RP: NSS Altomir [Mission 1.2] Bal'Sharok Boogie

[Soresu]

Surveying her surroundings as she walked into the bunker, Yuriko kept tabs on the other Marines through their SAVtechs. As the ranking Marine there, the woman couldn't help but do so. She however looked to the civilians taking note of how they were faring considering their current situation before speaking to Autumn again.

"Wilde, we're going to need to turn up more than a few rations. We've got more than a few mouths to feed. Keep up the search. But make sure the woman and her kid get something once you're done."

The Hostile stomped past the smaller Raider armor-clad woman as she continued her search through the lockers as the Geshrin made her way toward Greer and Mayhew.

"Greer," Yuriko greeted, the helmet of her suit retracting to allow her face to be visible in the light. "How's the Admiral doing?"

Violet eyes went from the Private to the Admiral, giving her a curt, but respectful nod followed by a 'Ma'am'. Under the circumstances it was the best she could do due to her suit. "Once you're done with her, it maybe a good idea to check on the civilians. Make sure they're holding together. There's a baby amongst the group, check it first when you get the chance."

Finished speaking with Greer, and waiting for his reply, Yuriko in the meantime opened a line to Saveli.

"How're you doing, Marine?"

 

[Kokuten]

Saveli was sitting on the floor, staring toward the ceiling of the base. The soldier seemed to be in a bit of a daze. Yuriko got no response from the alien, only silent murmurs of what sounded like prayers. His HPAR sat lined over his thigh plating, perfectly still as it was, just like the rest of him.

 

[MoonMan]

Alex opened her Hostile and got out, walking to the closes body-bag. There she sat down on her heels looking at it. Her eyes darted over to a documentation pocket. First she wanted to know who was its occupant and how he died.

Unfortunately, looking at the documentation pocket on each bag would reveal little, as they were all blank. Whoever attended to these corpses must not have been the medical advisory of the bunker, or perhaps just did not know where the documentation papers were located.

"I would not apply LB right away Bernie," Alex said as she looked at the leg. The medic walked and turned on the Diagnosis Viewscreen that was on the wall. "Let's have a proper look at the left first." With that she started scanning the wound and watched the view screen.

With Violetta De Luca laying straight on the medical bed, the Drop Triage's limb diagnoses equipment immediately went to work analyzing the status of the Admirals injured leg.

The gnarled chitinous claw of the crab-type NMX had torn through a majority of the muscles and tissues on both the front and back of Violetta's right thigh and calve. The wounds were deep, the crushing nature of the attack combined with the dangerously sharp claw structure breaching her skin down to the very bone. The calf injury statistic revealed several small fractures in the bone, though no breakage. The thigh injury chart showed little damage to skeletal structure, but the claw had severed an artery in her leg, which was still now bleeding profusely. Bernhard's attempts at stymieing Violetta's injuries before they had reached the bunker had bought them time, but without treatment, her condition would eventually kill her through blood loss.

Violetta De Luca groaned sharply, her muscles twitching slightly as she clenched her eyes and ground her teeth, back arching slightly with each intensifying pang of pain.

---

Thomas watched the rest of the marines go own their own business, leaving him to mill about near the truck. After a while he got bored from that. The engineer in him wanted to check out what sorts of things were in the bunker, and didn't some of the marines have damaged armor? He'd check on that.

"What are your orders, admiral?" He asked over the comms. If there were none he'd make himself some.

Thomas didn't have to wait long for an answer; as soon as he had finished, Flint Vanderhuge had closed the gap between them with a few large steps, Jott Sarkis Yu trailing behind rapidly. "Right now, lizard here is going to be taking a look at the damage on our equipment. He's told me that the armory and maintenance bay in this bunker are still stocked and operational, but they don't have much in the ways of spare armor," Flint explained with a smirk, shoving Jott towards Thomas while the Delsaurian stumbled a bit before coming to a stop from the Grand Admiral's less-than-tender treatment.

