RP Poking Around

[Commissar Farzi]

RP Date

YE 46

RP Location

Icebox

Morris struggled through the knee-deep snow and ice, likely frozen; why by the gods, ancestors, and ashes did the knife-ears always choose the most miserable places to settle? Not that your average Valhallan was much better but that was beside the point. It had been roughly several months since the disastrous conflict that had been ravaging the Norian empire, not that they really noticed aside from the abundance of work-they were rallying whatever elements of their forces they had and were saving who and what they could. Now they were orbiting a frigid world that could be, at least by the Norians standards borderline habitable that the yeoman called "Icebox". The atmosphere consisted of a thin mixture of nitrogen and oxygen, methane, with trace amounts of other gases that he couldn't name- supposedly the oxygen came from some microbe or another...though some how it was prone to freak blizzards-it'd made landing troublesome.

Not that he cared-the bitter chill from the wind was starting to bite through his hardsuit-the big man hoped the heating elements in his suit were actually functioning properly, not that it meant much here. ("How much further?") One of the juniors called, he paused for a moment and sighed. ("At least a half-klick.") A chorus of groans that made them sound like a bunch of children being told they needed to wash before supper than soldiers. ("Quit whining.") He barked, signaling them to fall in, ("We've got a colony to check out-let's move.") Initially they'd been just simply orbiting what they'd thought to be an uninhabited rock-but then they'd picked a faint energy signature-near the equator-probably one of the warmest-not saying much-parts of the planet-one thing led to another and now here they were harring around because the pilots happened to see what looked like a colony of some sort.

Honestly, he didn't know why, and didn't care-he was pissed however that they weren't dropped in closer to the colony-but the grandmaster didn't want to risk any of their shuttles if he could help it, especially with the bad weather-supposedly, ("Let's get on with this-we do a sweep of the colony, check for survivors, and kill anything that ain't human or Norian.") A chorus of affirmative as they doubled their pace.

Maybe with any luck they'd be back by supper...

 

[Commissar Farzi]

It'd been quite a hike, with one of the men nearly falling into a crag that'd been hidden by the snow en-route to the target. Morris was less than pleased, but they'd made it. What the ariel scouts believed to be a colony seemed to be a starship of sorts-a fair sized one at that. One look at it told him it'd never fly again-it seemed to be practically split in half, with the engine half sitting at a seventy-degree angle and the front ("How the hell did that get here?") Someone asked, to which Morris shrugged. ("Probably the same way we did.") He toggled his comm, ("This is Yeoman Sergeant Morris to Control-we've got what looks some kind of Norian ship-pretty busted up, over.") A pause, followed by the comm crackling to life. ("Roger that Yeoman Sergeant,") The Knight-Captain-a one Olaf, replied, ("Any activity, over?") Morris shook his head-he couldn't see anything-and his spyglass was frozen shut so a fat lot of good that did him.

("Negative, aside from a few residual sparks nothing to report, over.") The big man responded, sorely wishing he hadn't accepted this assignment as the chill bit into his armor-pulled off the Kosuke front for short time, extra pay for the job the Grandmaster Said, it was of the Utmost Importance the Grandmaster said. Important his ass, he should've just gone back to Bifrost to see his family or stayed at Port Jiyuu for some RnR, or better yet bring them to the Port. ("Alright, take your squad and check for survivors, radio check every 10 minutes or if contact is made-over and out.") The yeoman-sergeant sighed and turned to the squad. ("Let's go, double quick, radio check ins every 10 minutes.") The squad began the trek towards the downed craft...

-----

It hadn't been long before they'd found trouble; though not the kind the Yeomen would've preferred-a patch of snow, churned up and practically stained with the greenish-red blood of the Norians; likely a bi-product of the crash. ("That's...a lot of blood.") One of the yeomen remarked as he knelt to examine it-Morris had to keep from facepalming, ("No kiddin'-alright defensive formation, steady advance, just to be on the safe side; could've been the crash, could've been one of the sylphs is loose and got hungry.") That was always fun, made for an interesting hunt. ("Let's move.") As they stepped one by one, using the remains of what had likely been an engineering bay to explore the wreckage, they toggled their helmet lamps.

Norian ships were always dark, and the lack of power wasn't helping. ("Got a door.") The lead said, hitting the controls in a vain attempt to open it. ("Ashes and flame.") He spat. ("No power-probably gonna have to force it.") A det pack might've solved it easier, but he didn't know how stable this section of the facility was. ("Alright, you and the second get on it-rest of you provide overwatch.") The sounds of men and metal carried through the air as they set about their work while Morris called in their findings. ("Yeoman Sergeant Morris to Control, we've reached the ship-found evidence of DOA, either crash or possibly rouge slyphs, over.") A pause followed by the comms crackling, ("Roger that Yeoman Sergeant, keep us posted and radio if you need further assistance, over and out.") Compared to Revjak, this Olaf was a breeze to work with...

