ground to his level. Soft porcelain skin, obviously warm to the touch in front of a bonfire fueled by some passed-out drunk. Prosthetics that looked more like they would belong in a fine arts museum, so elegant and unlike the rough, utilitarian examples he has seen and once fitted with. Light brown hair that, coupled with her soft white skin seemed to make her glow, and those cold, icy blue eyes that pierced through the warmth.

He whispered not-quietly, taken aback by her sudden appearance, "Oh shit, you're perfe-"

Then her hands slammed down on the container, between his legs and his side. Those supremely piercing blue eyes glaring at him, her holding herself up at a large distance above the deck. Ran felt a very confused sense of arousal.

Before he could open his mouth to deliver the appropriate pick-up line, however, came her lecture.

Elina said:
"I better not be hearing you whine or smelling you smoke, because there's none of that in the cargo area. Chew or vape like a civilized man, or use one of the ventilated workshops to do that in."

That was it. The arousal and interest were gone as his pride flared up.

"What did you say...who in the...WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" Ran could have headbutted her at this moment, but his sense of gender roles stopped him from doing so. "I HAVEN'T SEEN A GODDAMN SINGLE PERSON WHO HAS TAKEN APPROPRIATE OWNERSHIP FOR...FOR..." Ran stretched his arms out, indicating around the two of them that he has no bunk and has effectively been living out of a box "ALL OF THIS?! WHO THE HELL. ARE YOU. TO TELL ME. THAT I CAN'T ENJOY THE FEW FUCKING COMFORTS I HAVE IN THIS SHITHEAP?!"

Ran didn't notice the Staff Sergeant rank. The whole time the Marine was issuing his spirited retort, he still had the mind to not-so-subtly asses Elina's overall figure.

"I'VE BEEN FIGHTING BEFORE YOU WERE OLD ENOUGH TO SKIP YOUR PRIVILEGED ASS DOWN TO THE DESIGNER CYBERNETICS STORE TO PLAY CATCH-UP WITH THE REST OF THE GIRLS IN YOUR CUSHY-ASS SORORITY. I'VE BEEN PROMOTED AND FIELD DEMOTED SO MANY TIMES I COULD BE PILOTING THIS VERY SHIP, AND IF I WERE, THIS ENTIRE SITUATION WOULD BE IRRELEVANT BECAUSE I WOULD INVEST IN SOME SORT OF DECENT ACCOMMODATIONS FOR MY MEN AND WOMEN, AND I'D CERTAINLY NOT - or I still would - PUT AN ATTRACTIVE ICE QUEEN LIKE YOURSELF IN CHARGE OF....OF..."

Ran extended his arms out again, to reiterate, again "....THIS"

Slip-Ring said:
"Excuse me, Staff Sergeant. Is something the matter?"

"Oh, great." Ran rolled his eyes. Some other dude trying to mack on his girl.

Ran stuck his head out of the container uncomfortably - perhaps not thoughtfully - close to and past Elina's head.

"WHATS UP BUDDY, COME TO JOIN THE PARTY IN THIS PART OF THE GHETTO?!"
 
Slip-Ring was taken aback by witnessing the apparent outrage of the until now unseen second Marine . . . Ran Rui, Mid-Corporal, Nepleslian Marines - Power Armor pilot . . . as he had stuck his head out over the edge of the container the doctor supported herself on. While the whole show was certainly shocking, It didn't show any signs of that outwardly: face still resting in a stock mixture of happiness and amusement for a short time. Though after a moment It furrowed It's brows, donning a confused expression, and jade eyes danced between the apparently stocky-looking Marine infantryman and the physically smaller Marine doctor.

It had overheard every last word of the Mid-Corporal's rant and it was very clear that he was either oblivious or uncaring for the doctor's superior rank, and also completely misunderstood that promotions and field demotions were not mutually accumulative how he was implying - or he likely would have been commanding a vessel such as this. Slip-Ring moved to talk, mouth opened to form the first words, but stopped. Conflicted. It was the junior-most Marine present and while aboard a Spacer vessel the word of a Type Five would be highly valued when in it's field - this was not a Spacer vessel and Nepleslians did not have such an appreciation of their programs and machines.

Protocol would dictate that the reprimand and "dressing down" of a Marine who was belligerent towards superiors be done by the superior officer in question. So that responsibility was given to the Staff Sergeant. In addition, It's being only a Private Third Class meant that only in the most extreme circumstances would It have any reasonable ability under the NSMC codes and regulations to act out against a higher-ranking Marine such as the Mid-Corporal.

But ever eager to help, Slip-Ring raised its hand once more as if visually seeking attention, "I believe you have misinterpreted what field demotions are used for, Mid-Corporal. They do not, as I understand, constitute an increase in command authority as you have implied. That is, rather exclusively, promotions."

No humor in It's voice or a hint of sarcasm. Slip-Ring was genuinely trying to be helpful - if a tad oblivious about certain Nepleslia social oddities.
 
Last edited:
“Ffff... dick.” Growling, Elina dipped back and tilted away, not for lack of nerve but because she needed a bit more room to be able to address the other talker who just showed up to interrupt her. She pulled a strap from the work harness temporarily attached to her belt and hooked it onto a loop, letting go of the edge of the container, leaning back and propping her feet against the side of the container to allow the bay's artificial gravity to hold her upright.

“Yeah. That's real fucking cute, Mid-Corporal.” The Staff Sergeant blasted back, her expression turning frigid. Her arms crossed over her mid-section as she continued to glower at him. “Sure, you've got a fucking record. A lot of marines being shipped out to the colonies for drudge shit do. Fleet wants their pride and joy to fight out in space and run diplomatic missions, not a bunch of retarded slum bangers two weeks out of basic who need the sights mounted on the side to fucking hit anything.”

“And I would have actually given a shit about any of your ignominious pissant bitching if you also didn't literally fuck yourself out of your NCO badges. Any rights you got to scream at me because I signed up after you did are diddly, zero and fucking nil. Get used to it.” Elina finally said, actually grinning a bit. “On the other hand, it sounds a whole lot like you just volunteered for an hour of medical duty. I've got to give marines their shots so the Francia air doesn't make you megacity types shit yourselves to death.”

