What's new
  • 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
  • 📅 May and June 2024 are YE 46.4 in the RP.

RP [Die Screaming] Operation Glass Jaw

It ain't no Murder Mountain


Carina heard the callouts, the despair of her fellow Marines and criminals ne'ere do wells. At the shout about Easy disappearing, even if it would be their end at least she would be satisfied in knowing the woman might be dead. Or something else. Calls for flares came up. The un-augmented or mutated members' eyes failed them in the darkness. The girl had only heard of the parasites in school. During history lessons. And of course during training. Specifically medical training. The legends of the SMX were prevalent as they had been capable of the same. But this newer breed seemed to be just as adept if more specialized.

As Molotra helped Lupin, a presence, cool, fluid as the life-giving water and more precious than gold in the fleets of old slid through her firewalls and mental defenses. As surely as she had done to Tobias and the girl who wore her metal on the inside. The intelligence, for that, was what it undeniable dwarfed her own. It was not one of the ancient god minds of the Freespacers, or the star god she had interacted with before. It was smaller. Newer, but powerful.

And it had made its intrusion known not out of ineptitude. But as a show. It bore all the hallmarks of an SI in a melting pot of humanity, free will and that of a neural network rolled into one. Military, the code was so thoroughly firewalled and protected reaching forth with a virtual finger would've elicited immediate incandescent combustion it was so 'hot'. But it was not of the Free Folk. It was a Nepleslian thing. Older by the standards of the meaty sacks of profanity and offal. Designed for overkill as was Nepleslian tradition.

It was a Jane-class Savtech. Its ident code labels it as a pre or -first-generation model. Somehow having survived long past its retire date. The stamp of Melchior Vel Steyr, once a senator, a man who ran NAM which had driven the Nepleslians to the stars in ships growing in complexity from the simplistic 'dick ship' design style to something their own. And the one that presented itself in the small tank's mindware appeared as a young woman of middling height with waist-length hair and wearing a pair of spectacles all of a shade of orange in which the little armor-clad Type Two perhaps liked as was the rest of her almost translucent form. It was a simple manifestation of intelligence. And it settled into the 'spacer's mind. The connection was air and watertight and came from the girl who had watched her back. Whether the realization that an military-grade SI-esque intellect had so easily intruded or not that the implications of what she had done settled in or not was another matter.

This person had let Molotra through. Considering her a non-threat to her charge. The ever-changing and evolving code roiled within that form. Its identifier 'Elsae' unnecessarily performed a handshake procedure. Assured the Steelrender she was not there on the attack. But waved a 'hand'. And then knew that Carina had the entire time been carrying her very own 'SI' in her head. The two so thoroughly entwined in ways only a Freespacer could understand and comprehend. Maybe even appreciate if you were into that sort of thing.

The hand wave was not just on a whim, but it allowed Molotra access to a small 'network' not on the level of Polysentience. But it did let them have enough to know some of the things the Nepleslian medic did. And what she could see. Carina knew what a parasite was from her training. It shared the stories of the SMX variants and that of the NMX and what they could do. The information was not pleasant.

What Elsae had not mentioned was how Carina could see in the dark. Partially at the very least. With one eye and not two. Which meant the possibility of further cybernetic augmentation judging by how she perceived things. Was this its way of thanks? Molotra had indeed offered to use herself as a shield for her comrade. And now it seemed this intellect was sharing something in turn as a result. What Carina saw, Molotra saw. Her intentions. It was no Poly, but it was something.

Thankfully all the dick pics, porn, chat forums, and irrelevant insanity that had once graced the nomadic race one would have to sift through to find something relevant was absent.

The connection remained, Elsae retreating and coiling around the mind of her other half protectively. Just as Molotra had, had Carina's back. Now her partner had Molotra's it would seem. For the moment.


----

"Don' fuckin' scattah'!" barked Carina. "Group up! Stick t'gethah. Anyone'a yah who got the 'netics or muties who can fuckin' see shit switch over! Nightvision, fuckin' infra-red. Anythin'. Flares if you have'em hidden away I don'fuckin' care use that shit now!"

For her part, the Medic had tried to usher the panicked group toward where Tobias was. Going it alone at this point was suicide. "If it fuckin'moves funny fuckin' kill it'an let'tha Firey Black Hand sort'dat shit out! If it talks t'ya'an y'think it sounds off? Fuckin' shoot it!"

Switching out a spent magazine, Carina slammed it home. "If'ya saw'em before'n y'know they died. Do I need'ta spell this shit out?!"

"Follow me'n'da rest that can fuckin' see. Need'ta link up'an ride this shit out till mornin'!"

'Yeah, trying to now.' the secured communique 'voice' lacking the Los Apagos native's accent. 'Trying to herd the fodder to keep me and our group alive in the process. We need numbers if we want to live through this.'
 
Last edited:
Be Vewy Vewy Kwiet

As the flares burned out, Tobias let a grim grin creep across his face. This was the worst possible situation, and yet there still remained a way to turn it towards their advantage. Easy was nowhere to be seen to those without the advantage that he and Carina had, but still able to be tracked through the contact lenses. Tobias watched through augmented eyes as Molotra and Lupin attempted to open the panel in the cockpit, watched through Carina's contact as she led the group of survivors towards him, and took but a brief moment to consider the situation.

