Event Walking the Knife Edge

Discussion in 'Open Roleplay' started by Raziel, Apr 16, 2018.

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  1. Raziel

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    Setup:
    See News Article

    A Martian science vessel attempted to land on Eros. UN forces fired warning shots when it refused to turn away. Both sides reinforce the area as more and more strange signals emanate from the quarantined rock.

    UN Navy has standing orders not to land, or permit any vessels to land on Eros.

    Locations:
    • Earth: emergency council meetings.
    • Mars: emergency council meetings.
    • Eros Space: vessels from both sides poise within weapons range as tensions rise.
    • Ceres: unrest that no one is able to reach friends and family on Eros.

    Key information:

    • Mars to Earth message time: 9 minutes.
    • Earth to Eros: 4 minutes.
    • Mars to Eros: 7 minutes.
    • Ceres to others: 15-30 minutes.
    • UN ships currently outnumber MCRN in vicinity of Eros but a victor would not be clear.
    • UN and Mars councils still have a direct line of communication through coalition channels.
    • Senior figures (especially within UN) may push to avoid any landing strongly due to Protogen influence.



    “That's a lot of red on our radar.”

    “As long as they're staying within the zones designated by the coalition board, I won't need any further updates,” Captain Newton replied calmly. The ops deck of the UNN Arduous might have seemed relatively calm at a glance, but one only had to immerse themself in it for a few minutes to feel the palpable tension. Every exchange was a little more clipped than usual, everyone sounded nervous.

    It didn't surprise Captain Newton. The worst they had battled was a particularly tricky sim six months ago. They had brushed up against Mars at Ceres but it was weapons fire in the vicinity of each other that was ramping up the tension.

    Mars had stamped its mark by activating one of their tactical stealth ships and nuking Phoebe. And now the UN had fired warning shots at a Martian science vessel.

    “Lots of sensor traffic coming from the red zone.”

    “Of course there is,” Captain Newton replied. That stealth ship had been a significant marker put down by Mars. The UN had more long ranged warheads and a greater fleet but they didn't have the stealth tech. The message was fairly clear: even if you win we have vessels hidden across the system that can nuke earth into oblivion.

    Newton gave the console a good review. There were more UN vessels in the vicinity of Eros, especially when his task force finished decelerating. The Arduous, Calypso and three escort frigates formed their little party.

    “Everything is ready for prolonged zero-gee?” He called out.

    “Yes sir.”

    It has a half truth. Staying stationary around a rock with no gravity to speak of meant no gravity. The ship was ready, but his crew didn't like it. They trained for it, but the experiments done by the UN were fairly clear: every day in those conditions had a detrimental effect on crew performance. Two weeks and it would start to impact on their combat performance.

    He hoped that one way or another the politicians would bring an end to the standoff. Although the slightest mistake and one of the captain in the region would. No one wanted to wait for a twenty minute round trip message if they felt threatened. By the time the politicians received word the initial engagement would probably be over.

    “Sir, readings from Eros are very…”

    “Ensign you have orders to cut those frequency bands out of your console. These come from the top.”

    “Yes sir.”
     
  2. Hector Royce

    Hector Royce MCR Marine, MCRN Bexar

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    MCRN Bexar
    Near UN Blockade line, Eros


    Ssg Royce stared out the view screen at the inky blackness just outside the hull. He couldn’t see the UN craft, but they were there, as sure as dust, blocking Mars from Eros. They had already fired upon a Martian science vessel, forcing it to turn away, and a few bright flashes in the black not only told where the UN were, but indicated that some vessels were destroyed on the opposite side of them. Royce assumed they were Belter craft.

    Wearing his dress uniform, black and trimmed in red, he looked every bit the Marine he was, a soldier of two worlds. He was once a UN Marine, but the decadence, indifference and callousness of Earth and her 30 billion weaklings forced him and his family into the arms of Mars, where they thrived and became respected. Now, Diego and Samantha’s only son fought for the Red Planet, a bitter and angry prodigal.

    “Homesick, Heavy Bone?” Behind him, Mahmoud, a female shipmate with luxurious raven black hair and dark almond shaped eyes, lay her hand gently on his shoulder. He smiled and patted it. Centuries ago, people would have degraded him for his brown skin. Now they discriminate based on bone density. He knew she was merely robbing him so he played along.