“Just a safety check, 'Spacer.” She finally glanced over to give the newly-arrived Freespacer some attention and nodded. “Although, if you have time, I could use some help giving the ground crew their shots before we make planetfall.”
 
"My ass I've fucked myself out of any NCO badges." Ran's impudence immediately took a nose dive when he noticed the Staff Sergeant stripes on the waifish nymph in front of him. "Aw fuck. Fucking seriously? What, did they start trading in ranks for blowjobs?"

Somewhere, Ran's galactic soul mate was digging an increasingly deeper hole.

"Hah, hah. Listen to me you overgrown shit, I was a soldier killing fully-grown men before I was old enough to buy my own booze. I placed top of my class in medic training after finishing marine basic, and I've lost limbs on almost every world we fought and died on during the war with the squids. If by 'blowjob', you actually mean 'killed a man with a bonesaw', then yeah, I've sucked a lot of dicks." Elina said, the little glowing irises in her cybernetics narrowing. Reaching for her medical holster, she pulled out a hypolathe and spun it idly in her fingers to emphasize the point.

Ran subconsciously tried to loosen his collar, then produced and lit another cigarette to help him deal with these incredibly confusing feelings of rage and arousal he was experiencing. "Damn girl, you have no idea how hot you are when all pissed off and on a hormonal tirade." Ran pointed to his head and grabbed himself in a suggestive manner. "I'm going to save this entire conversation for later."

The pistol-like medical tool produced a shimmering sliver of crystalline bonesaw, extending out several inches like a very real and dangerous visual metaphor for Ran's confused erection. "Well Corporal, by all rights you can do that. You're also going to be saving the part where I administer a non-inert version of the vaccine and you spend the next few hours shitting your pants."

"Girl, I'd happily break the legs of every fucking medic in here if it meant you'd have no choice, ethically or structurally, to take my pants off and clean my dookie. I never knew you'd be into that kind of shit - " Ran suppressed a giggle there " - but by all means I'm into it if it gets me closer to that center of yours. Fuck, all they'd see is a farting and shitting maelstrom of leg breaking man-meat sending them to the intensive care ward."

"...eww." Elina reply was short, as her boiling temper was suppressed by sheer disgust.

Slip-Ring piped up from where It still stood amid the broken toys and their shattered container, "Staff Sergeant, do you require physical violence to restrain the Corporal?"

A pair of blue eyes peeked over one of the shipping containers and looked down at the three marines. "Shhh, it's just some grownup talk 'spacer. It's best to let nature take it's course with organics sometimes," she helpfully suggested to him. Initially, the black haired woman was originally going to ask for a cigarette or something, but this was a much better pick-me-up.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME." Ran screamed past Elina's face, down at Slip-Ring below. Without thinking very much, the Mid-Corporal vaulted off of the edge next to Elina to land right in front of Slip-Ring. Unfortunately, he had taken his rather heavy cargo bag with him - and shattered his ankles.

Impossibly, the Marine stood up on his ruined ankles and was able to lightly grind his forehead into Slip-Ring's, attempting to push it back despite the blinding pain coming from his shattered ankles. "WHO GAVE YOU THE RANK TO TALK SHIT TO ME, PRIVATE. I SWEAR TO FUCK I WI-"

Slip-Ring was rather impassive, face in that mocking happy-amusement expression, and It managed to stand It's ground if only in part due to its non-organic musculature and the Corporal's horribly wrecked ankles, though its beret was knocked off to expose its rainbow-colored mess of a matted down mohawk, "I am simply offering the Staff Sergeant assistant, Corporal. I meant no offense."

Ran's expression immediately showed a rage as deep as a cauldron of boiling steel, and from it would be forged the sword of his vengeance upon the being in front of him, as he headbutted Slip-Ring so hard he knocked himself unconscious.

On Slip-Ring's part, It was thankful it didn't have active pain sensors. Its head snapped back far too fluidly for a normal human taking a blow before a hand shot up to feel for (admittedly less likely) exterior damages, "Staff Sergeant, the Corporal is subdued."

Rather unannounced and standing next to the yet-to-be-named Fredriika, Master Chief Fian Vel Steyr watched the whole spectacle including Mid-Corporal Ran hobbling across the deck towards the Freespacer with mild amusement, it wasn't the first time he witnessed the tenacity of the ex-Chief refusing to acknowledge a mobility injury, at least this time nobody has gotten shot... Yet at least. He rubbed the small stubble that had grown under his chin in the weeks on board. "And here I was hoping this would be an easy tour before retirement." The Nepleslian said to himself.

"Huh? You? Retire?" the woman next to Fian whispered in surprise, still keeping an eye on the others below. "I always thought a good marine just faded away," she smiled, turning bright, icy blue eyes to him. "Hey, you got some popcorn or something? This is really good," still speaking to him in hushed tones. The way she said it all made it sound like they were in a movie theater or even watching a play. One where everything the people on stage did was for their entertainment.

"They don't fade away as much as they fall with a dull thud." Fian swallowed hard, even with CC and ST technology, he still believed in his own moral and spiritual compass that the price of death is never that trivial, he doesn't intend to find out firsthand. That he knew Ran had at least one CC revive added to the irony. "I wouldn't call myself good, but getting a one way ticket to Francia is about as good as fading away that a Marine can get."

"Whelp." Elina's eyes very swiftly noticed the intense agony on Ran's face and blush patterns caused by his sudden blowout, and very quickly figured out he did something very dumb and hurt himself. While normally her response would be to actually treat him, he was unusually disgusting. She unclasped her harness and allowed herself to drop, gripping the side of the container with her fingertips to slow her fall to something comfortable to land at and allowing the heels of her feet to pat down on Ran's shoulders. She made the hasty landing more in a hurry to make sure that no permanent damage would result from the self-inflicted injury, so that he gave out a pained wheeze from her driving the wind out of him with her landing was just gravy.

"Hey, jackass. Are you still conscious?" She crouched down, glancing at him and giving his head a few nudges. She promptly retracted the bone saw from her hypolathe, slotting in doses of painkillers to jab into him. She briefly considered using any other of compounds punitively, but his behavior up to that point made it utterly clear: no punishment would be bad enough to get him to stop his shit.

Finally, she glanced back up at Slip-Ring, looking it over. "Are you alright?"