There was no better time than now to get his hands on whatever it was that Easy was carrying; the confusion and lack of night-vision for most of the convicts would mask what happened, and if she refused to let go then there was no better situation than a parasite attack to provide a reason to shoot her. Whatever it was she had in her pocket, it was what would give him answers. Answers about the mission, answers about what they were on this godforsaken planet for. Maybe even answers about whatever it was that they'd seen in that strange hospital space.

He glanced back towards the cockpit for a split second before slipping the M3 rifle off of his shoulder, leaving it on the ground, and moving out in a different direction. I'm going to take care of Easy, I'm leaving my spare rifle here in case anyone needs it. He sent to Carina as he picked his way through the remains of the crashed shuttle carefully, making a beeline for the warden's location.

Following the radiation trail, the operator managed to avoid most of the parasites, Tobias began clearing a path through the parasite-infested dropship. His eyesight provided him with the privilege of taking the long way around the patches with the highest concentration of the creatures. He was slow and methodical as he worked his way towards the corner of the shuttle where the contact lens said that Easy would be.

Shotgun blasts could be heard as he worked his way towards his target, the man was using the large magazine of his shotgun to intercept those parasites that came his way, but still one made it through the spray of lead, attempting to chew its way through his boot and pants before he managed to seize it and crush it with his hand mere moments before it could begin to inject its neurotoxins. He wasn't eager to find out whether his operator augmentations would protect him from a parasite.

"Warden? Are you there?" He called as he tightened his grip on the shotgun.
 
Dropship

William wiped his brow as he stood amongst the corpses. As the darkness settled in, he barked out. "Shut your traps! Everyone circle around the dropship. Someone find something flammable and drag it out here. Those with better night vision are on watch. Everyone else start that fire." He ordered. With his cybernetic eyes, he flipped to his NV and began scanning the area.

Sebastian nodded to William and ran to the dropship, pulling anything that could be flammable and pileing it up. "Someone gonna give me a hand?" He asked as he pulled more junk from the wreck.
 
Last edited:
Dropship

The darkness was getting nerve-racking. The lil' Elysian couldn't see in the dark, didn't find any flashlights or lanterns, and now the flares were running dry. Shit.

Carina was shouting orders. Best to stick with 'er and listen to Toby. Lupin wanted help busting open the side of the dropship? Ah, he had help already. The fighting through most of the day - and no meal to boot - was starting to make the bird just the slightest bit woozy. Even at home she'd have been able to prepare better and stay out all day back when she was searchin' and rescuin', but this? This was a whole different beast.

Her nose stopped bleeding, but the ache made the girl's slanted eyes squint ever so slightly more than normal. A tearing of cloth and Quilly's midriff was harshly exposed as her old and oversized shirt was added to the fuel pile of the incoming fire, which she also started to set up for lighting. Lil' bundle of sticks, teepee, now to take this one and apply force, twist... Wings agitated and fluttering, the quail tried to keep herself focused on the task at hand, and not the menacing rustling, the chilling groans of the hostiles just beyond her sight.


The salvaged material would burn a smoke column that'll be visible halfway around this godforsaken rock if it was daytime, but the bigger concern is the parasites.
 
Pitch Black.

In a desperate gambit to prolong the dark a small fire was first erected with the help of a flare and just about everything that could be burned. From there a raging bonfire erupted so hot that the only reason most of the marines didnt push out further to avoid the burning at their backs was due to a desperate desire to not encroach any closer to what they knew was in the dark. From there flaming debris was thrown and cast out as far as could be thrown as a less productive but equally desperate faction attempted to spread the light out beyond the perimeter while others kept feeding the flames.
By the time the first flares out of the perimeter died, they had already been replaced by a minefield of pocket fires of torn insulation, clothing, leather seats, fabrics, plastics, and everything in between. It allowed some breathing room for the frantic survivors to catch their breath, and a few of the more proactive ones to take careful potshots and twitching corpses and stray parasite scrambling about.



Inside the dropship was not quite as dark due to the dance of the bonfire's tendrils creeping ever so slightly in as Tobias slunk through the upturned craft and down one of the two rows of seats as he followed the faint almost unnoticed trace of shimmering radiation banding. The interior was identical to the craft they had fallen from the sky in down to the smallest detail with the exception of missing the entire front half. Underslung lockers under each bench and chair were all open, but some salvageable munitions and items were clearly still strewn about from the crash and could make all the different from the exhausted supply of the constant fight since landing if they made it through the night.

Following his objective, Tobias found Erin Zelager in a tangled heap of three other marines amongst the next row of benches near where the craft warped and drove into the ground. She, and two others had made a stand at the rear of the craft and created a firing line, and from the near half-douzen parasite parts segregated into almost a score of dismantled parts they had gave just as good as they got.

But they had got, in the end.

One of the marines had been hit with enough force by one of the squidlings it had ramed him directly into a warped and twisted piece of protruding metal that had ripped through his abdomen and likely bled him out from the kidney even if the squid hadn't torn through most of his pelvis and clear out the other side. Another had clearly taken a full squid through the jaw and had it come out of his esophagus, killing him not quickly.