    “Oh yeah, I just can’t wait to get back to Earth and eat fat pills and get my daily TV lobotomy, why do you think I live on Mars?”

    Mahmoud laughed, a silvery titter that Royce couldn’t help but smile at. “They wouldn’t have you back anyway, you’re one of us, heavy bones and all. You hungry? I was on my way to the DFAC.” Royce thought about it and decided to eat with her. The Earther fatbodies would be there after dinner.
     
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  3. Lucrezia Dionisi

    Lucrezia Dionisi Bella Senz’anima

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    Luna :: New Hague:: UN building

    The swift click of heels had long brought terror to the council chambers. Hailed by Louboutin, Jimmy Choo, and McQueen, the three women swept past on the wings of clearance and rage.

    “This is an utter disaster.”
    “Margot.”
    “What? You were both thinking it.”
    “It’s done. We can only control this going forward.”

    Margot – Margot Dassault, that is, the daughter of a vast conglomerate and an accomplished politician to boot – threw her hands in the air. “Fine. But we’re still firing Nian. We have no place for incompetence.”

    Ada van de Voorde pinched her brow. “Lucrezia?”

    Miss Dionisi – a Mrs not three weeks prior – looked up from her holoscreen. “You want to let him go?”

    “Mm.”

    “Forgive me, but what good would that do? No PR under the sun could have handled that situation without backlash. Shots were fired— and has it even been a week since Phoebe was blown up?” She shook her head. “Just this once, I’m afraid I must echo Margot. This is an utter disaster.”

    “You two agreeing on something? Truly, these must be the end times. Morning, Steve. Anaya.”

    The pair of guards gave their obligatory terse nods and let them through.

    “This discussion isn’t over.” Ada said to her Deputies, then strode into the meeting.

    Time to make history.
     
  4. Tobias Krehl

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    UNS Calypso

    Tobi drummed his fingers against the table, his lips turned down in what was basically a permanent frown.

    He hadn't slept well since the incident on To Vira Mining Station. He didn't feel guilty, but he couldn't help but...well he didn't know what. It was strange, stranger than he wanted to admit. The Marine could feel an odd sort of tension in the air, not between himself and his fellow marines but between nations.

    It seemed an odd thing for someone like him to feel, he was after all in the grand scheme of things tiny and insignificant as could be. He was no politician, no general, no leader, just a simple soldier.

    Yet as he saw the screen he couldn't help but feel it.

    Everything was about to explode, and it wasn't going to go well for anyone. The Marine let out a quiet curse, one of his friends glancing at him for a brief moment as he tried to figure out what was wrong. Tobi shrugged his shoulder, not wanting to draw attention to himself and his rather gloomy set of thoughts.

    Better not bring to bring it up.

    Some of these idiots would be excited for war.
     
  5. Jacob Wronski

    Jacob Wronski Deference for darkness

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    Luna, New Hague, UN Central Office

    "Don't worry, Jacob. If you can get me the intel on that operation, I'll be happy. It'll just be five minutes for me to deal with Admiral Simpson. Right, I need to catch up with my ADC in case anything's come in. I'll see you up on the stage?"

    Jacob nodded and watched his sister - the Admiral Wronski of the current generation - walk away. Her guards peeled off from his and followed closely, vigilant even in these hallowed corridors.

    "Good morning, Captain."
    "Good morning, Captain."

    Admiral Duquesne was a petite, slender woman whose appearance gave away very little of the vast power she wielded within the Office of Naval Intelligence. Jacob came to attention, noticing as he did so that she was walking with the Undersecretary of Intelligence - their official representative and supposed senior.

    "Good morning, Secretary. Good morning, Admiral."

    The current situation was very delicate and of considerable importance, as evidenced by the presence of multiple ranking officers. The Secretary to lend weight to the proceedings, the Admiral for real decision-making, and Jacob to translate theory into practice. The group, distinct in dress blacks, cut their way across the open atrium and headed for the council chambers.

    They said nothing to each other. There was, after all, nothing to say. A good spook knew the value of silence.
     
