RP Concluded The Cohort's Arrival

[Commissar Farzi]

RP Date

YE 45.1

RP Location

Outer Jiyuu System

(OOC): Knuckleheads have arrived!

Space is a vast place, and deceptively tranquil at that-in fact the lights of what many would see as stars may have long ago burned out to a point that not even a white dwarf remains, and what remains may in fact be simply the light from those long dead celestial bodies just now reaching us. Galaxies collide far from observing eyes, devouring one another in a wild frenzy whilst countless worlds lived and died in mere moments. Asteroids and meteorites hurled through space until they collided with cataclysmic force against whatever unfortunate object lay in their path, or glided in a lazy orbit around planets or in a massive, system encompassing belts. One could stare and make only the most rudimentary sense of just how inconceivably massive the universe truly is.

This all of course was lost on the band of morons that suddenly and violently ripped a massive wormhole just off the starboard side of the 5th Expeditionary Fleet, a blocky transport craft came hurtling out with all the grace of a drunken housebrick. The vessel in question was closer to a junker than a properly built spacecraft-long, blocky, and very clearly having been patched and repatched after multiple engagements, with turrets placed in odd locations. A brief transmission broke across the fleet's comms. "This is Knight Captain Hamal of the Fernis-Class Transport ICS Star Runner, here to deliver contracted personnel." The voice was high pitched, and clipped, its trade heavily accented but passible, "Requesting permission to send them aboard, over." The ship itself was abuzz with activity as the cohort prepared themselves.

Yeoman Sergeant Morris growled as the ship shuddered; he'd drawn the short end of the stick when they'd needed someone to lead the cohort till a squire could be sent out-and guess who got elected Master-At-Arms? With a sigh, he grabbed his dufflebag and checked his kit-subgun, warhammer, shield, hardsuit, his ring, spare clothes, ammo, detpacks.


Good-he had everything. ("Alright you lot!") He signaled to the rest of the cohort, ("Get yourselves down to the main cargo hold and be ready to board!") The yeoman quickly filed out, grabbing their gear and ensuring their suits were properly sealed and oxygen topped off. As they all rapidly filed out into the bay-he noted the smiths with some of the crew strapping their allotted vehicles, AT guns, and various supplies to large pallets-likely to be brought over once they'd all safely boarded.

And that was the trick wasn't it? Getting aboard in one piece-operations like this were always a pain in the ass but it usually worked out.

Usually.

 

[Andrew]

"ICS Starrunner, this is Port Jiyuu Actual you are clear in Blue Sector docking facilities. We have been briefed on your intended arrival. Housing arrangements in Asagumo-jo have been arranged by the Motoyoshi Clan. The civilian amenities are open to you and your crew Knight Capital Hamal."

In all things, there were always contingencies, and this was no exception. When one party compromises the trust of another there was always repercussions. From the crew changes that replaced certain occupations before the Fifth Expeditionary Fleet prepared to leave, with people the Taisho was sure of that had been trained at Fort Tokyo to the fact that there was a civilian group like the Iron Company involved that clearly had the simplicity of being paid for their services rather than being swayed by the primitive sloshing of political abnormalities. Katsuko hadn't responded to anything directly in months when it came to her political drama, it just had generated a lack of care and a feeling of assured absolution.

It was not long after that the fleet departed Jiyuu the Cohort's arrival didn't go unnoticed.

Tokyo Brewing Company- Port Jiyuu​

Shosho Motoyoshi-Iaeysu Taro was the only member of the senior team available for the meet and greet, everyone else had been driven to the YSS Mazu for the little launch celebration. He had sent an invitation for the leadership of the little group added from the Iron Company to join him at the Tokyo Brewing Company location that was closest to Asagumo-jo in Asagumo City. The YSS Lorheim III had been left in good hands, under the watch of his XO, they were good for a few hours while Taro spent a little time wining and dining the newest addition to the Colony Fleet.

He watched the recording of the last Ariel Football game that was being shown on the bar displays, a pint of Colony Fleet Pale Ale in his mug. A little treat to be enjoyed while he waited.

 

[Commissar Farzi]

"Copy that Port Jiyuu Actual." Came the reply as the vessel began to turn, ion thrusters firing as they strained to maneuver the vessel in the direction of the station, "Unfortunately we won't be able to take you up on that offer-Grandmaster needs us back as soon as we've finished here. Current heading two-five-one-one-oh-three-two, galactic plane zero degrees, over."

Morris could feel the vessel shift even though the inertial dampeners were supposedly in working order. ("We docking?") Someone asked behind him-Master of the obvious that one was. ("Probably, long as the ship holds together.) And the crew didn't steer like a drunken thurok during mating season. But that one went unsaid. ("Yeoman Sergeant, guns n' sundries are strapped down.") One of the smiths report. ("Right, get em' ready for transport!") The vessel started to shutter violently, jostling the yeomen in the bay followed by what seemed to be a sudden shift in momentum


That...wasn't good...and was made even worse when the lights cut out and were replaced by alarms and dull-orange strobing lights.