Erin, for her part, had been turned into a pin cushion around her collarbone and up her neck to her face where a half douzen punctures the size of a small coin pockmarked her; The culprit still stuck in the meat of her cheek in the form of a bisected tentacle with a sharp bone-like needle sticking out of her while the main body was wrapped viscously in the chainsaw bayonet of her Nova Rifle which lay at her feet. The reformed jailer was staring up at nothing in particular with dead, unmoving eyes.

Not uncustomed to the unsavory condition of the dead, Tobias huddled over the former seinor noncom, looking for the source of his objective. It was at that paticular moment that something extraordinarily bright outside lit up the interior of the shuttle craft with a thumping sound and a vibration through the craft.

When Tobias hesitated for just a moment to look behind him when something in his peripheral as he turned brought him right back to his surroundings.

Zelegars eyes, once looking off into the distant nothing, had shifted and were now looking directly at him.



Just moments before, the clobbering of the odd combination of a crossdresser vouyer, and an excentric vending machine on proverbial wheels had dislodged a panel when the explosive bolts finally gave way and practically sent the panel back into orbit. The small cylindrical tubes the chaff flares were in where not easily recoverable as to use frequently, but with some simple wire splicing and a small electrical connection, the lot of them shot out and nearly both blinded and burned the duo as the shot nearly straight up from the wing pointing almost at a 45-degree angle upwards and for a brief moment turned day into night.

It was just as blinding for all the other marines, mostly unexpecting of the flares, but before they burnt out a second time those fastest to recover had already lined up a core of squidlings caught in the change of illumination and turned them into modern art.

Not all of the parasites were gotten, however...

"The nights here arent long if my guess is right, Lieutenant." Rungo appeared from Williams blindspot, His tawny and scaley skin already changing from a dirt brown-grey into a more neutral blue-green as he joined the officer to look out at the perimeter; The mutants odd compound eyes looking in different directions at all times in the way only a lizard could.

"But at this rate, I suspect we will run out of things to burn long before the dawn; If we don't burn out mentally by then, and break that is."
 
Only Mostly Dead

Tobias stared at Easy for a moment before narrowing his eyes at the riddled-through near-corpse whose eyes had started moving. He wasn't sure if she was infested or not, but if she wasn't... well there was still some information to be gleaned even from a cripple. He backed off slightly and spoke softly, just loud enough to be heard by Zeigler if she was still alive. "I'd say can't take the chance... but I can't really say I'm too sorry about this either."

As he spoke, he transmitted a set of instructions to Carina on how to disarm the bombs of anyone who he hadn't gotten to already. Hopefully her mindware would be able to handle the procedure. It looks like we've been bought a little time. Use these for anyone you think we can trust. He thought for a moment. Test it on someone you don't mind losing.

Raising the shotgun, he carefully aimed it at the wounded warden's left arm and fired two shotgun blasts into the elbow, ruining the joint completely before firing on the other side, intending to cripple the body in case a parasite had infested her. Inspecting his handiwork, he began to look over the body in search of his true objective.

"You're a real heartless bitch, and that's coming from me of all people. Fortunately for you, we might still need your heart beating for a while longer. I'm not entirely sure how these bombs work from your end, but if you decide to blow them before we've disarmed them, I want you to understand that we'll be considering it an act of treason."

To provide a bit of backing to his threat and identification for who he was claiming to be, he flicked out a recognizable mark of an IPG operator, the blade embedded in his right wrist.
 
Last edited:
The fire:

The Lieutenant stood watching the out into the night as Rungo snuck up on him. "Good point." He said simply looking back to his soldiers. "Everyone! Now that we have a moment to breathe, don't waste it. Grab some chow and take a load off. I need 4 people for first watch.

Sebastian looked up from his spot and nodded. "I gotcha Boss."

William clasped his ID-SOL brother on the shoulder. "Good I don't have to volunteer you!" He said smirking.

Sebastian returned the smirk. "With all due respect sir, fuck you too."
 
Dropship

Easy didnt so much as flinch when she was essentially turned into a living paraplegic; Whatever cocktail of parasite drugs working through her system either dulling it or muting her reaction. The rest of her body didnt move either. only her eyes still watching Tobias through a glaze of fading consciousness. There was no hidden cybernetics for her to lash out with, no parasite puppeting her body to lash out at the lone operator, no ace up her sleeve.

Slowly, the veteran predating the DIoN lowered her head until it touched the deck and slowly began to slouch as the proverbial light faded from her eyes. For Tobias' part, she would have likely survived for at least an hour more had the cocktail of too-many and incompatible substances coursing through her veins not triggered a fatal heart attack at the same time her brain practically fried itself.

With no sounds of screaming from exploding heads outside, or any signal to his own devices to register that any fail condition had yet been met, it seemed at least for the moment that whatever was linked to their bombs was not linked to Zelegars heart or life. The next reasonable course of action was to search the body.

Her Datajockey was easily pocketed, likely the source of their eminent head-cavities if some application inside of it wasn't appeased, though it showed no actual radiation banding; Not his target.

