Mecha World: Daggers in the Dark [IC]

[Miraqariftsky]

Spurred by advances in drive technology, humanity has expanded halfway across the Solar System. Both the Moon and Mars have long since been colonized and terraformed--- at least, partway. Besides the countless people simply living out their lives on ring modules criss-crossing the void above the gas giants, these orbitals serve as transport hubs where ships can refuel, resupply and align for optimal gravitational slingshot trajectories, aided by ultra-mag space-rails. Meanwhile, the myriad asteroids teem with miners, delving deep and staking claims upon their rocks. Elsewhere, especially on the great moons of the outer rings, geodesic colonies slowly crawl across the surface (and sometimes beneath), as these are slowly remade.

Despite these, humanity is still alone in the universe, having yet to meet any other intelligent beings beyond Earth.

As new nations arose, so too have conflicts between them. Over religion, or ideology, or greed or any other reasons, Man's hatred for Man endured even across the sea of stars.

The first shot fired in anger were between asteroid miners, with nuclear contraband on a then-prototype torpedo, on 2101. In the year 2278, the fifth post-Earth war was fought between factions of Martian colonists, and in its wake, Phobos was shattered and a quarter of the surface was simply glassed. This led to the Ares Accords, banning most forms of weapons of mass destruction.

No more were wars fought with battleships raining fire from the heavens and duelling each other with nuclear fire. Thus began the age of the Mecha, fighting wars on a smaller scale, providing more flexibility and endurance than other combat vehicles.

In the year 2404, the colony on Europa, including the entire world, was destroyed by a surprise attack from a then-unknown alien force. Every ship, every station, every colony that they took out, they slaughtered down to the last people they could find, trying to shoot down even escape pods from burning craft. In almost every video during every attack before the defenders fell, one word from the invaders was repeated as they fought with genocidal wrath: KVZR After bitter fighting, the Rings of Jupiter fell in 2407. Humanity's domains have been cut in two, a dagger driven right across the space lanes between Inner Rings and Outer Rings.

Despite their initial successes, superior technology in almost all aspects, they have gotten bogged down as logistics began to take a toll. Reports from reconnaissance squadrons, survivors and refugees showed that their advance had slowed, and stalled. More recent fleet to fleet engagements, while the results have still been in the aliens' favour, have shown them to be reverting to conventional weapons, in some places even using salvaged human tech. Further reports have shown that they seem to be torn between continuing the drive towards Earth or fortifying and occupying their conquests. Other AARs suggest that the initial invasion only had a few capital ships and that the majority of their fighting power is on the mech-scale that humanity fights at as well.