It wasn't going to last...he knew that much.

 

[Commissar Farzi]

With a massive effort-the door was finally forced open-the sound of metal screeching was far too loud for his liking-one the yeomen having the foresight to wedge it open with a large metal crate they'd dragged over. One by one they entered-Morris first, followed by the others, taking up positions on either side of him covering both ways. The dim lights of their headlamps illuminated the darkened corridor-not that they could see much either way-and aside from the odd spark of electricity illuminating their surroundings there was nothing but silence. ("Guess the emergency lights didn't kick on, eh?") Someone muttered beside him-it was the typical norian interior; dark-far too dark, semi-organic with a with the usual darkened floor. ("Either that or too damned dim for human eyes.") Morris responded, before resorting to the patented 'Iron Company Method Of Finding A Way Around A Norian Ship.' Pick a direction, walk in that direction until you find a map or someone that could guide you. ("Head to the left-might be something worthwhile that way.") For a time, the only thing that any of them could hear was the sound of their footfalls and their own breathing-far too loud despite their careful movement. For a time, all they could see aside from the occasional bit of damage was the same corridors. ("Anyone know where the hell we're going?") Morris shook his head, as they came up on another set of corridors-this one had a few doors on the side, but nothing to indicate life of any sort-no bodies, nothing..

'We should've seen someone by now.' The yeomen sergant thought to himself-hell even a sylph might've either come up to them or attacked. ("Yeoman Sergant.") One of the men hissed, drawing his attention, ("Blood splatter, 2 meters, leading into one of the rooms.") Sure enough, there it was-a slight trail, with a partially smeared handprint on the control panel. ("Alright, cover the coridors, you two prepare to breach.") Thankfully they didn't have fight near as hard with it this time around, with a grunt they finally got it open. The first thing that greet Morris was the smell-almost like someone had set fire in the room mixed in with slight undertones of copper and something else-something to do with their blood. ("Ancestor's bollocks!") Someone, maybe himself, responded upon getting a whiff through their helmets. The secound thing, and the most obvious was the corpse slumped against the shelves in the back of the room-a large heavy....spanner...hammer? What ever it was it, lying a good foot away from the body where it had been severed; almost like it had been tossed casually aside-looked like the poor slob tried to defend themesleves from their attacker. Kneeling down, the yeoman sergant examined the corps the ribcage was practically gone-practically torn out, to to mention the face was missing, though most of the organs were intact save for where their intial blow had been struck-they'd spilled out and downwards. Made him wonder what killed him-no debris nearby so that was out of the question.

("Oi, Sergant-we've got another one!") Morris immediately turned, not before telling one of the juniors to 'stay put.' Breaking past the yeomen covering the corridor, he found another body-this one dressed in the uniform of a security rating-the upper half of his was simply gone; likely taken off in a flash of gore. But there was no sign of any damage. Something sure as hell wasn't right-he gave the order to assume a defensive formation while he toggled his comm. ("Yeoman Sergeant Morris to Control, come in, over.") Static...tried again. ("This is Yeoman Sergant Morris to control-come in, over!") More static...wonderful-damned wreckage must've been interfering with their comms. ("Alright, stay alert all of you-we need to re-establish contact with the Onager, should be a comms relay on the bridge-if it still works, or if we can get a clear shot to orbit we'll radio in what happnend.") He readied his machine pistol can combat shield. "Stay alert, watch your corners, and stick together-move out!") The squad began their cautious trek up the corridor, keeping a sharp eye out for trouble...

 

[Commissar Farzi]

More bodies, more blood, more evidence of battle-they'd had to backtrack several times due to either a corridor being ruined or sealed by a bulkhead they couldn't bypass. They passed over a Krixa armor, an older model, as they squeezed through the partially collapsed corridor, they'd always been formidable, but the fact that it had been practically smashed to pieces was...unnerving. A makeshift barricade had been erected in front of the massive doors leading to the bridge, not that it had done them any good if the mess was anything to go by. The doors themselves had been practically smashed inwards. Inside wasn't much better; it reminded Morris of a slaughterhouse after they'd gutted a couple of particularly large thruoks. ("Fuck me...") A junior muttered-Morris shared that sentiment-bodies had been simply dismembered and tossed around-limbs severed and tossed, organs strewn about, several heads had been neatly stacked across one of the consoles.

