RP: SFS Service to the Free State: Glorified Border Guards

Garvey smiled as endearingly as he could to the Freespacer. "Dat's mos' righteous, seh ya. Guess ain't be no ting to worry about, den."

Pets? He was curious. Were there definition the same? Garvey got a sudden mental image of a kitten in a doctor's getup taking someone's pulse, and it was all he could do to stifle a gale of nervous laughter. Instead a constipated snrrrrk! noise escaped his lips. Before he got a chance to claifry though, Corporal Romero spoke up, and suddenly, it became go time. He, Arc, and Phase were a team now - Phase was an unknown quantity, but the heavyset, stolid Arc Vinidict was a huge relief for Eli.

"Alright den. See you on de uh, silly sausage den, Phase. Mebbe I can see one of yah pets do some tricks or sum ting, seh yea?" He smiled again. "And may I say it be a pleasure to work wit ya, Arc. Go Kangaroos."

Garvey threw a wink at Phase's monoeye, then began to pull on his armor, piece by tedious piece. In training the Golem armor had been something of a suprise to him - in the slums where he'd grew up, rich gangers had worn something similar, suits of armor made from local scrapyards and welded together by junior artisans in garage workshops. That monstrosity of spot-welded steel had been called a Bumbaclot suit - Eli didn't really know why - and even though the Golem armor was on a whole different level, he still slipped up and called it by the old terms, the old ways.

He attempted to put on his helmet, and frowned. His beloved dreads were in the way. He hemmed and hawed, fiddled to and fro, then eventually released the adjustment straps on the helmet's interior liner. At one notch from the widest width possible, it fit snugly onto his head, and he breathed a sigh of relief. His dreads could stay.

He picked his M3 rifle from a rack, working the action back and forth a few times, inspecting the meticulously clean chamber. He'd requested his M3 with a short barrel, and to his pleasure and relief, that was how the gun remained. Swinging a full-length M3 through the tight confines of a ship would've been a nightmare - the period on the end of the bad joke of his life in a firefight.

He considered attaching the supressor every M3 was issued with, deliberating carefully, swinging from yes to no several times, then with a huff, attached it. The added length (and added cleaning time later, the M3 ran really dirty with a supressor) was going to be worth the severely reduced dazzling effect produced by prodigious muzzle flash and blast - plus the lower muzzle velocity provided by the supressor would aid in the whole, 'don't pierce the hull of the ship and get us all spaced' talk from Chief. Garvey'd heard all the old stories from salty void sailors; of ships so decrepit the only things separating the crew from hard vaccuum was a few scant layers of Haze Grey paint and rust. He was going to do his damndest to make sure that didn't happen to him.

He threw on his webbing over the armor, then stuffed every pouch he could with concussion grenades, scalar grenades, and magazines. He rocked one into the receiver of his rifle (it made a satisfying clack-snap sound, seh yea), yanked the charging handle, then put the gun on safe. The Styrling .45 followed, being quickly stuffed into a thigh holster. More mundane gear was acquired - two canteens on the back of his belt, a multitool in an unused pistol magazine pocket, a flashlight, a pocketknife, his combat axe (never knew what you were going to have to chop or pry open, they were a search-and-seizure team after all), and most peculiarly of all, several snacks and candy bars that went into a dump pouch. The suit was heavy and gear was heavier, but, humping loads had been a soldier's job for a long time, and Eli was excited to finally be released from
the draconian, sometimes farce-like discipline of a servicemember in training, and do some real work.

He jumped up and down a few times on the spot, testing how snugly his gear was secured
(he'd hit a sweet spot, his gear was snug but not uncomfortable, and this filled him with immense pleasure), then waited for the rest of team Killer Kangaroo.

The sound of footsteps could be heard through the hustle and bustle of the hanger. There were two reasons the first was that as the foot steps approached, people grew quieter. The second reason was these foot steps were not the dull thud from work boots, rather the sound was crisper, heels maybe not large ones though. But the steps continued to move forward, soldiers sighing in relief that they did not stop in front of their unit.

However the foot steps did stop, right in front of Corporal Romero's squad, there stood the figure that had quieted the crowds. It was a young woman in her early 20s with light chestnut hair that was tied into twp braids that fell just past her shoulders above her rather ample bust. Her jade green eyes peered through her black half rim glasses with a rather stern expression showing that she meant business. Standing about an inch shorter than the Corporal, there was no way this figure alone could be the cause of such intimidation, no the real cause was what she was wearing, an IPG Operator uniform and rank insignia for and E-4 Corporal.