"Gather up and inform everyone to deliver their equipment where this guy can apply his trade," Flint ordered, taking the time to glance over where the rest of his small marine compliment had gone off to. A majority of them were already searching and securing the bunker; this was good. "We'll give ourselves a little time for him to fix the kink out of our powered armor, but we can't sit here for long. I'll be giving everyone a briefing in two hours. Spend that time wisely, soldier."

 

[Tom]

John, for his part, remained at the edge of the group, keeping to himself after nodding in response to the thanks given his way by the civilians. He was no medic, so looking into bodybags and trying to treat the wounded would probably just waste time.

He had done his job getting everyone here in one piece. So, this moment was a proverbial 'smoke break' he had given himself, even if he didn't use tobacco. He didn't really drink, either, save for that one time where he had some by accident from dad's cabinet.

He had thought the whiskey was apple juice.

Perhaps now would be a good time to ease his restrictions regarding vices. The deep-breathing exercises weren't really doing much, especially while he was stuck in a power armor.

He wanted more than anything to just get out of this tin can and stretch a bit. Well, that and actually take a leak like a real Nepleslian would.

That was a rather uncouth thought...

 

[ShotJon]

Alex frowned at the screen. This was bad situation indeed. Admiral De Luca was bleeding heavily. It was good thing they found this facility. If not, she would surely die. Last thing Alex wanted to do would, be extracting a brain-spider of an admiral. If she even had one.

"Bernie I am going to need your help here." Alex said with serious voice as she moved toward the sink. She started to wash her hands and talk. "We will need to open the leg again. Admiral has artery cut. We will need to get in and clamp it fast, or we risk bleeding out. Try to look for blood-packs, there might be some in this place. Also we cannot risk anesthesy except local, lowering admiral blood pressure would be bad."

 

[Foxtrot 813]

"Yes sir, I can also assist on repairing the equipment." The marine answered, throwing a salute to the admiral, elated that he'd have a chance to do something he was honestly good at. He toggled his comms so that he'd broadcast to the other marines. "This is Mort, the admiral wants everyone to check up on the armory later so that your gear can have a look at." He said to the others.

With that, Thomas turned around, motioning for Jott to follow him. "Alright, let's get to that armory." He said, moving deeper into the facility at a pace that the Delsaurian could keep up.

 

[Sigma]

"Get a tourniquet on there while I hunt," Bernhard replied to Alex, still in his power armor. He strode purposefully to the medical cabinets and searched them with his trained eye. His search was narrowed by a very simple fact. Some cabinets were very obviously wired with refrigeration units and those had to be where the blood packs were kept. "Blood type?" the medic asked his colleague. He hadn't yet found the exact cabinet but it had to be one of these.

He did, however, find a sterile hemostatic clamps which would be very helpful to Alex. "Mayhew, catch!" he tossed the clamps towards her.

He switched to a channel with Yuriko to reply to her earlier query. "Admiral's still touch and go. The stuff I did earlier has broken down so we gotta stabilize her more permanently. The bone is untouched which means that the leg itself is intact. Only issue is a that she's got an artery that's pumping out blood. Once we control that, we can patch her up better. Touch and go."

 

[ShotJon]

Alex did not waste any moment, she caught the clamps and put them on the rolling table. She also put other instruments one would need there and rolled it to the table, where admiral layed. Alex put on a pair of rubber gloves and took the scissors in her hand. She cut the sleeve of admiral's pants and then pulled them slightly down. The dressing was over the admiral's pant so she could not pull the pants down just yet. She rolled only a bit of it, showing a sking where thigh joined with hop. Alexandra took a rubber and tied it around De Luca's thigh, creating a tourniquet.

"Her bloody type is on the screen," Alex said preparing to take the dressings off. She wanted to see if they had blood first. "If there is no blood at least take some blood plasma. Also we will need one more marine here to help us hold her down!"

