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RP: 4th Fleet (NSN) [Mission 7.0] Briefing

Sigma

Sigma

Inactive Member
The 4th Fleet Marines, to differentiate them from the 4th Marine Shaik, hung about the lounge that had been set aside on the new Dauntless for them. It was for enlisted Marines only but for once, Chief Santiago was there with them. He normally bummed around the Officer's Wardroom.

Today was special. Today, the Fleet would sail but for what purpose, no one quite knew. Rumors abounded as soon as the preparations had started. Some said they were linking up with 1st and 2nd Fleets for the invasion of Yamatai. Others that they were going to attack the NMX holdouts at Ukk. Yet another said it was the Garts who were about to feel the hammerfall of Nepleslia's military might.

So everyone waited. The International Relations Conference was coming up. Nepleslia was supposed to attend but no one liked the idea of it. Nepleslia always went, wasted time there, and came back with a couple baggies with freebies. Yamataian diplomats simply had large shafts up their non-existent rectums.

The Cavaliers, reintegrated with the Minutemen, were clustered around a single sofa meant for four. Yet nine of them had managed to squeeze onto it. Bastilen was sulking in a corner, as he always did, chain smoking himself to death. Phaedra was with the other squad leaders and Chief Santiago. Bernhard and Laura were together, leaning against the wall farther down.

Other squads lounged together as well, the men and women of Hardman's squad were arm-wrestling to see whether a pure ID-SOL was stronger than a former Neko. The tankers were playing video games on the TV against each other. Most of the Irregulars were debating with the Renegades about "classic" Nep literature. The argument was between whether Blasto the Action Man was more or less skilled than Phalanx Phil.

At that moment, a three dimensional, life-sized holographic image of Rear Admiral Ironside appeared in the middle, causing some Marines to jump in shock. It was time for the fleet-wide briefing.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, I hope everyone is settling into their new billets well. For those of you who do not know me, I am Rear Admiral Ironside, Chief of Staff to the Grand Admiral. Because he will be attending the IRC, Admiral Valken has already left for Nepleslia to consult with the Premier and Senate. The Fleet, however, will also be transiting to Nepleslia. Once there, we will begin military operations on the third planet against the 2nd Assault Fleet and their Marines. Grand Admiral Corcyra is calling this 'Operation Cockfight'. With the Grand Admiral's absence, I will be in temporary command of the fleet.

"The scenario is simple. We will be the invading force. After the fleets engage, the Shaikas will move in to drop the Marines. Field Marshall Keyes will be in command of the ground forces. I expect that the plan will then be to fortify the landing area for follow-on drops. Beyond that is for the Field Marshall. Before I pass the briefing to her, I want you all to know that the Grand Admiral and I are damned proud of how you've performed in the shakedowns. Do that and better during the war games and we'll beat Corcyra and his proud cocks."

The image of Valencia Ironside faded and was replaced by another, pixie-ish woman who seemed far less daunting than Ironside. "Hello. So here's the basic campaign plan," her voice and smile were almost chid-like. A map appeared. "We will be dropping ourselves into these large craters to establish a base of operations infantry will go first. Support vehicles will be in the second wave. The games are scheduled to start tomorrow and go for the next six weeks. 2nd Fleet has no idea when we will attack nor where we will land. So they will most likely be some distance from our landing zone, giving us enough time to prepare the position. After we have blunted their assault, we will counter-attack towards their known field headquarters and seize it. If we finish the campaign early, we have other war game scenarios. While I know we all want to beat 2nd Marines senseless, I want to stress to all of you that the goal of these games are to get to know how the other units operate. In times of war, we will have to watch each others' backs. We cannot only be familiar with our friends in 3rd Marines. Squad leaders, detailed mission briefs are being sent to your data jockeys. The fleet departs in six hours and we will arrive in Nepleslia in four days. Before that, the FMF will transfer to the Melissa Kenni for operations. The flagship can't be spared for the drop. We'll have another briefing before we arrive in Nepleslia. Keyes out."

Silence hung for a moment until all of the datajockeys started pinging with mission briefs. Leon Santiago didn't bother to look at it. They'd have four days to go over it.