The rest of her person was just as unfruitful in his search. Grenades, flares, a few miscellaneous drugs tailored to social highs, a teardrop-shaped rock that fit just in the palm of the hand with dark splotches of blood on it too old to have been recent, spare socks, lingerie panties with a cut-out crotch inappropriate for combat conditions, a hodgepodge of condoms with a few bearing poked holes in them, a bag of seemed snortable drugs that turned out to be cornstarch, chicken-flavored bullion cubes, a beltbuckle warped out of shape with a bullet still embedded in it and a faded engraving from some past campaign...

Nothing...

For all his searches, Erin Zelegar, despite the still wafting radiation marking her, was devoid of any recoverable objectives. There was the possibility that something was embedded or hidden inside of her corpse, but even under a cursory glance at her midriff under her shirt there was no sign of surgical scars or any mark beyond a few faded burns bellow her chest which amounted to nothing.

The only logical conclusion was that Zelegar, herself, was the objective. But to what end was uncertain; She never once eluded to any membership in the group or link to them, she held no political backing to make her a target that Tobias could surmise, she was a forgotten nobody discarded by society.

Pocketing what he found useful for later, Tobias was quick to cover up his search when it became apparent that someone else was stumbling around rather loudly in the dropship as well. Glancing over his shoulder he was able to make out a distinctive shape peering into the dark in his general direction in a way that implied Rhindol Cruz' natural nightvision was not up to the job of identifying him. Stumbling loudly enough to wake the dead he slowly closed on Tobias until he could likely make out the operators identity.

"'Uh heard the shotz." He mumbled, looking past Tobias to Easy's unmoving form.

"Oh." He whimpered with an unfittingly somber tone that he repeated again at seeing the other dead marines as well.

"Aint right, that." He murmured at the scene, clearly looking directly at Erin's desecrated and mutilated corpse, but never once at Tobias; The straightforward nature of the mutant personality making it obvious he had yet to connect the dots or even consider Tobias' involvement in her state, let alone that Easy was responsible for keeping the bomb in his head ticking. "You think we shoulda?" He nodded at the corpses and let the statement hang, likely from his previous remarks wondering if they should try to bury them.

Outside.

Things had calmed down finally as a series of expanding pocket fires had sprouted up and what marines stood first watch monitored the dark for any signs of a second wave by the surviving parasites. Crashing from the adrenaline high, more than a few of the surviving marines had collapsed while a few others had broken out ponchos or thermal blankets and huddled up against the hull of the dropship.

None of them yet knew of Erin Zelegars death, or had time to panic or ponder their fates yet.

Of the few wounded, almost all the wounds had been superficial with the exception of a stray 6.5 round that had torn through a marines palm and shattered more than a few bones being the only remarkable injury.

For the first time since landing, all the marines knew a moment of quiet if strenuous peace. Around them was dark cut by the fire, while above them the stars themselves danced and struck as orbital debris cascaded and tumbled to burn up in the atmosphere above them in a constant array of faux shooting stars.

For the group of Genuinely innocent prisoners amongst the group, they finally had some peace to stop, think, converse, or act with so much of the night left to burn as to their next course of action. With Locust not being with them any longer, there was nothing even close to a source of information on what their lives had become or would become.

They knew there was a city out there Easy had been keep to Rendevous with the rest of the convict forces, and that at some point if they could establish a beachhead the rest of the invasion would make planetfall. What that meant for them, if they were intended for it or some greater plan and had just been thrown away by strange cabals and star gods was unknown.

Calloway was in orbit somewhere, a seeming eternity since he sent them and other marines like them to places like the garden of thorns. Not that he would know any of them by name or face, let alone any of them being allowed anywhere near him to plead a case. Windchime too, if their warhorse survived; The possibility from that coincidence that they were still on the rails in some grand scheme still a distant possibility.

The only two possible sources of information was Tobias' possible connection to a group he knew nothing about, through a copy of a picture with him and others; Duece and Locust included, on his datajockey. Carina and whatever experiences she could recall from her trauma and experiences with Locust. Molotra and what brittle fragments she could possibly recall from a reality-shattering encounter, and all the others in the group who had experienced the strange simulation and the answeres to questions they had either kept to themselves or not quite parsed out.

The night was young, and their lives still balanced on a razors edge...

Whatever they deiced to do; Continue on, strike out on their own, try to make their own destiny. It would surely be their choice from their own free will.

Surely...
 
Dead Dropship

Tracks creaked as a small forklift-sized vehicle lurched in the gloom.

Molotra surged back into reality, distressed about the concept of being asleep and unguarded for hours. Was she just asleep? It couldn't have been more than five minutes, surely?

The danger threatened to become dulled, distant. Swimming in exhaustion, the grasp of fatigue wouldn't let them go.

What were they-?... An armoured hand clanked, metal pole scraping against the floor... That's right, they were tearing bits off the ship...

A flare went off, rocketing in the sky behind them. How long had Lupin being attending to that alone?

"... Here, we can prop this up, Lupin." Dragged the pipe back to him. It was the right diameter and length to be used as the universe's worst recoilless rifle, and avoid burning either one of them whilst they continued to blast flares into the night. "Still looking for a power source to fix. If I can just find a damn battery or something, we can make an arclight."