 

[karmakaze]

Jackson leaned back. As everyone got settled, he drifted back to thinking of how he got there.
The faint scratching of the Roaches against concrete still lurked in the back of his mind. He shuddered, rejecting the memories. He shook his head, he should be happy, god damn it! More marines have come, the threat of being totally outgunned was nonexistent, and the majority of his fears were washed away.
He rustled through his pocket, removing a good sized pack of cigarettes. They were a good blend, better then the mediocre smokes that came with the occasional ration pack. He produced a lighter from his other pocket, the cheap, disposable plastic kind, and lit the cigarette, letting out a slight hiss of pain from the lighter scalding his palm.
He inhaled and exhaled, sighing and blowing smoke from his nose. He felt almost immediately more calm, and he leaned back, putting the cigarettes aside.
Another day, another cigarette, another bad dream put aside.

 

[MoonMan]

For the better part of the 3 or so hours, the hidden IPG bunker beneath Bal'Sharok was quite busy with activity. Jott Sarkis Yu, receiving help from a few of the marines more affiliated with the technical aspects of powered armorsuit and weapon systems maintenance, worked hastily on repairing the damages sustained by the Nepleslian soldiers as well as refitting and re-equipping them with what was left from the bunkers armory and ammunition cache. Grand Admiral Flint Vanderhuge hung around the armor bay watching the Delsaurian work, occasionally harrying the poor fellow with a slightly sadistic smile when he seemed to be slacking. Jott Sarkis Yu couldn't do much more than nod and work faster, but in the end, he did a rather impressive job with most of the powered armor and weapons patched and sated.

Violetta De Luca's condition was stabilized, for the moment. With both Alexandra and Bernhard focusing the efforts, the officer's worrisome wounds were kept in check. Although the immediate dangers of blood loss were suppressed, the admiral wasn't in much of a condition to continue on, let alone walk; the equipment in the Drop-Triage was enough to save her life, but proper rehabilitation and mending of the broken limb would take time and skills beyond those available to the marines at that time. By the end of the operation, Violetta De Luca was still unconscious from the anesthetic. The more capable of the 3 Nepleslian hoodlums volunteered to keep a close eye on her condition and seemed genuine enough in expressing so, leaving Bernhard and Alexandra with enough confidence to leave De Luca in their care.

The rest of the marines found little out of the ordinary amidst the vacated bunker. There were provisions available, but otherwise most of the bunker contained surveillance monitors and computers that had long ceased functioning. The soldiers were left to their own devices for the 3 hours Flint allowed them, before the Grand Admiral began calling for the marines to gather in the armor bay for his aforementioned briefing. As his soldiers arrived, Flint Vanderhuge stood in the center of the bay, his combat armor unhinged and his helmet slung beneath the crook of his arm.

 

[Kokuten]

Three hours of solid meditation, Saveli had not done that since he had been locked in an EVA chamber for his midnight snacking habits back home.

Being stuck underground had been incredibly unsettling for the Cohronl, knowing they were so deep below. He had spent most of his time silently dispatched aside, away from everyone else. Yet, focusing his mind inward had given him a lot of time to think about things. When he had managed to draw himself out and get to the center of the room where he had been summoned, Saveli had become much more calm. Yet he made no effort to communicate, his current state of mind was hard enough to maintain as it was, considering how deep under the ground they were.

 

[MoonMan]

As Flint awaited for the rest of his marines to show up, the Grand Admiral turned his eyes from the twin helicopters upwards towards the rough-hewn cavern wall encompassing the bunker. He had previously been going over his plan in his head, the very plan that he was going to present to the soldiers. However, as he went on, his thoughts increasingly drew back to the moments before the plan of attack had been formulated... specifically, from where he had obtained the idea in the first place.

A week or so earlier, aboard the NSS Vanderhuge's captains quarters...

A majority of people, whether in Nepleslia, or Yamatai, or any civilized world populated by people of moderately high intelligence, would often say that the sound of running water could be described as calming. The distinctive, unmistakable sound of the gentle flowing liquid pouring over and under, hither and fro, invoked the imagination of a setting that best facilitated this sound. Often a clear blue river, wide and long, or a simple brook, flowing gently across smooth stones as the bed of the water. These depictions were largely regarded as picturesque moments of serenity; simple in form, natural in motion and beautiful to behold and experience, enough to turn even the most sour of frowns. A majority of people would say the sound of running water calmed them, to a certain degree.