Right now, they had six hours to transfer whatever kit they needed onto the Kenni. "You heard the FM. Grab your kit and be in the shuttle bay in sixty minutes. Take only what you need for the operation. Personal shit can be left here. And make sure you get your armors kitted up too. We are transferring in them!"

"Phaedra, you might want to take your sniper rifle along for this one. A Scout Cannon will be useful if we are holding a position," Leon added.

-------------------------------------

The Cavaliers were packed quickly. They didn't need much.

Laura and Bernhard were checking each other's kit before they started on their armors.

"You gonna be alright?" she whispered to him. "I'll keep a handle on it," Bernie replied.

"I'm serious, do I need to talk to the Sergeant? I can't cover it a second time if you have another episode."

"It won't happen again," Bernhard repeated firmly.

Laura shrugged. "Oi Talbain, you heard rumors about the new PA?"

The tall ID-SOL, now third in command of the squad, turned and frowned. "No, Romero, and I suggest you focus on your own work." Laura stuck her tongue out at him and whispered to Bernhard, "Eh, he's alright."

"Corporal Morris, is it true you're making a new gun?" Laura shouted again, this time towards Henry Morris. Bernhard sighed and began checking his medical kit while Laura tried to be friendly.
 
Henry had spent the intervening time between what'd taken place on that space station to working on something. He was examining a datapad with a part of a draft of what he had written so far.
Henry's Datapad said:
One of the guns was fitted with rudimentary front and back iron sights and taken to the range for further calibration. The weapon was set into a fixed position and fired in order to further calibrate the iron sights. Once satisfactory, combat and penetration testing could be undertaken by a trained shooter.

If I were to guess why there are no iron sights, it would be to prevent non-NMX/Nekovalkyrja users from comfortably using the weapon against the NMX, even after spoofing the biometrics and having to waste extra time retrofitting iron or holographic sights onto the weapon.
Click to expand...
When he heard Laura (the Greatest Medic in the Universe) yell for his attention, he quickly alt-tabbed to his loadout for the war games. On the screen was his prized VOID armour, except that all of the weapons on it had been replaced with Training rounds and pointers over that which couldn't be rendered safe meant to simulate the real action. He didn't want a friendly fire incident on his hands after all. "Oh, just a pet project, you know me," he said with a dismissive shrug, downplaying the importance of the project. He always made little guns in his spare time, so this was just another.

LPA with a training pointer, Faux-Fusion Cutter, Laser Arrays on minimum power, FGL with non-lethal grenades, TRACER rack on the left thigh, fake BOLT rack on the right and an observation probe. He could remove the safety for most of his weapons if an emergency requiring lethal firepower showed up. He hoped that this war games would go swimmingly.
 
Eric had been lounging near some mechanics and other combat engineers discussing the output of a standard plasma cutter when the mission briefing had interrupted. He slowly made his way to the rest of his unit, careful to be respectful about moving even though the officers couldn't see him. He continued to listen and take in the details. He was prepared and ready to roll when the briefing ended.

Moving through the power armor bay, Spence snagged a bit of chewing tobacco and placed it in his jaw before he pulled on a pair of gloves. He quickly began to sort through his toolkit, checking each individual tool before he placed it in its designated spot. He sighed as he called over one of the technicians and asked for two extra slap battery's for his kit. He made certain his plasma tanks were full, connected the toolkit and the secondary extinguisher to the bottom, and prepped it for mounting on his Hostile. With the help of the techs, he had the plasma cutter secured to his forearm, and his rifle sighted to compensate for the obstruction in his normal sight picture. He was confident in his tools, and his weapon was ready to go. Before he completed his load out, he had asked for some larger quality explosives for debris clearing and heavy duty work his cutter couldn't do fast enough. As a last item, he asked a tech to grab his .45 Zen Armaments pistol and stow it in his toolkit.

Confident he was ready to go, he waited in his suit and ran over a mental checklist of his engineer tools, what they did and where they were located.
 
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Wulfe found himself in a mix of being surprised that he wouldn't be dropped into another combat zone, somewhat relieved at not being shot at by people who really wanted him dead but also somewhat disappointed for the same reason. He let put away his datajockey after the announcement and got off the couch, it was time to pick his gear for the exercise.

