Kozmos
Jew Detective
Germanicus your people still use dollars eh?
NiNES: A Broken Galaxy
- Thread starter Niklas
- Start date
<24h left to deadline, 6/9 order sets in. 
germanicus12
First Citizen of Rome
Only the idiots that dont know how to work credit cards and computers for money transitions use the dollars..... but they are few.......
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP
Calfor jumped out of bed and slapped himself silly to tune out the alarm. It was only partly outside his head; a pilot circuit in his head stood for the rest of it and could mostly mute the outside sound to a faint moan.
"Jacques to pilots; we have assassins on our hands and hostiles inbound. General Badna is dead. We're activating the Hunter Killer prototype. Defensive maneuvers, evasive action, buy time!"
"Dalnor! You there?" Calfor shouted.
"Affirmative!" Calfor's wingmate Dalnor emerged from a hallway and joined Calfor in running towards the fighter hangars. "All I'm getting is static! What's status?"
"Badna down, no word from Colonel Swallow or Badna, hostiles inbound."
"John's dead? Sh¡t!"
The two men are running towards a set of slide-like curves which will drop them into the seats of their Fighters. They and a hundred others are running to get in the air. A score of fighters are already fighting, having been the ones on exoatmospheric guard duty when the hostiles arrived. But these were very scattered. They find their marked places and jump into chutes, landing in seats which suddenly push against them with immense force as the ships are catapulted out.
"This is Calfor, Red Eight, reporting launch. Jacques, any word on the markings?"
"Jacques here. They appear to bear Nekomi insignia. They must have overwhelmed our outpost at Altair."
Calfor blinks, this oddity being the first sign that something is wrong. Surely the Nekomi couldn't just up and attack like this...
"GENERAL BADNA TO ALL UNITS, I'M ALIVE AND PISSED. The Nekomi have special warpgate technology allowing them to move several times faster than us between systems. I am officially ceding authority to Jacques until I can find a tacmap."
"Badna, sir, I haven't got a tacmap either." Jacques responds. "The pilots are relying on radar."
"Calfor. Sync with me." Dalnor says.
"Working on it." Calfor replies, having just lost enough acceleration that he can begin manning his craft.
The two ships join a little over a dozen others, the damaged Red Squadron, reaching the tropopause in a few minutes. Base command local still hasn't found a manned tacmap. Calfor and Dalnor are in correct wingman formation, the rest of the squadron having paired off. There's an eerie silence - communication is unecessary at the moment, and the fighters' hulls shield them from all outside noise.
"Red Two here, assuming command in Leader's absence. Base has said we're to buy time, so keep your shields up, burn elerium, and evade."
"Affirmative." comes the report from everyone.
"Calfor here - radar's got them."
"Confirm that, enemy on radar. At least two corvettes."
"One larger ship and several fighters too."
SNKRSNKRKSZZRGZHRZ comes static over the communicators as they attempt to penetrate the jamming and lock frequency with the friendlies in the area.
"Fire at will!"
Calfor fires, not quite believing the situation. His squad leader is dead, several other pilots are dead, and he's intent on vengeance. He doesn't care that he's supposed to buy time. He charges into an area near several Nekomi craft, daring them to fire on him and risk hitting one another. He fires off several bursts at a corvette pointed away from him. One enemy fighter craft takes him up on the dare, and Calfor feels his vision blackening as his body is racked with pain -
- blackness.
...
Calfor jumped out of bed and slapped himself silly to tune out the alarm. It was only partly outside his head; a pilot circuit in his head stood for the rest of it and could mostly mute the outside sound to a faint moan.
"Jacques to pilots; we have assassins on our hands and hostiles inbound. General Badna is dead. We're activating the Hunter Killer prototype. Defensive maneuvers, evasive action, buy time!"
"Dalnor! You there?" Calfor shouted.
"Affirmative!" Calfor's wingmate Dalnor emerged from a hallway and joined Calfor in running towards the fighter hangars. "All I'm getting is static! What's status?"
"Badna down, no word from Colonel Swallow or Badna, hostiles inbound."
"John's dead? Sh¡t!"
The two men are running towards a set of slide-like curves which will drop them into the seats of their Fighters. They and a hundred others are running to get in the air. A score of fighters are already fighting, having been the ones on exoatmospheric guard duty when the hostiles arrived. But these were very scattered. They find their marked places and jump into chutes, landing in seats which suddenly push against them with immense force as the ships are catapulted out.