Her eyes scanned the group with a look of intent and then cleared her throat to get their attention, looking directly at Laura and spoke up with a voice that rather than thinking it frightening, most marines would probably see it as soothing. However the words that she spoke would change that voice from soothing to a very intimidating to those same marines.

"Corporal Romero, I am Corporal Linda Nelson and I have been attached to your unit to serve as a 'legal adviser' in your dealings with any pirates and smugglers. I also will reporting on any organized threats in the Free State, for 'documentation and awareness'." Though she knew exactly who the squad leader was, there was no salute and she seemed to avoid clarifying the difference in their rank titles. Those words though, not many marines could take any pleasure in hearing that the IPG would be looking over their shoulder.

Phase said:

"I could fix that, you know~" that voice cooed, head cocking. "I am good at that sort of thing."

Click to expand...

Keid straightened up as the metal fingers traced his armor plating, all LED eyes focused on Phase save for one pair that seemingly followed her touch from his chin around his upper torso. The Warmonger was used to contact by feminine figures - mostly in terms of providing for them a hulking chariot - but not when it came to open acts of seduction.

Still, his natural snarkiness would shine through. As would that blaring voice of his.

" THIS IS YOUR BEST ATTEMPT? BRASS FINGERS?! COULD YOU HAVE PICKED A MORE GAUDY AND SHALLOW METALLIC SUBSTANCE WITH WHICH TO PREY UPON THE TENDER NON-EMOTIONS OF A BEING WITH A HEART OF METAL."

Its LED eyes locked onto Garvey.

"THAT IS, IF I WERE BURDENED WITH SUCH A SOFT ORGAN THAT DEFINED MYSELF AS SUCH A PITIFUL, FRAGILE BEING."

Garvey looked up at WARMONGER KEID, now that his gear was fairly secure. He put his hands on the big metal man's shoulder (standing on his tiptoes to do so), and with a face the seemed to hold nothing but genuine sympathy. This was not the case at all.

"It's alright, Tin Man." Garvey said, "We gon' go into de woods, get you a heart, seh yea. We gon' get da lion his courage and de scarecrow his brain too, mon."

Garvey gave him a few conciliatory pats, then went back to checking his gear to cover the idiotic grin that had broken out on his face.

What is a Kangaroo, Arceins wondered as he stood and flipped open the case he was sitting on. Within the case resided a Golem which had been fitted by one of the Armorer Assistants earlier in the day – due to his extensive modifications, Arc’s armor often required a few hours of adjustment. On top of the armor sat a slightly beat up M3 Carbine with underslung grenade launcher.

Carefully lifting the Three-Six out of the case, he racked the bolt back and checked it was clear, before leaning it against one of the many other crates in their general vicinity – this one labelled ‘Rations’. Looking around to see everyone else putting on their armor, Arc lifted out a skinsuit he acquired from some naval ratings, he stripped down and put it on. There was no point wearing the slightly bulky and worthless uniform while in a suit of assault armor.

Whether he realised and chose to ignore, or simply not noticed the looks that the rest of the hanger gave him could not be guessed. Regardless, the state of his modifications soon became obvious. At some stage Arc was a triple amputee, with the obvious dark grey of his cybernetic limbs a stark contrast to the grey/white mix of his skin. Everything however looked stock, hastily fused to the rest of his body with only functionality in mind and minimal concern for comfort or appearance.

In a matter of minutes, Arc had squeezed himself in the assault armor. Without exception Arc believed he was the shortest of the group. His height wasn’t the problem, though – the Golem could be fitted for anyone between five and nine feet (for the excessively tall ID-SOLs which sometimes roamed the halls, crouching to avoid the low ceilings). The irregular bulges of his skin caused a standard Golem to improperly seal against his body meaning in some places it was too tight and others too loose. Piece by piece, Arc sealed the primary shell of the Golem to the skinsuit and ensured that the secondary shell was bolted in place by tugging at it.

The final piece of the kit was quite unusual for most marines. With the majority of the NSMC being equipped with full-size Power Armor, like the Hostile or Aggressor, man-sized webbing is rarely used – afterall, when you’re in a nine-foot death machine which can fly at a good degree of c, you can clip whatever you like to your frame. In the various pouches he shove the limited equipment he brought with him – magazines for the M3, various 40mm munitions (everything from CS to buckshot), a small number of grenades, larger plastique explosives and a small plasma cutting tool before finally clipping the Golem’s helmet to the side of the webbing..

