RP: NSS Acadia [Mission 2]: Brotherhood and Sisterly Love

"Duty calls," Harrison said to no-one in particular as he suited up in his FIRE1. Calibrating his systems quickly and checking his aiming reticle to make sure he was perfectly zeroed in, he stomped over to the breach as well. Activating the less plentiful, less powerful thrusters on his FIRE1, the artillery support pilot edged his way out into space after Fian's white AIR armor.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Using small 'puffs' of his thrusters, Harrison adjusted his outward drift and aimed himself towards the Chief. Mentally, he prepared himself for the chastising he was about to recieve.

At the end of the briefing Talbain stayed in the briefing room going over the facts of what the Chief had said and studying the ships floor plans thoroughly. The concerns about the situation being a trap seemed unlikely to him. The pirates had lost a ship in order to get the NSS Emden and a stealth gunship seemed like too much of a good haul for pirates to risk losing it before they could use it properly. The ID-SOL reached the conclusion that the pirates were probably waiting for a rendezvous with allies or the ship that had been destroyed on Golding. Still he was uncomfortable with the general lack of information that they had, though he couldn't fault the Chief for it since Chief Vel Steyr had shared all the info he had.

Cracking his neck Talbain got up out of his chair and went to the PA bay searching for an Aggressor to outfit for his part in the mission. As luck would have it he found the very one he had been using on Golding. Obvious by the cosmetic damage it had taken during the previous operation. Starting up the armor Talbain ran it through it's maintenance checks and started to work on preparing the shoulder mount to be used for storage.

The Chief had soon found his way into the ship's armory after the briefing, having to weave his way through the large amounts of Marines there that were slated to board the target ship without armor. Naturally, the small stock of CQBS-A2 shotguns that were rushed onto the ship were nearly depleted by the Marines that had managed to beat the Chief to the armory, so the Chief was forced to choose from 2 strangely worn-looking shotguns. Apparently the armorers had a bit too much fun with these firearms before registering them onto the ship.

"Model CQBS-A2....Serial number 234220.....9 inch barrel...12 gauge...this is really all the shit the armorer should fill out." Ran spoke to himself while filling in the required information pertaining to the weapon he was requisitioning from the armory, moving on to fill out several questions regarding his rank, name, and current ship placement. When it was all done, the Chief picked up 3 box magazines containing 00 ammunition, and 1 magazine that he loaded up with slugs.

With all of this done and the box magazines stored in his cargo pockets and one locked into his weapon, the Chief made his way to the Power Armor bay, not particularly enjoying the feeling of having to stuff box magazines so awkwardly into his pockets. "We seem to be doing more boarding operations that don't require armor..." The Chief entered the bay, and quickly made his way over to the Quartermaster, who he recognized was dealing with Henry Morrison.

"You've got the right fucking idea in buying that gear, Morrison." The Chief had sighed, taking up a datapad and placing an order for a Murr seat, minus the helmet. "It's a bit of horseshit that we have to buy this shit for ourselves, especially since this is going to empty my account completely." The Chief had decided to get the full set of armor, minus the helmet.

"I'm pretty fucking lucky the military provides me with food and shelter." The Chief sighed as he watched his account show "250 DA", and with a heavy heart the Chief changed right there in front of the quartermaster, who looked extremely distressed from it all happening. With the suit on, the Chief placed the box magazines in the four pouches, and crammed his datapad into the left arm pouch.

Phaedra made her way towards the armory, but then stopped short. It occurred to her that Squad Gamma was going to be training in the hangar very soon. She turned on her heel, returned to her room, grabbed the duffle sitting near her bunk, and then entered the hallway again. Phaedra glanced around sheepishly, hoping no one saw her forgetful action.

Phaedra found her way to the armory, located near the hangar. She browsed the selection of weapons available and then requisitioned a GSAR-M1. Phaedra smiled slightly when the quartermaster handed her the weapon; she had used it frequently during basic training, and it had a comfortable familiarity to it. Plus it was powerful and accurate; exactly what counted in a firearm as far as Phaedra was concerned.

Phaedra noticed several familiar faces milling about the hangar, including Chief Ran who was in charge of Squad Gamma. Hefting the GSAR and its ammo, she headed towards the locker room. She set the weapon and ammo onto one of the benches and then swung the duffle off of her shoulder. Zipping it open, Phaedra removed her suit of Styrling Murr combat armor, painted neutral grey with large brown and green geometric splotches. Painted by hand on the chestplate was the name "Wolf" in white letters. Phaedra smirked slightly at the name, her friends from her batch unit had given each other nicknames, and she had been affectionately named Wolf. After all, it was what Volkov meant.