    #5 Jacob Wronski, Apr 17, 2018
    Last edited: Apr 17, 2018
  6. Ian Frobisher

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    Luna, New Hague, UN Central Office

    For the second time in his life, Ian was on the moon.

    This was not a state of affairs that he was happy with, not by a long shot. He had been promised, in no uncertain terms, that he wouldn't get sent back unless the absolutely necessary. Even he couldn't deny that this was a situation, nay, a fiasco, that called for an all hands approach. Earth and Mars were once again on the brink of war, and anyone who was anyone was either here, or in a secure bunker back on Earth with the Secretary General. Unfortunately, the only ones allowed in the same room as the Secretary General at the moment were the handful of Undersecretaries and Admirals who held near absolute power, and he was not on that list.

    So, Luna. New Hague. A cocktail of drugs meant to combat his constant claustrophobia and disorientation, and a set of mag boots that kept him from bouncing around were the only things that made the experience even mildly tolerable.

    The Deputy Communications Director for the Department of Public Information wasn't quite sure how to make himself useful in this particular scenario. He wasn't a military man, nor was he anyone's idea of a diplomat. Frankly, when given the choice between a rabid hyena and himself, most people would have taken the hyena if the problem at hand was one of interplanetary relations. The hyena had better manners.

    He was too senior by far to serve as an aide, too useless at diplomacy and strategy to directly assist in resolving the situation, and too self aware to try to insert himself into either role. The most he could do was get in the way.

    What he could do, however, was what he was best at: keep his eyes and ears open and his mouth shut, and watch. Try to figure out the players, try to figure out what game they were playing, and if they were trying to skew the situation in ways that suggested an agenda that wasn't necessarily what was best for Earth, cut them off at the knees.

    Given his current, miserable disposition, he was rather looking forward to someone giving him an excuse.

    @Lucrezia Dionisi @Jacob Wronski
     
  7. Tadgh

    Messages:
    151
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    Raziel
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    Ceres Station
    @Matyáš Houda @Lukas Forgrave

    It was slightly daunting to come back here. The last time he had set foot on the station he had ended up being shot by some over eager UN guards. His shoulder still itched when. He thought about it.

    Tadgh had Glenn and Matyas with him. The chief has given them a shopping list and the captain had insisted that they head down to the market to try and find some parts second hand. The kid said he was good at keeping things working so they were relying on his instincts to find bargains and Glenn's belter 'charms' to drive down prices. Tadgh didn't really have much to do. He liked it like that.

    He didn't like the sound that reached them as soon as the tube stopped and the doors opened. It sounded like the last time he had been here.

    Just meters from the station was a Star Helix precinct. There was an ugly crowd outside it. People were crying out in anger. Tadgh heard the word Eros several times. People with family who couldn't contact them, couldn't fly there. And now the UN had fired at a ship trying to get answers.

    "Keep close, Glenn you do the talking if anyone stops us."

    The last thing they needed was belters taking out their anger on the closest earther.
     
  8. Aaron Price

    Messages:
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    Raziel
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    UNN Calypso
    @Tobias Krehl

    "Here's the thing right... "

    "Right?" Aaron prompted.

    "The Martian ships are all newer than ours. They say their EM suites are so advanced we'll need to outnumber them two to one to land a torp."

    "Sounds like crap," Aaron replied. He'd read some articles on the net that suggested similar but he didn't like to imagine that was the case.

    "But you know what doesn't get out of date? Flesh and blood humans. Take out a CIC, no ship."

    Aaron just sighed. He knew that he wasn't the brightest man to walk the earth but Private Kilby didn't have much going on behind the eyes. And for some reason Kilby liked him and tended to follow him around. No matter how often he explained how awful his first action had been Kilby seemed jealous that he hadn't been on the asteroid.

    "Unless they actually send marines to Eros I can't see us being deployed. Tobi?"
     
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  9. Lukas Forgrave

    Lukas Forgrave Scourge of the Water Pipes

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    Ceres Station
    @Tadgh @Matyáš Houda @Gully Foyle

    Get your ass out there and deal with this.