Slip-Ring gave a modest shrug, "This unit has experienced no damage. My pain sensors are not currently active. I would be more concerned for the Corporal and yourself. Do you require assistance moving the Corporal, Staff Sergeant?"

Though it raised a single hand, pointing with one finger off to the side as it detected the faint sounds of conversation, "Though I do believe we are being observed, Staff Sergeant." And with that turned in the general direction of the two onlookers to offer a wave and smile, "Hello!"

Stepping off of Ran and getting behind his heels, Elina gave a little nod and gestured over to a stack of pallets covered in a tarp. ""Yeah. Good initiative, 'Spacer." She answered, leaning down to grab him and turn him over onto his back. "Medbay's a while away, and I don't want this chucklefuck getting close to the drug cabinets, so let's move him over onto these so I can run diagnosis."

She only managed to give the guy next to her an "Mmm," of understanding as she watched, but soon enough, the light fell on them. 'Oh no, oh no, oh no! They're on to me! Or us? Damnit!' Fredrika thought to herself. 'Gotta take the attention off of myself somehow!' An elbow sharply nudged Fian in the ribs. "Psst! Girly boy! Stop putting on your sparkles and say something already!" she harshly whispered at him.

Fian winced to the side from the unexpected attack, he was more than ready to drop the superaware supersoldier schtick the moment he got on the transport and paid the price for it. "Ow! Why does it have to be me, you girly boy too!" Unfortunately the vast proliferation of cheap Neko pinups in the marine barracks had long since skewed his impression of the very different 'body sizes' a female can have; she was as flat as he was, and he knew he was a guy.

Krex had been silently watching the whole exchange, to the point where he had actually turned off his music to listen in. The big one, whom Krex assumed was a senior enlisted by the way he threw around his anger, had a small sergeant inserting something into the unconscious man. With the chatter silenced by the big man's injury, Krex had turned his techno metal back on. Sweet tunes filled his ears as he sat leaning against a cold cargo container, observing.

Dismissing the two not-overt observers for now, Slip-Ring turned Its attention to the still unconscious Corporal. Standing at his head, Slip-Ring was able to grab two handfuls of his tunic. Of course a proper medical team might have balked at the idea of not supporting the neck, but Slip-Ring hadn't heard anything snapping, so . . .

Without waiting for Elina, Slip-Ring began to quite ungracefully drag the Corporal to the indicated pallets, heft his upper body to rest on them, and then left the legs to the medical expert. They were supposed to be fellow Marines, working in a team after all.

"Staff Sergeant, inquiry." It didn't wait for a response, "Why are some organics so reckless? Its not like you keep many mental back-ups, as I understand. If I lose this," It motioned vaguely over its own form. "then I simply move to a new host. You have the one body."

"It's rarely just one reason. Combat stim addiction, mental trauma, abuse of androgenic steroids because anabolics are too expensive..." Elina said much more calmly, her mood stabilizing very quickly now that Ran was unconscious. Her cybernetics adjusted as she ran initial scans on him, reaching to her belt to fish out her medical kit and lay it out next to the unconscious marine.

From it she puled out the compressed scrubs and slipped them under his neck, pressing her fingertips to his sides and running them along his body to check for problem areas. Although it probably looked a bit odd, implanted sensors allowed her to very quickly diagnose his concussion and the breaks along his ankles.

"Hmm. Well, that'll do it. I want to put this fuck in a cast but he'll just use it as an excuse to take a vacation." She muttered to herself, looking up at Slip.

"Might I suggest amputation?" Slip-Ring offered without hesitation.

"...hah, hah. No. Because then he's getting military grade feet on the fleet's dime, AND time off to recover." The Staff Sergeant answered, her expression souring a bit. She glanced back at Slip, looking at it questionningly. "You know how to splint limbs Private uh...?"

"Slip-Ring Wind-Bell 89-9439-7126" It smiled, as if It's name couldn't rival the title of some elaborate novellas, "And I can access the publicly available compendium of Nepleslian field medicine as necessary, though was specifically instructed to only do so on orders to avoid getting - distracted."

"Alright, get to it Slip. I need to run a probe into his brain to make sure he's not bleeding inside, and then administer something so his eggs aren't any more scrambled." Elina said quickly, stepping back over to Ran's head and rather unceremoniously pressing the aperture of her nanolathe to his head as if she were about to kill him execution-style. A metallic wire thinner than a hair shot through, sliding inside to repair the damage his rather dramatic headbutt inflicted on his soft, delicate brain.

"Of course, Staff Sergeant." And with that Slip-Ring retrieved the appropriate materials from the Staff Sergeant's medical bag as was needed and set to work securing the ankles, aware of but not responding to the quickly escalating situation up above.

The black haired woman's jaw dropped when she heard the marine imply it. In fact, he might as well have said it. That she was flat. "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME MARINE?!" a horrible monster screeched into his ear point-blank. "I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT BUST SIZE IS NOT THE END ALL, BE ALL FACTOR THAT DETERMINES HOW ATTRACTIVE A WOMAN IS!" she yelled at him at the top of her lungs, flecks of spittle sprinkling his otherwise flawless face. "YOU MIGHT LOOK LIKE A GIRLY BOY FROM YAMATAI WHO TRIES TO CROSS-DRESS, COMPLETE WITH SPRINKLES, BUT YOU OBVIOUSLY KNOW JACK AND SHIT WHEN IT COMES TO KNOWING WHAT MAKES WOMEN ATTRACTIVE!" Fredriika continued to rant at the Master Chief. "THERE'S ALSO HOW SLIM THEY ARE, OR HOW CURVY THEIR WAIST IS, OR HOW BIG THEIR ASS IS!" The woman in civvy clothes sighed and crossed her arms. "Besides," she continued politely, "Some men who are connoisseurs of women and have complex tastes prefer them to have smaller busts," Fredriika added.

Fian was the guy who never took statements at face value, including official orders, which may have gotten him in the soup with superiors at points in time, so in practice Federika's rant was less a lecture and more a point of discussion. "Okay so maybe not a man. But certainly a banshee." The MC's cybernetic ear domes digitally nullfied the angry woman's sonic attack, he didn't flinch at this one. He remembered, briefly, that he had a very little sister once before he signed up for the wild SMoDIN ride. That memory felt more real that the woman he just described as a noisy ghost. "Liking small busts? Sounds paedophillic." 'And not to mention incestuous.'