Damn ship didn't seem to have any rescue gear or even maintenance tools on it. Probably to stop prisoners from making a break for it. That made her one of the only tools for wrenching free components, a real shit job at the best of times.

Mechanical arm was still screwed up from before. The tank could feel just a little squirt of hydraulic fluid leak out and flow down her side, every time she put real pressure on it. Armour was getting hot inside. Her hair was sweaty and itched.

But no ammo left. So the helmet and everything else was staying on.

Trundling back into the shade again, a broken access panel with a little handle caught their eye. A good enough "shield". With both hands, they could just about lift a heavy "mace" that was really just thin girder with some bolts still in it.

Best to find a working power line, before they actually had to use it...

----

-<"Tobias, Carina, any sign of Zelegar?">- A rather drowsy mindware connection was sent out, with the customary encryption in effect. -<"Who is even next in command here?... Nobody is organising the effort...">-
 
I see nothing but friends and dead men

-<"Found her, but she didn't last long after that. It looked like she'd been infected and I couldn't take the chance.">- Tobias glanced over towards the direction he sensed the connection coming from. -<"I think the two SOLs might be the ones to talk to. One of them is in charge or at least thinks he is.">- The young operator looked back to the towering Rhinoceros mutant, clapping a hand as near to the man's shoulder as he could manage.

"I think it'd be the right thing to do if we have the time. Wouldn't want parasites getting at our fallen and making 'em into puppets for the damn squids." He said as he moved to help the Rhino man clear out some space, hefting a piece of metal to use as a shovel. As he worked, he messaged Carina. -<"Zeglar is gone. Couldn't take the chance that the parasites had gotten to her brain, but it seems like she was our mission in one way or another. We've got nothing to go off of now, so now we've got nothing to do but try and find a way off of this godforsaken rock. That means making it to the city somehow, if our ammo can hold out and we can keep enough lights on in the dark hours. Maybe even find a transport vehicle if we're lucky.">-

As the two men finished the crude graves, Tobias scratched names into plates of metal that were being used as headstones. -<"Rhindol seems trustworthy enough, or at least is dumb enough to be trustworthy, I'm going to deactivate his bomb.">- The operator sent, before feeling out with his mindware to Rhindol's bomb, navigating the webs of circuitry and receivers with all the skill he had, skill that'd had him kidnapped and recruited by the IPG, in order to deactivate the firing mechanism of the bomb.
 
Carina chewed at the interior of a cheek as she mulled the news over. The young medic had squatted on top of a small boulder, her rifle resting easily against a leg. Every so often, the Sanroma scion would blink, eyes looking into the darkness. One could see well enough thanks to the contact. The other not nearly enough. She had treated those she could with what she had. Rationing everything else. Somewhere, Carina had gotten a toothpick, switching from chewing her cheek to rolling the thing back and forth.

The instructions on the bombs had made its journey through her implants, her Jane working the problem dutifully with some reservation on testing it on some of the less than clean inmates.

Easy was done. Dead and gone. Only she lamented not being able to do it herself. And was a long while in deciding to respond to Tobias. That lieutenant looked to have caught the whore woman's attentions. Had been placed over them. He was in charge. Little Spoon followed his orders, such was the way of newbie SOLs. You didn't grow up around the big bastards without learning about them.

And that one was a wee nugget. Young, looking for his way and all things that were badass and macho. Of course, he'd follow custard cap. With a snort, Carina filed that one away.

-<"Got the datajockey from our ride still, plus the maps. Memorized'em.">- it had been out of power and she hadn't dared to try and power it. Not yet. While 'saying' this over their little three-person pseudo-polysentience, Tobias could see as she 'spoke' her gaze had shifted to William.

-<"Already worked on the Islandah's, Lulu's and Otto's. Rollo's up next. But that blond bastard is gonna be a problem.">- could she take him? Could he be steered? The pick rolled between her lips, and to the other side. It had begun to soften up just a little. Cheap wood. While mulling it all over, the medic sent the disarm code to Molotra.

-<"Let Lulu know he's disarmed, jus' don't let'em get worked up keep it on the low. Poker face on lil'tank. ">-
 
Dropship.

The night progressed slowly. Tensions and flaring adrenaline kept most of those attempting sleep from gaining more than a few minutes at a time while the constant dull moan of the one marine with his injured hands in his medicated painkiller-induced sleep mocked others. No more parasites struck in the hours to come but still the bonfire and flare surplus edged on against the dark on the off chance the shadows might once again coalesce into little wriggling death at a moment's notice.

It wasn't all uneventful. At odds with the shooting stars from burning debri's in orbit, the occasional light struck from the north as still functioning ground battery emplacements somwhere too far off to matter from them took the equivalent of pot-shots at what only they could see in orbit to little effect if the frequency of fire was any indication. Every once in a while the ground might rumble just perceptibly as likely void to surface curbstompers would lock in on their position and strike back unseen unlike the energy weapons only for some new battery to take up the cause.