Having grabbed his kit, the Marine made his way to the armor and started to pick his practice gear for the simulation. Instead of picking his usual HPAR and AS4GS that he used in all of his previous missions, he instead opted for the heavier Kegbuster, choosing the bigger gun due to the defensive nature of the mission. He didn't bother about ammunition, since they wouldn't be using live ammo - or at least he hoped they wouldn't- but instead practice ammo. He also picked the LSP as a backup, with the practice ammunition, and a rack of fake DART and ARROW minimissiles went into each rack, respectively.

Satisfied with the new loadout, the P1C got inside his armor and grabbed his kit and waited for the rest of the squad.
 
Phaedra smirked at Leon's suggestion.

"I was looking for an excuse to use it again."

-------------------------------------

Phaedra loaded up her HOSTILE with her usual HPAR with the underslung grenade launcher, and brought along her W3301 for long-range support. She loaded up on plenty of dummy ammunition for the HPAR as well as dummy 40mm grenade rounds for both weapons. She replaced both racks of missiles with dummy BOLT missiles as well.

She kept an eye on Bernhard and Laura as the Cavaliers made their preparations. Bernhard's panic attack on the last mission was unusual, but not unheard of. While the medic seemed to be fine now, Phaedra hoped it was not going to become a serious issue. At least Laura was there at his side to help him with whatever it was that caused his panic attack.

Her preparations complete, Phaedra climbed up into her HOSTILE and sealed the armor around her. Once her HUD was active, she opened up a channel to the squad.

"Clock is ticking Cavaliers. Get your armors squared away; we will be transferring to the Kenni soon."
 
Stan had been sharing his experiences (carefully avoiding the friendly fire incidents) with another ID-SOL when the briefing had come in.

Stan wasted no time in making his way to the armoury, making a beeline for an Aggressor. The ID-SOL selected an AMP (with dummy ammo naturally), reasoning that it would be a good idea to force the "enemy" to keep their heads down. Regardless, he still didn't quite trust himself again with something as explosive as the Assault Ordinance Projector. He then chose dummy ARROWs for both missile racks.

Clambering inside the Aggressor, he checked everything was functioning as it should have been and transmitted to Phaedra, "I'm ready, ma'am."

Even if it was just training, Stan had every intention of showing the 2nd Fleet Marines how it was done.
 
Having listened to the briefing with his usual rapt attention, he said nothing as he made his way toward his Aggressor and started to arm up the armor. Since this was supposed to be just a training exercise, he armed the missile racks with dummy BOLT's along with his trusty AMP fitted with dummy rounds. The plasma chainguns he had come to trust went on the shoulders as was his custom along with the LSP for a backup loaded with dummy rounds. Cigar hanging from between his lips as he worked, he finally finished the outfitting as he stood back to admire his handywork with a grin which fell from his face as he realized something was missing.

As he stared at the power armor as out of the corner of his eye he saw an ID-SOL pulling himself into his Aggressor. Turning for a split second he saw it was Stan, the ID-SOL he had been sent into the boarding actions of the NMX ship with. A short wave was sent to his comrade before his gaze returned to his power armor. Finally it hit him causing him to jog down to the demolition equipment as he pulled the NA-W3302 Demolition Tool from the table and hefted it to his power armor, attaching it at a back hardpoint. Satisfied with the loadout, he pulled himself in his armor as he chewed on the end of the cigar and started a systems check.
 
The Marines boarded the NSS Melissa Kenni to find it abuzz with activity. Their armors and weapons were quickly stowed away by Junker drones as the Marines were ushered by another Marine wearing the patch of the 4th Marine Shaik. Laura noticed the minor difference. The Marines from the Shaik wore a patch that had a skull crossed by the 4th Fleet's lightning bolts whereas the Marines from the FMF (including the Cavaliers) wore the actual Fleet insignia.

Each squad was divided in several cabins. Four enlisted Marines or two senior NCOs to a cabin. Laura immediately grabbed one of the two beds in the cabin she shared with Bernhard, Epic Sequence, and Sawyer. "This one's for me and Bernie. You two can sleep together on the other one!" she announced to Sawyer and Epic. The Most Brilliant Medic in the Universe had long stopped using Eric's real name.