The year is 2411. A ragged alliance of formerly warring factions bands together against the alien menace.

~~~~

Episode One:
Who Goes There?

A tiny tick of a dropship clings to a vast crevice of a nameless asteroid. That deep in the fissure, Captain Katrina Foch of the Geisterdame hopes that the stealth tech that her crew had thus far scrabbled together--- and setting almost all systems on low-power--- together with the sheer iron-nickel mass of their host would mask their sensor signature.

Within, across its five meagre decks, the lights are dim and cold mists every breath of the crew. Their bodies have grown beyond the regular spacer's leanness--- gaunt from the toll of rationing provisions. Their faces are strained with the horrors of the past few years. Their jaws are set with determination as they scurry about their tasks, sliding through corridors by the rails, air-swimming through the zero-G.

Hatches clank open, then slam shut. Their last complement of drone probes hove back into their alcoves.

Presently, five communicator units beep with incoming messages. ++Pilots to the Ready Room.++

Upon arriving, they find a young woman who looks to be just 20 standard Terran years old, 25 at most. Despite her seeming youth, her eyes glare into each pilot who enters, with the cold fury of a decades-battered veteran. Still, there twitches a smirk on her lips as she greets her flock, "How was your last meal? Delicious, certainly?"

Once everyone is settled, she fires up the holographic projector and sets on the briefing. The additional green light carves out the scars and wrinkles and pockmarks on her face. Marks that are mirrored in the shadows and contours of the scrap metal cabinet standing awkwardly along one wall. A jagged shard of bulkhead floats from a chain in the middle of the room. Etched on it, as if with a knife or screwdriver are the words EUROPA. NEVER FORGET.

She clears her throat and says, "As of 0631 hours, probe patrols detected several contacts in Sector Charlie, Grid 371. Three vessels, unknown make. Their vector will take them dangerously close to our little hole here. The time is now 0653. At last readings, at their rate of burn, they have an ETA of 90 minutes. Investigate. If hostiles, lead them away and dispose of them elsewhere. Any questions, pilots?"

[Mr. E]

Smythe slopes into the ready room, and leans against a wall. A smear of oil is splattered on side of her face, and she absent-mindedly dabs at it with a dirty rag as she listens. In truth, the rag appears to be adding more stains than it is removing, although the New Zealander appears not to notice. At the mention of questions, she shakes her head slightly. Pulling herself upright, she rubs her eyes, and looks to her squadmates, checking them over.

[Amaril]

Dutch shrinks inward visibly as he files in behind Smythe and takes a seat. He's shivering, but whether from the cold or nerves, he can't be sure. Looking around at the rest of his squad, the spacer wonders how they can appear so calm, sure that he must be an obvious wreck. He focuses on controlling his breathing, trying to process the Captain's orders as though they're being given to someone else. As the briefing finishes, he shakes his head, no questions coming to mind; it all sounds straightforward enough, at least.

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan whistles cheerfully as he saunters into the briefing room, and during the briefing you can tell he's excited for his first combat mission. When Captain Foch asks if anyone has questions, he considers for a moment, then comments "Why lead them off before shooting them? Are there other enemies in the area we're trying to misdirect?"

[Mr. E]

Smythe watches Dutch as he shivers, his face drawn and pale. Leaning over, she taps his shoulder. "Hey mate, you okay? You look a little shaky."

[Amaril]

Dutch starts at Smythe's touch, but relaxes quickly, sitting up a little straighter. While the captain is busy addressing O'Tiernan, he leans over to whisper back, managing a strained smile. "I'm okay. Just...nervous. But thanks."

[Valmark]

I stroll into the room with nonchalance, taking my seat alongside the others. When O'Tiernan speaks, he adds "Yeah, it does look like unnecessary risk, if they're hostile they could attack us on sight and later proceed on their own course once we get farther trying to lead them away. At least that's what I'd do if I thought the others are enemies and will try to take me down, given the inferior numbers they need the initiative" I finish. °Or luck. There's always that.°

[LairdMaon]

"Yo! I call dibs on being the bait!" Richter cracks his knuckles audibly. "I'll dip in to their formation, slug one in the cockpit and ditch out. Y'all just wait to ambush 'em when I get 'em to you."

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan chuckles at Richter's comment.

Sounds ridiculous, suicidal and stupid. I love it, when can we go?

[Miraqariftsky]

Servos in bionic legs whine and grind as the Captain stands. The deck clangs as she stalks around the table towards Richter.

"ha.

Ha.

HA.

Very.

Funny. Good strategy. Needs improvement. Don't frakking kill yourself unless you really have to." she laughs coldly as she closes in on him. "Can you tell me, smart guy. How well can one of your units take a hit? How many hits can Geisterdame take before getting well and truly ghosted? Dagger Squad's the first time we've managed to scrabble together this much in mecha strength. Some of you are piloting former miners or construction bots or scrappers. Slowly rebuilt with salvaged parts. Now up to, or close to, proper milspec-grade. One of you is jockeying the second cleanest unit here. The padre and the cleaners just got done setting the previous pilot's remains to rest. All of you, don't forget your rolls of duct tape, just in case. Only one of you is riding a practically factory fresh unit."

"All of you damned well better come back here in one piece." she says through a grimace. "I do not like wasting meat and materiel."

"When go?" she says and snarls. "Five minutes ago. Go. Now."

She absently scratches behind her head, strands of loose silver hair fluttering free. Her eyes, fixed on scrolling telemetry stacks and data streams, don't mind at all as the pilots change into their flightsuits and don their helmets.

Just before Dutch exits, the captain's steel-blue eyes transfix his. She cracks a crooked smile and says, "Hey freshie. No pressure. Hnh."


Annnnnnnd the Flesh is Weak. Ha ha. I need SLEEP.

Good enough for now? Do the hangar scene next, eh?

[Valmark]

I'm the first to stand up after the orders, with a not too much enthusiastic "aye aye, captain". "I mean, I can see the suicidal part of his plan, but to our question she could have answered" I mutter to myself, while I put my suit on.
While we go to the hangar I ask the others "So, what where you all trained at? If I understood correctly you're good with getting things up close and personal?" I ask, referring to Richter.
After, I turn to Dutch: "Hey, don't worry too much, we're five against three, and we were trained for this. We've got this. Worst comes to worst, put yourself behind me. I'm not the best in termes of piloting but I can get the work done"

[Etherion]

Shaking his head and laughing at the briefing turned lecture, O'Tiernan cracks his knuckles and starts heading towards the hangar with the others.

Well, I've always been partial to large guns, preferably used at a distance. Good with 'em too, if I may say so myself. What's your specialty?

[Mr. E]