Her mind flickered back to her training, but quickly recalled the last thing she ever wanted to remember. All too familiar voices shouted at her.

Failure

Useless

Murderer

Phaedra closed her eyes and shook her head, the dark memories vanishing as quickly as they had come.

"You can't change the past, stop letting it control you..." Phaedra thought to herself as she slipped on the armor. It fit snugly and she flexed her limbs and hands to ensure her flexibility. Satisfied, Phaedra placed four of the magazines she had been given into the pouches on the belt and then slammed the last mag into the GSAR. She tossed the duffle and beret into the nearest locker and then strode towards the hangar, carrying the GSAR with her left hand.

Phaedra approached Chief Ran. Conscientious of being an annoyance, Phaedra stood at ease next the Chief and spoke.

"Phaedra Volkov reporting, sir."

Henry sighed. It had been a while since he'd bothered to update his bank records, and he was probably stony broke, or at least struggling after his big purchase. Wanted to make it last.
Note to self, update bank records, Henry thought to himself.

"Too - true, chief." He replied solemnly, shrugging but sighing with a smile, "I cannot ask for more, than a roof - and food, and... company."

While he waited, he flicked open a his notepad, looked at his left wrist, noted Ran Rui stuffing his datapad in to his left wrist, and drew a few small, sketchy diagrams for what looked like an enlarged wristwatch which stretched to the forearm.
It was equipped with a small keyboard, a communicator and a flexible monitor on the back of the hand, and a scrolling wheel on the palm, when activated.
He made a few other designs, with hologram displays or voice activation, or a changed layout, among others.

Should capitalise and refine this. He thought to himself.

"All right." Fian started. Seemingly oblivious to the scolding he was supposed to be giving. "The landing portion of the operation is going to be very tricky on the FIRE1, so I figured you need a headstart."

He then spun Harrison's machine to face the Hangar doors with a gentle nudge from his P/p and then boosted forward to grab the suit from behind on both shoulders. "We are about 2000 meters from the bay, hit your boosters for the first 1000, cruise for the next 500, then full reverse on the last 500. Hit the deck at a 30*Degree downward elevation to take advantage of the friction to slow you down. The M3 is top heavy so remember to tilt a little backwards as you land or you'll turn head over heels."

"Don't force the suit if you can't slow down fast enough on your first try, keep flying through the hangar and come out on the other side, ready?" The Master Chief would give a P/p field boost once the P1C gave the okay.

"Born ready, Chief." Harrison said over the COMM opened between himself and his XO. It wasn't the first time he had attempted such a landing, just the first time in a ludicrously long amount of time. And even then, the last time he had been using a Cyclone...

Harrison shook his head, expelling thoughts of doubt from his mind. Laying into the thrusters and setting his rangefinder on the Acadia's hangar bay door, the ex-merc kept a careful eye on his rangefinder. At the 1500 mark- there and gone in a split second- the ex-merc backed his thrusters down to 50 percent. At 1250- again, flashing past in record time- Harrison backed down to 25 percent.

When he hit the 1000 barrier, he jammed all thrusters to the off position and immediately felt a drop in momentum. Still remaining vigilant as the 500 mark drew ever closer, Harrison made several brief course adjustments to bring himself back onto target. With course deviation still within acceptable range, Harrison watched as the digits drew into the 600s, then checked his velocimeter (ASIDE: is there such an instrument as a velocimeter or am I just making things up?).

At 500, he hit full reverse burn. Feeling his body pressed back against the cushioning gel-layer interior of the M3's cockpit, Harrison watched as the Acadia's hangar loomed close in the distance. The ex-merc silently began reading off the distance in 50-yard increments. Finally, it became time. Coming in at a 30-degree angle, just as Fian had said, Harrison bent his knees and hit. With thrusters flaring and his boots skittering across the Acadia's floor, Harrison drew to a stop just before the end of the hangar and quickly regained his footing, looking around the hangar in stunned silence.

"Hey, Chief, I made it down alright. It wasn't pretty, but I'm still on my feet." He turned back towards the hangar door and moved towards it, slowly lifting off. "You want me to head out and try it again, or no?"