One of the nice features of the Golem – apart from it’s small size – was the gravity field it created allowing anything placed against the surface of the armor to stay stuck there. Despite this, Arc slung the M3 over his shoulder and turned to the group in time to see a new figure arrive. Looking strikingly familiar in a dark black uniform, the new Corporal surveyed the group with interest. As her gaze passed over Arc, he could feel her trying to pierces the cloudy depths of his soul. Perhaps she would tell him anything she found, for even Arc did not know what laid there. Needless to say, the woman did not look like a combat capable soldier – let alone a Marine – and her IPG armband, heels and flashy uniform did little to improve her image. If anything she looked more like a librarian than a member of a highly secretive organisation that was mentioned in hissed whispers.

Shaking his head slightly, he turned his gaze on the other members of his team: Garvey and Dollmaker Diharmonious Phase. Garvey made a good impression, already suited up by the time Arc was done. Dollmaker Diharmonious Phase would always be ‘suited-up’, it seemed. They were both relatively inexperienced, and so Arc wondered who would command the –

Arc frowned, and growled slightly. He would command the team. This is not an optimal outcome. Their team was obviously the assaulting element with Team One holding the two highest ranking individuals and Team Three had the heavier suit that Chief Greer wore. This meant that they would have to move hard and fast, as well as be as mobile as possible. Arc wondered if Dollmaker Diharmonious Phase’s size would be a limitation.

Stowing his greens in the crate he was sitting on, Arc moved up to where Garvey was fraternising with the two freespacers. On Garvey’s back was two unlocked straps, so Arc pulled them down and locked them in place – pulling Garvey off balance. Not noticing the somewhat shocked expression on the man, Arc slowly lifted both of Garvey’s arms and checked that everything was locked in place, before nodding and offering a simple smile. “All locked now.”

Arc shifted his gaze slowly across Warmonger Keid – offering a small nod – until he looked directly at the other Freespacer. “Auxiliary Dollmaker Diharmonious Phase 46-9084-314, how do you respond to magnets?”

Garvey returned Arc's smile, genuinely. The back-snaps on the Golem were tricky - he didn't want to get into a firefight and have his armor come undone like a cut-rate prostitute's brassiere in a colonial whorehouse.

"Seh thanks mon. Good lookin' out Arc, an' may I say you look like a rhygin' killa yehself, seh yea." Garvey laughed. He stopped as the unexpected sound of high-heels stepping on steel plate rang out in there particular stretch of hangar.

The new girl (Garvey didn't give this one a greeting - the IPG was the fraternal enemy of the Marine Corps, even a boot like him knew that) looked unfriendly and unwelcoming. He momentarily caught her eye as she surveyed the group, then turned away quickly, hunching his shoulders and folding his arms as he did so. Classic avoidant body language. He hoped, briefly, that she was just there to brief Corporal Romero on some security bullshit, but that faded immediately once she announced that she had been attached to them.

Garvey wanted no part of this legal snake in the grass - an IPG corporal had hitting power way above their weight division. The corporal, a Linda Nelson (that name had to be fake, all these IPG had fake names, didn't they?) reminded him too much of his ganger days, constantly under the thumb of the gestapo-like Nepleslian police.

Needless to say, his reception of her would be less than warm. He shook his head. This was no time to worry about some jumped up goose-stepper who got assigned to second-guess the ones doing the real work. He tried to think of something to take his mind off of it.

"Arc mon..." Garvey said, pursing his lips in thought. He peeked over his shoulder, and that damn corporal was still there. "Jess what in de hell is a kangaroo?"

"IPG? MP or Intel? Cos you're obviously not a Commando," Laura asked Linda.

"Change of personnel has been confirmed. Private Mort will not be joining you and will be replaced by a secondary naval attache." Laura gaped in horror

"Are you kidding me? Who is changing personnel now?!" she exclaimed incredulously.

"I am," the AI replied, almost smugly.

"Arrglebarrglefarrgle!" Laura screamed, stomping away and walking in circles to calm herself down.

Bernhard watched unhappily as Laura tried not to go ballistic. It was a huge improvement from the sullen, snarky girl he had met ... four years ago. She would have punched the nearest object, shot the nearest person, revived them through cloning, and then shot them again. Walking in circles and screaming profanities was quite the accomplishment for someone with the intellect of a genius and the social maturity of a thirteen year old.

"The rest of you start loading into the shuttles while we wait for... whoever is supposed to be coming. And pray, pray really hard to whatever gods, dice and fictitious deities you dream up, that someone is stupid enough to take a shot at the Corporal so she can vent her anger on him."

At that, Navy junker drones rolled a ladder beside the frigate for the Nepleslians to board. But then they looked at Keid and Phase and realized that neither was able to use the ladders.