Krex had long since stopped listening to the various conversations. The beats bleated in his ears while he watched the two feminine boys argue over something. Adjusting his viewpoint showed another scene of, what looked like a spacer from a kid show, unceremoniously dump the loudmouth cpl onto a cargo pallet. "Seems fitting for someone like him, eh 'spacer?" Shoving himself off the wall, he walked to the spacer and helped adjust the corporal for the medic. "Don't see many of you anymore, neat." Grinning and offering his hand, "Name's Krex Valt, NSMC."

While It didn't blink, It's body language might have suggested surprise in the way It shifted rather suddenly and in It's usual too-fluid manner to face the newly approaching individual. It listened to the greeting and stared for a silent moment at the offered hand. The only other individual who performed such a gesture that It had seen was It's drill instructor in boot camp. It awkwardly matched the gesture, as it had back then, in a slightly-too-firm grip.

"Slip-Ring Wind-Bell 89, Private Third Class, NSMC. A pleasure, I'm sure, Krex Valt. Now if you'll excuse me." With that It turned back to aiding the Staff Sergeant's efforts where it could.

"Hah, great. We're making a scene." Elina muttered to herself again, peering up at Krex to speak at him a little more loudly. "If you're coming over here Private, it better either be out of concern for your fellow man or because you're volunteering to carry the big palooka once we finish up here."

"Anyway, I'm going to teach you your second most important lesson. Which is that if a superior is in some shit and he's not your old buddy, you ignore the fuck out of it." She directed to Slip-Ring, casually pointing-up to the happenings above while retracting the little filament jabbed into the ex-Chief's brain meant to keep liquid from suddenly pooling up inside and killing him once it served its purpose. Once sorted out, she loaded a cartridge of painkillers and gave him a quick jab on the side of the neck, the dose just small enough to take the edge off when he finally woke up.

"Smelling salts." The doctor waved her hand, expecting the requested item to be handed off to her. "And take my pack off the pallet so Corporal Fuckhead doesn't knock it away if he wakes up."

"Of course, Staff Sergeant." The medical pack was snatched up and quickly slung over It's shoulders as Slip-Ring moved to one side of the pallet, squatting down to grip it for when the Staff Sergeant was ready to move it.

Fian suddenly found himself being grabbed by the front of his uniform as the woman's hands lunged out. Pulled in close, he was forced to stare into her icy cold eyes. "What. Did you just call me?" she asked him, voice deathly quiet. "WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DO YOU KNOW MY CALLSIGN?!" the raven haired woman then screamed at him again. "WHO SENT Y- "She suddenly stopped, and blinked once. Then twice. "Wait. Pedophillic?" Her eyes gazed up and to the right in deep thought. "If a man likes women with small busts, it may not necessarily mean they're pedophillic, but pedophiles do like women that do have small breasts precisely because they resemble their preference."

Her eyes narrowed as her mind reached out for the threads of thought. "The Catgirl and her sister that my ex got with both had small breasts, just like me, but were even smaller and more childlike. And the girl before me had small ones too." Her eyes darted back to his. "I got it! I'll pull some strings, and frame him for being a pedophile!" she smiled, her eyes practically sparkling. "Thanks a bunch! Oh! Wait, that's really rude of me - what's your name soldier? We haven't even introduced ourselves yet." Despite the sudden niceness of her words, her hands were still curled up into fists as they grabbed Fian's uniform, holding him off the ground.

Wait, Know her callsign? What? Fian stared up at the Banshee for a moment confused before a wave of obvious realization crept over him. He was pretty much in dire straits right now with his feet off the ground and the railing right next to him, but in true NSS Alliance tradition that the brave and unparralled(sp) Ran Rui just demonstrated, a proud fraternity of panty raiding brothers that he was once part of, there were no brakes on this clown car in war or in peace. He grinned from ear to ear. "The name is Fian. So, they call you Pedo?"

Krex stared dumbly at the spacer, not quite piecing together what he had heard. "You? You're a marine? No shit." His music, coupled with his inattentiveness of someone he had yet to acknowledge, led him to not really hear the medic. The way she was speaking to him when he did pretend to care, obviously told him that she wanted him to do something. "Sorry Sgt, I have other duties to attend to. I got my leadership asking about what's going on and they needed an answer." Boldly lying to a medic he didn't know, and for all he knew, could be stationed on the other side of the planet, he slyly backed up. Krex nodded toward the spacer passed a halfhearted wave to the marine as he attempted to fade away into the container labyrinth.

"Smart choice, private." Elina replied, not even caring whether or not he was telling the truth. It got him out of the way, which was enough. "Anyway... let's see if he'll wake up," she commented, uncapping the container of smelling salts and waving them underneath Ran's nose to see if they'd do the trick, "might not even need your help if he can walk on is own."

"Huh? Oh no. My callsign was Banshee - not that I'll ever do shuttle piloting again," she remarked, still holding him off the ground by his shirt. "Anyways, my name is Fredriika. Thanks for the idea, and nice to meet you!" the woman smiled. She paused for a moment and tilted her head in thought however. "Say, did you suddenly get taller or something? I could have sworn we were at eye level or something."

Fian coughed, it was getting hard to breathe. This might not be such a bad way to finally go. "Cough T-this upper body strength and testosterone, y-yep, definitely a guy."

Time seemed to freeze as the look of happiness on Fredriika's face vanished in an instant as it shifted into pure hatred. "Yamataian girly boy..." she slowly began. "IN THE NAME OF THE IMPERIUM OF NEPLESLIA - " Fredriika began, raising him above her head. " - I BANISH YOU! BACK TO THE YAMATAIAN BOY BAND FROM WHICH YOU CAME!" And with that, she threw him over and into the morass below. Right at that moment however, the banshee of a woman realized something else. "Oh! My show's back on," Fredriika remarked, noticing Ran regaining consciousness.

A light groan came from the Mid-Corporal, followed by him waking up in a rather startling matter, almost panicked. "What the fuck?" He managed to slur out, holding his head to somehow stop his brain from throbbing out of his skull. "Motherfucker, what happened?" At that point, Ran remembered why he had become so angry to the point where he violently backed up into Slip-Ring, threatening to knock Elina's medpack off. "WHAT THE FUCK, MY FUCKING LEGS. FUCK SHIT."