Fian following close behind Harrison, just in case the ex-merc needed P/p field intervention like back in Golding. The invisible tractor beams threw up spanners, screws and other random small objects that some irresponsible marines left on the runway. Parts of the AIR2s skirt armor raised itself to bring its many vernier thrusters to bear. His landing was over even before he was halfway through the hangar. Props to the Master Chief's skill with the venerable M1 and the highly manoeuvrable AIR2 itself.

Though, it looks like Harrison's skill in the M3 was no less equal. "Nice landing, asshole." He then smacked the ex-mec on the back of the head. "Do it 10 times more, then fix up your suit for the mission."

He then turned on his loudspeakers to address the marines in the bay. "Everyone else, do it until you get it right twice in a row." The details of the training exercise was then displayed on the HUDs of all the suits. Fian himself took position near the hangar doors in a supervisory and emergency response role.

Harrison obliged. The landing had been fairly simple the first time, if not the easiest task he had ever been ordered to perform in the service of the Nepleslian military. So, simply put, he boosted out of the hangar and started over.

He did the required nine runs, and on the tenth run cooked up a little something special. Drawing in close to the hangar, within 250 feet, he reversed thrust on half of his thrusters, turned himself around and brought himself in backwards. Still keeping on the reverse (in this case forward) thrust, Harrison slowed down within acceptable limits. Going through the outer barrier, his feet lightly tapped against the sterile gray floor of the hangar, knocking a few round-domed cleaning robots out of the way. Dragging his feet, he actually began to slow down a bit. Eventually, he slowed to walking speed.

But no, the ex-merc wasn't done there. Moving in a backwards shuffle, rotating his knees and ancles in a gyrating movement, Harrison moonwalked his FIRE across the hangar, executed a booster-assisted 360 degree high-speed rotation and pelvic-thrusted towards the ceiling. "HOOAH!" the ex-merc shouted as he began powering down weapons systems and set about running the diagnostic program while he laughed through the COMM. "Well, that was a real thriller." The old soldier chuckled.

Ran nodded at Morrison's response, taking the magazine out of his A2 and cycled the bolt back and forth, making extra sure that he didn't pick out a shitty gun back in the armory. Satisfied, the Chief placed the magazine back into the gun and lowered it, barrel pointing down. "Still, you have to wonder why the Marines wouldn't develop some sort of gear for us." The Chief pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, put it in his mouth, and lit it one-handed, shooting some smoke out of his nostrils. "But I guess if they keep us happy and content, we'd never be ready to kill someone."

The sound of a Marine reporting for duty stole his attention from Morrison, and he turned to meet one of the newer Marines on board the ship. "Volkov." He said once, making sure that he'd be able to associate the name with the face. Puffing more smoke, he then reached into his pouch and pulled out his Datapad, accessing the service record of Phaedra. "Looks like you came in after the KO...good to know I have someone who can maintain weapons" But the Chief's real interest was in her specialized training with precision weapons.

"So you're the little sharpshooter that tagged those dipshits back on shore leave." The Chief noted that Volkov had a GSAR with her, and just nodded. "I'm gonna put you on point for this mission. That's something that you can handle, right?"

"Didn't die in the WATER or get permanently injured, so I'm sticking with what I'm familiar with." Amelia was fiddling with her datapad as she entered the armory, just about walking into Chief Rui again, she managed to stop herself just in time. Again. She had to stop doing that. Her eyes flicked over to Phaedra. "You ok? You look pale. Well... paler than usual I mean." Like she was one to talk.

She had already retrieved the Muur plate armor that she had used in the previous mission, which now had a dent in between the two chest plates from being shot. It wasn't overly damaged in any way though, so it functioned just fine.

"You can count on me, Chief," said Phaedra with a firm nod. She pulled the GSAR strap over her head to suspend the assault rifle on her right side. She then lightly fingered the grip with her right hand, ensuring the weapon could be used unhindered. She looked up from her adjustments just in time to see Amelia enter the armory and nearly run into the Chief. She also happened to be wearing a suit of Muur body armor.

Phaedra was rather suprised at Amelia's comment, but it was not betrayed by her expression. She truely was impressed that her newly found friend would notice such a minute change in her appearance.

"I'm fine," said Phaedra quickly. "Just...bad memories."

"So," she said changing the subject, "I guess I should find out what Power Armor I'm using for the boarding action. I think I saw a HOSTILE somewhere in the hangar."