Besides them, in the distance, the occasional tracer from gas-powered weaponry or the bright burst of identifiable non-particle weapons one might catch a glimpse of as a starke indicator that others much like themselves were facing their own trials and tribulations.

Erin Zelegars death wasnt kept a secret for very long when those that chose to keep watch or stay up caught sight of the big mutant and Tobias leaving the dropship with her and two other marines and buried them. Spirits dropped dramatically after that as those with a few braincells left to them knew their time was suddenly limited. None had yet thought to confront Tobias yet or seek any spoils he might have claimed from her that might save them in their minds as clear exhaustion most likely limited their train of thought.

Rhindol for his part simply plopped down next to the fire with his own clear exhaustion and before long fell asleep sitting up, drooling all over himself.

But not all of the surviving convicts could be lumped in with the simpletons Tobias could instantly tell when his attention turned to William. Rungo-Bungo, the lizard-like mutant with his bulging compound eyes stood by his side, and one of them was looking directly behind him at the operator and remained on him; The other always looking about somewhere else with his near 360-degree vision allowed him while he dutifully chatted up the lieutenant just out of earshot.

"I believe with sergeant Zelegars passing cliques mayhaps be forming, lieutenant," He counseled William by his side as they looked out into the darkness. Whether the officer had noticed it or not there was a clear divide in camp as one larger group seemed to eye the Sols back wearily with Easy's death as the only obstacle left of their incarcertaion bomb or not. While a smaller group of about four including Rungo had more or less strategically imposed themselves close to him and while Rungo stood sentinel close to the officer the other three feigned sleep with weapons held loose but ready. Rungo, unknown to william, had set up the group before they had even made planetfall, though then it had been almost ten. As the clear oposition towards authority most of the convicts represented was a threat to all of their survival.

He had survived one suicide mission for the penitent damned already and had ten years knocked off his sentence. He was a survivor after all and the same scenario had occurred on his last mission as well. He only had to guide the young officer on the right path and keep him from stumbling into his own death a few more days or however long it took to be recovered.

"I believe it may be paramount to decide on a course of action before the morning before another," His compound eye blinked once as it continued to look at Tobias while the other looked at Carina and the clear communication they somehow held "Less qualified individual makes an assumption on the propper course of action.

Not far away Molotra in her own raddled state was encountering a different situation. Following power lines and conduits into the ship there was pleanty to salvage but little enough for her needs. Some wire casings could possibly make a hasty field-repair to her arm but were just out of reach above her and technically in the floor-turned-ceiling, while the power conduits to the ship were ramshackle and clearly of poor make due to the intended single-usage of the vessel not being of high remark.

Following everything further, she was able to find the upside-down hatch to the cockpit. The roof-turned-floor had bent and broken to the point where the door wouldnt open more than a few inches, but she was able to glance inside and could probably force it open enough to fit her good arm if she tried. Peering inside the interior was a clear mess as a mangled corpse was half outside with only his waist-down visible and luckily still had a warbelt with magazines, flares, a holster of some kind and other lootable pouches and possibly even a datajockey where the broken fuselage glass and pinned under the craft while everything else was strewn about. A few small blinking instrument lights was a good sign that something in there still had power while a small LCD display too cracked to read still flashed in a soft blue glow illuminating a dangling headset plugged into the console, the butt of a rifle of some kind could be seen wedge half out of sight in the seat, and a box with the vector-image of a flaregun stood wedged under some pedals.
 
Dropship

"I'm sure something has a power pack we could use, might need to take apart a weapon light if we can't find much else~" Lupin offered as he took the pipe off Molotra's hands, watching the little freespacer trundle away as he got to work assembling a very scuffed mortar, constantly rubbing at his eyes as sunspots danced across them. His cracked fingernails left bloody fingerprints on the pipe and rubble as Lupin worked to angle the thing up against a pile of debris, his orange peepers giving off a faint ember-like glow as they darted between his project and the little groups of prisoners that had formed, flickering flames never fully illuminating the secret prince's face as he sat on the outskirts.

He was wary of the whispering... but also how bad he must smell, a combination of death, sweat and now burnt nylon webbing obfuscating his natural scent, making him melt into their barren surroundings as those predatory eyes scanned the night for any out-of-the-ordinary heat signatures.
 
Dropship.

Tobias, quite aware of Rungo's words to the Lieutenant due to his implants, turned his head to face the mutantand the officers. Too much work had been put in, despite Zeglar's demise, to keeping the group alive and intact to let an overgrown lizard compromise whatever was left of the mission. He stood, setting aside his rifle and the magazines that he had been hand-loading, and made his way over to the ID-SOL.

"You know, LT., I think that perhaps Rungo here has the wrong idea about what's really going on here. While his knowledge would certainly be quite valuable, he may be getting a bit ahead of himself in terms of his own importance."

The operator gave William a meaningful look before turning his gaze to the lizard mutant himself.
 
Dropped Ship

The half-flightless birb had spent most of her time over the irregular night tending and fueling the fire - taking it upon herself to make sure people didn't get too eager with adding fuel too quickly. The islander had even gotten into a brief scuffle with another marine before one of the bigger lads barked at the two of them to cut it out. Sure, taking an order from someone she didn't know wasn't in Quilly's style, but dying was ALSO not in style. So, she sucked it up.

