CadetNewb
Well-Known Member
Tami System
YE 34
Shortly After Recapture
Tami. It was theirs.
But the trials and tribulations the Fifth Fleet went through were anything but easy. As proof of this, several Kyoto Class Carriers were broken in orbit or strewn across the green forested planet below. But those were just some of many ships lost. Small craft and power armors piloted by engineers fluttered about the cold metal bodies, dragging them about for salvage or otherwise cutting them up to be more easily moved. Meanwhile, the very largest were towed by several ships and their graviton beams. The fleet was neatly bisected in half when it came down to the raw numbers.
And yet, this was still only half of the picture. The deceptively serene planet below had seen some of the worst fighting the Star Army of Yamatai had seen as of late - forced to trudge through thickly wooded forests, their speed and agility was not the asset it was supposed to be. Vast swaths of light, fast, hard hitting power armors literally stumbled across their foes and fought face to face, toe to toe in the thickly wooded fog, while others had no choice but to meet dug in defenders in the very same manner.
For a military force geared towards boarding actions, fast breakthroughs and conquests, it was a death sentence for many when the Star Army was given no other option but to sit down and slog through the mire. Very few people would ever fully understand the toll taken to just conquer this one world - only the soldiers themselves who fought, though, even for him, the sheer scale was difficult to grasp. All this death - mind boggling and beyond insanity. The number counters and civilians, assuming the war had not touched them, would only see all of this as just another news report. A set of numbers a pretty news reporter with a nice figure and bust would mention one day. "Infotainment" it was called.
The Star Army - it was poorly equipped for this, and the costs were high for their lack of preparation. Or, that was the conclusion that Whitmoor came to when reading the after-action reports. Knowing was one thing sadly. The big question however, was something else entirely. Whitmoor knew this.
What Whitmoor did not know, however, was exactly how poorly equipped his fleet had been. He had known when he took charge that, despite having been one of the few fleets to retain its ground force, the Fifth fleet suffered from a lack of proper equipment. Unable to replace that equipment before he was needed, Whitmoor's hand had been forced, and he could only train his troops, hoping to overcome the lack of equipment.
It was obvious that this had not been quite enough, but it seemed that it had helped prevent the endeavor from becoming a complete disaster. Now, however, he needed to know exactly how badly equipped his forces were, and what he could do to rectify that. he had now been given the time, and, due to the losses, had a good reason to reorganize his fleet to better support his troops. What he needed, was someone who knew what they had. Or at least, what they used to have, and what was left.
The Taisho called on a Quartermaster. Not one of the high-ranking, pencil pushing ones who simply reviewed orders and pressed a button to have the supplies sent; no, he wanted one who actually dealt with the equipment, who knew it personally, and whom had seen what had gone wrong. Scrolling through a list, he found one not currently busy, whom was also nearby, and ready to be called in. One Jôtô Heisho Kitano Kaede.
A rather frazzled looking Nekovalkyrja appeared on the screen busily working away on a pile of...something on her table. "Yes, yes, I'll have them all fixed up by - OH!" Her spine went ramrod rigid as soon as she realized who her caller was. Standing up to salute, the black haired Neko stood up and properly greeted her superior. "Joto Heisho Kitano Kaede sir! How may I be of service?" she asked crisply.
The Taisho dismissed the Joto Heisho with a shallow bow of his own, before answering the Neko's question. "Please, be seated. I'm calling on you, because, right now, My fleet has a problem, and you are one of the few soldiers in my fleet who properly knows what that problem is, as doubtless, that paperwork you have piled all over your desk is dealing with the equipment losses from our actions on Tami. You see, I've known all along that we were under-equipped, however, due to the constraints of time and resources, I could do nothing about it. You are, however, one whom is familiar with exactly how and why we are under-equipped, knowledge that I was not able to gather when I took my position as this Fleet's Taisho."
Whitmoor sat in his chair a bit straighter, and then leaned forward, almost earnestly. "I would like to know why we failed to take Tami properly. Why we lost so much, and suffered so much loss."
At Whitmoor's words, the Neko's eyes fluttered as she quickly blinked twice - it was difficult to tell what was on her mind exactly, but despite the unmoving face she held, it had to be something along the lines of surprise. "Well sir," Kaede began slowly, almost as though she were tiptoeing around mines, "Our equipment is very well suited for short, intense combat and rapid movement...this just happens to mean that for extended conflicts, it does not fare as well. Amongst other things of course." What those 'other things' were, she didn't say quite yet.
"Other things?" The Taisho asked, interested, and taking in all this information with a calm demeanor, as if observing from an outside perspective. "Do we lack in other necessary areas, or does our current makeup prevent us from even utilizing these 'other things'?"
The dirty rag she held in her hands, smeared lack and grey with lubricant, grease and who knows what else, was wrenched a little as her eyes darted off to the side. It was obvious that the Neko was not entirely comfortable talking about this, but she eventually started talking again. "It...it appears to be both cases sir," Kaede finally admitted. "What we have for boarding actions and short, quick actions on the ground are perfectly fine of course.
But what we have is simply inadequate or obsolete when we need to stay longer and fight longer," she explained to her superior cautiously. "Perhaps you would like to see for yourself Taisho?" the Neko offered. "I can personally give you a rundown on our inventory."
"Yes, Let's do that." Whitmoor answered, smiling under his grey moustache. "I will be at your location in five minutes, so, please, make ready to show me what you can, and don't be afraid to show me anything, I aim to better us, and to do so I must know everything, even the inexcusable ones." Whitmoor stood once more, bowing once more to the quartermaster, and signing off.
*****
Precisely five minutes later, the Taisho Johnathan Fitzgerald Whitmoor arrived at Kitano Kaede's location, no longer in his formal attire, he was rather wearing a normal duty uniform, his hair and moustache looking out of place when paired with the outfit, but nevertheless, the older Nepleslian man held himself with the dignity befitting his station. "I have arrived, Heisho." he announced, simply.
The same black haired Nekovalkyrja quickly approached and properly bowed to the Fleet Admiral. Now that he could see her completely, Whitmoor could see her own uniform was much like the rag she was holding earlier - smeared here and there with various greases, lubricants and cleaners. The same went for her face, and even a little bit of her unruly hair, but he could still tell she at least tried to clean herself up.
"Welcome to the repair bays sir," she spoke crisply over the constant din. "Is there anywhere you would like to start, or shall I simply pick a place to begin our...tour?" Kaede asked. Unlike some of her more crass sisters, this one was apparently one of an older school of thought. Difficult to read in full, and constantly eying him with a piercing, searching look. It was almost as though she were suspicious, or perhaps even mistrusting of him even.
The Admiral seemed to be pleased to see a soldier whom looked like she was actually working, and so, in good spirits, he answered her "I think whatever is most important should come first, but that, of course, is up to you. My job is to administrate this organization, while yours is to know the equipment, and so I shall have to defer to you, here."
Kaede simply looked at him for a moment with an inscrutable expression. "Of course sir, if you would follow me." At that, she turned and began walking, not so much as looking over her shoulder to check if he was following. Instead, she went on past several damaged and partly disassembled power armors, tanks and numerous other vehicles. The constant hustle and bustle of clanking tools and the numerous, girlish Nekovalkyrjan voices was its own odd, almost alluring music.
Soon enough, the Neko walked towards a door to a smaller workshop, the passageway opening at her presence to let the two of them in. Whitmoor would recognize it as the area in which he first saw her over the video feed. It was a small, modest workshop centering on mostly firearms and various attachments for power armors, with all the materials inside quite recognizable.