Then Ran Rui looked to his side at Elina, somehow willfully choosing to see her as a concerned angelic waifish figure, legs outstretched and curled slightly under her, tending to his side. He could almost see the glowing aura and sparkles emanating from her, but that might have just been the concussion. "Oh fuck, it's the eternal angelic torment upon my penis and the sunshine from my dreams made manifest. How you doin' baby?"

Ran produced a cigarette from under his tunic from somewhere. Seeing that his lighter was still in his cargo pack and his ankles were fucked, Ran paused for a moment before he started eating the cigarette.

Stepping back from the stockier Marine's retreat, Slip-Ring said nothing at first as It watched him. Right up until he produced a cigarette and began to consume it. While not an organic and not requiring food Itself, It was reasonably sure that was not the proper way one consumed commercially available cigarettes.

"Staff Sergeant, I stand by to restrain the Corporal on your order. Shall we proceed to the medical bay?"

"Fuck that! There aren't any fucking breaks on the Train of Love! Don't you come between true love! I'd shave both of our fucking heads, slather them in oil and write fucking poetry reaching beyond the stars and time elating how good our bald, oil-drenched heads felt meeting each other! ONLY THEN WILL WE FINALLY BE ONE IN LOVE." Ran looked up at Slip. "...Unrelated, what gender do you identify as?"

Somewhere, his galactic soul mate died in the hole he dug for himself.

"Holy shit, I think I actually understand how and why that admiral's daughter fucked you." Elina said, literally uncomprehending of the situation and almost everything come out of Ran's mouth or being acted out by his still-injured body. "You're actually insane, and keeping you at enlisted levels forever is some kind of fucking HR purgatory for whichever poor NCO is going to be stuck leading your squad."

"Just leave him. His ankles should set fine now that they're splinted and he's got medical nanomachines in his bloodstream." She glanced over at Slip and shook her head.

For once, Ran's demeanor toughened and became serious for an incredibly frightening moment, relative to the incomprehensibly numerous moments of dickery preceding. "Admiral's daughter? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Uh. Hmm. Guess your mental data was only made a bit before that, rough." Elina's own expression turned a bit pitying. "...you do know why you were demoted, right? It's written all up and down the dossier."

Slip stared at the Corporal ". . . gender?" In about the time it took either to blink, Slip-Ring began changing. Rainbow-patterned hair disappearing for shoulder length blonde locks, uniform replaced by a matte-gray suit-coat over a white button-up shirt, black skirt, stockings, and white heels. Blue eyes staring at the Corporal and a "too-big-for-my-shoulders" bust. A dead ringer for the signature Nepleslian news girl.

"I can be a woman for you. Since that seems to be your preference, Corporal." It offered a shrug, "Otherwise, I am me.

"...I've made it a point to be the bane of every officer's fucking existence, so fuck me, right?" There was a very dull feeling of anxiousness - possibly fear - that Ran was feeling. Fucked an Admiral's daughter? Aw fuck. Even then, Ran only offered a seemingly uncaring sneer at the news. "Fuck it, I've died once. What the fuck more are they going to do to me? Keep me dead next time?" Ran started eating another cigarette. "And fuck whoever that Admiral's daughter was. I've got a whore in every space port any fuckin' way. At least maybe this one won't smell like rotten fucking p-"

It was at that point where Ran witnessed the spacer changing from a rather neutral figure to a very full-figured one. "...Holy fuck, I've never been so aroused and unsure of myself before. It's not even fucking time for my mid-day drink."

"You went AWOL and fucked the wrong guy's daughter. I'm not even allowed to know who's kid it was, but he's taken it upon himself to shit on you from up on high. Read your goddamn dossier once in a while, especially if you're being revived or getting knocked out during ops." Elina looked over at at Slip and was equally impressed, although on a far more clinical basis. On a technical basis, whatever architecture its body was based on was undoubtedly quite sophisticated, and she suddenly had an urge to look.

"Hey so, Spacer." Ran comically propped himself up on Slip-Rings shoulders. "You and me want to get some drinks or like fuckin' software later? I wouldn't mind seeing what else you can do with this...." Ran's fingers not-so-subtly traced along Slip-Ring's form, before being interrupted.

"First-off, eww. Slip is like less than ten unless we're talking about an especially old SI that's diverged strongly from Nepleslian neurological norms. You're either fucking a kid or a space station's neural net." Elina lectured, finding her disgust for Ran intensify with every word they exchanged.

"To be fair, Staff Sergeant. At five years of age most members of the Free State are considered to be young adults." It paused, "I am five years old."

Something in It's tone suggested it might not be as pleased by this as Ran. This was in addition to the way it warily eyed him now.

"See? It's all fucking good! Either I'm fucking a hivemind and by extension getting massive amounts of inter-ass that I'll have to be free basing firewalls and anti-malware software, or I'm engaging in mild titillation with a being considered to be an adult by...her...? own species! Besides, age ain't nothing but a subjective, relativistic, and sometimes legally undefinable thing, angel!" And then someone from above collided with him and sent his head flying onto the floor and him back into unconsciousness.

Fian felt his momentum change, good to know that he still had his provocation skillset. "Ahaha yeess! I mean, nooooooooooooo!" He flew over the ledge slowly at 50% gravity, there was more than enough time to catch his breath between elongated 'no's before he knocked his head against something equally hardheaded and passed out, his unconscious form gracefully bouncing off Ran Rui before settling into its own corner of the bay with a dull thud.

Having neither retreated, nor offered help to anyone, Krex was content with how this was playing out. He would hear a snippet of conversation here, and listen to a horny marine's attempts at love there. It was honestly quite funny to him, although maybe not in the general sense of the word. If he was to be with any of these group of misfits planetside, he would either have a really easy job or a very funny hard one. Both seemed alright to him, so he moved back towards the gathering group of misfits. Listening, but not participating much to the various conversations.