"OH DEAR, YOU ARE MUCH TOO HEAVY! WE SHALL GET A CRANE AND HOIST YOU UP!" they chimed brightly before scurrying off to get a crane and naval personnel to help them.

"Dolly! Make sure you bring at least couple Monoeye drones! You're our drone controller!" Laura shouted at Phase while she paced, trying to figure out what else to do without hopping around like a madwoman.

Eir was connecting the second shell to her armor when out of the corner of her eye she caught Arc changing into his armor. The skin suit was an excellent idea, not something she had on her at the moment but she would be sure to look into it the next opportunity she could get. It was also hard not to notice the man's build and cybernetics and had to remind herself she would be seeing more and more of that the longer she was in the military.

When she had confirmed the second shell was properly secure , she reached for and connected the right arm to her armor feeling the strong magnets seal themselves to each other. It was then she heard the footsteps approaching and saw the woman they belonged to. The left arm shell went on much more slowly as the IPG agent introduced herself, and swore under her breath at the mention of 'legal adviser'. She had never met a IPG agent personally before now, but she did not much care for their reputation. She wasn't the greatest judge of character at times, but she couldn't help but feel this one already was living up to that reputation. Or at least trying to cultivate it.

With the armor assembled she took a moment to stretch in it, she had trained in it and wore them on a few occasions , after the last one she couldn't help but feel her heart beat a bit faster as she re-accustomed herself to the bulk. A few times in this short period she would stop, slightly adjust how it was sitting on her till she was satisfied with it.

Next came the grenades, given the circumstances she stocked up on some scalar pulse, a few smoke and a single EMP grenade ,There was something comforting about holding the small but potent weapons each time she slapped one to the gravity field on her armor. Reaching down and with care, she picked up her three-six, her time at boot had it feeling like an old friend in her hands. She took a moment to check her weapon over , making sure its clean and in proper working order and attaching a sling. The next moment was spent securing a under slung shotgun to it and making sure the attachment was in equal working order to the rest of her rifle. A HHG was strapped to her thigh next , this was properly holstered with no reliance on the gravity field. Her armor was then tactically decorated with a few extra mags for her rifle as well as spare rounds for her HHG, both hybrid rounds and mass driver.

So now properly suited up and kitted out, she made her way up to the Harmonious Solarsailor “ Uhh.. Hi” she said, making her way on board. Addressing her mode of transportation was something rather new to her.

Phase carefully gauged the responses of those around them once more. A limited amount of time to react, so some will have to be ignored. They opted for Arc first. With a slow gesture, one hand tugged on the wrist of the other, pulling it off of the joint with no apparent effort. They let go and the hand flew back onto the joint almost magically.

"I AM an electromagnet," the Spacer finally said, rotating the hand on the joint. Then, their attention turned to Keid.

"Me? Prey upon emotions? I am but a simple machine, offering to fix a glaring flaw in your processes. Do not think of yourself so highly, Warmonger. You just might pop that ego on some~thing~sharp."

The last words were said with a flourish of the fingers, rolling in their joints in the general direction of that IPG agent.

"Oh, and, for your records, these are old bullet casings implanted on my social hands."

They gave a passive nod at Laura, running a few protocols to access a handful of the Monoeyes remotely. Two disclike drones popped off of the hulk and flew over to the assortment of weapons and picked up a couple scalar grenades, then flew back and re-asserted themselves on the body. Phase waited for the ladders to pull them up onto the ship, but in the meantime the Traveler Shuttle they came in on booted up in its corner.

Phase never did like the Nepleslian Monoeye drones. Such weak machines, they thought, compared to their own custom creations. But that's what a pressing need for an assembly line will do.

Linda was expecting a better reaction from Laura. "I am with Intelligence." Maybe she would flinch at hearing that, after all Linda could report her conduct. However instead Laura was distracted by the AI, announcing a personnel change. Who was it that would change in just before leaving, a naval personnel. Who ever it was, they were going on Linda's list for messing things up.

She glanced around once more to see everyone's reactions, and even though she had a high collar that hid everything below her eyes it was obvious she was smiling, at least the newer marines had a proper reaction. She wanted them on a knife's edge, it made them easier to push around.

Seeing everyone get suited up though in Golems she sighed, that was one of her least favorite pieces of equipment, it would get smelly sweaty and most of all it was the underlying frame that supported the suit's weight, it would press against her legs, and with the sensors it needed to operate, it was rather irritating to her at least. But it did make more sense to use this than power armors, the files had said this ship would be doing regular inspections for now, so it was unlikely they would meet any threats that even this was not too much for, let alone a power armor.