But even while she spoke, Phaedra felt the slightest tremble in her left arm.

With the VOID fully armed and cleaned, Viktor hopped in and was running the basic diagnostics when a screen popped up. He was perturbed at first, expecting to read a warning message or a problem alert; instead, it was a routine the MC wanted him to practice. He hadn't been paying attention to anyone else in the hangar up to this point, but now that he looked he realized that he wasn't the only one receiving this image.

Private Kingston closed it and completed the diagnostics. Everything was good, but with only one fusion mortar on the backpack, the weight distribution was really off. He'd have to remember that for later, especially for the little landing practice Vel Steyr had requested everyone perform. It was all up to snuff as far as he was concerned.

He enclosed himself in the suit and gave it some time to warm up. Once ready, he took a deep breath and approached the hangar door. Standing there, he tried to work out a plan of action in his head. He didn't want to strain the left side more than he had to; perhaps if he hit it an angle with his left side forward it would shift some of the weight to his back leg.

"Might as well," he mumbled to himself and leaped. He was able to keep the angle and rotation the way he wanted for the first half of the jump, but as soon as he had to put on the rear thrusters, things got a bit ugly. His right side was still attempting to compensate for a fusion mortar that wasn't there. The VOID began to twist. In an attempt to correct his fall, Viktor cut the thrusters on the right side for a second, and performed this maneuver thrice within a six-second span. He was almost realigned properly, but with the lack of reverse thrust, he was coming in a bit fast. He kicked the boosters up a couple notches to compensate. The landing was steeper and faster than it should have been. The Powered Armor held fast, but the left leg felt strained and the pilot brought up the mechanical readout really quick. The readings were similar to what he'd expected: a lot of stress, but no real damage.

He took a deep breath. "Well, that was fun." Looking up toward the hangar, he searched for any signs of Fian's AIR2, wondering if the Master Chief had seen him almost scrap the landing.

Trey, who was by this time running tests inside his hostile (the canister rigging on the arm now complete) Decided that Harisson was being a bit over-the-top for a Marine, and decided to put him in his place for the moment, Running up his PPP and tugging quickly on the FIRE1's left ankle, pulling it backwards suddenly, Hoping to catch the Marine off Balance.

"Opps" He muttered over the Comms. "I guess I'll have to recalibrate my PPP" The former tech sentry said, trying to play it off as an accident. He then went about the rest of his diagnostic routines as if nothing had happened.

Harrison was still moonwalking around, just for the hell of it. Yes, it was irrational. Yes, it was childish. But it was also the more fun than one should be allowed to have while in the cockpit of an artillery support armor. So, as necessary, he continued moonwalking towards his parking space, occasionally blurting out a high pitched "hee-hee" to the chagrin of the assorted marines in the PA bay.

He suddenly noticed a change in his balance. That feeling of vertigo when one is hurtling face-first towards the floor, not entirely unlike what happens when they're tripped. He realized all too late that he hadn't tripped, but instead was tripped. So he tried to spit out a last few words, equating to "Son of a bitch" before hitting the floor, but he didn't get very far.

"SON OF A BI-" And face hit floor. Harrison floundered as the FIRE's PAL held the front of the ELEMENT suspended barely above the floor. Grumbling, he heard Trey admit that his PPP needed calibration. "Yeah," the ex-merc said, "Best see to that." And then he stood and stomped off, a little worse for wear but still in a good mood from his moonwalking tour.

Fian was recording Harrison's skilled landings for future reference and to create an autopilot configuration for the less M3 proficient. The first nine laps was good material, the last one with the moonwalk put a sheepish look on his face. Performing the 10 laps was all he could ask for, but theoretically being a punishment for the briefing room outburst, the ex-merc shouldn't be enjoying it. The Master Chief made a mental note to look up better disciplining techniques.

Trey's little prank was a bonus. It didn't dampen Harrison's spirits, but it made the MC chuckle.

The next hour and a half was a lot of screeching and slamming as the marines took turns to perform the exercise. While difficult, it wasn't beyond what was expected of a normal PA pilot. Most got it done on the first try, some needed some P/p rescuing. Fian talked to the more skilled pilots in AIR-Rs and Hostiles to keep an eye out for them during the operation. He didn't directly complement the ones who performed it well, but simply noted their names down, one of these being Private Kingston for doing it in additionally tricky circumstances. The ones who didn't, he handed them cheat sheets in the form of autopilot data. It was regrettable he didn't have the luxury of time, but the show must go on.