Flint Vanderhuge held no such regard for the noise itself. He stared down into the large wash basin, the steady trickle of running water pouring over the dull steel as it circled its way into the drain. Very occasionally, a stray droplet of the clear liquid fell from Flint's face as he leaned over it, platting against the metal, lost and swept away in the seemingly timeless flow. After another moment, the ID-SOL Grand Admiral put his massive hand beneath the simple faucet again, bringing a handful of the cold water to his face, rubbing it across his rough skin and stubbly beard. To him, the water wasn't calming; it was water, from a faucet, good for hydration, entertaining to swim in, helpful for hygiene. Flint couldn't really understand how one would obtain a feeling of serenity from something that, in his experience, was never calming to begin with.

It wasn't the serenity he sought, however. Outside in the living area of his personal quarters aboard his own Nepleslian warship, lounging on his large, ID-SOL sized sofa, watching awful daytime Nepleslian television programs, was one of the universe's most despised faces to ever plague a news broadcast. Melisson, as she was known, and her worrisome, foreboding presence would normally be enough for one to suddenly seek a more calm, peaceful setting... but Flint Vanderhuge was not worried, and as such, felt no need to find serenity. Quite the opposite, Flint was mildly excited; Melisson was here, supposedly, to assist him in defeating the NMX. And if she wasn't there for that reason, then at the very least Flint felt he could have an incredibly satisfying fight and subsequent slaughter worthy of his imposing ego. Flint was already going through the number of delightful sounds her head might possibly make were he to push in both sides of her temple with his thumb and index finger.

After drying his face, Flint returned from the bathroom, his Admiral's jacket slung over his shoulder, his broad arms and chest chiseling out from beneath the large green tank-top, a customary garment for the uniform fatigues. The ID-SOL cast a glance over to the back of the sofa, the soft glow of the large volumetric screen against the wall spilling over the top of the cushions, conflicting and melting away in the ambient light pouring in from several ceiling light fixtures.

Melisson was perched on the sofa's edge, paying attention to the man and woman on the volumetric screen, apartment neighbors, arguing with each other in an hallway. The alien herself was no longer naked, instead garbed in one of Flint's tank tops which she had crossed the shoulder straps to turn it into some impromptu dress.

She seemed to be smiling at the screen, obviously amused by the argument, though with Flint's appearance she got the remote and killed the image, then sitting up to regard him.

"The noises you're imagining are all wrong," Melisson idly informed him. "Pops and squishes are for movies, or tiny insects. We are more substantial, with fleshy consistency within our shells, so, think more along the line of lobsters. Mature mishhuvurthyar would be more like a cross between your turtleshells and octopuses."

She then gave an innocent shrug. "I wouldn't want you to be disappointed when you actually crush my head, and that it didn't turn out being as satisfying as you had imagined."

Flint crossed around the side of his large sofa, eying Melisson in discontent. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't sneak looks at my head," Flint said in a low, grumbling voice. The large, bearded ID-SOL trekked past Melisson's reclining form and sat at the opposing end of the L-shaped bit of furniture.

"We agreed that I would keep my messing in your head to a minimum," Melisson patiently replied, drawing each word out as if she was speaking to a child and had to spell things out for him. "You not wanting me to know what you are thinking is like me requesting that you stop feeling what you touch."

"As you Nepleslians say: not gonna happen." She finished her explanation with a winsome smile, then shrugged and added: "Besides, deep inside, you would rather I be upfront about knowing everything you think about, rather than hide it. I could. But I am trying to be honest with you. Give a little credit to the diminutive alien overlord, would you?"