Smythe nods at Dutch's comment. "I think we all are, except possibly those two," she mutters, gesturing at Richter and O'Tiernan. "Anyway," she says more cheerfully, pulling on her helmet, "I'll keep on eye on you, make sure nothing bad happens." Then she turns and hurries out the door towards the hangar bay.

Her mecha is modified mining unit, and it's battered state makes it obvious that it has seen a bit. Carbon scoring adorns the crude ablative armour plates. Smythe struggles to fit inside the control harness, which is clearly designed for a smaller pilot. Once in, she methodically tightens up straps and begins to run pre-flight checks.
Hydraulic pressure: 75%
Fuel Core compression: standard
Ammunition: loaded
Air-supply: 89% oxygen

[Valmark]

Well, I'm mostly trained in reading the battlefield and coordinating an attack with my allies, and I'm, uh, good with my mecha, both in close range and from afar. Thought I might need a companion who watches my back when things get too messy I answer, trying not to sound too much as if I start fantasizing while others creep up from behind me.
I shoot a glance at Smythe while she hurries away "Is it a women's thing to not answer questions or I'm THAT insufferable?"

[Amaril]

Dutch casts an uncertain look over at Richter as Smythe points him out. F***ing sociopath... He's relieved to hear the Captain confirm how foolish his aggression is, at least.

As the others leave, he kicks off the bulkhead to follow them, but stops himself against the doorway at the sound of Foch's voice. Turning back to face her, he starts at the intensity of her gaze, swallowing a resurgence of nerves. His eye falls on the hanging plaque. For a fraction of a second, he'd swear it said GLENN CITY instead of EUROPA.

He sets his jaw and nods to the Captain. "Aye aye, ma'am." Then he pushes off after the others.

[Etherion]

At Hein's comment, O'Tiernan turns and says jokingly "My guess is you're just that insufferable."

[Valmark]

"I guess you and I are going to be great together, uh?" I say, with a small laugh.

[Etherion]

"You know it" he responds with a grin.

[Mr. E]

Halfway through pre-flight checks, Smythe suddenly realises that the fragments of conversation she heard on her way to the hangar actually involved her. Feeling slightly embarrassed, she waits until Hein enters the room, then says "Combat engineer, to respond to your earlier question. Came out from NZ, did my basic, got posted to this dag-end of the solar-system. Don't really like these things, but they're mighty handy for building bridges."

[Valmark]

"Aaaaand someone just proved I'm not that bad" I say, giving a nudge to O'Tiernan before answering Smythe.
"Mmm... I guess that means that Richter and me are going to take the front, with you in the far back" I say, indicating O'Tiernan "And you two in the middle, to provide support and an additional line of defense for our dedicated gunner, at least with our actual information. If anyone's got a better plan I'm all ears guys I say, waiting for any last input before getting in my mecha.
"Also... The name's Hein. It'll become rapidly tiring to say "hey you", I can assure you of that"

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan pats Heins on the back and says "Hey, maybe you aren't so insufferable after all!"
Turning to Smythe, he comments "You know, I don't expect we'll be doing much in the way of bridge building. Or building at all really. How'd you end up piloting a mecha anyways, if you hate 'em so much?"

[Mr. E]

"How did I end up driving a mecha? Three reasons;
1. Military bureaucracy at its finest.
2. Combat Engineering. It is easier to keep up with you combat troops inside a mecha than when you're foot-slogging. Also, if you're building a bridge across the defensive ditch the other guys just built, they tend not to like you much.
3. It's easier to repair one of these if you've driven one yourself. Engineers are 'supposed' to be able to jury-rig fixes and change weapons in the field, so we need to know how one works.
So yeah, that's how I ended up in a suit, trying to follow you lot around."

Smythe swings her arms experimentally, feeling the mecha's movements under her.

[Etherion]

"Well, long as you keep up and keep your complaints funny, I'll be glad to have an engineer along."

O'Tiernan looks at his mecha for a moment, sizing it up.

"No, this won't do, this won't do at all"
He wanders over to one of the techs, tapping him on the shoulder.
"As you can see, there is clearly something wrong with my mecha, and I need it fixed immediately. Honestly, I can't believe I even have to say this. I mean, that gun is tiny! How am I supposed to blow anything up with that, really?"

[Mr. E]

"I'll try to live up to your high standards," Smythe says, with just the faintest touch of acidic sarcasm in her voice. Finishing her final checks, Smythe flicks a switch, and the watches the cockpit close up and seal her into the suit. She feels her pulse begin to race as the constricting straps and feedback relays tie her into place. Deep breaths, in and out. In and out. In and out.

She repeats the words over and over in her mind, till her pulse settles and her breathing calms. Over the intercom, she hears O'Tiernan speak, and snickers to herself, amused by the fact that she had spent much of last night helping fit said weapon to the heavily modified mecha.

[LairdMaon]

Feeling thoroughly chastised, Richter floats himself through the hatch and into the hanger. He settles himself in the remaining mecha and starts it up, still quietly. When it hums to life and the systems show green, he toggles the mic and begins a series of exercises with the great machine to test it's movement capabilities.

"Yeah, close proximity is my specialty. It's...less suicidal, more... Well, pilots don't seem to expect anyone to get in their personal space. It throws them. At least, that's been my experience during training.
I kept the other trainees unable to focus on shooting me by charging straight at them and clobbering them at zero range."

It does, in fact, look like the mecha is warming up for a dance gig.

[Amaril]

The sight of his machine standing ready soothes Dutch's nerves a bit. Small mercy that out of the whole squad, he's been assigned the closest thing the Geisterdame has to a factory-fresh, military-spec rig. The military green paint job on the Paloma Type-1 has hardly a scratch on it. Of course, all its parts coming from the same place at the same time probably doesn't mean much--the Type-1 hasn't been military standard since Jupiter fell, outclassed and outmoded by the newer Triptych patterns. Still, Dutch wouldn't have it any other way. He trained on a Type-1 rig. The cockpit is more like home than any place he's been since he was assigned out here.

"Reactor containment...compression normal...thruster output..." Hein Boulevard's question about specialties shakes him back to reality. "Um..." What is his specialty? "I mean, I'm certified, but...I dunno, my program was pretty generalized."

[Miraqariftsky]

The corridor opens out into a suddenly vast area comprising a large chunk of two decks of the ship. For once, the near omnipresent rust recedes from sight. Five mecha units stand in their alcoves as techs in greasy overalls bustle through final preparations.

The one whom O'Tiernan taps happens to be an old man whose eyes widen in surprise, then his face splits in a gap-toothed grin. "This boy knows woss wot, eh! OH for the days of the old ships! Bristling with atomic missiles, each one larger than this dinky little rustbucket! Ahhhhhh..."

The young woman floating by, arms laden with a toolbox, nods toward Smythe and snorts at the gun-happy mech-jock. "It's not the size of the gun. It's how you use it. Now, seriously, what rounds are you packing for the AC?"