Either way she had to get suited so she looked around to find a golem that far her size however she put the first one she found back after holding it near her face a moment. It was the second one after giving it a similar test did she keep it, seems she was checking how bad they smelled. After grabbing her armor though she took off her uniform to the displeasure of anyone interested, she was not foolish enough to reveal her undergarments. It seems she was aware that they would possibly be donning armor so she had a black t-shirt and shorts on under it. With out her IPG uniform she looked even less like a soldier, her freckles going across her cheek and the bridge of her nose could be seen, as well as her rather curvy figure. But it was only on display briefly before she began to put on the armor, starting with the primary shell.

Arc shook his head at Garvey’s question and looked straight at Dollmaker Diharmonious, ignoring the screaming and shouting behind him. The squad leader they had been assigned wasn’t very professional. You would think that with a member of the IPG around their squad leader would at least pretend to know what she was doing.

“It is good, Dollmaker Diharmonious," Arc said, nodding slowly to himself. "Any improvements we have to make can then simply be pinned and removed. I hope you are not as lumbering as you appear.” Arc flicked his gaze over to Garvey and indicated towards a nearby pile of crates, before stepping away from the group and heading towards the area he suited up. Crouching down he locked his crate/footlocker and hefted it onto one shoulder before grasping onto another one and dragging it behind him as he walked towards the shuttle.

"Shit Arc, yeh ain't know either?" Garvey shook his head, genuinely puzzled. "Dat goin' ta be botherin' me fo' a hot minute."

He followed him to the footlockers, and grabbed his own stowage, one green seabag, and one chest like Arc's. The bag went onto his back, and the chest he held in his arms. He caught a brief glimpse of the IPG officer smelling the Golem components with obvious disdain, and grinned, a hard, knife-like grimace. She wanted to play with marines, then she has to play with marine gear.

Garvey wiped the expression from his face. Ah, was it worth it to hate her? She probably didn't even want to be on this mission, maybe she was just like Corporal Romero (who was cursing up a storm at... well, everything. Eli hadn't even spoken to her directly and she was already wearing him out). Ah, well. Remains to be seen.

He followed Arc to the shuttle, trying to think about nothing at all.

From a patch that seemed like nothing just off to the side of where Arc and Garvey were walking, a disembodied voice replied to their conversation, the voice sounding rather bored. In a rather informative tone, "Kangaroos are a bipedal mammal from certain, very limited arid environments. Jumpy, faster than they look, and they apparently kick like hell." A figure in full armor slowly coalesced out of the air, revealing a slim individual in flat black armor with a Lieutenant's bar stenciled onto the chest. The figure continued in a slightly lower voice, "Also, you may wish to stop eyeballing IPG personnel. I promise, it doesn't end well. Unless you enjoy pissing off people with way more power than they deserve, of course."

Max had, in fact, been there for a little while, watching the introductions going on. While he'd received his orders, and been given a brief overview of the mission and the personnel, he hadn't had time to really work through their information outside of the barebones brief yet, and it never hurt to learn a bit more before interjecting yourself into a situation, or, for that matter, to make people wonder how much you knew. Much easier to judge how things would fall out when you knew the situation.

He paused for a moment after that, before turning his head slightly towards Laura, who happened to still be uttering profanities, before continuing. "And I do apologize for the inconvenience, Corporal. I'm sure Harmonius didn't intend to inconvenience you, since I was already present."

Eli jumped out of his fucking skin. The voice from nothing had startled him so badly he'd lost his balance and fell flat on his ass, biting his tongue in the process. Stars of bright, intense pain flashed across his vision, and his mouth immediately tasted like copper. He'd bit through his tongue.

Great.

At least he knew what a kangaroo was now.

He looked to the side of him, seeing that a wiry lieutenant had appeared where there had previously been nothing. His armor was no make Garvey had seen before, and despite the warning about mean-mugging IPG personnel, offered no explanation as to why he'd appeared from thin air.

He'd opened his mouth to say something, and, as if fate had deigned to doom this first impression to be completely unsuccessful, a surprisingly large gout of blood poured out of his mouth and down the front of his armor.

Great.

At least he knew what a fucking kangaroo was now.

He staggered back to his feet, and not really knowing what to say to the magic lieutenant, muttered a sullen:

"Sorry sir. I mek sure it won' happen again." He opened his mouth to follow up, but... what could he say that would salvage that? Blood continued to trickle down his chin and onto his armor and footlocker.

"I just ah... I'm just gonna go sir. Sorry." Eli hurried after Arc, secretly thanking the fact his skin was so dark no one could tell he was blushing. He'd just looked like a huge idiot, and no doubt Arc would be completely unphased, that son of a bitch. Nothing surprised him!