The first thing Kaede did was reach over to where the Taisho recalled seeing her previously sit, pulling over a mangled...something over to show him. "The LASR is very lightweight considering its role and firepower at forty kilograms. Or eighty pounds." she started to explain, hefting the rather heavy rifle. The Neko's hands pointed to the damage the frame of the rifle had taken - judging by the marks, a Ripper had stepped on it. "The material itself it is made of is quite sound, but the weapon's own frame design does not take full advantage of it."
And on that, she was right - for its weight, the weapon looked very light and dainty. "It was made to be small and compact above all else I believe." The way she phrased it all to Whitmoor, it was odd. Indirect, yet implying many things on just this one rifle.
Whitmoor surveyed the damage to the rifle, idly pondering why they would even try to save it at this point, and figuring that it must be repairable in some way, and due to the current shortages, was a more viable option than outright replacement. "So what you're saying, is that while the LASR has its merits; good performance and a compact design, it is lacking in durability, despite being heavier than it should be." Whitmoor thought this over, rubbing his chin with his thumb for a moment, a stern look of concentration on his face.
"If I am not mistaken, this is also true for most of our equipment, Is it not?" Whitmoor turned halfway around, and looked out the door of the workshop, surveying the other work that was being done. "This displeases me. That our equipment is letting down you, our soldiers, is intolerable. I'm not so haughty as to think that, simply because we are Yamatai, means that we are better because of it. A soldier can make good use of bad equipment, yes, but a soldier needs proper equipment to perform properly."
The Neko's head tilted ever so slightly, as though she were gauging him. "This is just 'the tip of the iceberg' as Raltians are wont to say I believe," Kaede replied. "A...newer version of the LASR would be nice," the Neko cautiously admitted. She shifted about for a moment, still holding onto the weight of the rifle before putting it back onto the table - several other damaged ones, some neatly cut in two, others with bent barrels, so on and so forth, were all being taken apart. Several piles of parts stripped out could be seen as the Neko laid it down next to its fallen sisters. She was salvaging what she could.
"Assuming you do not mind displeasing news Taisho, please, this way," she went on, now making to leave her little 'office' for the rest of the repair bays. Now, she made her way to the armored vehicles that they had passed by earlier. On closer inspection, they were not in good shape either. Walking by a Tankette, the Type 30, Whitmoor could see a shot had passed clean through the thinner armor on the side, igniting and cooking off what ammunition was inside.
"The crews - we always say goodbye to each other," she commented, never breaking her casual stroll. This time, she was looking back at him over her shoulder, eyes carefully gauging his reaction to her words as they both walked together. This piece - it practically explained itself, and needed no more words. Though perhaps, the Artillery Trailer mounted to the Surface Terrain Vehicle did. The vehicle itself was actually quite intact, but was coated in black ash and soot between vehicle and towed weapon.
"What do you see Taisho Whitmoor?" She asked, testing him.
"I see troops that were needlessly exposed to enemy fire." He commented, judging that the sooty marks had been caused by a flamethrower. He frowned. "Thank you for showing me this. It is only helping me to further cement my decision to better our equipment." The Taisho then did something unexpected- He bowed. Deeply. Removing his hat, he placed it over his heart as he did so, and spoke:
"I thank you for the sacrifices you have made. it is with utmost respect that I ask you for forgiveness, having knowlingly sent you into battle so woefully equipped. Not that it is any consolation, but I now promise you that your deaths shall not have been in vain. Even if you are resurrected, it was still too much of a burden to place upon you, and I am sorry."
His respects paid, the Taisho stood up, a stern look of determination in his elder eyes. "Please, Kitano Heisho, Show me more."
Kaede shrugged at the man's request. "Excuse my rudeness, but you already seem dead set on getting new equipment," she pointed out, reaching a hand towards the black ash. The remains of the the artillery crew clung to the tip of a finger before she rubbed it between index and thumb. "But what do you have in mind? New equipment is useless if it's not much better than the old." The Neko's gaze fell on the wrecked Type 30 Tankette as she said this - she wasn't sure if he knew, but they were merely redone Type 29's.
The Taisho did not seem to be at all put off by the Neko's blunt remarks, rather seeming to enjoy them over the brown nosing he was used to with the upper echelons of administration. "That's where you come in, Heisho. You know why our equipment does not suit our duty." Whitmoor explained. "Unlike the pencil-pushers who only care about numbers and finances, You and your peers deal with this stuff on a personal level. You know what is wrong, and you know what needs to change. I do not, and so I am humbly asking that you share this knowledge with me, so that next time you and the rest of our forces find yourselves in battle, it will be properly equipped and better able to deal with threats."
She rubbed her neck, glancing away as he said those final words. It seemed what he said was starting to elicit some reaction from the Neko at the least. "Well, for the LASR, some of the pilots bought rifles of their own. There's a few companies out there, but Origin's seems most popular - an aftermarket kit to convert it to using the same magazines and ammunition is available, so they get that too." She pointed out. "Something more sturdy like that would be nice. I guess we can fix up the LASR to be just like that in-house," she suggested.
"And you see that over there sir?" Kaede asked, pointing to a damaged, but perfectly serviceable tank. The tracks were destroyed, and the armor had taken several hits, but it was still apparently fine. What was most certainly the crew of the 'Troll' were all taking turns with a torque wrench as tall as any one of themselves in order to repair the broken tracks. "The girls were ogling over a few arms magazines a little back. And it wasn't just the tank and tankette crews either - the towed artillery girls were looking at the tanks on market too, since the better ones can act as mobile artillery easily," she explained to him.
"Just one of those newer MBT's could take over the role of all three. Though, they're not as small as the tankettes I admit." At that, a smaller gaggle of girls approached, waving at the tank crews. These ones walked over to the not-too-distant tankettes and inspected the damage. The tankette crew women were apparently resurrected. Again. "Paragon stopped making them after going under though thanks to the dumb Neple - I mean - the people in charge," Kaede quickly corrected herself. "I...don't know where we'd find more ready to buy, but I think we can try looking at the ones left and making our own maybe."
She shrugged. "And you already saw the STV - the tankette is too small, but it's got the opposite problem. Too big. There's more I think."
Whitmoor chuckled as Kaede tried to hide the fact that she thought the people running Paragon; the Nepleslians as she almost said; were dumb. "So, what we do have doesn't match up to what's available on the Civilian market, then? I find that rather shameful, to be honest." The Taisho shook his head, briefly, before returning his attention to the Quartermaster. "Please, continue," he asked.
"Uh! Well, it's not that!" she started in a panic. "I-it's just that...well, we used to have better gear than civies. Used to, that's all. We didn't do ground anymore until recently." Kaede put a finger to her lip in thought - fist met palm with a fleshy smack as her mind quickly put together all the pieces. "It's because we've been loosing, not winning!" she triumphantly realized. "Since we were always being pushed back, we never really even got to try and take over planets like this - it was the space battles that mattered more, until now," she realized.
The Neko's demeanor was slowly changing in front of Whitmoor, who watched the Neko blush as she realized she had relaxed and warmed up to him. She stopped, paused for a moment however as she thought over something else entirely. "Hey!" Kaede suddenly yelled, waving at the crews and stepping in front of Whitmoor - she kept him partly obscured, hiding his rank badges with her own body as she called out. "How was it planetside?"
Another Neko, this one with shocking pink hair of neck length, glanced over the Joto Heisho before trying to get a good look at the figure behind her. A faint expression of amusement could be seen, but that was quickly wiped away as she shrugged. "Really shitty - no orbital or air support. We had to slog through it all the hard way, and the Tankette girls had it worse since arty got hosed down by a chef who got uppity," the Tank Commander replied. A faint smile crossed her lips as she delivered this grim news - she caught on fast and knew the game being played.