~~~~

80 minutes remain until the projected perimeter breach and the Geisterdame would be forced to either engage, or flee. Less than that, since they'll have to go before that time.

Dagger Squad assumes their positions in the two mecha-sized airlocks at the flanks of their home dropship. Over the hiss of the depressurization, their comms crackle on the Captain's channel.

++We're lucky so far that the molecular properties of this rock have been interfering with comms and helping mask our sensor signature. Without this, if any of us even ping on their scans, they can easily report back to their command, radio or laser-comms or whatnot and they'll know where we are. Hence why lure 'em away before doing 'em in. IF hostile. And IF you think you can take them easy.

And if it's a clusterfrak, assume we're already gone. Rendezvous at Nav Foxtrot, after obfuscating maneuvers.

Understood?

Get it done, and godspeed.++

~~~~

They hangar bay doors open soundlessly. The pilots are pushed into their seats as their thrusters flare.

In their peripheral vision, and rearview cameras, they see a brief glimpse of the battered 'Dame. Overall it follows the aerodyne dropship design, but smoother, with a lower profile. The aft bulges with the two main engines. Various turrets and launchers blister its hull. The prow and dorsal areas still bear scoring and scorch marks, but the armour endured.

~~~~

55 minutes remain.

Dagger Squad rises through the vastness of the jagged canyon. Every so often, their PD stutters, the beams vapourizing dangerous bits of debris that, though no larger than a coin, could cause terrible damage.

Because of the properties of the ores all around them, the best their sensor screens could come up with currently are dozens of false positives. Other than that, it's all a garble of static. Communication with each other is done through tight laser transmissions.

Though they are making good progress towards the lip of the abyss, and towards their intercept coordinates, there is little to no sunlight coming through. The only sources of light now are their floodlights and the glow of their thrusters.

~~~~

33 minutes remain.

They are now skirting just below the edge of the precipice, following the contours of the vast canyon and navigating by the earlier maps that their probes had charted. At the very edges of their sensor screens, working past the dozens of false contacts...

...there is movement.

~~~~

27 minutes remain.

Thrown off by what must have been chaff or lucky jinking, just a few hundred kilometers away, a missile corkscrews off-course and nicks the peak of a hill, sending shards and boulders flying. The missile itself fails to detonate, for some reason. A dud? Or loaded with a kinetic payload? PD systems flash away on automatic.

Beyond the closest hill, beyond the canyon's last curves, coming up the top, through the fuzz on their sensors, they detect three contacts. The closest one is a small, speedy shuttle. The other two are ramshackle in construction but it is clear enough that they were built for war.

The closer one is an improvised, double-hulled guncutter, mounting two AC turrets at the prow and two more amidships at the dorsal face.