Flint listened, a slow grinding of teeth emitting from the back of his throat. He wasn't as amused as she was, that was for certain. The ID-SOL sighed gruffly, raising one hand and rubbing his bearded jaw in his palm. "It makes it difficult to actually trust what you're intending to do, is what I'm getting at. When you start showing a little respect, I can start giving some," Flint said, his lower mouth hidden behind his hand, brown eyes staring over it at the diminutive alien overlord. Prior to Melissons arrival, Flint was not naturally so accommodating; it took considerable effort to temper himself against her increasingly mirthful personality. He began to prefer her previous reputation for violence. "Is that fair enough for you?"

The look Melisson returned was half-lidded with exasperation. "There is no fairness in Vakeer Takeup. There is only an understanding of one's place in the universe, and the power that can be exerted to change this."

"Enough, though. I'm not inclined to waste any more time on this tug of war," she told him very soberly, and then...

Flint got on all fours, and started doing pushups. Could not help but do pushups. It was not something where his mind was somehow convinced that he should do pushups, rather than him entirely losing command of his body. He couldn't help it. He couldn't help but do this.

As the realization dawned on him, he could see Melisson from the corner of the eye coming closer as his arms pumped his upper body up, and down... and she spun around to sit atop his shoulderblades.

Worse, his jaw, tongue, throat - he couldn't utter a word! Not even an expletive!

"All that brawn, all that muscles, all those fantasies of somehow believing that you can crush whatever threat with your raw power," she said, her voice bleeding out pity. "All that prideful posturing, turned to naught. This must feel awful. Really awful. But I'm not messing with your mind. I'm messing with how your mind control your body. You, the Grand Admiral and likely one of the mightiest ID-SOL in your nation, helpless!"

"Now I am being nasty," Melisson added. "Now I am lacking respect. Compare, and notice how hard I was trying before."

She paused and said: "Hopefully, I don't have to make this point again. Also remember, I know what you think. The nice Yukari already went out of her way to warn you I have part of me in your head. That is like, an inside job from the IPG. Your head is already home ground to me. You're at a very big disadvantage. A shame you took her niceties so lightly."

"Now, we are going to talk. We are going to talk about helping you retake Rok'veru," she gave him a friendly pat on one of his shoulderblades. "You can talk now."

Flint realized he could. In fact, he had also regained motor control of his head too. He still was doing pushups, though. Almost immediately, Flint turned his head as far as he could, doing his best to glare bloody daggers into what he could see of Melisson, her form still perched on his back as he continued to exercise. Were it not for this, he would have already been attempting to pull out the small redhead's innards out from her mouth. As it was, however, Flint could only stare at her in indignation and speak in a low, venomous tone. "Get off of me."

In return, she pulled his combat knife, and idly made to cure her fingernails. "Rok'veru," she reminded him.

"Get off me first, Melisson," Flint growled under his breath. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to give Melisson what she so richly deserved, and as it was, the most he could do to salvage something from this conversation would be to get what information he could from her. Flint's pride was about as large as he was, and it was a tough thing to swallow, but he had done it before. "Then I'll hear what you have to say."

"Keep this up, and I'll have you strip naked. Then I will make you start shaving yourself," Melisson warned in return, though there was laughter in her voice. "Everywhere. Beard. Chest. Crotch. Legs. And I'll film it and send that nice little bit of footage to the Yamataian senate. I'm sure Yui will love this."

What made this even more terrible was Melisson's known tendency not to bluff. She meant it. She was really going to do it!

The redhead bent forward to allow him a better look at her and helpfully suggested: "Talk. Rok'veru."

Face turning red with unbridled rage, Flint turned his head back down to the floor. He tried one last time to assert himself and upright his body, pulling with whatever he could muster... but Melisson held firm, and left Flint nothing but a hot face and a released sigh. The pace of his exercising didn't even slow. After a moment, Flint turned his head back and peered back at Melisson, eyes narrowed in discontent. "Fine. So then talk. What's on Rok'Veru?"

"Victory," Melisson's eyes narrowed in gleeful cunning. "You can beat the one leading the NMX there. Parzix'turas is many things as a commander, but he is mostly ruled by his spite. You can win. You will win. The difference will be made in how well you do, and how much you will lose doing so."