Laura looked at the newcomer and then at Bernhard. "I take back everything bad I ever said about Sergeant Volkov. This... " she said to him and he just nodded in response.

In the end, Laura just grabbed a Westech shotgun, a can of green spray paint, and a box of 3" Buck n Ball shells. If she was going to shoot something, she wanted it dead. Since the boarding action on Rok'Veru, she had come to agree with Chief Santiago's philosophy that a shotgun was the best weapon for boarding now that NAM had come out with new 12 gauge rounds. Buck and ball provided the best of both worlds. Now she wondered what Chief Santiago and Sergant Volkov were doing these days as she climbed up the ladder to board the shuttle.

---------------------------------

It took a while to get everyone loaded onto the shuttle perched atop Harmonious Solarsailor.

The two large Freespacers had to be hoisted up to the shuttle by a crane, much to the delight of the Junker drones who watched the Navy crew do it.

But once they were loaded, the hatch was sealed. Captain de Luca took her seat in the cockpit as shuttle pilot while the Marines and others fastened their harnesses. Now it was a tedious process of checks and clearances before the frigate could be launched from the shuttle bay.

"Magnetic clamps are in excellent condition, Captain. All gun batteries loaded and primed. All capacitors are fully charged. All personnel are present and accounted for. Mr. ACE would like us to launch. Shall I?" Harmonious asked politely. Violetta raised her eyebrows. Whatever happened to proper checks and procedures?

"We good to go, Captain?" Laura asked, climbing into the cockpit to check on things.

"Y-yes, Corporal. For immediate launch," Violetta replied still trying to understand how things could be done already.

"Let's go!"

Harmonious seemed to take that as permission and a sudden weightlessness fell upon the occupants in the shuttle as they seemed to move without the same hard, rough rattling of fusion plants kicking into high gear.

"So this is a reactionless drive. Smooth ride, Harmny!" Laura commented to the Spacer. "I must admit, it is much ... more pleasant than any Nepleslian ship taking off," Violetta added.

"Thank you. It is the work of the Intelligent Design Node's diligent labors, Harmonious Solarsailor replied, "Does this mean I am not Happy Silly Sausage?"

"I never called you that, Harmny," Laura laughed, again shortening its name.

In the crew cabin, Bernhard shook his head slightly and said, "Just play along. Life is easier that way." It was ... better now that she wasn't screaming but... this was not a good start still.

"Heard that, Chief! You don't get to badmouth me just because I said yes to you," Laura shouted, turning to head back into the crew compartment while Violetta and Harmonious Solarsailor started talking about its specifications.

"Right, ladies and wannabe-ladies, time to show the Spacers how Nepleslian women do all the real work and men just take all the credit. New team," Laura continued, "Crazy Cockroaches will be Corporal Nelson and Lieutenant Keno. They're the smart people so they will stay back and come up when we find something for them. Alternately, if they want to move around, one of the Marines will accompany them at all times, even if you've got a Helashio sex slave who is about to die if you don't fuck them sideways. In that scenario, you get Chief Greer to start fingering her for you while you escort our Intel officers about. If she dies, you can blame the doctor for administering the wrong treatment!"

Bernhard was thankful for the Raider's helmet. He just sat silently running his fingers against the side to give an air of complete calm while he dreamt up ways to punish Laura when they were off duty. Then he said, "She means Team 4."

"Exactly what I said," Laura declared.

"Trade coming in, broadcasting it to the squad frequency," Violetta reported. "Is that what it's called? Trade?" Harmonious Solarsailor asked.

"Someone needs to give him a run down of jargon soon," Laura said.

"Bamfer Six to Frigate HSS 44808, convoy of three merchies in identical transports has been halted by Ulfberht CAP. Coordinates have been transmitted. Over," the male fighter jockey voice spoke.

"Hello, I am Harmonious Solarsailor 44808-5I. I am a gunship, not a frigate. I have received your message and will proceed to interdict with celerity. Have they provided any resistance? Over?" the Spacer ship replied rapidly.

"Sorry, HSS 44808, Navy AI tags you as frigate. Speak to them about changing designation. No resistance offered beyond insults and foul language. They might hurt the Marines' feelings but that's about all the damage they can do. No visible armaments. Over."

"Oh most excellent. It is good that they are compliant. It would be most unfortunate for them if they were being disharmonious. Thank you!"

Everyone felt the ship below them accelerate as they suddenly shifted in their harnesses and Laura had to grab hold of a seat to stop from falling over. Suddenly, they started swerving from side to side and spinning round and round in different directions.