The farther one mounts missile launchers at the flanks. Presently, a set of bay doors is opening at the bow.

~~~~

A tightband message is blasted out at Dagger Squad...

++MAYDAY, MAYDA...++

...and then is cut short as something within the smaller vessel finally gives out. Fires flare from several hull ruptures.

Another message comes in.
++Owah prey. Bugger off. 'Less ye wanna tussle?++

Warning klaxons blare in their cockpits of several targetting systems trying to get a fix on them.

[LairdMaon]

"If no one minds, I got an idea on how to start this fun. If we spread out, I can take center point. I go straight down the center of their formation,
you guys flank ready to open up on them if they act hostile. Under the cover of your fire I can penetrate and wreak havoc. Nothing but clean up after your efforts I bet!"

After listening to the messages, "Okay, that sounded hostile. I call the missile bound guy. Those things are likely to suck at zero range!" Richter spins his shovel into a two-handed grip.

[Valmark]

"Here Dagger Squad Leader, declare you-" I stop midsentence seeing the smaller ship getting gunned down. Once the alarms go on I take a deep breath So much for diplomacy. Richter, Get in his face. Dutch, cover him while O'Tiernan shoots the other and I get in close to him, Smythe check the damaged vehicle, lend assistance if you can, if there are survivors they might have just seconds
I say, sprinting together with Richter. Sorry Richter, not letting you go alone. Besides, I have escape systems

[Etherion]

Did you say shoot? I heard shoot. I'm gonna shoot.

O'Tiernan quickly takes aim at the designated target, and fires a shot.

[roll0]

He scores a hit, but in his rush to shoot he compromises his position

[LairdMaon]

"Copy that. Moving to get in his face.
Targeting the one with missiles." the even tone coming from Richter seems slightly at odds with his demeanor so far...

Flip a couple switches, make an adjustment or two, power PD to full...

Maneuvering to charge under the cover of O'Tiernan's shots, he yells, "YAAAAHOOOOOOOOO!" and powers forward.


I don't see anything about rolling for a charge and I have no idea if we are close enough to make close combat just yet. I'm assuming that I'll be close enough to smash my shovel in the face of my target next round.

[Valmark]

I try to jeep at Richter heels without exposing myself.

2d6+1

[Amaril]

Blood pounds in Dutch's ears, almost drowning out Hein Boulevard's voice on the comm. It's not them...it's not them, it's just pirates, and they just killed those people, and they might kill us too--

Richter's thrusters flare as he charges forward, and Dutch shakes it off. "Richter, I'll cover you at range. Stay out of my targeting angle." He raises his autocannon, sighting on the missile-armed ship. "Visual clear...firing!"

Attempting to assist a teammate by laying down covering fire to keep the enemy from focusing on Richter. If I succeed, Richter gets +2 on his move. [roll0]

[LairdMaon]

Out of nowhere, Richter dips down to the surface of the asteroid. He touches off to gain a burst of speed and rockets at his target. With a battle cry that leaves no question of his love for a good fight, he swings his shovel for the cockpit of the opposing mecha.


CQC [roll0]
That's +2 from Skill and +2 from that awe inspiring assist.

[Mr. E]

"On it." Smythe's mecha leans forward, clumsily rockets across the surface of the asteroid as her thrusters kick in. As she does, she scans the smaller vessel's battered hulk, searching for any signs of life. Landing next to the smaller vessel, she one-handedly flings debris aside while firing wildly with the other.


Rush to the Rescue: [roll0] If I roll 7-9 I pick fail to rescue, as I doubt Smythe will be able to do a lot without dedicated rescue gear, so no amount of determination will help her save them. Also, just a heads up, I may be slow in posting for the next couple of days.

[LairdMaon]

A klaxon sounds alerting Richter to the damage Smythe's mecha has taken and he smashed the toggle to silence it. He is glad for a moment that the remains of his dance partner are still so close that he can kick off from them to get to his downed teammate. Without a second thought he reaches out into her cockpit, holds his breath, pops his cockpit open and tosses her inside before closing the glass back up.


No one dies without an attempt at a rush to the rescue [roll0]

Yuck. This is where an assist or two would save the day.

[Miraqariftsky]

Seemingly overconfident, the pirate gang failed to hold onto the initiative.

Still perched on the crest of the freshly torpedo-shaved asteroid hill, O'Tiernan's mecha raises its AC. The reticle hovers over the targetting brackets, sighting in on the bridge.

The guncutter's crew react quickly, banking to port--- O'Tiernan's right. All four turrets begin to orient towards him. He is unable to fully compensate, he squeezes the trigger too soon. The tungsten-carbide round hits at just the base of the turret at the starboard bow... sparks fly as it partially rebounds off the sloped armour, penetrates the starboard hull...
...the guncutter shudders and lists. A bump appears amidships, a rupture clearly venting atmo. Another bump appears farther in and at the pectoral side of the ship.

Just as the single almost-missed shot's effects seem to subside, it shudders once again. The starboard engine bleeds plasma from a spiderweb of internal ruptures. A series of emergency charges blow along the seams that connect the starboard hull to the rest of the ship. Sparks and fluids fly from the gaping wound. Gasping crewmen tumble through the void even as the rest of the vessel fires maneuvering thrusters, trying to correct its listing and escape the slaughter these strangers have sprung upon them.