"This is Calfor, Red Eight, reporting launch. Jacques, any word on the markings?"
"Jacques here. They appear to bear Nekomi insignia. They must have overwhelmed our outpost at Altair."
Calfor blinks, this oddity being the first sign that something is wrong. Surely the Nekomi couldn't just up and attack like this...
"GENERAL BADNA TO ALL UNITS, I'M ALIVE AND PISSED. The Nekomi have special warpgate technology allowing them to move several times faster than us between systems. I am officially ceding authority to Jacques until I can find a tacmap."
"Badna, sir, I haven't got a tacmap either." Jacques responds. "The pilots are relying on radar."
"Calfor. Sync with me." Dalnor says.
"Working on it." Calfor replies, having just lost enough acceleration that he can begin manning his craft.
The two ships join a little over a dozen others, the damaged Red Squadron, reaching the tropopause in a few minutes. Base command local still hasn't found a manned tacmap. Calfor and Dalnor are in correct wingman formation, the rest of the squadron having paired off. There's an eerie silence - communication is unecessary at the moment, and the fighters' hulls shield them from all outside noise.
"Red Two here, assuming command in Leader's absence. Base has said we're to buy time, so keep your shields up, burn elerium, and evade."
"Affirmative." comes the report from everyone.
"Calfor here - radar's got them."
"Confirm that, enemy on radar. At least two corvettes."
"One larger ship and several fighters too."
SNKRSNKRKSZZRGZHRZ comes static over the communicators as they attempt to penetrate the jamming and lock frequency with the friendlies in the area.
"Fire at will!"
Calfor fires, not quite believing the situation. His squad leader is dead, several other pilots are dead, and he's intent on vengeance. He doesn't care that he's supposed to buy time. He charges into an area near several Nekomi craft, daring them to fire on him and risk hitting one another. He fires off several bursts at a corvette pointed away from him. One enemy fighter craft takes him up on the dare, and Calfor feels his vision blackening as his body is racked with pain -
- blackness.
...
Spoiler :
We invade? Now how the heck did such a premise come about?
TerrisH
Mischief?
It was a simultion. I know I didn't invade him this turn. in fact, I found it quite enjoyibable.
Global Nexus
Terran Confederate
- Joined
- Jul 13, 2003
- Messages
- 1,109
Forget the story, orders coming!
TerrisH
Mischief?
File Recal.
Yamoto class BattleCarrier.
SSF Commissioned Prototype Vessels: "Yamoto" "Celeste" "Clinton"
Non Commissioned Vessels: 16 nearly complected hulls In Sirus Orbital shipyard. 32 keels layed down at the Sirus Orbital shipyards.
Purpose: warp point Assault ship.
Specification:
Length: .57Km
With: .12Km
Fighter Capacity: 10 Tri-partioned Hinger bays, 30 fighters total.
Notes: the Yamoto Class Battle Carrier was intialy proposed to assist in the asulting of warp points. While quite rare, simply due to most built up systems having 30-40 active warp gates, the ocassion where one side had but a single route to take though warp gates did happen, Usually between small corporate forces, or out in the outer rim of human space, where the warp gate connections were fewer. In that times, the encampment of one side of a warp gate pair could be engaged, usually resulting in a short, nasty battle. the most Effective Tactic in breaking the blockades was to send small escort Carriers though the gate to launch their fighters to clear the mines and occupy the defenders while the bigger ships transit in and recover enough to join the battle. though the biggest problem with this tactic was the low survivability of the Carriers. Less then 1/3 manages to survive long enough to get even a portion of the fighters out of their bays, and less then 1/10th of those manages to not be destroyed after words. Eventually this Led to the development of the escort carrier, which allowed greater numbers to transit in at the same time relative to normal carriers. about 1/2 managed to get off their fighters off in time, and about 1/5th survived. Vastly improved over standard carriers. but there was always drive to improve upon these tactics. various experimental designs have cropped over the centuries.
the Yamoto was one of these designs. Developed in concept a mere decade pre-scourge, and the three prototypes constructed a mere two years before the scourge, it had only recently finished testing, and the first test-shipment had been placed into production.