"Harmonious! Our inertial compensators are not able to stand up to this sort of maneuvering! We're a shuttle, not a starfighter!" Violetta shouted.

"Oh, my sincerest apologies! I did not realize your craft was less durable than myself. I shall slow down now. I am also relaying information from Mr. Bamfer 6 about the merchant vessels," the ship slowed as it apologized.

Violetta forwarded the data packet to the Marines' data jockeys.

"Standard Smoking-Bear class transport. Basically looks like someone put a dick between a hot dog bun. Guessing its one of Wazu's designs. Central boarding hatch, gotta go in one by one, single deck ship. Meant for short hauls. Bridge in front, engineering in the back, crew quarters and storage in the middle. Hull is usually durandium so our Spacer friends can walk on the hull. We will take the lead ship, Harmonious, so that the other two will have to get past you if they try to run. I will let you know where is a good place to let us detach while you continue to interdict the other two. If they run..."

"I shall show them the explosive consequences of being disharmonious on the solar winds," the ship finished gleefully.

"Thanks, Captain. Good to know. I am really beginning to like this ship. Dolly, use the drones to scout ahead once we open the hatch. Team 2 will board first and let us know if the Keid and Dolly can fit inside. Then Team 3 will go in. Team 1 and 4 will follow in that order. Once Team 3 begins boarding, Team 2 will head for Engineering and secure it. Team 3 will secure crew quarters and cargo area. Team 1 will secure the Bridge. Team 4 will support all teams. Anyone gives you trouble, you help them go to sleep with a headache. Someone shoots you, you kill him. Now is not the time to fight like boys, all fair and tough and loud. Need to fight like girls, sharp, vicious and ruthless. Questions with the plan or assignments?"

Safe to say, Garvey was still smarting from his tongue. The bleeding had mostly stopped (dabbing at it over the course of takeoff and cruising like a worried mother hen with a rag confirmed this) but his tongue had swollen and talking hurt. The blood also wouldn't wipe off of his armor completely - it left dark, greasy smears on the green durandium plate, making him look like some kind of techno-barbarian.

Combined with the slightly manic look of his grin under the Golem helmet, Garvey actually looked fairly intimidating - far from how he actually felt, which was something closer to burning embarrassment. Though, who could blame him? Nothing prepared him in training for... for...

Stealth officers. Completely unfair, flag on the play, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars. His face took on a slightly resentful look, but he didn't look for Lt. Keno to shoot it at; if today had taught him anything, it was keep your dirty looks to yourself.

When Corporal Romero had finished her somewhat emasculating brief (the only time Eli had heard 'fight like a girl' used positively) he did indeed have a few questions, but initially kept his hand down, hoping they'd be answered by other people. However, again, he looked like the only one who didn't know what he was doing 100%. No hands were raised, no voices spoke up. More and more he felt out of his depth, and the lancing, pulsing pain in his tongue only exacerbated this.

He waited a few seconds, then, at what seemed like the very end of the polite pause for interruptions, he spoke up, raising his hand in his harness.

"Corporal?" Garvey was surprised, his enflamed tongue was having no noticeable effect on his speech. "Do we got any way of knowin' what was in de manifests fah dese ships? Like, what dey be haulin'? And do we know what flag dey flyin'?"

After he spoke he dabbed his tongue with a small wad of gauze. No blood, good.

Garvey hoped these weren't stupid questions. He was feeling boot enough already, but he felt like he had to know these things. If they all knew what empire this ship was supposed to be hauling for, and what their legal cargo was, then it should be that much easier to tell if they were up to no good, which meant less casualties.

Eir watched her squad mates load up into the gunship, remaining quiet the whole time. There were a lot of things about this assignment she didn't care for at this point. Between the logistically difficult (and odd) spacers, having several intelligence officers - including and IPG agent and a sentient gunship - to tend to, things where starting to add up to a bit of a shitshow.

She had to admit that despite it all, she was still happier here then on Malaise. At least here she was out in space and about to make a difference, no matter how little it was. She shifted a bit in her seat, pushing her weapon up on her right shoulder, the familiar weight of it giving her some sense of comfort.

She looked towards her commanding officer as Corporal Romero started to have yet another colorful conversation with the ship and then with her marines.

Eir noticed there was a bright side in the way that the intelligence officers were attached to one another, letting them skulk and plot politics among themselves while the marines did the work. She sat there as still as a statue, listening and weighing the plan as it came. For what they knew about what they were getting into, it seemed pretty solid. The precision, and hopefully proper execution of it, would give most civvies a reason to shut up and stay quiet. If not, it shouldn't be difficult for them to cover one another or for her team to move in support of any of the others.