"Once you defeat the NMX's interplanetary forces, only one thing will remain for you to be rid of: the ground troops." She explained. "But you will find the Neo Mishhuvurthyar very effective at guerrilla warfare. Parzix will know he will have lost, but his spite will push him to make you pay for every inch of land you reclaim. He will do so, just for the sake of seeing you and yours suffer."

"The key is-" she paused. "You'd call it Tepid Fury in your language. It was a mobile command center - a floating fortress - that was used as one of the test weapon assets PNUgen provided his first Mishhuvurthyar labrats to see of what use they would be in ground warfare. I think the concept was originally of Elysian origin: what they called 'Heavens' a few decades earlier. The fact that they are reusing it against their former human tormentors is something they see as poetic justice."

"Tepid Fury is the planetary command-coordination-and-control center." Melisson re-sheathed Flint's knife back into its sheath as the ID-SOL kept heaving himself up and down. "As long as Parzix has it in his hand, he is going to retain control of most on-planet communications and planet-to-orbit ordinance. The key to your victory with minimal attrition is essentially to take away his toy."

As he listened, Flint continued his impromptu workout. Although the humiliation made it rather unsavory, the subject matter was one of interest. He knew most of what Melisson was explaining already; the fight for Rok'Veru was already winding down in Nepleslia's favor, and from the way the NMX had riveted themselves to the surface of the jungle planet, Flint Vanderhuge and the rest of the Grand Admirals had expected resistance, even after their orbital fleets had been taken care of. The real meat of the matter was how they would accomplish this, and Melisson's explanation of the Tepid Fury sounded both plausible and fitting.

"... and how exactly do you know this?" Flint asked after a moment of consideration. She could've divulged the information about Rok'Veru from any number of Nepleslian sources, but the inside information about the Neo Mishhuvurthyar's plan for the maximum attrition wasn't something that could be gathered from within. He had a general idea of where she could have heard such things, but his curiosity scratched its way to the forefront of his thoughts. "Where are you getting this information?"

"I am in the minds of many," Melisson quietly answered. "Just like I am with you. There was good cause for Eve nicknaming me the 'Infection Queen'."

Vague, but acceptable. "What exactly am I going to be up against with this Terpid Furry thing?" Flint asked, rolling his head around in its socket, eliciting more than a few subtle cracks. "What is it capable of?"

"With its communication and sensor jamming capabilities?" Melisson pondered that one a moment. "If you throw ships at it, you will lose a great number of them. The Tepid Fury has the advantage of home ground, and fighting low in the vicinity of your cities will both make it elusive and cause great collateral damage for the people you perhaps still hope to liberate."

Already Flint was mentally preparing a list of ways he could assault such a fortress. If it meant saving a number of ships, equipment and bodies to an otherwise troublesome guerrilla warfare situation, the ID-SOL was fine with the risks. A smaller force would have an easier time moving through the city; he would just use his personal guard, as he always did when the need for them arose. Flint's Finest, they called themselves. Although he wasn't too partial to the name, Flint knew his men well, and knew that if there were such a team to weather the risks of the scenario, it would have to be those whom he trusted to get the job done.

"Alright," Flint said dismissively after a moment's thought, turning his head back to look towards Melisson. She was still perched on his shoulder, slowly heaving up and down with his own body's movements, and it infuriated him. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Yes," Melisson lightly answered as she draped her body over Flint's back, perching her chin on his shoulder close enough for Flint to attempt a bite with what freedom of movement she did grant him. "You can take my advice, but if people die because you did not, it is your fault, not mine."

"Back at the Battle of Nataria, I tried to help Hanako defeat one of my rivals, but she did not listen. After the fact, I pointed out that because she would not listen to me, millions had died to her stubbornness. It was easier for her to hate me and hunt me, than to face that reality." Melisson gave a grin, showing her razor-sharp shark-like teeth. "Do not be like Hanako."