-----


Several Moments Earlier


Location: Starrunner Bridge


("Heading set Knight-Captain, on approach vector now.") The sound of levers and cranks being worked behind him as the pilots-four in total, kept the vessel steady. Hammal observed Port Jiyuu from his observation post. It was big-really, damned big, and he voiced as much. ("Never seen a station that big before,") He commented to the navigator as they closed in, ("How much do you suppose it cost em'?") The yeoman beside him shrugged, ("Hard to say, surprised it hasn't attracted every kingdom in the damned sector though.")
Hamal nodded in agreement. ("Prize like that?") He stated with a nod, ("A local warlord if he was willing to gamble on it could practically forge an interstellar empire provided it he didn't do something stupid with it.") As the docking bay neared, he changed topics, ("Alright, begin de-acceleration, start docking procedures.") As the pilots worked, the craft began to shake and an alarm sounded from one of the consoles. ("What's going on?") Hamal inquired as the pilots began frantically working. ("Coming in too hot, inertial dampeners functioning at 60 percent.") As the transport slowly, ever so slowly began to change direction, the Knight-Captain re-opened his comm with the Port. "Port Jyiuu actual, this is Knight-Captain Hamal, we've had a malfunction with our inertial dampeners and cannot dock safely-we are preparing alternative boarding method-over." He turned back to the navigator. ("Alright, get the lines ready and let the men know. Standard line approach.")

----



In the cargo bay, Morris watched as a half-dozen steel lines were attached to large, cylindrical anchors as an announcement of ("Prepare for zip-boarding, depressurizing in 30 seconds-ensure all suits are sealed and 02 reserves are topped off.") He sighed and signaled to his fellows. ("Alright lads-you heard him-form up-and make sure yer hooks are greased.") As they prepped for the boarding, the smiths ran between them ensuring they and the lines were ready, the cargo bay depressurized and the great door slid open, revealing as the ramp slid down the massive space station.

("Ya think their compensatin fer something?") Someone inquired as the smiths grabbed the anchors and moved to the edge of the ramp. ("Maybe? Hard ta' say with these kikyos.") The yeoman sergeant was preparing to tell them to shut their traps when a unit-wide transmission sounded. ("Anchor team launching off, ready hooks.") The four-man teams ran forward with the anchors between them-while several other yeomen watched, ready to signal the men to either pull them back or get ready to move.

Morris didn't blame them-anchor teams were among some of the most dangerous jobs in the company-the would simply leap out into the void, with nothing more than the anchor itself serving as their only means to keep from sailing out into the void. If you fucked up and let go-there was little chance of rescue. He waited for either signal to move, or a cry for rescue.


Meanwhile, the occupants of the bay were treated to the spectacle of two dozen men with what seemed to be portable, if incredibly bulky zip-line anchor. The men began pulling them back, then set them up, bringing the tripods down and bolting them to the floor. Once the lines were locked, a signal was sent. ("Alright!") A smith called out, bringing his arms up and miming hooking on to something, ("Hooks up!") Each mand did so, hooking on to the lines. Morris made sure to double-check that his own hook was secure-others likewise were doing the same, ("Check equipment!") Another round of checks, followed by a ("ONE OKAY!") each man calling out then tapping his friend on the shoulder. Feeling the tap, Morris let out his own ("TWELVE OKAY!") Once all checks were completed, the man stepped to the side and waved them onwards. ("Tuck and roll once you detach-you have ten seconds to clear-we'll send the heavy equipment through once everyone's onboard!") Each man took a running start-sliding down the zip-lines-feeling but not hearing it go down-followed by a sudden jar of artificial gravity that cause each man to release and hit the ground in most cases relatively unharmed. There were exceptions of course. Morris himself practically lept off the platform, nearly sending himself flying and very nearly snapping his hook. A chuckle followed by him informing the individual of his parentage he slid downwards-the only thing really audible was his own breathing.

Suddenly, he hit the station's gravity-his hook broke and nearly sent him back out into the void-it was only his sudden, reflexive grabbing of the line that saved him-though he'd almost sliced his hand open-the thick glove had kept that from happening. Some of the staff were approaching, likely wondering what in the ancestor's name was going on.

("How many we got left?") He inquired as he approached the smith. ("Just the AT crews-they'll be arriving with the equipment.") The smith replied as the last of them arrived with another set of lines and anchors. A few minutes later, the AT squads arrived on the pallets of equipment. ("Alright, get this offloaded so the Starrunner can leave-double time-then form up.") A few minutes later, anchors, anchor crews and pallets were all safely aboard, and the Starrunner, having informed Port Jiyuu of their successful boarding and pulled way-doing its best to avoid any collisions-then warped out. The cohort itself was currently in a loose formation, watching the various menials mill about as they chatted among themselves.

Morris himself was watching a shuttle as it docked-he was surprised it hadn't overshot or crashed. Then again they actually had the benefit of quality equipment-so there was that.