RP (non-canon) Old Soldiers Never Die...


RP Date
February 4th, 2665
RP Location
The Sojourner. Unknown.
It had been a very long time since the UCS had managed to breach the boundaries between their world and the next. But now, with a new space-time anomaly that they decided was only ever going to be attempted once… the Sojourner and the remainder of the UCS fleet made it home safely.

“C-V-S Sojourner to any radios listening in on this frequency, please respond. Over.” Michael spoke into the handset as his ship drifted through space. Undoubtedly the fleet had made it… but something had gone wrong when the Sojourner tried to pass through the portal. She hadn’t landed where the fleet was supposed to rendezvous. Instead she drifted, lifeless and without gravity through the void in unknown space. “Put the message on repeat and keep that generator going.” He commanded one of the bridge personnel as he pulled himself forwards on a nearby hand rail and sent himself listing through the corridor. People everywhere were having a hard time moving in the lack of gravity. After all, not everyone was a spacer.

“Here… here…” he cooed at a small child that had panicked and gotten stuck with nothing to reach and grab onto. Michael sailed past her, grabbed her and gently put her into the arms of someone else nearby. He didn’t know who the child’s mother was or where her father was. He only knew that she needed help but he needed to be elsewhere. She did at least seem sated by the action and stopped crying. It was only once she’d been pacified that Michael gently kicked off another panel.

“C-V-S Sojourner to any radios listening in on this frequency, please respond. Over.”

The radio kept repeating into the darkness as Michael sailed down the corridor and stopped to make sure that his crew were alright whenever he found them. “Engineering, why isn’t that reactor back online?” he called over the radio headset implanted in his ear and wrist.

“All engines have spun to zero Captain. It’s just like last time we did this. We’re drifting and I don’t know if I can ever get these damn things back online at all much less get them running to full power.”

“Fucking fantastic.” He grumbled to himself as he grabbed a hold of the door frame that led into his quarters. “Keep trying. In space, power is life. Without it we’re all doomed to die. And try to keep this quiet. I don’t want the general population finding that out. The last thing we need is riots and anarchy aboard this ship. Still, send word quietly to the Marines in your area to start getting ready just in case someone figures it out.” He commanded.

“C-V-S Sojourner to any radios on this frequency, please respond. Over.”

Michael slipped into the room and grabbed his armor, shed his clothing and placed it on over himself. The seal quickly slid into place and for a moment he felt invulnerable once again as he was wrapped within the safety of his comfort blanket. It was dismissed quickly however. He knew all too well that the armor he wore was just as likely to protect him as it was to become his tomb.

The lights on the helmet were at least adequate to provide more sight than the emergency lights in the hallways. Boots clanked against the deck as magnetic locks engaged and Michael used his armor’s RCS thrusters to maneuver back into position in order to do just that. Once he was locked onto the deck he began to take steps back towards the bridge. He wasn’t heading exactly there… but there were a few people that he needed to check on.


“Bridge! Report!”
Michael called as a resounding boom echoed through the hull.

“Unknown contacts sir! They’ve latched onto our hull!” the officer at the command area of the ship responded just as a group of Marines came nearby Michael and the reactors winked back on. One by one they began to power the lights back up and more importantly they returned gravity back to normal. It was a relief to the commoners who assumed the clanging to be something the engineers were doing… but a relief to the Marines who weren’t going to have to manually escort every single individual back to their quarters now that they could move on their own power.

“Get TACTICAL Marines!” shouted Michael to the others whom immediately grabbed rifles and began following him down the corridor. “Call all hands to battle stations! Right the fuck now!” he shouted into the comms as the sound of plasma cutters boring into the hull as well as the sounds of breach charges being placed against airlocks clanked against their hull.

“General quarters! General quarters! All hands, man your battle stations!”

Boots thundered against the decks as Marines moved into positions for the defense against the unknown assailant. Already the sounds of gunfire filling the hallways were apparent and rather than a few gunshots here or there it sounded like dozens of machineguns had simply opened fire despite the rifles being merely semiautomatic. Smoke chased it as their attackers deployed it as a screen against lasers and to conceal their movements, the clanging of blade against blade echoed as combatants engaged one another in close combat and perhaps more chilling was the shrieking and the groans of men that were wounded which mixed into a morbid symphony of death and chaos.