Based on the principal of providing a stronger, better armed and better defended Carrier, it was designed to insure a near 100% launch rate and a much higher post-combat survivability. while simulations did show an up to 50% greater survival rate then the escort carriers in even the most pessimistic scenario, they were considerably more damaged by the end of the battle. combined with their much higher cost, it was unknown if they would be a cost effective alternative. hence the initial prototype, and the Test run.
Since the Nekomi began repairing and revitalized the prototype crafts, they have begun taking the design in a new direction, hinted by in some of their recent research. the most glaring of the alterations was a large spinal mounted weapon system. though the exact specifications of the weapon is unknown, and depending on which of the researchers asked, it actually varies.
Yamoto class BattleCarrier.
SSF Commissioned Prototype Vessels: "Yamoto" "Celeste" "Clinton"
Non Commissioned Vessels: 16 nearly complected hulls In Sirus Orbital shipyard. 32 keels layed down at the Sirus Orbital shipyards.
Purpose: warp point Assault ship.
Specification:
Length: .57Km
With: .12Km
Fighter Capacity: 10 Tri-partioned Hinger bays, 30 fighters total.
Notes: the Yamoto Class Battle Carrier was intialy proposed to assist in the asulting of warp points. While quite rare, simply due to most built up systems having 30-40 active warp gates, the ocassion where one side had but a single route to take though warp gates did happen, Usually between small corporate forces, or out in the outer rim of human space, where the warp gate connections were fewer. In that times, the encampment of one side of a warp gate pair could be engaged, usually resulting in a short, nasty battle. the most Effective Tactic in breaking the blockades was to send small escort Carriers though the gate to launch their fighters to clear the mines and occupy the defenders while the bigger ships transit in and recover enough to join the battle. though the biggest problem with this tactic was the low survivability of the Carriers. Less then 1/3 manages to survive long enough to get even a portion of the fighters out of their bays, and less then 1/10th of those manages to not be destroyed after words. Eventually this Led to the development of the escort carrier, which allowed greater numbers to transit in at the same time relative to normal carriers. about 1/2 managed to get off their fighters off in time, and about 1/5th survived. Vastly improved over standard carriers. but there was always drive to improve upon these tactics. various experimental designs have cropped over the centuries.
the Yamoto was one of these designs. Developed in concept a mere decade pre-scourge, and the three prototypes constructed a mere two years before the scourge, it had only recently finished testing, and the first test-shipment had been placed into production.
Based on the principal of providing a stronger, better armed and better defended Carrier, it was designed to insure a near 100% launch rate and a much higher post-combat survivability. while simulations did show an up to 50% greater survival rate then the escort carriers in even the most pessimistic scenario, they were considerably more damaged by the end of the battle. combined with their much higher cost, it was unknown if they would be a cost effective alternative. hence the initial prototype, and the Test run.
Since the Nekomi began repairing and revitalized the prototype crafts, they have begun taking the design in a new direction, hinted by in some of their recent research. the most glaring of the alterations was a large spinal mounted weapon system. though the exact specifications of the weapon is unknown, and depending on which of the researchers asked, it actually varies.
All orders are in! ![[party]](/images/smilies/partytime.gif "Party [party]")
Update will start once I get home after work, so it might just be up tonight. But as always no promises, the updates are bound to take longer and longer with more and more interaction.
Update will start once I get home after work, so it might just be up tonight. But as always no promises, the updates are bound to take longer and longer with more and more interaction.
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
You're nearby. Now let us post a bit so that the update comes at the top of the next page, not the end of this one!
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
They're in my dreams...
Log
I've been away from home for four years at the outside, three months on the inside. Our ship carries forty men and women, sequestered from one another and from reality. We spend most of our time in deep, deep sleep. Perhaps as many as ten of us have been awake at one time, but the number is usually closer to three. If I had had to be real for all these years, I might very well have gone mad, so I thank the White Christ for the steady stream of news from Benalia and for the stasis chambers.
We thought they might be cryosleep units when we left Benalia for the first time, three months/four years ago. But that was too risky. Bodies might develop ice and bleed to death upon awakening. The stasis chambers are closer to morgues than frigerators - morgues for the living. You stand 'under' the entrance and propel yourself into one wiht zero gravity, and by the time you're halfway in, your brain has turned off.