Flint abruptly shook his head side to side for a moment, caressing his closed eyes with two of his gloved fingers as though it would work away the stress. Although he preferred not to think about such things, especially when they happened so long ago, his thoughts continually wandered in the direction. Never the less, he had his plan of attack, and as the marines began to meet up with him on the armor bay floor, Flint Vanderhuge clasped his giant hands behind his back and stood up straight, waiting for the final few to come in before he began the briefing.

 

[karmakaze]

When Jackson got the announcement to meet up with Flint, he was halfway through his smoke. Figuring that he had enough time, he would wind the cigarette down to barely a stub with a bit of ash at the end. He extinguished the cigarette by tapping it against the iron frame of the bed, and got up, flicking the stub in the waste bin.
He made a brief trip to the bathroom, looking himself in the eyes from the mirror. The brief rest in the bunker did well for him, and he looked far more refreshed than an engineer should, being the typical overworked and understaffed folk they were. He knocked on the glass, a lopsided grin on his face. "Well, so much for my unofficial vacation." He walked out, hand running against the smooth concrete of the bunker, occasionally tapping his nails against the wall, until he made it to the Armor bay, in which he joined the marines.

 

[Soresu]

With three hours to herself, once Yuriko had left her battered Hostile in the seemingly capable hands of Jott Sarkis Yu with a grateful pat on the back and thank you she had found a corner to herself in which to rest. While three hours of sleep wasn't much, it felt like a balm on her tired overextended body. Fighting for almost a full day with little rest or fuel (Food, Drink, Rest.) had taken its toll.

But even as she entered the armor hangar, readjusting her cap, the green pullover uniform shirt tied to her waist and dog tags jangling against a grey tanktop, Yuriko seemed more alert and refreshed than she had. The only things that could've made it better were a hot meal, or something to smoke. But she'd decided smoking was a habit worth breaking.

The Geshrin hid a wakeful yawn behind a hand as she arrived, snapping off a salute to Flint as she spotted him and seated herself near by.

 

[ShotJon]

Alexandra did not get any time to either meditate or sleep. She was busy in med-lab. The orange-skinned clone was very very tired now. If they were to get anywhere soon, she would have to take a stimulant. She did not like those, since they made you feel like shit later, but it seemed there will be no choice.

Alex joined everyone else in the room, giving Vanderhuge a silent salute, before she sat herself next to Yuriko. She had a cup of very very strong coffee which was her only hope of making it through the briefing without nodding off.

 

[MoonMan]

After a short wait, the marines had assembled before the Grand Admiral. Jott Sarkis Yu was also present, hurriedly tapping away at one of the maintenance consoles at the end of the armory, making final checks and preparations for the power armors hanging opened and connected to the numerous armor docks around the platform. Flint Vanderhuge himself was standing before a small table, which had had apparently wrenched from its original position somewhere in the bunker, if the torn and bent metal and wiring running from the bottom to an unseen corner of the armor bay were any indication. The ID-SOL glanced over his assembly once more, nodding in approval as he ran a hand over his short beard and began to speak.

"Alright boys, listen up," the Grand Admiral spoke sternly, a menacing flash running across his eyes. "What you're all about to hear is hush. High-ranking stuff. Need to know basis information. However, seeing as my previous marine platoon is either dead or MIA, you can all consider yourselves temporarily in that Need To Know category. So. Congratulations, soldiers; you've reached a level above expendable."

Flint finished his heady sarcasm with a wry grin, looking down at the small table at his side and touching a few of the panels with his massive fingers. Above the misplaced table, a volumetric image began to flicker into view, displayed by a number of small projectors on the table itself; it would seem that Flint had "borrowed" a volumetric device from one of the bunker's command rooms for use in the armor bay.

The volumetric image faded into view fairly quickly, revealing a wire-frame map of Bal'Sharok from an upward angle. The data must have been old, however, or not actively updated, as none of the buildings or areas of the city showed signs of the war happening above them. The taller buildings amidst the smaller structures created a visible contrast, and the wireframe model provided a lot of visual depth to the city that was not normally visible. The very nature of Bal'Sharok's ridiculously inhospitable natural flora and fauna required space to be utilized efficiently; navigation between buildings ended up looking like a complex maze rather than a simple Nepleslian street.