In between her duties and occasionally poking at her nose to figure out what in the shit had happened to it, the almond-skinned shorty was among one of the last people to notice the sunrise on the horizon; she only now remembered that there was still an explosive mounted in her skull. And that Easy being dead meant that said explosive was due to detonate... Eventually. Preferably not soon. Hopefully not soon.

"Oi, Toby, that assumes we last long enough for this plan to actually pay off. Unless you know someone here that can get these bombs outta our heads before they turn us into squid chow."
 
Dropship Hull -> Cabin

Molotra stripped absolutely everything as they went along, just a grimy forklift hobo in their element, pulling things apart whilst their brain ran on automatic. She had a feeling that the animosity present in the squad was going to reach boiling point soon, and that meant a scramble for better weapons could start at any minute, really... The tank started with a long two metre loom of shoddy wire, as useless as it was for repairing themselves. It would make a good rope or tow cable.

Next, they began to examine the datajockey for signs of life, and threw the dead pilot's entire holster belt over their shoulder, making a quick register of what kind of gun it held... Was it bad that this hunk of flesh was just another dead guy to them, now?... Another source for spare parts?... He'd do the same to her, wouldn't he?...

The conversation with Lupin played back in her mind, having ended on an awkward note... Of course they had a spare power pack! There were eight duct taped to her bare chest, underneath the armour!... But she was down to number five, swapping the leads between them over the course of this ordeal, in order to keep her treads and arm powered up. If Molotra hadn't scrounged and stolen them back on the ship, she would have been ground pork days ago.

That kind of fate terrified her. Who knew how many of these degenerates would drain her dry, in order to save their own skins? So she stayed the hell out of eyeshot, at a time like this. That kind of fridge logic could be deadly.

The news that Lupin's head wasn't going to immediately explode was welcome, but there were still like a million other things that could do the same job right now. So, nosily, blunderingly half-asleep, they powered on with their work...

<"I am in the cockpit. Looks like there is a bit of life in the computer."> They spoke over the three-way network between them, Tobias and Carina. Maybe some thanks were in order, for disarming the bomb, but that empathic part of her brain was totally shut down at the minute, dead to the world. <"Could try and fix it, but... Who do we even have the authority to call? I doubt a distress call is going to work if command wants us dead...">

A pause whilst they waited for a response, and then a dull, morbid curiosity hit them. They tried to access the communications system with their mindware.

Maybe they could pick up some enemy communications? Even if it was encrypted, the signal strength would give them some idea of proximity...

At least in theory.
 
Carina yawned, more for her benefit than anything. Muscular fatigue was a bit of a thing of the past for her. Whatever those IPG fucks had done to her had seen to that. Stronger, faster, the fact she had a damned power source capable of IGEs stealthily placed within her kept things nice and powered but for now as inert. Oh, she slept, her mind still needed it, the Jane helped, taking some of the load, even so, from her perch on the blasted boulder, the Nepleslian girl rose to her feet. Muscles stretched, no joints popped but there was a grunt as tingling muscle gave way back to some normalcy.

Subconsciously, a hand went to a hip, scratched at it a moment, then fell back to the weapon she had cradled. The position returned to. She had been on this damned watch and was bored. Bored, bored, bored. The smell of the fires combined with those of unwashed bodies, greasy smoke, and carcasses rotting with Rhindol's snoring broke up some of the monotony. That and when she almost hacked a cough, spitting out the now much-softened toothpick, sputtering delicately to relieve her mouth of what little of the fibrous material had latched to her tongue.

Carina appeared the model, bored as fuck, tired convict, even as Tobias began trying to work his magic. And Molotra worked her own in her way. The tiny tank with the screechy voice had a point. And it did break up a little more of the routine. She wondered if she could power it. Like those cool old shows, decades before the cat's Empire had formed. Where people had performed magic tricks, which had been debunked, one of which had been of a man causing a light bulb to brighten between his teeth. All it had been was a bit of current provided by whatever power source his cybernetics had.

Could she do the same? All she did was groan a little, shift a bit, continuing to watch the great black yonder.

She gave no acknowledgment or response. But! The medic did wonder when it'd be time to eat something. Her stomach didn't growl audibly, but she felt the ever so slight rumble.
 
William had stood watch for the majority of the night. Luckily he had a few stims to keep himself awake.

He was annoyed to say the least. Now that he had more time to think, he still had no idea why he had got thrown into this situation. He ground his teeth in annoyance just before Rungo walked up.

Taking his words into consideration, he looked out on the conscripts. His conscripts.

He could cut the tension with a pocket knife. "I'm aware..." He was about to say when Tobias walked up.

He eyed the 2 of them. "Nothing has changed. We have a job to do. Lest you forget we are one wrong step from having our heads blown clear off our bodies. I'm sure command knows exactly what's going on. All we can do is complete our objective with as few casualties as possible." He replied diplomatically.

Sebastian stood not to far away. He too stood guard with his ID-SOL CO, but he was also keeping his eye out for the LT.
 