No consciousness is one thing, like in a deep coma, but the stasis chambers also take over most vital functions, such as providing a very, very small amount of electricity being sent directly into the body, depreciating the need for metabolism. The heart is pumped by machines, the blood cleansed by dialyses and not by kidneys. Consciousness is only one seventh or eighth of the brain, and turning it off wouldn't save the body much wear and tear, and the mind seems interminably linked to the body. So our vital functions are outsourced to the stasis chambers, and our minds can sleep the sleep of the dead, not experiencing the passage of time.
As I write this, my name is Anders Oddgeir. The reason I'm sending this document back to Benalia now, outside of normal transmission times, is that there's a terrible black rumor on the ship - a rumor that someone's been tampering with the stasis chambers. A month from now, I may not be myself. I don't know whether our brains are being affected. One version of the rumor says that someone's modified the stasis chambers to take over only vital functions, freeing up the brain to hold a vastly expanded consciousness. Another says that the chambers are copying our minds and becoming sentient.
I know for certain that I'm alone on watch right now, which may be a coincidence since someone else is coming on in ten minutes and another person in twenty, and I'm due to be conscious for the next three days. I'm sending this just before they arrive, and I'll try not to end this with a melodramatic SEND HELP followed by "transmission mangled". Not that those could really happen.
It's been a good few months. Dear people on Benalia II, please experiment on the stasis chambers, and if you can, tell us about their side effects. The only authority on this ship derives from the President, and none of us can order the others around. If the rumor becomes real, this ship may become a riot scene.
Goodbye. Dear President, please remove my name and any mention of me from the reply, for I fear becoming this ship's martyr. Nor do I desire any form of credit for this report. I want only for the black rumors to end.
Yours in hope, Anders Oddgeir!
Log
I've been away from home for four years at the outside, three months on the inside. Our ship carries forty men and women, sequestered from one another and from reality. We spend most of our time in deep, deep sleep. Perhaps as many as ten of us have been awake at one time, but the number is usually closer to three. If I had had to be real for all these years, I might very well have gone mad, so I thank the White Christ for the steady stream of news from Benalia and for the stasis chambers.
We thought they might be cryosleep units when we left Benalia for the first time, three months/four years ago. But that was too risky. Bodies might develop ice and bleed to death upon awakening. The stasis chambers are closer to morgues than frigerators - morgues for the living. You stand 'under' the entrance and propel yourself into one wiht zero gravity, and by the time you're halfway in, your brain has turned off.
No consciousness is one thing, like in a deep coma, but the stasis chambers also take over most vital functions, such as providing a very, very small amount of electricity being sent directly into the body, depreciating the need for metabolism. The heart is pumped by machines, the blood cleansed by dialyses and not by kidneys. Consciousness is only one seventh or eighth of the brain, and turning it off wouldn't save the body much wear and tear, and the mind seems interminably linked to the body. So our vital functions are outsourced to the stasis chambers, and our minds can sleep the sleep of the dead, not experiencing the passage of time.
As I write this, my name is Anders Oddgeir. The reason I'm sending this document back to Benalia now, outside of normal transmission times, is that there's a terrible black rumor on the ship - a rumor that someone's been tampering with the stasis chambers. A month from now, I may not be myself. I don't know whether our brains are being affected. One version of the rumor says that someone's modified the stasis chambers to take over only vital functions, freeing up the brain to hold a vastly expanded consciousness. Another says that the chambers are copying our minds and becoming sentient.
I know for certain that I'm alone on watch right now, which may be a coincidence since someone else is coming on in ten minutes and another person in twenty, and I'm due to be conscious for the next three days. I'm sending this just before they arrive, and I'll try not to end this with a melodramatic SEND HELP followed by "transmission mangled". Not that those could really happen.
It's been a good few months. Dear people on Benalia II, please experiment on the stasis chambers, and if you can, tell us about their side effects. The only authority on this ship derives from the President, and none of us can order the others around. If the rumor becomes real, this ship may become a riot scene.
Goodbye. Dear President, please remove my name and any mention of me from the reply, for I fear becoming this ship's martyr. Nor do I desire any form of credit for this report. I want only for the black rumors to end.
Yours in hope, Anders Oddgeir!
Timas Minell stepped carefully over a partition, following his guide on the Hurisian Spacedocks.
"So this is the ship you've been working on?"
"Our biggest new construction, Autarch."
The two looked at the partially-constructed colony ship. It was shaped something like a turtle shell, with a flattened bottom. It was still mostly skeletal, but the front end had a few patches of solid surface visible on it.