"I'll give it straight, boys. Our mission is to kill the thing that killed us," Flint started again, raising his attention from the panel to the volumetric image. He pointed towards the skyline above the wireframe image of Bal'Sharok, signifying the orbit. "As most of you know, a lot of 1st Defense Fleet vessels sending ground support to the surface were recently shot down by an unknown source within the city. As it turns out, I know what this source is," Flint said with a sly smirk. "And I know where we can get at it."

Flint turned his full attention towards the marines, clearing his throat before continuing on. "No pictures, though, so you'll just have to use your imaginations. Long and short of it is this;" the massive ID-SOL explained, using his hands a bit to create a better interpretation. "NMX have developed a low-flying ship that is anti-orbit capable. The damn thing is designed specifically for being able to traverse through the lower rungs of the city, through structures and such to avoid detection. 1st Defense Fleet didn't even know it was there until it was bringing down our vessels. And I have reason to believe that it has every intention of continuing to deny the low orbit around Bal'Sharok until either we give up, or it runs out of gas... and I am not keen on either."

Flint paused for a moment to see if any of the marines were lost in the explanation.

 

[Sigma]

"Can't we just ask the fleet to saturate the area with orbital munitions, sir?" Bernhard asked. "If we have this data, surely we can send it up to the closest ship and have them sit outside its range and drop some rocks on the damn thing. Then we go in and kill any survivors."

 

[MoonMan]

"Stealth capabilities, marine," Flint replied with a simple shake of his head. "Although I'm not certain, I'm fairly sure that this NMX ship is the source of the communication disruption, which makes it impossible to get a bead on it from high orbit. This thing was made specifically for this exact purpose; hiding out for as long as possible, denying us low orbit above the capital. Safest estimated drop range to avoid the damn thing is several kilometers... and moving through that jungle, our soldiers won't come through without spending most of their ammo. Rok'Veru wilderness is harsh stuff."

"We can't just glass the city, either. Too many assets here. I'm guessing the squids know this and are abusing it. What they don't know is that we know what they have."

 

[Soresu]

"If it's designed to move through structures, it must have Phasing Technology similar to the Ghost-Type Mishhuvurthyar. Makes them invisible to most sensors and nothing short of Trans-Phasic weaponry can harm them. Likely has to drop that everytime it fires though or it'd be out of phase. Meaning it'd be solidified."

Yuriko rubbed her chin before crossing her legs. Having managed to find a chair, the woman had sat down almost immediately and had been paying close attention to the briefing.

"That, or it's a skinny bitch and just comes equipped with your run of the mill NMX stealth systems and is maneuverable as hell."

 

[MoonMan]

"Smokey here gets it," Flint replied to Yuriko's observation, casually throwing pointed finger towards her to emphasize her participation. "The ship was built to easily evade and maneuver through Rok'Veru's structures. I don't know for certain, but the intel I've received suggests a serpentine design. The biggest advantage we have in our favor, though, is that I know where it will be in the next hour," the Grand Admiral continued to explain. his previous words sounding aloof and unconcerned up until his next subject matter.

The ID-SOL's smile turned a bit as he paused for a moment, casting another glance around the room. His compliment of soldiers was notably small in comparison to what he would have preferred. "But it isn't all good. Trouble is, with what we have in terms of manpower and equipment, I doubt we'll be able to wrest control of the helm of this NMX ship in order to disable it," the bearded giant said in a slightly cautionary tone. "They no doubt have most of their bases covered. The bridge and ship systems will be protected, and intelligence suggests a whole platoon of NMX armor riding the damn thing. The size of the ship suggests it wouldn't take long for the whole damn thing to respond to specific threats. They outnumber us and they outgun us, which makes a direct attack on any essential component nearly impossible."