It would seem that it was straight out of the frying pan and into the center of a neutron star. War never did change, did it?

“Anyone else out there, pick up! If you can carry a weapon and fire it you need to grab one and get ready to fight! If not, grab a Marine and get behind them!” he barked as he grabbed one of the nearby walls and used it to sling himself around into the next corridor in his mad dash to get someplace useful. And then?

The sound of a reactor failing and powering down filled the hallways next. Gravity managed to stay online… but the lights were out again. “GOD DAMN IT! GET THOSE REACTORS UP YOU FUCKING PRICKS!” he swore as he bashed his fist against the nearby wall and suddenly regretted it as he slowly, cautiously raised his rifle to point down the hallway. Something was coming… but friend or foe, Michael could not tell yet.

“C-V-S Sojourner to any radios on this frequency, please respond. Over.”


New Member
"GodsfuckingdamnbitchbitchbitchwhoremongeringfuckbotheringWHAT the FUCK?!" Myka flailed as she bobbed momentarily at teh top of a ladderway, pushed back by the grav field on the next deck. At least she hadn't left the dead section while moving forward; flopping to the deck like a landed fish wouldn't have looked good to teh squad of marines following behind. As it was, she kicked Pfc. Bronlyn square in the forehead as she was gently rejected from the deck above. Growling, she slapped a hand to the rung of the ladder and yanked herself closer, pushing off of Bronlyn's forehead to swing her feet to the lower rung to scramble up over the hatchcoaming.

Pulling herself out onto the deck, she sprang to her feet and reached back to jerk Bronlyn up out of the ladderway, hoisting the larger marine easily and shoving him down the corridor. "Get your ass moving forward, Marine!" she urged, grunting in satisfaction as the rest of her squad dragged themselves up through the gravity interface. One of the dangers of battle in an artificial gravity ship was losing a generator and having to navigate shifting fields under alert conditions. Tapping her headset, she snapped orders into the mic, "Damage control, grav crew to deck three, section four, port. Yes, it's STILL on the blink! Get on it or we'll be moving panicked civilians through a bouncehouse in a firefight!"

Ripping her pistol free of its holster, she sprinted after the others, slowing cautiously at the red striped that marked each interface between grav fields. No other sections were out yet, though her inner ear swam alarmingly twice as she crossed a field that was slightly our of sync. The Sojourner was a fit ship, but hard use since her last refit showed in the faulty synchronization between her systems.

Fortunately, Myka's enhanced reflexes kept her from slamming her shoulder into the wall as most of her squad had, her marines cursing as they pounded on toward the boarding stations near the bridge. The youthful redhead's stripes seemed out of place on a uniform so small. "Petite" would have been a tactful description of the noncom, but "diminutive" might have been more accurate. Half the size of the next-shortest marine in her squad, the biomech prothesis that replaced her left arm and the myo-fiber laced throughout her body more than compensated for her small size. Silver and black fingers pushed off from a bulkhead as she took up a position next to a ship's officer armed with a rifle a bit lighter than the bulky superposed-load flechette guns her squad carried. Unlike the rifle and her own evil little pistol, the flechette rounds limited the risk of puncturing hull plating, not that it seemed to matter at the moment.

Wincing as the shock of breaching charges slapped against her skin, she tapped the officer's shoulder and pushed him toward the opposite bulkhead. She moved herself to take advantage of a structural frame that offered half-cover as something WHEETed down the passage and clanged off the overhead cable runs.

"COVER! Saria! Watch that cross corridor!"

SHe barely had time to snap the order before the first hulking figure rounded the corner, hunched to clear the suspended wiring. It went down in a hail of darts as her squad's flechette guns pounded the air, rattling the deckplates.Her own pistol bucked in her hand, sending a trio of tungsten-tipped bullets from the upper of its seven barrels. The inhuman collapsed, replaced immediately by another, the darkened side-passage evidnce of more behind...
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