The two remaining main guns let loose on full auto, a wild torrent of hot lead.

Richter sprints across the rapidly-dwindling no-man's-land. Close behind him is Hein, firing bursts as he runs, the battering trying to throw off the aim of the enemy gunners. Incoming shells and shards of space rock zing by, his knack at maneuvering getting him close.

The missileboat-***-dropship's captain must have realized the danger they are currently in.

++THE HEYULL?! SUCK ON AN ALPHA STRIKE, SHYETFRAKKERS!++ general frequency comms crackle with his curses.

Outright missile locks ping on everyone in Dagger Squad.

Retro rockets fire on full-burn as the missileboat moves in a fighting retreat. Four previously unseen laser turrets mounted above and below its wings take aim at Richter...
...only to be jarred out of alignment as Dutch blasts them with depleted-uranium rounds, the shots peppering the bow edge and everything that's exposed with raking miniature explosions. He burns through one magazine, and then another, and then another, reloading as rapidly as he could, giving as much cover fire as possible.

Richter fires his jumpjets, rocketing towards the foe, trying to get to them before the missileboat dropship could gain yet more distance. The enemy's bow-mounted hangar bay door opens and their own mecha rushes out. Two arm-mounted rocket launchers fire eight shots right before they close the few hundred meters left between them. Richter's PD turret hums, frying them before they could reach him, but each successive explosion is closer and closer.

He bursts through a thicket of fireballs and ends up body-slamming the enemy mecha, then swings his shovel in for a decapitation. It smashes through the reinforced glass easily. Even through several layers of metal and cybernetics, he feels the sudden softness as metal and glass give way to flesh and bone. Half a man sprawls out, his arms still flailing, his guts trailing behind him. Globules of blood float in the void. Propelled by inertia, the dying enemy pilot collides wetly against Richter's cockpit. He holds on feebly, thumping and scrabbling on the glass blindly. His strength finally gives out and the half-a-corpse hangs there, obscuring Richter's sight with encrusted blood and dead meat.

The wingtip-mounted cyclindrical missile launchers bloom, sending a full fusillade towards the remainder of Dagger Squad.

Meanwhile, quick on her word, Smythe jets towards the stricken vessel. She conducts a quick scan and comes up with grim results--- fuel lines have been ruptured and plasma containment has been breached.

Still, she tries her utmost to help. One hand flings debris away and tries to find something, anything to serve as a temporary patch. The other hand seizes her RPG-SMG, firing it on fullauto, creating almost a quarter-sphere of shrapnel for the incoming missiles to pass through.

Her hand chances upon a writhing ultra-voltage conduit that had been ruptured and tries to use it to weld a patches onto the core ruptures. Multitasking already, she dimly registers a controlled explosion off the port bow which she recognizes as escape pods being launched... just as the damaged engine beneath her buckles.

The warnings of the imminent core breach overlap with the first of the incoming missiles bursting against Smythe's flak barrier.

His cockpit utterly encrusted with frozen blood and guts, Richter forces his shock aside, toggles on the Enhanced Imaging Overlay on his HUD and pushes his machine as hard as it can go to save his teammate in trouble. His own core groans as safeties are overridden and he pushes the thrusters to 125% capacity.

Behind him, the enemy mecha that he'd just kicked off of tumbles the opposite way. The enemy dropship's PD turrets fire at it but, too little and too late--- the wreck crunches into the bridge. Metal and glass and bodies fly. Only one crewman remains, clutching desperately onto a console as the cabin explosively depressurizes.

Richter arrives at Smythe's position just as the stricken vessel's core overloads. He grabs her mecha by the shoulder and interposes his own between her and the exploding shuttle. This happens just as more missiles mash through the flak barrier. Her sidearm is spent, one arm is fried from its heroic efforts to try and repair a critical core. Smythe switches to her AC loaded with airburst ammunition and lets rip, together with her point-defence laser.

Fire behind them. Fire afore of them. Shrapnel bursts everywhere as they tumble together. Reflexively, Richter has his arms up in a boxer's defence, inadvertently bringing his AC and shovel up as shields in front of his damaged cockpit. Smythe's autocannon glows with over-fire. Still she keeps on shooting, knowing it's only her gun between a couple dozen incoming missiles and her teammate as well as those poor sods who'd just popped into an escape pod.

But her gun isn't alone. Hein, Dutch and O'Tiernan have kept on shooting. Their PD turrets contribute against the incoming swarm while keeping up the fire against the two pirate vessels. Several thrusters rendered inoperable, pieces of armour plates flying off, ruptures flaring, the halved guncutter keeps on tumbling out of control. A couple of five-round bursts sends flak exploding within the still-exposed belly of the enemy dropship. Fire blooms within and the vessel lists. A quick look at scanners shows that, while still technically operational, the engines have been severely damaged and 90% of their thrusters are now offline.

Presently the main danger now to Dagger Squad is the rapidly-expanding cloud of shrapnel, both from their flak barrier and the remains of the enemy missiles--- which had apparently been loaded with scrapshot warheads. Though they get closer and closer, the PD lasers readily deal with those.