"Yeah, they took too long setting up and taking down with their towed guns," a Tankette driver replied. "And the power armor that was supposed to guard our flanks didn't have any melee weapons, so they got cut up when the Rippers managed to get close." The Neko, this one with a purple ponytail, pointed to the hole in the side of what was apparently her vehicle. She promptly leaped onto its top and clambored inside. Even for a Neko, it was horribly cramped, but she soon demonstrated what had happened inside when the vehicle had been hit by simply taking her seat.
The round had penetrated the side of the vehicle, and had accordingly entered her side as well, directly under the left armpit and behind the breast as she worked the controls. The hole was quite large as well, most likely a 50mm cannon round. It wasn't hard imagining it continuing on through her to hit the crew woman beside her either. As evidence of this, as Whitmoor peered in, he could see the remains of the 50mm slug plastered against the opposite side within the tank. "Alright, thanks girls," Kaede replied. Looking over her shoulder as the crews got back to work, she asked Whitmoor something else. "Do you want to see the Power Amors and their pilots?
Whitmoor simply nodded in reply, again surveying the damage to the vehicles before him. He shook his head at the sight. While Yamatai certainly had its prowess, and the Tankette was small enough to fit in a starship's hallway, it was plainly, painfully obvious that the equipment was no match for actual ground combat. Almost, Whitmoor regretted staying with Yamatai when Nepleslia split, but, he realized, if he had simply gone with Nepleslia, whoever might have had this job instead would have likely cared less for the ground forces, for the soldiers that fought and died - often several times over, for the safety of Yamatai.
Despite the 'miracle' of the ST machine, and the fact that death in battle was more of an inconvenience than an end in many cases, Whitmoor still wished to do what he could to prevent his soldiers from dying. Indeed, even if they were brought back, they often lost memories, prized posessions, and more. Sometimes, they could not be brought back, and that was a much harder loss, one that he simply did not think needed to be paid, when others had the luxury of coming back swiftly. Even when they didn't die, the failure of equipment still often brought pain and suffering to the soldiers. Pain and suffering which, again, could be prevented or at least minimized.
"Yes, of course. Show me what you can."
"Mm," Kaede nodded, continuing on.
It didn't take long at all to reach the power armors, but like the vehicles, many of them were not in good shape. One set of armor, a Daisy, was neatly cut in half at the waist, its remains laid out on the floor as technicians like Kaede herself were pouring over it, stripping it of any useful parts. What was left of its shield was used to weigh down a plastic sheet laid out underneath - it rapidly turned red as hemosynth began to pool, the artificial blood and flesh futility fighting against its fluidic nature.
But she didn't seem to pay attention to this at all, and simply passed on by.
Rather, Whitmoor would notice her eyes were set on one man in particular as she made a beeline for him. "Nakamura-Juni! Good to see you made it back," she greeted him familiarly. "This is Whitmoor Taisho by the way - he simply wishes to follow me on my daily run," she lied. "Regardless, if you want, I have a little spare time and can clean your sword," the Neko added - it was hard to tell if she meant just that, or something else entirely. "I know it must give you quite an...edge that none of our Daisy Pilots have," Kaede suggested, hoping the rather oblivious pilot would go right where she wanted him to go.
The Juni stopped as he was addressed by the Quartermaster, and then bowed respectfully to the Taisho, the gear worn atop his Daisy shifting slightly as he did so. The armor was fully kitted out- several pouches and haversacks hung from a jerry-rigged web gear he had custom made for the suit, and a pair of canvas trousers covered the lower half of the power armor, to keep dirt and grime out of its plates, with zippered holes allowing the calf-mounted launchers to still be used. On the modified chestplate was a second layer of armor protection in the form of a kind of canvas-covered flak jacket that only covered the front of the armor, leaving the fusion backpack unobstructed. The Daisy's helmet hung at the beltline among the pouches and sacks, and made a soft clunking noise as it met a canvas-covered LASR magazine.
The sword in question could be seen sticking out to either side of the soldier's armor, its sheath firmly attached to the armor where a Buttpack would normally be. "Ah, if you have time, I would not mind, though be careful, one of your subordinates cut her finger off on it last time I let somebody else clean it; it is Zesuaium after all" Nakamura Kai-Juni answered with a kind smile, completely missing the innuendo and taking what Kaede said at face value.
Whitmoor, behind Kaede, simply coughed into his hand to get Kaede's attention, having fully understood what the Neko had said. "What's all this?" he asked, referring to Nakamura-Juni's armor, which was clearly not set up to regulations, but had apparently survived the battle intact. "Nakamura-Juni's armor is clearly different, could you tell me why it appears to be successful like this?" the swift Whitmoor asked the Quartermaster.
'He didn't even notice the cue! Get with the program! Why does the prettiest boy on the ship have to be the most oblivious?!' the Neko rapidly thought to herself.
"Of course Taisho," Kaede answered with an awkward smile stemming from a broken spirit. Reconstituting herself, she went on to explain what she saw. "First off, he has several cloth items that act to carry additional ammunition and other bits of equipment. It's both cheap, and effective, since he can fight for a lot longer without asking the next Neko over for ammo," she explained. "Not that they'd hold back if he asked," Kaede muttered under her breath. Resuming her normal volume, she went on, "And of course, the added armor is always a nice benefit as well." She gestured with an upturned hand to the extra flak Nakamura wore.
"But really, it's the sword that I'm more focused on right now," she admitted to the Admiral, turning back to the apparently popular Juni. "Nakamura Juni, if you'd please - just how much of an advantage does having a melee weapon give you?" Kaede asked. The man was a hero, but she still crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping he'd give her the right answer. He was just so...oblivious at times!
The Juni sighed for a moment, thinking about the question. "Well, the size of this particular sword makes it a bit of a nuisance at times, but when we get into close combat, something that can at least parry and stop an enemy armor is more than useful, allowing your teammates to get a clearer shot. The use of this Zesu blade is greater still, as I can cut many armors in pieces with a single slice if their shields have already been beaten down, which is usually the case once they have reached Melee range." apparently satisfied with his explanation, he nodded, and asked "Anything else?"
"No, I think that will be fine for the moment," Whitmoor answered. "Thank you, that is an interesting development. It seems going backward can be the way forward in some cases." The Admiral chuckled at that small revelation, certainly bringing back his memories of the earlier days, when power armors were not used and the Melee weapons had more importance. "As battles in armor have come closer and closer together, the combat has come to be more like it was without the armors" he observed.
"I suppose there's a Nepleslian word for it. I believe the word was 'Medieval' but I can't seem to find the history behind the word at all - just that it means primitive or barbaric." The Nekovalkyrja shrugged, watching the handsome Nakamura walk off. "The Mindy series of armors don't have this problem at all, since they have integrated aether projectors in their forearms, but the Daisies do - talking to them, they say that when the enemy is right on top of them, it doesn't help to keep shooting anymore," she started to explain.
"It's because by then, the Ripper or whatever is swinging with it's blade - keep shooting, get chopped like a daikon," the Neko finished. "Er, it's a traditional Yamataian white radish. The really big white one?" the quartermaster made to explain, demonstrating it's girth and length with her hands.
"Yes, I know what a Daikon is, Soldier, I have lived in Yamatai most of my life" Whitmoor informed Kaede, frowning a little bit at her assumption of his ignorance.
"S-sorry sir. Uh, anyways, at that point, they tell me they run, or block with the shield. Either way, it's a losing battle for us at that point," the Neko explained, now demonstrating with her arm a block with the hollow zesuaium shield. "They can block, but there's that second blade, so it's going to come in from the side - nothing to parry with!" Kaede was now light on her feet, demonstrating how it'd come in, destroy her rifle, and then hit her. "And you know about running. We're great strategically since we can get from point A to point B faster than they can, but tactically? One on one? No."