Elina gaped briefly and covered her mouth, looking at the two figures drifting across the floor of the bay now. The years and years of being treated like shit for being a former Red volunteer fighter, the shitty come-ons by marines and bullshit posturing by Neko in the scant joint ops she wound up in, the grinding ouroboros of navigating bureaucratic channels trying to get promoted out of an enlisted rank like she fucking should have for serving six years as a doctor and losing more limbs than a Mishhu at a katana convention- none of them seemed to be as intensely shitty as this exact moment: floating in a cargo bay doing bush medicine on morons.

"Fuck," she sort of gurgled, looking them over. She didn't snap, but somehow felt her high hopes for her new life in the colonies sink, "ALRIGHT. EVERYONE WHO CAN HEAR MY VOICE. YOU ARE HEREBY RELIEVED OF YOUR CURRENT NON-ESSENTIAL DUTIES AND RECRUITED TO ASSIST ME IN CARRYING THESE TWO MARINES TO SICKBAY NOW, ASAP."

At this point, Slip-Ring had reverted to It's normal appearance, back in It's uniform, with a few strands of bright red hair from Its mohawk hanging in front of It's face as it stared at the two fallen Marines.

"Staff Sergeant, inquiry." It only spared her a brief glance.

"What?" Elina asked in response, stepping over to Fian to begin carrying him back to her impromptu medical station (since he seemed lighter and easier to carry than a burly, fully-grown marine).

"Are they broken? They seem to be broken." It was silent a moment, "Perhaps dead."

"Wahahahahahahaha!" a voice from above cackled. "Scurry my minions! Scurry!" Fredriika called out to the marines below, laughing at them all. "Careful with the one that sparkles! He's really girly!"

"Oh... probably concussions again. The smaller one might be kinda fucked since he looks delicate, so we should drag them to medbay." Elina glanced up, to the Chief's perch and the androgynous little imp that he was talking to before. "And you up there. Rank doesn't mean anything to medicine unless you're the goddamn Sky Marshall himself, so come down here and help carry him to sickbay."

"Whelp shit." Figuring that this assortment of duties was a lot better than staring at a container all day, he moved to help the big sgt up. Mumbling under his breath and he tried to take some of the big man's weight, "C'mon sarge, we have to get you back into some more trouble."

In a motion that seemed as confused as it was dutiful, Slip-Ring headed over to the smaller of the pair sprawled out on the ground. A Master Chief - Vel Steyr. Big name. Small person. Nothing bleeding in the open and his brain-pan didn't look to be compromised. Satisfied with this eyes-only assessment, Slip-Ring crouched down and places one arm between the smaller Marine's legs and took his wrist in the other hand. With a heft, he was across It's shoulders in something roughly resembling a fireman's carry.

"Mmm lets do that again." Fian mumbled in stupor.

Slip-Ring stood once more, the Master Chief cast over It's shoulders, "I will follow you, Staff Sergeant." It paused, "Though I might suggest expediency to the medical bay?"

"Yeah thanks, he's all yours." Elina wasn't too happy to have the Master Chief taken off her hands, since it meant getting her hands on Ran again and possibly dealing with him even more, but dutifully took her medical pack back before heading over to Krex to give him a hand with the bigger of the two. "Let's go."

'Touch me, baby..." Ran mumbled, concussively.

"Like I'm going to lift a finger - I'm not on duty right now!" she called down at Elina. "Besides, he implied I was flat chested," Fredriika muttered, pouting a little over that fact. As dour as that thought was, even from where she stood, she could hear Ran. "Hahahahahaha!" Struggling not to but failing, she exploded again in a torrent of teary eyed laughter. "Thank the Brass, I'm going to love working with you ants!"

"Where's the med bay doc? I have no idea where anything is on this thing." Patting the big man on his head, "This guy might find himself with a bit more bruises if I have to carry his big ass up some of these containers."

"Ughn, whatever." Elina answered Ran and Fredriika at once, before looking back over at Valt with a frown. "Anyway, I'll lead the way. Served on a ship of this class a few years ago so I know my way around the floors. If these fucking incidents keep happening..."

"...and fuck, we didn't even hand out immunizations. I really hope we don't miss any this time." She added, suddenly very concerned.

Before anything more could be said, the ship began to rumble.

"This is the Captain speaking, we're beginning our final approach to the city of Francia, Francia. Please remain calm and seated with both hands and feet inside the ride at all times during our re-entry." Soon enough, a thump reverberated through the ship as it touched down, the Captain's voice drifting through the ship's intercoms again. "We've arrived at Francia, Francia. Please take all your shit with you, and those of us who give a F* hope you've all enjoyed the ride." At that, the giant doors for the cargo bay the marines were crammed into swung open speeding winds and snow bursting into the ship' interior.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Fredriika bellowed over the storm's roar. Grabbing her DataJocky, she yelled into it next, her own voice streaming out of the speakers."THE HELL IS GOING ON? I THOUGHT YOU SAID WE WERE LANDING ON A TROPICAL AREA!"

"Huh? Oh no. The city that's at the equator is where me and my boys are going to go next after this. Francia is where you all get off at. So hurry up and offload everything so we can get to the beaches and tits," the Captain replied. Off in the barely visible little city, bright orange shined as explosions blossomed off in the distance. Fredriika's face paled.

"Oh shit."

"....Tits?" Ran groaned through his impending brain trauma.

"01000110011101010110001101101011" Slip muttered darkly.
 
Last edited:
"Well shit. Let's get this idiot outside and grab our things." Elina looked around for a moment, still a bit dumbfounded that the shift to land was that quick but pressing on nonetheless. She reached for her datapad and communicated with it using her implants to interface, compiling a quick message to send out to the unit as she and Valt continued to drag Ran out of the cargo bay.

Staff Sergeant Elina Vanhanen said:
This is Staff Sergeant Elina Vanhanen to all marines being dropped off at the spaceport here at Francia. Due to a number of circumstances your immunizations have not been administered yet, which is a concern for unit health due to many of you not having exposure to the microbiological climate on this planet. Although cold and sterile, relatively high space traffic means that the ports here are awash in a number of terrible diseases that have become adapted to the local ecosystem.

Our NCO and other senior enlisted are currently incapacitated due to mismanagement of safety harnesses while sitting around cargo containers, and won't be giving out orders for at least a couple more minutes.

In short: that means I need all of you to get your shit and shuffle on over to barracks, and then get ready for your shots and boosters A.S.A.P.. Marine medics report to me ASAP, everyone else just do what I tell you until new orders come up from on high or our Master Chief recovers from his concussion.
 