Talbain, Aleksei, Wulfe and Alex Reams shared another.

Stan, Henry, and Max shared a third.

Phaedra found herself in the same cabin as Leon. "We're expecting some greenies for your squad," Leon told her casually. "Are you sure Greer is up for another combat drop? I've reviewed the recordings from his suit. His heartrate went through the roof that second time on Prime. I know he's a good soldier but if there's a chance he's going to be a liability, we ought to have him sit it out and get it sorted."

------------------------------

As the Fleet prepared for departure, the Marines heard shouting outside. Hardman's self-destructive squad was at it again. The ID-SOL "Butch" was going full at it with the smaller Kaoru in the middle of the hallway like a pair of brats. Once again, the long-suffering Boomer was watching with another woman, neither trying to stop their hot-headed mates.

Sailors and Marines were already gathering to watch and, more importantly, place bets. "Don't waste your money on that," Bernhard said to Laura as she bounded out to watch, dragging Sawyer and Epic with her as if they were wheat blowing in the wind.

"So who's gonna win?" Laura asked as Kaoru ducked under a swing from Butch. Just as the smaller Jiyuuian stepped forwards, Butch stepped back, maintaining the distance. Despite being crowded in, the fighting pair's footwork was something behold. Kaoru glided across the ring with graceful precision, looking for the small openings to exploit while Butch advanced and withdrew with surprising speed and poise. He was always reacting to Kaoru's assaults, looking for her openings when she committed to a strike. It was like watching two equally effective yet opposite martial arts battle for supremacy. They shared nothing in common save for the obvious skill both showed in deflecting attacks.
 
A Marine, just like any other, roamed around the campus. His hair was cut the state of near non-existence, going so far as to obscure the young man's original colour. Empty, almost robotic eyes occasionally glanced upon the piece of paper held in his right hand, while the left one seemed otherwise occupied with a medium-sized backpack filled with carefully packed clothing and equipment slung over his shoulder. The paper held primitve directions to the whereabouts of the Cavaliers and a general description along with a name attached to it, most likely an officer. Alas, the description was too vague for even an overly practical mind to grasp, and the young clone wandered around asking for directions instead.

Inevitably, he found himself staring at a fight between a monstrously tall man with muscles reminescent to mountains trying to hammer a much smaller female into the ground. This didn't concern him, of course, nor was this event in his immediate goals. But the clone still lingered, staring at them. Annoyance built within his chest. How could they occupy themselves with such a ridiculously inefficient activity?! The usually impassive face would gain a small crack as No. A6013's eyebrows twitched into a barely visible frown. He couldn't waste his time on this, he thought. He came just in time to witness a small group of marine's leave the scene and carefully approached them, saluting and speaking with an almost mechanic tone. "Private 3rd Class, No. A6013. Requesting information regarding the whereabouts of the Cavaliers."
 
Phaedra was glad that just Leon and herself were sharing a room; the room was small as it was already and adding two more bodies would have just complicated things. Being alone with Leon in this small room made her heart thump in her chest for some reason, but Phaedra did her best to ignore it; she had more important matters to be concerned about.

"Agreed. Although it does complicate things that both Laura and him are medical personnel; both of them will probably attest that everything is fine. I think we'll need a third opinion." She glanced toward the closed door, hearing cheering and shouting out in the hallway.

"Hardman's squad are at it again aren't they?" she said with a shake of her head. She leaned against the bulkhead and pulled out her datajockey to take a peek at the new marines they were getting. Glancing at the first recruit, she raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"How do we have a clone with no name joining our squad?"
 
Max wasn't really thrilled with the idea of training as opposed to actual combat. Their last mission had been easy enough, but he supposed that the big wigs at command knew what they were doing. Usually training was meant to fill down time or prepare for some big operation, so perhaps it would be a good thing. Max figured he could use some more practice in his power armor anyway considering the difficulties he had in his first deployment. So for now he would suck it up and do as he was told.
 