    That's what Captain Holloway had said, uttering the words from the rim of her coffee cup, as the glass doors to her office slid shut. Luka was lazily typing up some report involving a batch of local hooch, cooked up in a toilet, that was being used to poison residents of the lower Medina. Well, he assumed it was an act of poisoning - could have just been bad craftsmanship. But instead of making his way sleepily through that, he was watching the news go over the large prompter that hung in the corner.

    "You, uhh, better get out there cowboy..." Detective Hartigan smiled at Luka as he leaned against the detectives desk. Even under that caterpillar of a mustache, his shit eating grin was nearly tangible.

    Luka scooted away from his desk, holstering his piece and flinging his worn out jacket over his shoulders. "You think you need that?" The piece or the jacket, Luka couldn't tell. "I don't wanna catch a chill."

    He breathed in deep as he stepped out from the front door, vacuum seal of the entrance whizzing behind him. Before him stood a large crowd that was growing and for a moment, he felt like he was being thrown to the wolves.

    Opening his hand terminal, he sent a message back to Hartigan. I.e. get your ass out here and bring the Captain. Until that came through, he moved to the intercom.

    ::People of Ceres, Star Helix is here to assist you.:: Last thing he wanted was another riot. But this time, it was Earth that had gone and threatened what meager stability remained. ::Please voice your concerns in an orderly fashion and we will attempt to address them.::

    He wished that acquisition for riot gear had come through. But it was gridlocked somewhere in procurement limbo, fated to die on the vine.
     
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  10. Lucrezia Dionisi

    Lucrezia Dionisi Bella Senz’anima

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    Luna :: New Hague :: UN Central Office
    @Ian Frobisher | @Jacob Wronski

    The Deputy Undersecretary tracked her boss as everyone found their designated post at the round table. A joke on equality, one supposed – hierarchy was as entrenched in the ministries as the Belter hate of Inyalowda.

    But that was the other half of the (dangerously high) house of cards they were building over at Interplanetary Affairs.

    Well. “Building”.

    She looked down to consult her terminal, if only to obscure the faint distaste around her eyes. It seemed to her that whether it was flagged as emergency or not, certain Undersecretaries strolled in completely at their leisure.

    Right on cue, the door slid open again, admitting the broad uniform of Captain Wronski. As well as those medals sat on his chest, they did nothing for the integrity they were meant to project.

    And that would matter, if of course such trifling notions had any place in the artful art of governance.

    Van de Voorde made no secret of her open dislike with the cut of her clipped greeting.

    But Lucrezia behind her; she smiled. (With her eyes.)
     
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  11. Jacob Wronski

    Jacob Wronski Deference for darkness

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    Luna, New Hague, UN Central Office

    The doors slid open on the trio from the Office of Naval Intelligence. It was a broad meeting room, open and well-lit for the best possible lack of decisiveness. Well-suited to the bureaucracy, also, was the circular table. Designed for equality on the surface, but in reality reinforcing an instinct to keep friends close and enemies far away.

    There were a scattering of groups already here, huddled in pre-meeting discussion. The Undersecretary for Interplanetary Affairs, who happened to be close to the doors with two other staff, gave them what was best described as a slight incline of the head, which the Undersecretary of Intelligence echoed.

    Jacob kept himself from rolling his eyes only with considerable effort. The two departments had never gotten along - Interplanetary Affairs resented the closed and uncooperative nature of Office of Naval Intelligence, while the Office thought of Interplanetary affairs as meddlesome.

    While the two Undersecretaries exchanged pleasantries and the political equivalent of shots across the bow, Admiral Duquesne signalled that Jacob should pay some attention to her flanking staff. Margot Dassault and @Lucrezia Dionisi were the names. The latter recently widowed, and carefully neutral except for a certain warmth - a glittering, perhaps, in the eyes?

    The two groups were slowly ushered further into the room towards their seats. Jacob let his gaze rest on her for a moment longer; the woman had strength and willpower, that was obvious - she risen through the ranks of both the lawyers and the politicians. One of those careers would have been a lifetime challenge for most people, let alone two. But the pre-meeting dossier on her had been irritatingly unfocused, wandering through too much of her history to be relevant to her present. He chose to smile back, a tight-lipped gesture - non-committal.