"How the hell did I get roped up in this!?" grumbled a man in a Navy Uniform and an incredibly thick parka he had borrowed from garrison stores. "Standing in balls-freezing cold weather waiting a god-damned transport filled with nothing but fuckwit Marines is not something a Computer Systems Officer is for, that's why we have Petty Officers and Cadets!" the bitching continued as it had for about an hour.

Technically, there were some enlisted in the vicinity as well. An officer was never without some form of grunt to do the heavy work. But a Lieutenant was normally not the one doing the direct supervising. That's why the military invented NCOs.

At least his wait was finally over. Now the work could be done. Most of the enlisted around him were Marines. A Navy Officer in charge of Marines --- how far had he fallen? Sneezing loudly, The Lieutenant moved towards the open hatch with his DataJockey out.

"Commissar Østergaard?" one Lieutenant Matthew Lionheart called out in an attempt to find out where the poor sap in charge of this container was located.
 
'It's a conspiracy! A conspiracy!' Fredriika's mind screamed. Gunfire echoed off in the distance as she dove into a pile of bags up above, neither it or her mind stopping there. 'They've deliberately mislead us into thinking we'd go to a tropical environment so we'd end up getting chilled to the bone on arrival and take all sorts of vaccinations out of fear of sickness! This is how they'll weaken us by diluting our bodily fluids...or worse! Of course, of course, of course - it's all so clear now!' Emerging from the luggage, the first thing she did was start barking over the comms. "Belay that vaccination order!" Standing over them all atop the cargo container she threw Fian off of moments ago, the slender woman adjusted the collar of her greatcoat version of the officer's jacket before placing the peaked cap upon her head. "Under my authority as Commissar Fredriika Østergaard, we're prioritizing those explosions and gunfire! Grab what guns you got and get into one of those short-buses!"

Leaping across containers and coming down from her spot, she landed just a few meters from Matthew. "Unless you know what's going on in the city, you can grab a gun and get on with the rest!" Fredriika shouted at him over the freezing wind.
 
The external goings on were coming to him as he slowly awoke from his relatively minor concussion, much like how sound comes when breaking the surface of the water from underneath. Then the biting cold hit him, and his vision eventually started coming back, only to reveal multiple explosions occurring, some outlining and outlined by the skyline of whatever desolate shithole he had found himself on this time.

And then he heard
Frederika said:
Grab what guns you got and get into one of those short-buses!"
, the first non-jumbled and crystal clear sentence uttered after he woke back up.

"...Wh-" Adrenaline suddenly shot through him, in a same manner as someone awaking from a deep sleep to find that they've been robbed and had their kidneys cut out. "WHAT. AW FUCK."

Ran rather unceremoniously and by now characteristically unthinkingly freed himself from Elina and landed flat on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. In a rather desperate state to retrieve his only firearm in a very hostile environment, Ran crawled his way over to his duffel bag and ripped out his pistol belt and pistol from his bag. Propping his upper body on the bag and turning over to put on his belt, Ran inserted a loaded magazine and chambered a round, using the decocker on the pistol to drop the hammer safely without firing it.

Placing the pistol in its holster, Ran shimmied around and got his bag on his back. Now facing the sky with his bag separating him from the cold ground, Ran strained his neck downward to look around at the individuals around him.

"I can't fucking walk! I need someone to carry me!"
 
Armin, a large white haired Abwehran Male, this entire time had been leaned up against the wall ignoring everyone, and their going ons, and keeping to himself and his datapad. When the PA System announced they'd be landing he gathered his things, and once more kept to himself. He didn't seem to effected by the gunfire, and even if he was he would never show it. One of the things left over from his days in the Armed Forces one might assume. He slowly looked around at the rest of the group one of those decently thick arms arched and touched his chin lightly stroking it for a moment as he got a feeling for what was going on. He shook his head lightly and then turned his attention towards the one who was yelling that he couldn't walk... He sighed ever so slightly at the annoyance, but considering who else was here he was probably the physically strongest and most suited to carry the large man. He moved over and with one of his four hands lifted the man up and put him on his back. His two lower arms moving behind him and crossing under Ran's posterior to keep him balanced on his back while the other hand put his Data pad away and pulled out his weapon.

He quietly stepped off the plane and into the freezing cold weather, his free hand moving up to lightly cup over his eyes as he stared out into the distance at the explosions. He didn't really care what these marines did, or who they desired to shoot. As long as they didn't get him killed he'd do whatever it takes to survive. He moved both him and Ran over to the vehicles and put Ran down into one and then got in himself and waited patiently for the others to get in. While they were busy freaking out, he pulled out his Data pad once more and began looking through said data he had gathered on the group while observing them and keeping to himself. "...This is going to be a long trip." He said with one last exasperated sigh.
 
Sean glanced over at Matthew from where he was standing, hands tucked up into his armpits. He'd been stuck on this planet for quite some time now, and still barely knew the guy, but that didn't really matter. What mattered was that they had been told to wait outside in this freezing weather, for no apparent reason, and... now, of course, cue the gunfire and explosions. Because his day hadn't been crappy enough yet or anything.

His hand ducked into his coat and pulled out his own gun, and proceeded to move closer to Matthew and Fredriika, gun held down by his leg, just in case. "I take it that means you don't know what's going on, either? None of us are carrying our heavier weapons or gear." He suspected he might actually be the highest ranking one among the marines that had been waiting out there, and he really didn't want to be in charge of anything.
 
The universe was, at its very core, chaotic, and any and all attempts to change this fact would see nothing but the degradation and collapse of a system back into chaos - however slow in coming that may be. Slip-Ring watched the ramp come down and the world outside became visible.

Navy sailors and Marines were waiting outside in what It's sensors told It was an uncomfortable cold, divided between a number of tasks. Some of them were obviously focused on the newly arrived ship and it's cargo while others seemed to be horribly on edge and confused as if they expected an attack at any moment. Their daily routine had been interrupted and they were doing the best they could to adapt to it. None among them seemed wounded so Slip-Ring was willing to bet they hadn't been directly involved in whatever it was that had led up to the explosions further in the city.