PFC3 Rana Kalev meanwhile had spotted the meandering marine from a mile away while she too wandered the corridors with her duffel over her shoulder. Silently she tailed him, sensing in him a kindred lost spirit -- at least physically misplaced, given that the directions to the Cavaliers' secret lair had been vague at best -- and was not surprised when they came upon what sounded like a good old-fashioned fist fight going on in the middle of the corridor.

Then she heard the clean-cut marine bellow out his name at the gathering crowd. A clone, really? She scuttled up closer but lingered behind him, keen to listen in to see if anyone responded to him.
 
Leon shrugged. "Ask Central Corps. Probably some illegal clone nabbed in a raid. Do military service or do labor, kind of thing. Give him a name. I'm sure your squad has enough comedians to make one for him," Leon replied. "And you're going to have to speak up. I can't hear what you're saying with all that ruckus in the hallway."

-------------------------------

"You found 'em. But stop talking and watch the fight. I say the girl beats him to a pulp. I heard Yammie synthetics don't ever get tired," Corporal Laura Romero said, not even looking at him. The Most Brilliant Medic in the Universe wanted to watch the fight. "What do you think, Private Basics? Wanna bet on it?" she asked the clone who had just arrived.

"Oh and ask those two jokers there to introduce themselves. They're not happy that they have to share a bunk." She jabbed her thumb at Sawyer and Epic.

------------------------------

"And who're you?" a Marine asked Rana, towering behind her by several inches, arms folded across his chest. His shoulder patched showed his rank to be P2C.
 
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It took a moment before Rana realized the voice was addressing her. With an eep she spun around, wide-eyed, and tilted her gaze up towards the imposing figure who was clearly crossing his arms at her.

"Hi!" she greeted with a broad, albeit nervous grin. "How's it goin'?" Her gaze darted over to the patch on the man's shoulder and then quickly flickered back up to the handsome face again. "I'm Rana, Private Third Class. I'm looking for the Cavaliers. Think you could help me out?"
 
Having left his room that he was sharing with three of his fellow marines, he found himself watching the fight when Laura asked if the new comer wanted to bet on the fight. "I'll get in on that action. What's the stakes?" asked the ID-SOL as he stood over the heads of most the other watchers. The skill of both fighters were impressive to the point one could think the attacks and deflections were choreographed, yet at the same time random and thought out.
 
A6013 merely gazed upon Laura squarely as she answered his questions and gave further instructions. With a passing ghost of a frown, he decided to firmly state his opinion regarding the fight, be it his crewmembers or not and be he a clone or not.

"With all due respect, the fight is a highly inefficient combat activity between two allied units. I believe the most strategically literate course of action would be to stop it." - with no more than his mechanical-like tone, the clone gave a brief salute to the Cavalier Medic, looking towards the direction of the unceremoniously jabbed thumb. He would then make his way towards them for a proper introduction, as instructed. His stride was anything but casual, yet also one that couldn't stand to waste a single ounce of energy on an unnecesarry movement. The clone's face shirveled in a wince at the loud sounds all around him, he really wasn't used to... well... people being social. Approaching the two specified marines he straightened in a formal salute. "Private 3rd Class, A6013. Reporting for duty." - he intoned formally.
 
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"Follow me," he said, leading Rana to a cabin.

He tapped on it twice and someone inside called back. "Yes?" "It's me, Bro. Newbie for your squad," the Marine Rana was with replied.

The hatch opened and another tall, darker skinned Marine stepped out wearing the rank insignia of a Corporal. Instead of looking at Rana, he leaned out to look at the fight. "Almost over?" he asked the first Marine, who shook his head in reply. "Gonna be messy. See ya later, bro. I got money on it!" And then he left Rana.

"I am Corporal Greer. You are?" Bernhard turned to Rana.

------------------------------------------

Laura watched the idiot walk away to salute Sawyer and Epic. Was she like that when she first started? No. She didn't salute Corporals or Privates. She was too smart for that. This guy... he was braindead. Like someone had taken Corporal Talbain and sucked out what little soul there was.
 
Rana snapped up straight and sharp. "PFC Third Class Rana Kalev, sir!" she replied. "Looking for the Cavaliers to join up!"
 
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