She shyly smiled at him. "I saw some action once or twice. Lost my hand," she explained, pointing to her right one. It seemed perfectly fine however, most likely the product of either an ST or Hemosynth treatment. "Anyways, I think that's everything I can really help you with - it's a surprise I was even able to get anything out of the tank and tankette girls. They're not really my department you see," she explained, hands idly held behind her head. "But if you want, we can try pushing our luck you know."
"Let's try our luck," Whitmoor suggested, grinning a bit. "It's amazing how much your luck might increase when you have a Taisho with you." Whitmoor put his hands to his chin, thinking on what else there was to really look over. "What haven't we gone over so far, Kitano Heisho?" he asked, "You've been incredibly useful with all the equipment, but I'm sure there's something missing from the picture in my mind right now."
Kaede rubbed her chin in thought. What else had they not covered in regards to planetary operations? It took a little bit of toe tapping, then pacing back and forward as she worked on their dilemma, but the Nekovalkyrja's ears suddenly twitched as something came up in her mind. "The dropships." How they got onto the planet. That hadn't been covered yet. "I think I saw one of them kicking their craft not too long ago too, and they usually love their birds," She explained. "Uh, please, this way Taisho," she added with a formal politeness, reminded of the man's position by his remark.
It took a little longer, but the odd duo managed to make their way to the hangars. The trip was a little longer, but was worthwhile. A myriad of ships and craft of all sorts greeted them, some with bright, freshly painted hulls, while others were pockmarked or torn by weapon fire. The fighters of the 5th stood proud and gleaming - they were something to be proud of. But that wasn't why they were there of course.
They wanted to find the shippers. The movers. The people that got things brought from one place, and put down at another. It wasn't really hard to find them either - they were doing just that right this instance. Several Raccoon Shuttles were towing in a large chunk of Yamataian colored ship, bringing it through the air sealed field that separated the crew inside from the harsh black space outside. A few medical women (and a single odd man out) with some power armors dashed forward to enter the wreck.
"I guess they found somebody still alive in th -" a horrible, bloodcurdling scream was suddenly cut short as metal plunged into flesh. The familiar ratta-tat-tat of a LASR filled the odd Duo's ears as the medical team boiled out and over each other from one of the slagged entrances, followed by a quickly backpedaling Daisy. Out of the interior came a familiar and feared sight of the war.
A Ripper.
The mechanical, creature brained monstrosity proceeded to swing one of it's ghastly serrated blades at the trooper. Sparks flew as the Daisy moved to bring up its metalic shield to block, but the heavy blow rattled and unbalanced the Neko inside, leaving her wide open - the second blade came up like a punch to the gut, swiftly impaling her through and through at the waist, the blade protruding out of her back. Without so much as a whimper or cry, the Neko inside was already still and limp, the Ripper tossing her aside like a broken doll. The others quickly poured fire onto the Mishhuvurthyar machine, but its gaze - it turned right onto Kaede and Whitmoor.
The Taisho suddenly found himself tackled, blinded and brought to the ground as a horrible crash sounded through the entire hangar. The scent of burnt flesh hung in the air as fires gently smoldered and crackled. His face was wrapped inside of a softness, which beat to a rhythm and raggedly breathed. Light came to his eyes again as it lifted, revealing a terrified looking Kaede looking down at him. "T-taisho? Are you all...alright?" she asked breathlessly, pulling back from the man.
Around them, the hangar was in a flurry of activity as more marines arrived - a Raccoon class shuttle had apparently accelerated and crashed itself into the Ripper, the pilot inside sacrificing herself to protect the rest of the crew. Wounded personnel were being quickly put onto stretchers and carried out, while other triage personnel tended to those that were still quite lucid and capable of walking. A single Daisy clambered over the wreck, moving to try and get a better look at where the Ripper likely was.
The burning hulk shuddered, and everyone's ears popped as the 50mm gauss cannon mounted on the woman's shoulder boomed downwards towards the thing pinned against the ship's wall. It went on once, twice, three times until the shuttle ceased to move. "Taisho! Say something!" Kaede's voice struggled to yell over the ringing in their ears, now cradling his head in her lap.
Kaede looked like she was about to cry.
The Taisho Frowned. "That was unpleasant," he stated simply, as he sat up and brushed himself off. Blankets were comfortingly draped over his and Kaede's shoulders as the first responders sorted out who needed the most help, and the least. "I must thank you, however, for the quick thinking." Whitmoor gathered himself up and stood, holding out a hand to help Kaede up, as well, observing the situation with a grim expression. "Might I ask, though, why you chose to tackle me, ah, from a much higher point than one normally brings a fellow soldier into cover?"
Rubbing one of her eyes, Kaede stopped and suddenly leaped to attention, "Because, this is your most important part, sir!" The Neko was pointing at his head with one of her nailed fingers - she was one of the new models, that was for certain. "You can have every other part of your body chopped up for all I care, but as long as you're head is intact, we can at least try to trawl for the new memories to update your ST with," She explained. "Unless, umm...you're one of the sentimental types that don't like that. In that case, it's even more important we bring your head back," the Neko went on.
Taking a step back, she traced a small circle with a foot and glanced away - with the grease and soot on her, it was hard to tell if she was blushing from embarrassment or not. Before anything else could be said however, someone screamed again. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCKING FUCK!" The two turned to see a pilot disembarking from her shuttle, throwing and smashing her helmet against the ground in anger and disgust. "I watched, and couldn't fucking do a thing! What kind of shit eating motherfucker doesn't put guns on a dropship?!" she yelled, slamming a fist into the side of her landed shuttle. The redheaded Neko's curls bobbed as she shook her head back and forward in denial, tears slowly welling up in her eyes before she broke down sobbing, falling to her knees.
"Do not worry overmuch about me, Kitano-Heisho. I am here to serve, and if I should expire during that service, so be it." He seemed to be grimly determined about that fact, and as he was, made his way over to the pilot, taking the blanket that had been given him, and placed it over her shoulders. Along with that, his hand came to rest upon her shoulder, firmly but gently grasping it in a reassuring manner.
"Someone who knows not the rigors of planetary combat." Whitmoor answered the pilot, in his dignified, commanding voice. "One of my predecessors. I assure you, as your Taisho, I will do everything in my power to rectify the mistakes of the past." He leaned down, placing his outstretched hand under the Neko's chin, gently raising her head so that she could look into his eyes - She saw nothing but truth and determination in them. "That is a promise, to you, and all the other honorable soldiers in this fleet."
In the end however, Whitmoor had an uphill battle to fight.
There were rifles that were too frail and dainty being used by all the infantrywomen. To add to it, there was a surplus of deathtrap vehicles called 'Tankettes' to be found in inventory. They even had artillery that was slow, exposed to the weather and fire, towed by trucks that were far too large and vulnerable for their job. To make matters worse, there were tanks that didn't have enough firepower for their job. There was even a lack of dedicated air support craft to cover the ground troops if the fleet was not able. Besides this, considering how quickly the distance closed in this modern combat, the lack of melee weapons for the average trooper was a significant problem as well.
And to top it off, their transports to the ground were either too large and cumbersome, or far, far too small and completely unarmed. Whitmoor's words provided only a small comfort to the sobbing woman in front of him - unarmed, she couldn't help the people below, and unarmored, her friend had no chance of survival when she chose to ram the enemy within the hangar. It was a dirty, messy deal that the Nepleslian man had been dealt, but he'd deal with it best he could.