Slip-Ring headed down the ramp with the Chief still over It's shoulders. A medical transport was nearby that was likely there to receive medical supplies from the transport but as It approached the two Marine medics who were standing ready by the vehicle came rushing forward at the sight of the Chief. It had barely had time to move the smaller Marine from It's shoulders before one of the medics had his hands on him, moving him away to the medical transport. The second of the pair looked at Slip-Ring quizzically.

The Medic looked repeatedly between the Freespacer and the Chief, "What the fuck happened to him, Spacer?"

Slip-Ring pondered the question before answering, "He tripped." Slip-Ring turned to look at the gathering Marines and sailors, "The commissar would like him functioning as soon as possible, please."

With that being handled Slip-Ring drew It's HHG. It had no need to double-check it, already knowing the revolver was loaded with a load of white rounds. Instead Slip-Ring held the weapon at It's side as It approached the commissar and other personnel. It said nothing - merely standing to the side and listening, awaiting orders to be passed down.
 
Alexandra was fairly miserable. Out in the cold, in her uniform and cold weather jacket, waiting for the next cargo ship to arrival. She drew a short straw and had to deal with new shipment of medical supply and to meat new doctor who was arriving. Alex herself a medic, did not have too much problem with the job. Though regulary people did an arm-wrestling match or thumb wars to see who had to go. But no one wanted to do that with Alex, who had metal arms from elbow to the tip of her fingers. It gave her a certain advantage in those two games. Fistfight was out of the question, because then one of the contestants would be unconscious and another one would have to treat him and it would end up with no one doing the supply run. Not to mention that Doc Suku would kill the two medics who had a fight, because she was only one allowed to give out beatings in medical wing.

Alexandra breahted into her hands to get a bit of warmth. Francia sure was an ice-ball, but it was not all that bad. Working in hospital was a lot better than fighting for her life against Misshu. That said Alex did not mind that she herself might die, but she hated it when people around her died and she could not help. That still happened in medicine, but not as often as in battle.

The tall woman was not alone waiting for the cargo runner. There was a navy officer who seemed as much displeased with being in the cold as Alexandra was. Not too far away was Sean, Alex knew that man from her NSS Acadia days. They did not see each other much, but at least she knew him. At least the bloody supply ship already landed.

Then of course things had to get a ton worse. There was an explosion in the city.
"Oh bloody hell," Alexandra cursed and ran toward the navy officer. She saw someone in officer jacket running up to the man too. Alex drew her RPB and joined them, Sean ran there as well. Alexandra knew oh too well that it was easier to let officers do their thing, give out orders and then for people like her to make sure right things are done.
 
As Fredriika ran over to the nearest transport, a medical one, she threw open the rear doors before turning around. What she then saw was the strangest thing.

It was Ran being handled like a sack of potatoes. But not just any sack, oh no. He was being handled like a sack of hot ones that nobody seemed to want to hang on to. Carried out of the ship by the cyborg girl and Freespacer, he was unceremoniously dumped on the ground, only for a pair of medics to start reluctantly dragging the marine to her commandeered vehicle over the snow. Then trying to carry him by the arms and legs. Then toss him over one of their shoulders. And only for him to wake up, and rapidly crawl away to get a gun before complaining he couldn't walk. Right before a big-ass Abwehran came over and carried him. As requested.

Unsure what she just saw, Fredriika coughed into her fist before taking a slow deep breath.

"ALRIGHT! LISTEN UP!" she began. "Everyone pile into the medical transport - and someone cram pretty boy in there too! We can send him back to his boy band in Yamatai later! Now MOVE!" Opening the driver's door, she hopped in revving the engine.
 
Things were escalating - quickly. Which was a way of saying that everybody was wanting to do something, and nobody was paying attention to what the others were doing. But they were saved from too much disorder because the popular opinion seemed to be "Get in trucks, go find the trouble, and kill it."

It was all very - Nepleslian - Slip-Ring considered as It watched events unfolding.

The Commissar was leading the rally as best as one could lead confused and armed Nepleslians, but another saving grace beyond the Nepleslian mind-set was that these humans were from the Nepleslian military. The only thing they did nearly as well as combat was following the orders of somebody orchestrating potential combat. Slip-Ring quickly made way for the Commissar's medical transport while other Marines and sailors loaded up in other vehicles if only to follow the Commissar to - wherever it was that she planned on going.

The driver's seat might have been a good place for It as compared to some of It's fellow Marines, but as that spot was taken Slip-Ring determined the front-most passenger seat would likely be the best place for it to help assist the driver where possible. Slip-Ring secured It's revolver in the holster before climbing up into the cab with the door getting slammed shut as soon as It was in. The revolver was drawn again not moments later, ready if needed.

"Commissar, inquiry." Slip-Ring kept looking ahead, "Why do you keep making those comments about the Master Chief? His personnel file states he was born in Funky City and that his heritage is Nepleslian in origin. With that evidence, I fail to see how his looks would infer his being a figure of Yamataian pop-culture."
 
Getting Ran off the transport was quite a pain. Immediately, Krex understood that he would only cause trouble for him. "Hey Doc, I'm gonna tag along with you." She seemed put together and liked to take control, something that he liked in a woman. Waiting for an answer, he proceeded to check out the people forming the ragtag refugee lines from the transport. He then unceremoniously dropped what part of Ran he was carrying and started tallying up the group.

Looking at the Freespacer; no trouble, might even help me fix what these other goons break. To the medic; avoid her to avoid work. And so he went down the line of people he had met. Trouble, most likely wont break shit, most definitely will break shit, and loves to feel important, all jumped to his mind. With his curiosity somewhat satisfied, he started looking around for someone who was meant to greet them. Spotting the commissar was easy enough so he turned his head towards her and listened in.

Krex was relieved someone with higher order was taking charge, that is until the flamboyant introduction for battle. Not to be shoe horned out of combat, he raised his hand. "Hey Commissar! I wasn't issued a firearm yet." Personal firearms were a luxury that Krex wasn't too keen on wasting his paycheck on. Every other duty station gave you the weapon and you would take it and shoot. Apparently this command wasn't prepared for combat or the new troops. He shrugged his shoulders and climbed into the back of the truck, making sure to pick a seat between the biggest soldiers he could see.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
RPG-D RPGfix
Back
Top