Damage report:

Smythe:
>(which is her dominant hand?) THAT arm of her mecha is currently a molten/mangled mess.
>RPG-SMG is both out of ammo and lost.
>AC is both out of ammo and rendered inoperable due to overheating and structural damage.
>PD turret down to 40% capacity.
>Sensors down to 31% capacity.
>Armour is down to 37%.
>Internal systems are down to 46%.
>Thrusters at 23%, in current state, if pushed, up to 36%, but that will result in more long-term damage to the machine.
>Engine core: Breached. 22% integrity and dropping fast.
>Life support: 18%, and dropping.

Richter:
>(which is her dominant hand?) THAT arm of her mecha is currently a molten/mangled mess. OFF-hand arm is at 50% capacity.
>AC is rendered inoperable due to structural damage.
>Shovel... is slowly floating... an armslength away.
>PD turret is... simply no longer there.
>Sensors down to 11% capacity.
>Armour is down to 07%.
>Internal systems are down to 07%.
>Thrusters at 03%, in current state, if pushed, up to 06%, but that will result in more long-term damage to the machine.
>Engine core: Breached, leaking plasma. Integrity is at 13% and dropping fast.
>Life support: 09%, unstable, and leaking hard.

[Mr. E]

Smythe struggles wildly as the dark, constricting embrace of her suit pulls her down. The screaming of warning alarms makes it difficult to think, and she feels herself slipping away into blind terror. There is a feeling of static in her mind from the destroyed feedback arrays in her right arm. A feeling of powerless emptyness overtakes her as she watches Shrapnel tear into Richter's suit.

There is nothing I can do. I can't help them, not now. They will die, and I will watch them do it, 'cause I am too slow. Too slow to save them, too slow to help them. Nothing I can do. She watches a bright curl of plasma float past her view-panel, strangely beautiful in the vacuum. She sees a loose plate of armour hover in space. And then she sees it, the possibility of life, and the Smythe begins to speak, softly at first, like a prayer, into the fury of battle around her.

"I will not hide, I will not run, I will not leave. I am not my body. I am not my body. I AM NOT MY BODY. I AM STRONGER THAN MY BODY. I AM STRONGER THAN FEAR. I WILL RISE AND MAKE DEATH HIMSELF LOOK ME IN THE EYE. AND THEN, THESE PEOPLE WILL NOT BE HARMED. NOT. ON. MY. WATCH."

One hand frantically toggles switches, as Smythe over-rides safety codes and re-routes power from destroyed and damaged systems into her reactor core. With a groan of shattered servos, her mecha grinds upright and stumbles forward, towards the hovering armour plate. Reaching out, she lets go of her overheated autocannon to free up her remaining limb.

Well, that was a fun cliche to write. Rolling to escape danger [roll0] Hope I get better dice luck.

[LairdMaon]

Klaxins on silent, the warning lights and symbols continue to blink unceasingly. Heavy damage to Smythe, heavier damage to himself. "Ugh. I'd have a better chance of making it alive if... well, if I were dead. Nope. This won't do. Core breech. Structural damage about to turn into a catastrophic failure. No guns, couldn't get into combat even if my arm was at full functionality.
I might have a minute left before I blow. How can I be productive..."

With a start, Richter disengages from the neural link and unstraps himself from his seat. A toggle flipped as he leaps about the cockpit opens the mic, "Hey guys? I think this is my 'hold my beer' moment! I saw this in a movie once!"

Richter slams his fist into a glass panel and pulls the handle behind it. He flips more switches as they light up. And finally, the emergency core ejection system comes to life. "This could suck." he says to himself, forgetting that the mic is still on...


[roll0]

C'mon! Please, dice!

[Amaril]

It all happens so fast.

Dutch's cockpit rattles with the recoil of his AC, as he fires magazine after magazine at the missile boat. Gotta keep up the pressure...can't let it get off a shot... And then, in the blink of an eye, Richter is there, and the enemy mecha is down, and then the shuttle explodes, and Smythe is spinning out, and Richter is there with her now, and wreckage is everywhere, and Richter is ejecting his core, but Smythe is still just floating there, and her core is starting to glow and it's about to collapse...

Come on...dump it...eject...do something...

Nothing comes over the comm but static.

You still have time...you know what to do...

Gas trails from rents in the frame. She's losing life support.

I'll keep on eye on you, make sure nothing bad happens.

"Goddammit, NO!"

His throttle is open as far as it'll go. The gap is closing. His PD is lighting up too fast to keep track of the shots. His AC is back in its housing, the Type-1's hand instead reaching out with his oxygen exchange hosing. If he can get it hooked up, and get her core clear, there's a chance...

Attempting to rush to the rescue for Smythe. Dice, do not let me down...

[roll0]

I would definitely appreciate some help, but I understand if no one wants to risk it.

[Valmark]

°Oh god I don't want to see them die please don't let them die someone save them° I think while everything unfolds before my eyes. I'm already seeing both of them dead but luckily Dutch intervened, and Richter actually saved himself. I take a deep breath, before reality downs on me.
°They were going to die. And they are my responsability. I could have killed them. Dutch had to go blindly because I was to slow. I am a terrible leader, I should have never thought I could do it° I keep wallowing in fear and self-doubt until alarms blare in my cockpit.