This wasn't over yet.
YE 34
Shortly After Recapture
Tami. It was theirs.
But the trials and tribulations the Fifth Fleet went through were anything but easy. As proof of this, several Kyoto Class Carriers were broken in orbit or strewn across the green forested planet below. But those were just some of many ships lost. Small craft and power armors piloted by engineers fluttered about the cold metal bodies, dragging them about for salvage or otherwise cutting them up to be more easily moved. Meanwhile, the very largest were towed by several ships and their graviton beams. The fleet was neatly bisected in half when it came down to the raw numbers.
And yet, this was still only half of the picture. The deceptively serene planet below had seen some of the worst fighting the Star Army of Yamatai had seen as of late - forced to trudge through thickly wooded forests, their speed and agility was not the asset it was supposed to be. Vast swaths of light, fast, hard hitting power armors literally stumbled across their foes and fought face to face, toe to toe in the thickly wooded fog, while others had no choice but to meet dug in defenders in the very same manner.
For a military force geared towards boarding actions, fast breakthroughs and conquests, it was a death sentence for many when the Star Army was given no other option but to sit down and slog through the mire. Very few people would ever fully understand the toll taken to just conquer this one world - only the soldiers themselves who fought, though, even for him, the sheer scale was difficult to grasp. All this death - mind boggling and beyond insanity. The number counters and civilians, assuming the war had not touched them, would only see all of this as just another news report. A set of numbers a pretty news reporter with a nice figure and bust would mention one day. "Infotainment" it was called.
The Star Army - it was poorly equipped for this, and the costs were high for their lack of preparation. Or, that was the conclusion that Whitmoor came to when reading the after-action reports. Knowing was one thing sadly. The big question however, was something else entirely. Whitmoor knew this.
What Whitmoor did not know, however, was exactly how poorly equipped his fleet had been. He had known when he took charge that, despite having been one of the few fleets to retain its ground force, the Fifth fleet suffered from a lack of proper equipment. Unable to replace that equipment before he was needed, Whitmoor's hand had been forced, and he could only train his troops, hoping to overcome the lack of equipment.
It was obvious that this had not been quite enough, but it seemed that it had helped prevent the endeavor from becoming a complete disaster. Now, however, he needed to know exactly how badly equipped his forces were, and what he could do to rectify that. he had now been given the time, and, due to the losses, had a good reason to reorganize his fleet to better support his troops. What he needed, was someone who knew what they had. Or at least, what they used to have, and what was left.
The Taisho called on a Quartermaster. Not one of the high-ranking, pencil pushing ones who simply reviewed orders and pressed a button to have the supplies sent; no, he wanted one who actually dealt with the equipment, who knew it personally, and whom had seen what had gone wrong. Scrolling through a list, he found one not currently busy, whom was also nearby, and ready to be called in. One Jôtô Heisho Kitano Kaede.
A rather frazzled looking Nekovalkyrja appeared on the screen busily working away on a pile of...something on her table. "Yes, yes, I'll have them all fixed up by - OH!" Her spine went ramrod rigid as soon as she realized who her caller was. Standing up to salute, the black haired Neko stood up and properly greeted her superior. "Joto Heisho Kitano Kaede sir! How may I be of service?" she asked crisply.
The Taisho dismissed the Joto Heisho with a shallow bow of his own, before answering the Neko's question. "Please, be seated. I'm calling on you, because, right now, My fleet has a problem, and you are one of the few soldiers in my fleet who properly knows what that problem is, as doubtless, that paperwork you have piled all over your desk is dealing with the equipment losses from our actions on Tami. You see, I've known all along that we were under-equipped, however, due to the constraints of time and resources, I could do nothing about it. You are, however, one whom is familiar with exactly how and why we are under-equipped, knowledge that I was not able to gather when I took my position as this Fleet's Taisho."
Whitmoor sat in his chair a bit straighter, and then leaned forward, almost earnestly. "I would like to know why we failed to take Tami properly. Why we lost so much, and suffered so much loss."
At Whitmoor's words, the Neko's eyes fluttered as she quickly blinked twice - it was difficult to tell what was on her mind exactly, but despite the unmoving face she held, it had to be something along the lines of surprise. "Well sir," Kaede began slowly, almost as though she were tiptoeing around mines, "Our equipment is very well suited for short, intense combat and rapid movement...this just happens to mean that for extended conflicts, it does not fare as well. Amongst other things of course." What those 'other things' were, she didn't say quite yet.
"Other things?" The Taisho asked, interested, and taking in all this information with a calm demeanor, as if observing from an outside perspective. "Do we lack in other necessary areas, or does our current makeup prevent us from even utilizing these 'other things'?"
The dirty rag she held in her hands, smeared lack and grey with lubricant, grease and who knows what else, was wrenched a little as her eyes darted off to the side. It was obvious that the Neko was not entirely comfortable talking about this, but she eventually started talking again. "It...it appears to be both cases sir," Kaede finally admitted. "What we have for boarding actions and short, quick actions on the ground are perfectly fine of course.
But what we have is simply inadequate or obsolete when we need to stay longer and fight longer," she explained to her superior cautiously. "Perhaps you would like to see for yourself Taisho?" the Neko offered. "I can personally give you a rundown on our inventory."
"Yes, Let's do that." Whitmoor answered, smiling under his grey moustache. "I will be at your location in five minutes, so, please, make ready to show me what you can, and don't be afraid to show me anything, I aim to better us, and to do so I must know everything, even the inexcusable ones." Whitmoor stood once more, bowing once more to the quartermaster, and signing off.
*****
Precisely five minutes later, the Taisho Johnathan Fitzgerald Whitmoor arrived at Kitano Kaede's location, no longer in his formal attire, he was rather wearing a normal duty uniform, his hair and moustache looking out of place when paired with the outfit, but nevertheless, the older Nepleslian man held himself with the dignity befitting his station. "I have arrived, Heisho." he announced, simply.
The same black haired Nekovalkyrja quickly approached and properly bowed to the Fleet Admiral. Now that he could see her completely, Whitmoor could see her own uniform was much like the rag she was holding earlier - smeared here and there with various greases, lubricants and cleaners. The same went for her face, and even a little bit of her unruly hair, but he could still tell she at least tried to clean herself up.
"Welcome to the repair bays sir," she spoke crisply over the constant din. "Is there anywhere you would like to start, or shall I simply pick a place to begin our...tour?" Kaede asked. Unlike some of her more crass sisters, this one was apparently one of an older school of thought. Difficult to read in full, and constantly eying him with a piercing, searching look. It was almost as though she were suspicious, or perhaps even mistrusting of him even.
The Admiral seemed to be pleased to see a soldier whom looked like she was actually working, and so, in good spirits, he answered her "I think whatever is most important should come first, but that, of course, is up to you. My job is to administrate this organization, while yours is to know the equipment, and so I shall have to defer to you, here."
Kaede simply looked at him for a moment with an inscrutable expression. "Of course sir, if you would follow me." At that, she turned and began walking, not so much as looking over her shoulder to check if he was following. Instead, she went on past several damaged and partly disassembled power armors, tanks and numerous other vehicles. The constant hustle and bustle of clanking tools and the numerous, girlish Nekovalkyrjan voices was its own odd, almost alluring music.
Soon enough, the Neko walked towards a door to a smaller workshop, the passageway opening at her presence to let the two of them in. Whitmoor would recognize it as the area in which he first saw her over the video feed. It was a small, modest workshop centering on mostly firearms and various attachments for power armors, with all the materials inside quite recognizable.