    Jacob signalled back to the Admiral: "Object of interest", "status unknown", and "further reconnaissance required". Their signals were much more subtle than the battlefield gestures they were based on, but it was amusing how military language translated so easily to the corridors of power.
     
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  12. Arnold Drake

    Arnold Drake MCR Deputy Minister of Defense

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    Mars, Olympia, MCR Executive Building operational control room

    Arnold Drake had just finished up a draft report for his wife Genevieve's proposal in Congress for commissioning a new Donnager class flagship named in honor of the martyred former Prime Minister, Nathan Smith, before making his way to the meeting. It was a short walk from his office in the Defense Ministry wing to the Prime Minister's OCR. He stopped by Defense Minister Aurora Costello's office on the way and walked with her down the hall.


    "What's her mood right now?" Arnold asked. This was the Prime Minister's third major military situation since being elected, the other two being the blockade of Ceres and the decision to nuke Phoebe.

    "Annoyed. Frustrated. Earth's being intractable and the midterm elections are coming up. And you know how she feels about appearing weak." his boss replied.

    "I seriously doubt there's any threat of her losing the majority but I understand the optics." He should. His wife was in the Congressional leadership of the PM's party and was already working on reelection strategy. His hand terminal chimed and he read the brief message that came up. "Joe's going to be slightly late, something about a malfunction with the tram. They're diverting another one for him." Joe being 3rd Fleet's Admiral Joseph Drake, Arnold's brother. With so many Drakes in government, necessity required using first names.

    "That's fine. The Prime Minister isn't there yet either. She said she needed another 15 minutes." Aurora said.

    As they approached the OCR the two marines in crisp dress uniforms guarding the door saluted, pivoted smartly, and opened it for them.
     
    #12 Arnold Drake, Apr 20, 2018
    Last edited: May 6, 2018
  13. Imèda M

    Imèda M Water Technician

    Messages:
    14
    Ceres station

    Location: Central level, a small dank machine room.
    Imèda looked at the three big valve wheels that operated pumps leading to central and district levels. cutting off the two pumps, like she was ordered to do, would mean that the water rations per capita in those levels would be cut to half the normal levels. It was clear to her that this was just to thirst out the rioters.

    Outside Imèda could hear someone talking. She couldn't make out exactly what was being said, but she could hear the crowd's respond swelling with each passing sentence. Her own experiences from youth conflicted badly with this task, the job she so loves, now turned on her. She idly tapped some pipes with a wrench.

    Suddenly there was loud banging on the door. "HEY, SOMEONE IS IN THERE!" a crass voice shouted. "THEY'RE GOING TO FUCKING LAY US DRY!"

    All of Imèda's hairs stood upright. "No!" she desperately said, but her strangled voice didn't make it past the solid maintenance entrance door. The banging intensified, and she could hear a mighty roar coming from the other side. Too many voices to make out what they were saying, as she wasn't going to find out of that door would hold against this seething crowd.

    Before bailing out Imèda wrote the following in big bold letters on a piece of paper and hung it where they would definitely see it the second they breached the door, saying:


    Da owkwa fo kowmang


    She then just fled and was consequently fired from her job.

    @Oz Sanchez

    Location: Ceres docks
    Imèda remembered an offer made to her a little while ago. A late evening in a rowdy bar. Up until this moment she had given it little thought, but contrary to her convictions of being hard to replace here on Ceres, it seemed that it wasn't hard to fire her. She now dearly hoped to locate the Terminus Est, and prayed to the universe that the offer had not expired, if the ship was even still docked. She needs to get off of Ceres, or be condemned to poverty and unemployment.
     
    #13 Imèda M, Apr 20, 2018
    Last edited: Apr 24, 2018
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  14. Irys Akane

    Messages:
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    @Irkalla Kasai @Aurelia Juarez

    Taking slow, deep breaths she kept her eyes on her display. Watching and waiting.

    "Leiutenant?"

    "Nothing yet ma'am," Akane replied to the call that had been directed towards her station.

    Captain Winiata drummed her fingers on the railing of the mez floor of the ops deck. She had a habit of walking behind the pilots when they were under low thrust and keeping a close eye on every station. Those on the lower deck were used to her learning over the railings and watching them closely.