Some of the soldier's in Ran's squad started streaming in for a go. There was still a bit of time before the scheduled jump into subspace. Those who have done it could do it again, but they were otherwise dismissed.

It was hard to tell if Master Chief Vel Steyr had seen his awkward landing, seeing as how there were several AIR units out and about, also practicing the maneuver or waiting for others to get out of the way so they could make an attempt. So the Private shrugged it off and boosted back up to hangar entrance for a second go. He first brought up the performance data of the last two minutes, saved it as an autopilot procedure entitled 'Emden Landing,' and made some adjustments.

His second take was much smoother and in fact, there were hardly any adjustments needed. Still, he took note, made slight changes to the landing protocol, and when he went for a third run it fit the bill near as perfect.

Phaedra approached one of the HOSTILE power armors standing inert in the hangar, stopping several feet away and starting up at it. The armor loomed over her like beast, ready to devour the rest of her flesh that wasn't already missing. Her heart pounded against her ribcage and her left arm continued to tremble. Phaedra's brow was furrowed and her expression slowly turned into a grimace.

"I can't be held back. I can't appear weak. I can do this!" Phaedra thought resolutely to herself.

She took a step forward, and that was when the pain returned. Sweat appeared on her forehead as Phaedra felt phantom pain from limbs that were taken from her. Her nerves sang in agony, yet she did not cry out.

She took another step forward. She relived the training incident vividly, smelling the smoke, the burning flesh; hearing her comrades, her friends wail in surprise and horror. Walls of fire surrounded her. It was too much. She wanted to escape the world of light, to succumb to the darkness of sleep. Phaedra wavered on her feet.

"NO! I WON'T LET THIS CONTROL ME!!" she shouted in her mind.

She pushed through the walls of fire, only for her hands to suddenly reach a solid surface. Phaedra blinked and the fires and the darkness were gone. She no longer heard the screams. She felt the hardened armor of the HOSTILE cautiously, like petting a wild lion.

To anyone who had seen Phaedra approach the HOSTILE, it would have appeared that she nearly tripped before catching her balance on the front of the power armor. Phaedra would rather have her comrades think that than discover she was a coward.

She moved her left hand higher, activating a switch and causing the top of the armor to open like a hungry maw. In her mind's eye, she saw the armor move of its own accord; Phaedra heard the armor growl, beckoning her inside.

Suprisingly calm, Phaedra climbed into the armored cavity and relaxed slightly as the suit adjusted to her size. When the armor sealed itself shut again, Phaedra felt the briefest pang of claustrophobic fear. In the short moment before the HUD activated, Phaedra was immersed in stifling darkness. She simply shut her eyes and grimaced until light from the HUD flooded onto her face.

Phaedra flexed and stretched carefully, getting accustomed to the armor. She felt it move fluidly with her movements and began to stride towards the rest of Squad Gamma peparing for their test jumps.

Rapidly recovering from his face-to-face excursion to the floor, Harrison was now doing the same as Viktor, using his spare time to program a rudimentary function that would bring him to a halt aboard the Emden without the moonwalking bit. He looked up from his programming work just in time to see Phaedra seal into the HOSTILE armor across from him. Finishing the application with a few deft key-strokes, Harrison stomped over to Phaedra and opened up a COMM to the panick-stricken grunt.

"Hey, look who's up and walking in her tin can." Harrison said over the private COMM. "I thought you were afraid of that kind of thing." The ex-merc said casually before smiling inwardly. "Either way," he continued, "I'm rather glad to see you've gotten over it to some extent."

"Thanks Will," came Phaedra's voice from the other end of the private COMM. Her voice was rather quiet, and sounded somewhat strained.

"I...I knew I was going to have to face my fears eventually...It was forced upon me sooner than expected. I think it may have been for the better though; I feel that I have overcome my fears for the moment at least. But I don't want to be in this thing anymore than I have to; as soon as I board the Emden I'm out of this thing."

Phaedra paused as she shifted her weight, placing an armored right hand on her armored right hip. Phaedra made the mannerism without realizing it, which was a good thing for her considering how ridiculous it looked; not quite as ridiculous as doing the moonwalk and pelvic thrusts while wearing powered armor, but ridiculous nonetheless.

"Well...got any tips for a rookie power armor pilot?" said Phaedra, some of the strength returning to her voice.