The first thing Kaede did was reach over to where the Taisho recalled seeing her previously sit, pulling over a mangled...something over to show him. "The LASR is very lightweight considering its role and firepower at forty kilograms. Or eighty pounds." she started to explain, hefting the rather heavy rifle. The Neko's hands pointed to the damage the frame of the rifle had taken - judging by the marks, a Ripper had stepped on it. "The material itself it is made of is quite sound, but the weapon's own frame design does not take full advantage of it."
And on that, she was right - for its weight, the weapon looked very light and dainty. "It was made to be small and compact above all else I believe." The way she phrased it all to Whitmoor, it was odd. Indirect, yet implying many things on just this one rifle.
Whitmoor surveyed the damage to the rifle, idly pondering why they would even try to save it at this point, and figuring that it must be repairable in some way, and due to the current shortages, was a more viable option than outright replacement. "So what you're saying, is that while the LASR has its merits; good performance and a compact design, it is lacking in durability, despite being heavier than it should be." Whitmoor thought this over, rubbing his chin with his thumb for a moment, a stern look of concentration on his face.
"If I am not mistaken, this is also true for most of our equipment, Is it not?" Whitmoor turned halfway around, and looked out the door of the workshop, surveying the other work that was being done. "This displeases me. That our equipment is letting down you, our soldiers, is intolerable. I'm not so haughty as to think that, simply because we are Yamatai, means that we are better because of it. A soldier can make good use of bad equipment, yes, but a soldier needs proper equipment to perform properly."
The Neko's head tilted ever so slightly, as though she were gauging him. "This is just 'the tip of the iceberg' as Raltians are wont to say I believe," Kaede replied. "A...newer version of the LASR would be nice," the Neko cautiously admitted. She shifted about for a moment, still holding onto the weight of the rifle before putting it back onto the table - several other damaged ones, some neatly cut in two, others with bent barrels, so on and so forth, were all being taken apart. Several piles of parts stripped out could be seen as the Neko laid it down next to its fallen sisters. She was salvaging what she could.
"Assuming you do not mind displeasing news Taisho, please, this way," she went on, now making to leave her little 'office' for the rest of the repair bays. Now, she made her way to the armored vehicles that they had passed by earlier. On closer inspection, they were not in good shape either. Walking by a Tankette, the Type 30, Whitmoor could see a shot had passed clean through the thinner armor on the side, igniting and cooking off what ammunition was inside.
"The crews - we always say goodbye to each other," she commented, never breaking her casual stroll. This time, she was looking back at him over her shoulder, eyes carefully gauging his reaction to her words as they both walked together. This piece - it practically explained itself, and needed no more words. Though perhaps, the Artillery Trailer mounted to the Surface Terrain Vehicle did. The vehicle itself was actually quite intact, but was coated in black ash and soot between vehicle and towed weapon.
"What do you see Taisho Whitmoor?" She asked, testing him.
"I see troops that were needlessly exposed to enemy fire." He commented, judging that the sooty marks had been caused by a flamethrower. He frowned. "Thank you for showing me this. It is only helping me to further cement my decision to better our equipment." The Taisho then did something unexpected- He bowed. Deeply. Removing his hat, he placed it over his heart as he did so, and spoke:
"I thank you for the sacrifices you have made. it is with utmost respect that I ask you for forgiveness, having knowlingly sent you into battle so woefully equipped. Not that it is any consolation, but I now promise you that your deaths shall not have been in vain. Even if you are resurrected, it was still too much of a burden to place upon you, and I am sorry."
His respects paid, the Taisho stood up, a stern look of determination in his elder eyes. "Please, Kitano Heisho, Show me more."
Kaede shrugged at the man's request. "Excuse my rudeness, but you already seem dead set on getting new equipment," she pointed out, reaching a hand towards the black ash. The remains of the the artillery crew clung to the tip of a finger before she rubbed it between index and thumb. "But what do you have in mind? New equipment is useless if it's not much better than the old." The Neko's gaze fell on the wrecked Type 30 Tankette as she said this - she wasn't sure if he knew, but they were merely redone Type 29's.
The Taisho did not seem to be at all put off by the Neko's blunt remarks, rather seeming to enjoy them over the brown nosing he was used to with the upper echelons of administration. "That's where you come in, Heisho. You know why our equipment does not suit our duty." Whitmoor explained. "Unlike the pencil-pushers who only care about numbers and finances, You and your peers deal with this stuff on a personal level. You know what is wrong, and you know what needs to change. I do not, and so I am humbly asking that you share this knowledge with me, so that next time you and the rest of our forces find yourselves in battle, it will be properly equipped and better able to deal with threats."
She rubbed her neck, glancing away as he said those final words. It seemed what he said was starting to elicit some reaction from the Neko at the least. "Well, for the LASR, some of the pilots bought rifles of their own. There's a few companies out there, but Origin's seems most popular - an aftermarket kit to convert it to using the same magazines and ammunition is available, so they get that too." She pointed out. "Something more sturdy like that would be nice. I guess we can fix up the LASR to be just like that in-house," she suggested.
"And you see that over there sir?" Kaede asked, pointing to a damaged, but perfectly serviceable tank. The tracks were destroyed, and the armor had taken several hits, but it was still apparently fine. What was most certainly the crew of the 'Troll' were all taking turns with a torque wrench as tall as any one of themselves in order to repair the broken tracks. "The girls were ogling over a few arms magazines a little back. And it wasn't just the tank and tankette crews either - the towed artillery girls were looking at the tanks on market too, since the better ones can act as mobile artillery easily," she explained to him.
"Just one of those newer MBT's could take over the role of all three. Though, they're not as small as the tankettes I admit." At that, a smaller gaggle of girls approached, waving at the tank crews. These ones walked over to the not-too-distant tankettes and inspected the damage. The tankette crew women were apparently resurrected. Again. "Paragon stopped making them after going under though thanks to the dumb Neple - I mean - the people in charge," Kaede quickly corrected herself. "I...don't know where we'd find more ready to buy, but I think we can try looking at the ones left and making our own maybe."
She shrugged. "And you already saw the STV - the tankette is too small, but it's got the opposite problem. Too big. There's more I think."
Whitmoor chuckled as Kaede tried to hide the fact that she thought the people running Paragon; the Nepleslians as she almost said; were dumb. "So, what we do have doesn't match up to what's available on the Civilian market, then? I find that rather shameful, to be honest." The Taisho shook his head, briefly, before returning his attention to the Quartermaster. "Please, continue," he asked.
"Uh! Well, it's not that!" she started in a panic. "I-it's just that...well, we used to have better gear than civies. Used to, that's all. We didn't do ground anymore until recently." Kaede put a finger to her lip in thought - fist met palm with a fleshy smack as her mind quickly put together all the pieces. "It's because we've been loosing, not winning!" she triumphantly realized. "Since we were always being pushed back, we never really even got to try and take over planets like this - it was the space battles that mattered more, until now," she realized.
The Neko's demeanor was slowly changing in front of Whitmoor, who watched the Neko blush as she realized she had relaxed and warmed up to him. She stopped, paused for a moment however as she thought over something else entirely. "Hey!" Kaede suddenly yelled, waving at the crews and stepping in front of Whitmoor - she kept him partly obscured, hiding his rank badges with her own body as she called out. "How was it planetside?"
Another Neko, this one with shocking pink hair of neck length, glanced over the Joto Heisho before trying to get a good look at the figure behind her. A faint expression of amusement could be seen, but that was quickly wiped away as she shrugged. "Really shitty - no orbital or air support. We had to slog through it all the hard way, and the Tankette girls had it worse since arty got hosed down by a chef who got uppity," the Tank Commander replied. A faint smile crossed her lips as she delivered this grim news - she caught on fast and knew the game being played.