    "There!" Irys called. "We're getting some serious sensor traffic. Their ports are still closed. I can deploy counter measures."

    "No lieutenant. Ensign, take us back a click and hold position. Akane tell me as soon as they stop."

    They were flying tea kettle, using small thruster bursts to maneuver. They were also being very cheeky and skirting close to the UN lines to see when they'd actually take offense.

    Akane had control of the EM station. Intercepting signals, she also had control over the systems that could throw off enemy lidar and make the Strident a very small target. Every Martian captain was reticent to use the techniques. It hadn't quite dawned on the UN how much more capable MCRN vessels were and no one wanted to give the game away. Not yet.

    "Strident to Nergal," Winiata called out, "returning to escort position."
     
  15. Hector Royce

    Hector Royce MCR Marine, MCRN Bexar

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    MCRN Bexar
    In formation along blockade frontier

    Royce sat in the ready-room in the bowels of his boat, adjusting the reactive servos on the knees of his power armor. Black, with a red stripe on the helmet, his suit was his pride and joy, and he demanded that he did his own maintenance. One of his best drinking buddies was a Goliath mechanic, and taught Royce enough about the suit to conduct all but the most complex of repairs.

    His squad was put on stand-by, so they were prepping their gear for combat. For now, the Bexar, along with the rest of the task force, was set up along the frontier of the blockade with the UN, the cosmic equivalent of two people with guns to each others heads. Royce should have felt torn, even bad about possibly having to fight Earthers, felt nothing but excitement. Because of him, much of his platoon and company were well versed in UN tactics, and were ready to turn their own tricks against them.

    Diagnostics, targeting tests, functions checks, life support tip offs, ammo load outs, and last minute parts replacements were finished within 20 minutes, so all that was left to sit and wait. While they waited, the rest of his squad sparred, read, played cards or exercised. While he waited, Royce tightened some of the resistances up on the joints. Being of Martian make, the suit’s sensitivity was much higher than Royce, born on Earth, enjoyed. Tweaking the resistances adjusted the suit to his higher- gravity body.
     
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  16. Irkalla Kasai

    Irkalla Kasai That’s ‘Commander’ to you.

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    “Careful with the teasin’ now, Strident. Earthers can’t handle Martian game, y’all know that.”

    A round of sniggers went through the CIC. Christensen eyed Beaufort from the helm, brow twitching under the bruise she was still sporting from their brush with Belters. He bit his lip and winked.

    “So don’t y’all be making them blow their load, you hear?” Smirking into his comm, Beaufort didn’t notice the laughter cut off behind him. “Skipper says—”

    “Skipper says what, Comms Officer Allain Beaufort?”

    Dead fucking silence. The couch whined as a firm grip spun it around.

    “Well? I asked you a question, Ensign.”

    “Ma’am, I’m— I didn’t… mean that. Ma’am.”

    Kasai arched a brow. “No?”

    He shook his head. Vigorously.

    “That’s too bad then. You were kinda funny there for a sec, Beaufort.”

    The Commander clapped his shoulder, slow-like, and took the bridge.

    (The sniggers resumed.)

    @Irys Akane
     
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  17. Aurelia Juarez

    Aurelia Juarez Hammer and Nails

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    Words could not express the rage Juarez felt.

    Psyche Eval.

    Physicals.

    Patronizing Medical Board.
    They wanted to sideline the sergeant, she wanted to bust their faces in Juarez managed back onto the Strident albeit under some fairly tight circumstances. Three weeks of careful observation they would determine whether or not to discharge the sergeant, honorably of course. Entry wound to the abdomen - the exit blew out part of her kidney and liver. It's a good thing she was Martian someone noted, a hardy constitution saved her tail but that might have been all it saved.

    "Careful," the nurse began, "just be glad someone wants you back on the boat."

    Juarez didn't say anything, and normally she'd tell ol' Angel Cakes here a thing or two.

    "Alright, stand up." Tehani ordered and placed the wrap back around the Sergeant. "Good, alright come back after your shift and we'll get another look."

    The sergeant rolled her uniform down and winced at the pain. "Thanks."

    "Juarez." Tehani called.

    The Salton native turned to look at the nurse. "Please," the Los Brisbane woman continued, "take it easy you have no idea how many people would love to see you in a recovery room doing nothing."