"Newest generation of development. We're using some of Shuurai-er..."
"Heavy Industries. I know they're a corporate state. They seem, however, to be considerably more enlightened than the IG Corp was."
Yes. So there are some new foreign technologies in it, as well as a few of our own. Note the heat resistant tiles on the curved side."
"Yes?"
"The ship will land that way. It's idealized to decelerate the ship as much as safely possible. Then, the atmospheric engines kick in and the ship rights itself- well, if you can give something an up or down side in spa-"
"I understand that. No need to get sidetracked."
"Of course. It rights itself and the atmospheric engines maneuver it into place. The inhabited area is gyroscopically stabilized. This is of course, after the ship has completed its brief global survey and released the recon sattelites through the area. The landed 'turtle' forms the center of the first colony."
"Excellent work on this one. I look forward to see it in action."
"Shouldn't be more than a few months now sir. The colonists are already preparing to board."
"Well, give your engineering corps my congratulations. Now, I understand that you're working on a next generation fighter system..."
"Right this way Autarch."
*****
Note: Nik, are colony ships used up when the settle planets? I think they are, but I'm not sure.
"So this is the ship you've been working on?"
"Our biggest new construction, Autarch."
The two looked at the partially-constructed colony ship. It was shaped something like a turtle shell, with a flattened bottom. It was still mostly skeletal, but the front end had a few patches of solid surface visible on it.
"Newest generation of development. We're using some of Shuurai-er..."
"Heavy Industries. I know they're a corporate state. They seem, however, to be considerably more enlightened than the IG Corp was."
Yes. So there are some new foreign technologies in it, as well as a few of our own. Note the heat resistant tiles on the curved side."
"Yes?"
"The ship will land that way. It's idealized to decelerate the ship as much as safely possible. Then, the atmospheric engines kick in and the ship rights itself- well, if you can give something an up or down side in spa-"
"I understand that. No need to get sidetracked."
"Of course. It rights itself and the atmospheric engines maneuver it into place. The inhabited area is gyroscopically stabilized. This is of course, after the ship has completed its brief global survey and released the recon sattelites through the area. The landed 'turtle' forms the center of the first colony."
"Excellent work on this one. I look forward to see it in action."
"Shouldn't be more than a few months now sir. The colonists are already preparing to board."
"Well, give your engineering corps my congratulations. Now, I understand that you're working on a next generation fighter system..."
"Right this way Autarch."
*****
Note: Nik, are colony ships used up when the settle planets? I think they are, but I'm not sure.
Yes they are. The ship itself is more or less just a congregation of the parts that the colony is built from. Nice story! (and the ones before yours too
)
Symphony D.
Deity
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SOMEWHERE IN FORMER MEXICO
EARTH, SOL, CORE WORLDS
16:43UTC, JUNE 16, 0007AE
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SOMEWHERE IN FORMER MEXICO
EARTH, SOL, CORE WORLDS
16:43UTC, JUNE 16, 0007AE
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Earth was still a rather impressive place, as planets went. Not quite in the best shape after the Scourge, but it was intact enough. That was the benefit of having thousands of years of construction in a place; even when all the high-tech stuff broke, or malfunctioned, or was subsumed by a nanotechnological plague bent on eradicating all life, the old stuff still worked. Wells, agriculture, and so on. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't the latest, but it functioned. And it made it easy to sell back the more advanced gear to the people.
襲来重工業 Sol Branch Office was, somewhat unsurprisingly, located in Fukuoka on Kyushu, in former Japan. It was both a statement on the history of the company and it was a fairly secure location in the post-Scourge days. It's always easier to stay defensible on an island than on the mainland. A fairly modern compound in the heart of the city, it had set up shot by establishing aide for local citizens; free food, security, and shelter. It had generally been well-received. With a secure base established, work had begun.
“When things go south and your day just goes really bad, the first thing on your mind is security,” said Dean Auger.
He went on, “It could be wild animals, degenerate cannibal raiders, or maybe the guy down the road that you just don't like; whatever it is that you feel threatens you, you need protection—am I right?”