"Yeah, they took too long setting up and taking down with their towed guns," a Tankette driver replied. "And the power armor that was supposed to guard our flanks didn't have any melee weapons, so they got cut up when the Rippers managed to get close." The Neko, this one with a purple ponytail, pointed to the hole in the side of what was apparently her vehicle. She promptly leaped onto its top and clambored inside. Even for a Neko, it was horribly cramped, but she soon demonstrated what had happened inside when the vehicle had been hit by simply taking her seat.
The round had penetrated the side of the vehicle, and had accordingly entered her side as well, directly under the left armpit and behind the breast as she worked the controls. The hole was quite large as well, most likely a 50mm cannon round. It wasn't hard imagining it continuing on through her to hit the crew woman beside her either. As evidence of this, as Whitmoor peered in, he could see the remains of the 50mm slug plastered against the opposite side within the tank. "Alright, thanks girls," Kaede replied. Looking over her shoulder as the crews got back to work, she asked Whitmoor something else. "Do you want to see the Power Amors and their pilots?
Whitmoor simply nodded in reply, again surveying the damage to the vehicles before him. He shook his head at the sight. While Yamatai certainly had its prowess, and the Tankette was small enough to fit in a starship's hallway, it was plainly, painfully obvious that the equipment was no match for actual ground combat. Almost, Whitmoor regretted staying with Yamatai when Nepleslia split, but, he realized, if he had simply gone with Nepleslia, whoever might have had this job instead would have likely cared less for the ground forces, for the soldiers that fought and died - often several times over, for the safety of Yamatai.
Despite the 'miracle' of the ST machine, and the fact that death in battle was more of an inconvenience than an end in many cases, Whitmoor still wished to do what he could to prevent his soldiers from dying. Indeed, even if they were brought back, they often lost memories, prized posessions, and more. Sometimes, they could not be brought back, and that was a much harder loss, one that he simply did not think needed to be paid, when others had the luxury of coming back swiftly. Even when they didn't die, the failure of equipment still often brought pain and suffering to the soldiers. Pain and suffering which, again, could be prevented or at least minimized.
"Yes, of course. Show me what you can."
"Mm," Kaede nodded, continuing on.
It didn't take long at all to reach the power armors, but like the vehicles, many of them were not in good shape. One set of armor, a Daisy, was neatly cut in half at the waist, its remains laid out on the floor as technicians like Kaede herself were pouring over it, stripping it of any useful parts. What was left of its shield was used to weigh down a plastic sheet laid out underneath - it rapidly turned red as hemosynth began to pool, the artificial blood and flesh futility fighting against its fluidic nature.
But she didn't seem to pay attention to this at all, and simply passed on by.
Rather, Whitmoor would notice her eyes were set on one man in particular as she made a beeline for him. "Nakamura-Juni! Good to see you made it back," she greeted him familiarly. "This is Whitmoor Taisho by the way - he simply wishes to follow me on my daily run," she lied. "Regardless, if you want, I have a little spare time and can clean your sword," the Neko added - it was hard to tell if she meant just that, or something else entirely. "I know it must give you quite an...edge that none of our Daisy Pilots have," Kaede suggested, hoping the rather oblivious pilot would go right where she wanted him to go.
The Juni stopped as he was addressed by the Quartermaster, and then bowed respectfully to the Taisho, the gear worn atop his Daisy shifting slightly as he did so. The armor was fully kitted out- several pouches and haversacks hung from a jerry-rigged web gear he had custom made for the suit, and a pair of canvas trousers covered the lower half of the power armor, to keep dirt and grime out of its plates, with zippered holes allowing the calf-mounted launchers to still be used. On the modified chestplate was a second layer of armor protection in the form of a kind of canvas-covered flak jacket that only covered the front of the armor, leaving the fusion backpack unobstructed. The Daisy's helmet hung at the beltline among the pouches and sacks, and made a soft clunking noise as it met a canvas-covered LASR magazine.
The sword in question could be seen sticking out to either side of the soldier's armor, its sheath firmly attached to the armor where a Buttpack would normally be. "Ah, if you have time, I would not mind, though be careful, one of your subordinates cut her finger off on it last time I let somebody else clean it; it is Zesuaium after all" Nakamura Kai-Juni answered with a kind smile, completely missing the innuendo and taking what Kaede said at face value.
Whitmoor, behind Kaede, simply coughed into his hand to get Kaede's attention, having fully understood what the Neko had said. "What's all this?" he asked, referring to Nakamura-Juni's armor, which was clearly not set up to regulations, but had apparently survived the battle intact. "Nakamura-Juni's armor is clearly different, could you tell me why it appears to be successful like this?" the swift Whitmoor asked the Quartermaster.
'He didn't even notice the cue! Get with the program! Why does the prettiest boy on the ship have to be the most oblivious?!' the Neko rapidly thought to herself.
"Of course Taisho," Kaede answered with an awkward smile stemming from a broken spirit. Reconstituting herself, she went on to explain what she saw. "First off, he has several cloth items that act to carry additional ammunition and other bits of equipment. It's both cheap, and effective, since he can fight for a lot longer without asking the next Neko over for ammo," she explained. "Not that they'd hold back if he asked," Kaede muttered under her breath. Resuming her normal volume, she went on, "And of course, the added armor is always a nice benefit as well." She gestured with an upturned hand to the extra flak Nakamura wore.
"But really, it's the sword that I'm more focused on right now," she admitted to the Admiral, turning back to the apparently popular Juni. "Nakamura Juni, if you'd please - just how much of an advantage does having a melee weapon give you?" Kaede asked. The man was a hero, but she still crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping he'd give her the right answer. He was just so...oblivious at times!
The Juni sighed for a moment, thinking about the question. "Well, the size of this particular sword makes it a bit of a nuisance at times, but when we get into close combat, something that can at least parry and stop an enemy armor is more than useful, allowing your teammates to get a clearer shot. The use of this Zesu blade is greater still, as I can cut many armors in pieces with a single slice if their shields have already been beaten down, which is usually the case once they have reached Melee range." apparently satisfied with his explanation, he nodded, and asked "Anything else?"
"No, I think that will be fine for the moment," Whitmoor answered. "Thank you, that is an interesting development. It seems going backward can be the way forward in some cases." The Admiral chuckled at that small revelation, certainly bringing back his memories of the earlier days, when power armors were not used and the Melee weapons had more importance. "As battles in armor have come closer and closer together, the combat has come to be more like it was without the armors" he observed.
"I suppose there's a Nepleslian word for it. I believe the word was 'Medieval' but I can't seem to find the history behind the word at all - just that it means primitive or barbaric." The Nekovalkyrja shrugged, watching the handsome Nakamura walk off. "The Mindy series of armors don't have this problem at all, since they have integrated aether projectors in their forearms, but the Daisies do - talking to them, they say that when the enemy is right on top of them, it doesn't help to keep shooting anymore," she started to explain.
"It's because by then, the Ripper or whatever is swinging with it's blade - keep shooting, get chopped like a daikon," the Neko finished. "Er, it's a traditional Yamataian white radish. The really big white one?" the quartermaster made to explain, demonstrating it's girth and length with her hands.
"Yes, I know what a Daikon is, Soldier, I have lived in Yamatai most of my life" Whitmoor informed Kaede, frowning a little bit at her assumption of his ignorance.
"S-sorry sir. Uh, anyways, at that point, they tell me they run, or block with the shield. Either way, it's a losing battle for us at that point," the Neko explained, now demonstrating with her arm a block with the hollow zesuaium shield. "They can block, but there's that second blade, so it's going to come in from the side - nothing to parry with!" Kaede was now light on her feet, demonstrating how it'd come in, destroy her rifle, and then hit her. "And you know about running. We're great strategically since we can get from point A to point B faster than they can, but tactically? One on one? No."