    "Sure."

    Tehani shifted her expression and frowned. "Juarez."

    "Yeah, yeah I got it angel cakes don't do anything stupid."

    "Easier said than done for you, eh?"

    Juarez rolled her eyes and marched off with a mock salute.

     
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  18. Ailbe Bynes

    Ailbe Bynes Captain

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    The Caladbolg is always late to the party.

    "Prepare for zero-g,"
    announced LCDR Eileen Bannockburn with that ever present twang.

    The fast attack cruiser slid into line backwards. Of course this was all relative. If there were portholes Ailbe wouldn't have been able to see the other MCRN ships any more than he could have seen the UNN vessels. Not with the naked eye anyway. An ablation cascade was a real and present threat in a gun fight in space. No ship wanted to take an ally with them if they did explode. He often had a chuckle at the fictional notion of space combat and how it was nothing like what it actually was in real life.

    Ailbe looked over to his XO as the feeling of weightlessness overcame him. She was younger than him. He knew she was from Nariman, a neighborhood of Londres Nova on Mars. She had graduated from the upper university in Salton with honors a few years after him. Even tied tight as it was her long red hair undulated as if she were underwater. Reflexively he clicked his heels together and anchored himself to the deck.

    He didn't have to announce a change in condition. They were already at condition three, wartime cruising. The fast attack cruiser had, had plenty of time to prepare as she made her way to the blockade.

    "Now we wait and see,"
    commented the captain.

    They didn't have to tell anyone that they had finally arrived as both sides had seen the Caladbolg on approach as she slowed down. He pulled up a holographic overview with scaled distances on the display table and then leaned over it.
     
    #18 Ailbe Bynes, Apr 25, 2018
    Last edited: Apr 25, 2018
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  19. Lucrezia Dionisi

    Lucrezia Dionisi Bella Senz’anima

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    Luna :: New Hague :: UN Central Office
    @Ian Frobisher | @Jacob Wronski

    The temperature in the room ticked down another few degrees. Van de Voorde traded polite volleys with her political nemesis. Dassault perused their plan, swiping through page after page with her typical blank expression.

    And Lucrezia… well. They had a certain distribution of roles at the top of their foodchain, and she’d disentangled herself from paperwork first chance. Between affidavits and subpoenas, she’d done more than her share.

    She didn’t look at Wronski again; she did allow a small smile to quirk her lips, though. Everything in these halls was played in half-measures. No overt commitment, no tipping your hand until you were already holding the opposition by the throat.

    It was hardly any different from the game she used to play.

    As the last of the summoned sought out their designated seat at the table, Leon Niael rose up to state his demands in the situation.

    The quiet before they scrambled to provide a solution to a problem that had none.
     
  20. Ian Frobisher

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    "So, who wants to be the first to stick their dick in the blender?" Ian wondered aloud. He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, but there were a few dirty looks aimed in his general direction regardless.

    To his expert eye, just about everyone present was desperately trying to come up with some way that this clusterfuck was Someone Else's Problem. Typical bureaucratic nonsense.

    "No? No one?" he asked.

    "Okay, so let me be the guinea pig here: have we tried talking to the Martians? Whatever's going down on Eros, we can't afford to shoot it out anymore than they can right now. Maybe we should all stop waving our dicks around for a moment and ask what it is, exactly, they're after. And if that doesn't work, then we can get into an inconclusive firefight that'll almost certainly put us one step closer to the rain-slicked precipice of oblivion."

    It was the stupid, obvious question that only an amateur would ask. Ian knew that all too well. His intentions were twofold: firstly, there was always a chance that no one had thought to open up a line to the Martians. Whatever was happening on Eros, neither side was in a position to claim outright victory without taking unacceptable risks. He was by no means a military man, but even he could read the intelligence reports. Secondly, if everyone else was quick to dismiss him as an imbecile, that would make it so much easier to see who was playing for whom.

    "Or, what the hell, we could always just kill a few Belter kids and hope it sorts itself out."

    @Lucrezia Dionisi @Jacob Wronski
     
    #20 Ian Frobisher, Apr 25, 2018
    Last edited: Apr 25, 2018
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