As Gravey asked his question she looked to the Corporal. It was a good question; it was always good to have a clear objective.

Laura turned and smiled. "Good. Someone who knows what kind of information we actually need and not just there to nod and agree with me. Next time I should say that we're about to assault your mom's knitting circle. They're all flagged as Nepleslian ships but no idea on the crew until we get aboard. Inventory is farm equipment, medical supplies, motor parts, engine parts, circuits, motherboards, various other electronics garble, and mining explosives. Any of you hear anything out of place there?"

Before launch Linda had finished getting into the Golem armor as well as grabbing 3 scalar and 3 EMP grenades, along with that she had a footlocker with her personal equipment loaded onto the ship by some of the worker drones. With her armor on she seemed to be putting even more effort into giving off that intimidating air, as if she was enjoying putting people on edge.

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On the shuttle Linda decided that now was a good time to see what the younger marines were made of, she sat among them, particularly across from Private Vinidict. She had read all their personnel files before arriving so she knew about their histories. While Arc Vinidict had a rather interesting one, and there was some merit in monitoring his condition, her decision to sit across from his had other motives. He did not seem bothered by her presence as an IPG Operator, and that annoyed her.

As they rode along and Laura gave her speech, Linda had her Datajokey out, taking notes, possibly on her current impressions of everyone. Occasionally she would look up from her pad directly at Arc and then back to her data pad. Though she did not have anything of note to write at the moment she made sure to make it look as if she was pondering some serious matters, wanting to see the young soldier sweat.

However after the report of a convey being stopped what followed was sudden and drastic acceleration. The jerking and swaying almost made her drop her Datajockey and of course she wasn't able to continue her attempts at disturbing the new soldiers. Instead her focus was on wanted to shout at the captain, but she recalled the ship flew itself. "What made them think sentient ships was a good idea?" She muttered to herself as she regained her composure after the jostling.

She looked over the data that was streamed to everyone's Datajockeies and sighed. The data and Laura's response to Private Garvey really made this convey seem suspicious. While nothing seemed illegal the things they were carrying just seemed weird, the range was rather wide. She chose not to speak up about the matter though and watch the crew, only adding in some 'reminders' for the crew.

"These are supposedly Nepleslian citizens, do try not to cause too much damage, any compensations from lawsuits might come out of your pay checks." She knew it was unlikely that a successful lawsuit would go through, and she knew she could easily sweep it under the rug if it became a problem, but right now she was pissed off at a ship that flew like it was powered by combat candies and cheep booze.

Garvey furrowed his brow in thought. What did seem out of place? That was an awfully large and varied cargo, for such a small ship. He thought about what he'd say in response while their IPG attache, Linda, reminded them not to be crazy. That initially annoyed him, but then he remembered most of them were green. He'd have said the same thing in her position - unconsciously, his opinion of her shifted a mite towards the positive. Only a bit though.

"Well, Corporal." Garvey said, carefully. "I'd 'ave to say de 'splosives stand out immediately. I ain't an expert, seh no, but gener'lly when a ship is haulin' such a cargo, dat's all dey haulin'. Dey may be shippin' military grade 'splosive and just callin' it somethin' similar to ward off suspicion. Or, it may be de ting they hopin' we spend all our energy on. Hear me out."

At least, he hoped that was the case. He'd scrounged a few maritime shipping manuals from the Uhlfbert and gave them as good read as he could in the waiting days before this operation, and the information so far was coming in handy. Score one for the ship's library. Seeing as no one seemed to be stopping him, he pressed on. This next part came from his experience as a ganger - he didn't like talking about it, but again, anything that could save a life.

"I used to do de same ting when I was a rude boy back home. I'd give de sherrif's posse somting to investigate at a checkpoint - sey, if I was runnin' alcohol fo' drinkin', I jess call it rubbin' alcohol or sumting." Garvey swallowed, then continued. "It's misdirection, seh yea. Da sherrif, he look at my alcohol, he confiscate it, send me on my way, den he miss de gram of amphetamines I got in me back pocket. Dat may be what dey doin'. Dey say - let's put minin' 'splosives on our manifest, we investigate it, find out dey ain't liscensed for it or sumting, confiscate it - den dey gon' miss de fact dese electronics and motor parts ain't fo' no tractor mon - dey be for tanks or sumting."

Finally, he'd reached his conclusion. "Point is, I be sayin' de whole cargo is suspicious at dis point. What kinda shippin' firm makes a profit wiv all dat kinda tings in dey hold?"