She shyly smiled at him. "I saw some action once or twice. Lost my hand," she explained, pointing to her right one. It seemed perfectly fine however, most likely the product of either an ST or Hemosynth treatment. "Anyways, I think that's everything I can really help you with - it's a surprise I was even able to get anything out of the tank and tankette girls. They're not really my department you see," she explained, hands idly held behind her head. "But if you want, we can try pushing our luck you know."
"Let's try our luck," Whitmoor suggested, grinning a bit. "It's amazing how much your luck might increase when you have a Taisho with you." Whitmoor put his hands to his chin, thinking on what else there was to really look over. "What haven't we gone over so far, Kitano Heisho?" he asked, "You've been incredibly useful with all the equipment, but I'm sure there's something missing from the picture in my mind right now."
Kaede rubbed her chin in thought. What else had they not covered in regards to planetary operations? It took a little bit of toe tapping, then pacing back and forward as she worked on their dilemma, but the Nekovalkyrja's ears suddenly twitched as something came up in her mind. "The dropships." How they got onto the planet. That hadn't been covered yet. "I think I saw one of them kicking their craft not too long ago too, and they usually love their birds," She explained. "Uh, please, this way Taisho," she added with a formal politeness, reminded of the man's position by his remark.
It took a little longer, but the odd duo managed to make their way to the hangars. The trip was a little longer, but was worthwhile. A myriad of ships and craft of all sorts greeted them, some with bright, freshly painted hulls, while others were pockmarked or torn by weapon fire. The fighters of the 5th stood proud and gleaming - they were something to be proud of. But that wasn't why they were there of course.
They wanted to find the shippers. The movers. The people that got things brought from one place, and put down at another. It wasn't really hard to find them either - they were doing just that right this instance. Several Raccoon Shuttles were towing in a large chunk of Yamataian colored ship, bringing it through the air sealed field that separated the crew inside from the harsh black space outside. A few medical women (and a single odd man out) with some power armors dashed forward to enter the wreck.
"I guess they found somebody still alive in th -" a horrible, bloodcurdling scream was suddenly cut short as metal plunged into flesh. The familiar ratta-tat-tat of a LASR filled the odd Duo's ears as the medical team boiled out and over each other from one of the slagged entrances, followed by a quickly backpedaling Daisy. Out of the interior came a familiar and feared sight of the war.
A Ripper.
The mechanical, creature brained monstrosity proceeded to swing one of it's ghastly serrated blades at the trooper. Sparks flew as the Daisy moved to bring up its metalic shield to block, but the heavy blow rattled and unbalanced the Neko inside, leaving her wide open - the second blade came up like a punch to the gut, swiftly impaling her through and through at the waist, the blade protruding out of her back. Without so much as a whimper or cry, the Neko inside was already still and limp, the Ripper tossing her aside like a broken doll. The others quickly poured fire onto the Mishhuvurthyar machine, but its gaze - it turned right onto Kaede and Whitmoor.
The Taisho suddenly found himself tackled, blinded and brought to the ground as a horrible crash sounded through the entire hangar. The scent of burnt flesh hung in the air as fires gently smoldered and crackled. His face was wrapped inside of a softness, which beat to a rhythm and raggedly breathed. Light came to his eyes again as it lifted, revealing a terrified looking Kaede looking down at him. "T-taisho? Are you all...alright?" she asked breathlessly, pulling back from the man.
Around them, the hangar was in a flurry of activity as more marines arrived - a Raccoon class shuttle had apparently accelerated and crashed itself into the Ripper, the pilot inside sacrificing herself to protect the rest of the crew. Wounded personnel were being quickly put onto stretchers and carried out, while other triage personnel tended to those that were still quite lucid and capable of walking. A single Daisy clambered over the wreck, moving to try and get a better look at where the Ripper likely was.
The burning hulk shuddered, and everyone's ears popped as the 50mm gauss cannon mounted on the woman's shoulder boomed downwards towards the thing pinned against the ship's wall. It went on once, twice, three times until the shuttle ceased to move. "Taisho! Say something!" Kaede's voice struggled to yell over the ringing in their ears, now cradling his head in her lap.
Kaede looked like she was about to cry.
The Taisho Frowned. "That was unpleasant," he stated simply, as he sat up and brushed himself off. Blankets were comfortingly draped over his and Kaede's shoulders as the first responders sorted out who needed the most help, and the least. "I must thank you, however, for the quick thinking." Whitmoor gathered himself up and stood, holding out a hand to help Kaede up, as well, observing the situation with a grim expression. "Might I ask, though, why you chose to tackle me, ah, from a much higher point than one normally brings a fellow soldier into cover?"
Rubbing one of her eyes, Kaede stopped and suddenly leaped to attention, "Because, this is your most important part, sir!" The Neko was pointing at his head with one of her nailed fingers - she was one of the new models, that was for certain. "You can have every other part of your body chopped up for all I care, but as long as you're head is intact, we can at least try to trawl for the new memories to update your ST with," She explained. "Unless, umm...you're one of the sentimental types that don't like that. In that case, it's even more important we bring your head back," the Neko went on.
Taking a step back, she traced a small circle with a foot and glanced away - with the grease and soot on her, it was hard to tell if she was blushing from embarrassment or not. Before anything else could be said however, someone screamed again. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCKING FUCK!" The two turned to see a pilot disembarking from her shuttle, throwing and smashing her helmet against the ground in anger and disgust. "I watched, and couldn't fucking do a thing! What kind of shit eating motherfucker doesn't put guns on a dropship?!" she yelled, slamming a fist into the side of her landed shuttle. The redheaded Neko's curls bobbed as she shook her head back and forward in denial, tears slowly welling up in her eyes before she broke down sobbing, falling to her knees.
"Do not worry overmuch about me, Kitano-Heisho. I am here to serve, and if I should expire during that service, so be it." He seemed to be grimly determined about that fact, and as he was, made his way over to the pilot, taking the blanket that had been given him, and placed it over her shoulders. Along with that, his hand came to rest upon her shoulder, firmly but gently grasping it in a reassuring manner.
"Someone who knows not the rigors of planetary combat." Whitmoor answered the pilot, in his dignified, commanding voice. "One of my predecessors. I assure you, as your Taisho, I will do everything in my power to rectify the mistakes of the past." He leaned down, placing his outstretched hand under the Neko's chin, gently raising her head so that she could look into his eyes - She saw nothing but truth and determination in them. "That is a promise, to you, and all the other honorable soldiers in this fleet."
In the end however, Whitmoor had an uphill battle to fight.
There were rifles that were too frail and dainty being used by all the infantrywomen. To add to it, there was a surplus of deathtrap vehicles called 'Tankettes' to be found in inventory. They even had artillery that was slow, exposed to the weather and fire, towed by trucks that were far too large and vulnerable for their job. To make matters worse, there were tanks that didn't have enough firepower for their job. There was even a lack of dedicated air support craft to cover the ground troops if the fleet was not able. Besides this, considering how quickly the distance closed in this modern combat, the lack of melee weapons for the average trooper was a significant problem as well.
And to top it off, their transports to the ground were either too large and cumbersome, or far, far too small and completely unarmed. Whitmoor's words provided only a small comfort to the sobbing woman in front of him - unarmed, she couldn't help the people below, and unarmored, her friend had no chance of survival when she chose to ram the enemy within the hangar. It was a dirty, messy deal that the Nepleslian man had been dealt, but he'd deal with it best he could.
This wasn't over yet.