Dropship

Rungo-Bungo was not a name unknown to most nepleslians. At least those with an InterNep connection and a sense of humor. The renown prankster was something of an urban legend way back, and even to this day his long-past antics where likely being played on repeat to a chorus of laughs as he pulled pranks at the expense of others.

Long-past was not due to retirement, as his presence in the convict unit was clear. It was quite the scandal and anyone looking up the comedians name had learned of his failed attempted assassination of a minor senetor.

With a crossbow no less!

The mutant had somehow made his way into the two-hundreth floor penthouse of the Senators spire without being noticed, and snuck the mostly wood and polymr weapon through the security sensors without a single metal-sensing weapon sensor discovering him and had almost gotten the drop on the man.

He had been foiled by the seven working women who shared his bed obscuring his shot. But the mutant had still scored the polymer bolt directly where the politicians heart should have been. How he survived; Be it cybernetics or just freak luck was unknown. But within moments of the screaming the senators' IPG detail had Rungo in custody. The trail was short and stacked against the comedian from the start and it was obvious where he ended up.

The previous service in the Nepleslian Star Army had warranted his activation in the Penitent Damned and seen him activated for such suicide missions to reduce his sentence...

There was also more to him then met the eye, Tobias could tell from his training. Always hunched, knees bent, arms held close to his chest the lizardite mutant was clearly posturing himself to make him look smaller and unthreatening. Though if Tobias had to guess standing at his full height the Mutant was likely only a head shorter than Sebastian; His long legs and arms easily able to clear the distance between them in a heartbeat.

The always averted but alert gaze reinforced this train of thought. His pranks were always at the expense of others, after all. He was used to inflicting onto others and through his own means almost took the life of a class of likely the most guarded men in Nepleslian culture save for Syndicate higherups.

The mutants compound eyes watched him between looking about, clearly not backing down.

Williams's words may have had an effect on them, perhaps. But Rhindol Cruz letting out his stomach distress and gas in the form of a loud vibrating and grotesque sound which flared the fire his backside was pointed at visibly broke the tension in its ludicrousness as the still sleeping mutant scratched his own ass with a grunt.

"Indeed, Lieutenant." Rungo bobbed his gangly neck and turned his back to Tobias to once again look into the dark; One eye always looked directly behind him at the operator.



Cockpit

Pistol and magazines, wires, batteries, capacitors, a small pair of fuzzy pink dice that hung from a corner. All salvagable and then salvagaed and squirreled away in so many little places one might never assume such a small tankette could fit many things.

Her attention turned to the radio Molotra found no small amount of damage to the console as she attempted to interface with it; The unit was banged and warped in some places but small lights inside of it still illuminated a cracked and unreadable display indicating there was still yet life to the communications system to which her mental prodding backed.

The singnal was sproatic and choppy as power cut off and on in a constant war of flickering lights as something deep within the unit was no-doubt on its last legs. And she needed little in regards to attempt to listen as encrypted channels were left dark to her but some wavelengths still yet passed her by; Just waiting to be gleamed in passing.

Most and many were nothing. The afterimages of dead frequencies bouncing about against the atmosphere or just natural wavelengths. One, however caught her attention and was worth investigating as active traffic flowed through it and was just begging to be eavesdropped in its opneness.

Whats more the strength eluded that it was likely the closest open wavelength to their actual position.

Leaning a polysentient ear...

"-Plian dogs. Your fleet; Shattered. Your assault; In tatters. Many of your men lay down their arms to us; Beg of wives and safety and freedom from our kind and from your opression, your women seek the freedom we offer and the indipendence all our sister-females share without worry of corrupt Nepleslian morals stealing their virtue.

The Mishhuvurthyar, the masters, no longer dwell here. Only us sisters who welcome you with open arms. Join us and cast off the shackles of-"

It just kept on going...
 
Cockpit

It was little embarrassing to admit, but this half-busted pilot pit was starting to feel a little homely to Molotra, and they didn't much want to leave. Neplanders might have felt at ease on rainy brick streets with neon billboards, but here was a spacer's natural environment, in a dark little hull, isolated from the world. If you had something like this to play with, but still managed to die, that was because you sucked at life...

Unfortunately, the tank had no idea how to fix things further, despite the sentiment. She didn't have the training, or the mindware to bodge the training.

"Guess I failed." She said to herself, still staring at the radio in the gloom.

Her stomach was starting to feel taut, too. The dampness from her broken metal arm was starting to make the hole in her chest itch relentlessly.

<"Getting a signal here. It's pretty close. It's the Mish asking us to surrender."> Molotra used the Tobias-Carina line again. <"They might think we are original survivors of the crash, still holding out?... Maybe all the gunfire last night...">

With a silent surge of utter frustration, they yanked the nearly-forgotten rifle out from behind the seat, and examined it for combat readiness.

<"...Those fuckers must have their own supply chain, right? How do you guys feel about an ambush? Tell them we are surrendering, and then put them to the grinder?">

The irony was, she would have considered giving up, if it was literally anyone but the squids. Those arrogant monsters could have defeated Yam decades ago, if they only knew how to treat allies. And to keep it in their pants. And everyone would have benefited.

Of course that wasn't how things had gone down. Of course.
 
RPG-D RPGfix
Back
Top