The people of the Mexican village just blankly stared at him. He was speaking English, which had long since become “Common”, and even for those who didn’t speak it there were nanotranslator bugs that were cheap and easy to manufacture and distribute, but their stony silence wasn’t the result of any lack of comprehension. He had been in marketing long enough to know that. It was a lack of caring. Who did this man in this well-pressed business suit with styled hair, shiny shoes, and bronzed skin think he was coming into their poor village exclaiming in English about guns?
He cleared his throat and pulled an M-12 out of its shipment case. “This is the M-12 personal defense weapon, fires 10mm jacketed steel caseless rounds, armor piercing or high-explosive optional.”
It had recently been phased out of home service, resulting in a surplus of the things that were just sitting around. He loaded a drum magazine into the feed and released the safety, “Has an effective range of 400 meters with a total range of up to two kilometers, comes with infrared scope standard, maximum firing rate is 2,500 rounds per minute.”
He adjusted the sights, “It is capable…”
And then he turned. An old junked out Mexican APC had been found nearby by company reps—local police had been working with old, salvaged Army equipment that was in some cases centuries in old for gods knew how long—and positioned off to one-side of the make-shift stage. He lifted the PDW to his shoulder, secured in, and sighted the vehicle. With smooth precision he clicked the trigger and slowly swept the gun across the hull of the vehicle. Enormous holes erupted across its surface as debris and sparks flew from the old ceramic armor. The roar of the gun was a sort of blaring growl, each round barely able to be discerned from another. After a few seconds he stopped and secured the weapon. The APC was burning, and then, with a groan, the upper half fell off to one side; the vehicle was cut clean in two.
He turned back toward the crowd, and adjusted his shades, “...Of cutting a man in half with two rounds.”
Their eyes were wide. He held out a hand toward the stack of duraplast carrying cases which stood to one side, and smiled, saying “We’re taking orders now.”
With a sudden uproar, the whole crowd surged toward the stage. Selling “door-to-door” wasn’t his preferred method of sale, but business was business, and business was good.
TerrisH
Mischief?
advized that I can't, which Really Sucks, since I forgot something. oh well.
Symphony D.
Deity
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BEACHHEAD DAY TWO
KAPTEYN ICHI, KAPTEYN, CORE WORLDS
09:43 UTC, FEBRUARY 16, 0007AE
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BEACHHEAD DAY TWO
KAPTEYN ICHI, KAPTEYN, CORE WORLDS
09:43 UTC, FEBRUARY 16, 0007AE
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“We’re taking heavy fire here,” called out Ditirich into the comms.
As it turns out, so we are. Ditirich and Ramirez are down the hall and to the right. Gage is with me. While they’re getting shot up I can hear the barrel whine of a sentry gun. It’s a Gattling type, small caliber, explosive powered rounds, definitely a Shuurai design. Things could be worse. It wasn’t particularly old (since it was still functioning and had rounds), it was just another example of that classic efficiency. Odds are somebody intruding on a water plant isn’t going to be heavily armored or armored and you don’t want rounds sailing through your facility, so use something that puts out a lot of small rounds really fast. Electronic ignition would get it done faster but you don’t need it that fast, so Gattling it was.
I can see it eating away the wall I’m ducking behind. It just keeps on shooting until suddenly the roar stops and the whine of the gun gradually dies down to nothing as its barrels slowly run out of kinetic energy. Motion or IR triggered—probably IR—can’t see through walls too well. Must have an automatic cut-off if hostiles retreat. Guess we got lucky; stupid armor mesh might stop a few rounds but it wouldn’t hold up under that kind of barrage.
“Ditirich, Ramirez, report,” I say.
“This is Ramirez, Ditirich took a hit in the arm, but he should be OK,” crackles the comm.
Ditirich interjects “I’m OK, Sarge, I can still shoot.”
“Where are the sentries mounted,” I ask.
“Ground mounts,” says Ditirich.
Contrary to your popular perception of sentry guns being on the ceiling, most are actually on the floor. They tend to be recessed into the ground and pop up during a security condition; prevents people from running under them. Of course, that mounting system has its own drawbacks…
I click on comms “Gage, Ramirez, you got grenades?”
“Flash, pulse, HE, or frag,” inquires Gage calmly.
“HE,” I answer.
Both respond affirmatively. I give the order, no doubt they’ll come after me if we screw something up, “Alright, on my mark, one for each gun; three, two, one, mark!”