The worst part was the man sitting in the commander chair-at first the Yeomen had thought him to be alive, but a quick inspection put an end to that notion-his head was lolling at an awkward angle indicating a broken neck. Aside from that he was unblemished. ("Alright,") Morris said, checking him over for anything usable, ("You four guard the door-rest of you see if we any of these consoles are working, try to get someone on the horn or at the very least see if the Mindhive will respond.") Fat chance as none of them had vesper links, but it was worth a shot. They began hitting random buttons, in hopes of getting a response from something-not that any of the consoles had much power-a few monitors blinked here and there-and one of the guys managed to get the lights in the bridge working, but noth-[["Alurs: Unaueshirosuk Usur Dusucsuk!:Alert: Unauthorized User Detected!"]] A holographic projection, distorted and fizzled resembling an atypical norian woman-her voice harsh but melodic, [["Enjaujonj sucerosw phrisicils.:Engaging Security Protocols."]] The doors attempted to close while a number of panels opened-or tried to as the the relative lack of power prevented whatever gun turrets from functioning. [["Alurs-maulfencsoin on auesimausuk kufunsu swssums-cinsaucsonj sucerosw phursinnul-Alurs, aull phursinnul loisojns nujausozu!:Alert-malfunction in automated defense systems-contacting security personnel-Alert, all personnel biosigns negative!"]]

("Well,") he said, looking at the hologram as they brought their rifles to bear, ("The mindhive's intact.") He cleared his throat before speaking, "Mindhive, I am Yeoman Sergeant Jacob Morris of the Iron Company-identify yourself." The mindhive narrowed its eyes for a moment, before speaking. "Iron Company?" She responded in trade, "We are known as Nym; What are you doing accessing/combing our ship's computers?" That tone...reminded him of Revjak. One, two, three, four...don't hit the console. "Your ship's crashed on an ice planet-we happened to pick up on it while we were orbiting the world, we were sent to check it out-been finding a lot of bodies-you know what happened?" The mindhive was pensive for a moment, before responding. "We are unsure/unable to asses/compile data-last known figure was a security alert from nineteen-standard hours ago." So not long ago, the mindhive however continued before he could ask any questions. "Personnel life signs are negative/absent/non-exsistant, odds/chances are better than 99.9 percent that all personnel are deceased." Well, that wasn't good.

"Alright, do you have comms functions at least?" Morris inquired, hoping for that much at least, "We need to reestablish contact with our ship in orbit." A pause, followed by a nod. "We have some comms-can amplify/boost transmission signatures." The big man grinned beneath his helmet, "Alright-mind patching us through?" Another nod. "Establishing communications."

("Control-this is Yeoman Sergeant Jacob Morris, do you read-over?") A pause followed by a burst of static; ("We read you Yeoman Sergeant-you're overdue-report over.") Olaf sounded worried, ("Sorry bout that, wreckage interfered with signals-we've established contact with the hive mind, though from what we can tell all personnel are deceased based on both evidence and the hivemind own data,") His tone was grim as he informed the knight captain of the situation, ("Sir, there's evidence of foul play-most of the personnel we came across had been slaughtered-like something tore through the entire ship and there's heavy battle damage, over.") A pause, followed by a ("Roger that-any data from the Hive, over?") He shook his head as one of the yeomen began taking turns passion their hands through the hologram. ("Oi!") He barked, startling them, ("Quit annoying the AI!") With an exasperated sigh he went back to his conversation. ("Negative, apparently aside form a security alert that went out about Nineteen Norian Standard Hours ago, over.") A sigh on the other end. ("Any idea of what they were carrying, over?") He turned back to the hive's projection. "Mind telling us what you were carrying?" He inquired-he wasn't expecting it to respond-but it did, amazingly, "We were carrying/transporting a number of seed banks in an attempt to preserve a number of plants that are unavailable or limited in most genetic repositories-based on limited data they are still intact in the cargo hold, destination; unknown." He thanked the hologram before returning to his conversation with the Knight Captain. ("Apparently they were carrying seed banks of some sort-might want to grab those, maybe get the mindhive out if we can, over.") Another pause. ("Roger, secure the bridge, and we'll send down salvage teams to exhume the bodies and retrieve the banks-not sure what to do about the mindhive, but we'll get it figured out-over and out.") The knight captain cut the comm.

"Alright, you lot." The big man barked, getting his squad's attention, "We've got orders to hold the bridge-" He looked up at the mind hive, "-as we've got salvage teams coming-gonna get the seed banks and possibly you out of here." The mindhive was pensive for a moment, before speaking again, "I see, I will instruct in the removal/retrevial as to avoid hurting/damaging the storage units containing the seeds." He leaned back-least it was somewhat co-operative, though it was going to be a short while before anyone showed up...

-----

A few hours later, the ship was crawling with yeomen-carefully removing the bodies-the cold had left them stiff and required the lighting of a fire to at least aeliviate some of the rigor mortis that had set in, and then placing them within body bags for transport and burial. The seedbanks had been difficult to move, but not impossible and were in the process of being extracted. Morris wondered how the hell they were going to get the mind hive out as he watched them try to move one of the banks...the large, cylindrical storage units being hooked up to a couple of portable Wraths to keep their systems online.

That was for the higher-ups to figure out, not him...he checked his rifle while scanning the horizon-nothing interesting...and hopefully, it'd stay that way.