I see Gage duck down beside me with the pin withdrawn from an HE before he deftly tosses it to bounce off the wall and hear it let out a clink as it touches the base of the gun. It doesn’t fire—must be IR. Right then a loud explosion rocks the ground followed by a second, slightly fainter one. Suit dampeners compensate almost immediately making it more of a crack and a dim boom, like thunder. After a few moments to let the dust and debris settle I give the order to advance.
Relatively unimportant facilities like this only tend to have a single active security perimeter, typically around control elements. As long as we go back the way we came there shouldn’t be anymore surprises.
“I don’t think they could’ve gotten through here, Sarge,” says Ramirez.
“They either went through here or they’re ghosts, they couldn’t have escaped detection otherwise,” I say back.
“Besides,” I add, “If they’ve been here for seven years and haven’t tripped these guns enough for there to still be ammo loaded in them, they probably know a way.”
After making our way through the facility we’d entered into the main processing complex. Ramirez had hit a trip wire connected to a crude sort of wind chime arrangement. Someone had set it up as an early warning system. After another 30 seconds of walking we had found a cooking fire, and it was still going strong. Somebody had been here, and whoever it was had set up shop here. We weren’t interested in them for trespassing, though officially we should’ve been. We were interested in how they knew how to keep the plant running. And so now we hunt them, though it seems to be their turf.
Gage spoke up “According to the signs the main control room is just down this hallway.”
I nod, reply “Then that’s probably where we’ll find our answers,” then “Ramirez, bring Ditirich over to our position.”
Across the comms echo both Ramirez’s “Affirmative” and Ditirich’s complaining of being fine.
Within a minute both are present. Ditirich’s left suit arm has splatters of blood around an obvious puncture but he’s still holding his rifle spryly. We head down the hallway together when all of a sudden there’s the sound of something falling in a side room to the left. We stop and look at the door. I go to one side to open it, Gage takes up point on the other side with Ditirich and Ramirez taking up follow-up positions. I give the signal and toggle the door’s controls, and it slides open in an instant. Both Gage and I swing out, barrels leveled, golden sensors gleaming. Even if we want to talk to them, who knows who they are and if they’re hot.
As soon as the door opens I see two figures; it’s some kind of storage room for autojanitors or something. In one corner, huddled up is a girl, maybe seven or eight—her eyes are the size of dinner-plates and she’s on the verge of bawling. Beside her is a knocked over autojanitor, long since out of power. The other figure is posed between us, a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, wielding a piece of pipe like a club. He’s deliberately put himself between me and the girl. Defensive posture. Brave, but I can read the fear in his eyes—he’s scared, really scared. For a moment the scene seems frozen, just the three of us.
I slowly reach my right hand with the rifle back toward Gage while undoing my helmet seal from the front with my left, pulling it off and cradling it under one arm. The LEDs wink out as it uncouples. Both the boy and girl visibly look confused and then shocked.
“They’re just kids,” I say out loud, “everybody else back off, no quick moves.”
The other three slowly move away from the door frame, lowering their rifles. I take a knee and set the helmet aside, saying “It’s OK, nobody’s going to hurt you.”
The boy still holds the pipe up but he’s hesitating now, maybe he thinks we’re telling the truth, or maybe it’s a trap…
All of a sudden there’s motion. It’s the girl, tugging on his other arm. He glances at her, then slowly lowers the pipe down to his side. I smile at them “I’m Liana, what’re your names?”
The boy’s speech is broken and halting, I can’t imagine he talks much “J-Jam-es.”
I look at the girl but she just shakes her head. I then gesture around, “Do you live here?”
The girl nods silently. I tilt my head a little “Did you turn the water on?”
The girl nods again. “Can you show us,” I ask.
James this time speaks up “I’ll… take y-you t-to Jon—Jonas, he’s the one who… runs the w-water for us all.”
I smile again and nod, before standing up and stepping back. James slowly leaves the room, leading the girl on with a hand, and walks down the hall. We patiently follow after.
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“Sharps, this is Rheims, over.”
“Reading you loud and clear, Rheims, what’s your status?”
“Plant recon complete; we’ve got approximately 20 to 25 survivors here that have been using the plant as a source of fresh water; it’s operational and they’re aware of how to run it. They’re pretty bad off, can use some food and medical supplies—they’re willing to assist us with its operation in return.”
“… affirmative, Rheims, sending Delta and Foxtrot in with supplies ASAP. Standby.”
“Roger.”
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