°Enemies. Still enemies out there and Richter and Smythe are still alive. This mission is still on, we can still do it°
I consider the situation, before getting my mecha on.
"Sorry guys, I'm back. Nice Dutch, that was masterful. Now, I'd say let's recover Richter, the survivors and what we can salvage without risk and go back to the Geinsterdame. We can always get back here to retrieve what we missed later. Smythe, Richter... sorry, it was my fault." I say, before moving to help them.

[roll0]
It' actually a 3 if I remember my awareness right. Otherwise it's a 4, still bad

My mecha decides there to malfunction. I don't know what happens but the servos stop answering my commands.
"...I am SO going to get yelled at.

[Mr. E]

Smythe's head hurts. The blood pounds in her ears, and she struggles to breathe, but for the hiss of fresh air coming from somewhere overhead. Her mecha is eerily silent, black and still. She struggles to think clearly and the pain of breathing hurts her lungs. I must have passed out, she realises, then spots the connection between Dutch's mecha and hers.

As the piped over oxygen does it's work, Smythe's head begins to clear, but she can feel the claustrophobia coming on like a wave, and she hurriedly fumbles with the controls. After what seems like an eternity of waiting, dim lights spring up on her controls, as the rescue apparatus transfers power from Dutch's mecha to hers. She's low on juice, but should have enough to run life support and get a tow back to base. At least there is no sign of combat outside.

The techies are going to kill me for this, she thinks, looking at the shredded state of her mecha. A slight movement of her left arm brings a sudden surge of nausea and ache. "I hate burns," Smythe mutters, then realising her comm is still on, feels rather embarrassed, and says in a louder tone "What did I miss when I was out for the count guys? How's Richter? Think I owe him and Dutch a beer. What the situation with hostiles? Does Hein know he's got a leak in his left actuator?" Smythe watches her leaders mecha suddenly topple sideways, and concludes "That'll be a no then."


Well, that was a long post. I presume Mira has no objection to me assuming that the emergency rescue gear has a power conduit as well as an oxygen one.

[Valmark]

"...Smythe? Next time say the part about the leak BEFORE the rest" I say, trying to give her the evil eye from the comms.

[Amaril]

As Smythe's voice comes over the comm, Dutch lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, feeling like he might black out from relief. "Holy s***...Smythe, don't scare me like that. I thought you were..." He trails off, not even wanting to say it.

Hein is saying something. "So...is that it? We won?" Suddenly, he remembers the shuttle. "Wait, what about the civs? Did anyone see lifeboats launch?"

[Mr. E]

"Pro-tip for you guys: turns out passing out from a combination of shock and oxygen deprivation is bad and annoys people around you. Seriously, thanks for the save mate. When I cooked my arm, I was fairly certain I was about ten seconds from buying a farm. So yeah, thanks and thanks Richter too.

Hein, your actuator, I only just saw it. Anyway, I've been a bit distracted for the past wee while, what with the whole falling unconscious thing. But, in hindsight, probably would have been better to tell you before, I agree." Smythe represses a snigger at the sight of Dagger Squad's leader's ignoble position.

"I saw some escape pods launch just before I got into my trouble. Although I'm not sure they were civs. That shuttle looked kinda military to me.

Seriously though, has anybody heard from Richter? He's ejected his core, and life support tends not to function that great without power. Do we know whether he's got a backup generator on board? Guys? Anybody?" Smythe twists awkwardly in her unpowered suit, trying to get a better look at Richter's mecha.

[Etherion]

Good to see you managed not to die. Next time, lets not tackle the damaged ship, aye?

O'Tiernan settles into a good vantage point.

I'll cover you until you manage to drag folk back to base. Try not to explode.

[LairdMaon]

It's cold in Richter mecha. He's had to reroute power from all nonessential systems into life support.
It's also dark and more than a little creepy. The only light Richter has is colored by the remains smeared across his windscreen.

He has taken out his flashlight from the emergency kit and is shining it out. He is hoping someone will find him before he loses his mind or his life support.

[Valmark]

The seconds pass without Richter answer. "...uhm, guys? I think we should get moving. I don't like Richter's silence" I say, as I try to stabilize my mecha, resulting in it spinning around almost uncontrolled.
"I can do it doooon't worry I just hope no one's filming this"

[Amaril]

"I've got lights from Richter's cockpit," Dutch calls out, spotting the flashing. "Looks like he's okay in there."

The thought of the shuttle's passengers waiting in their escape pod weighs on him. "Anyone have eyes on the lifeboat? Should we see about towing them back with us?"

[Valmark]

"Good, still we shouldn't wait too much" I reply to Dutch, before he attracts my attention towards the lifeboat.
"Yeah, we should help them. Is there a way to contact them? Also, if we can we should take the enemy mecha. The scientists at the Geinsterdame will love us. Still, priority to alive people" I say, trying to get in contact with the people inside.
°Those things must have comms or things like that, right?°

[Mr. E]

"Whew, had me a little worried then." Smythe wipes her forehead, then continues, "Maybe we should link your mecha, Hein, to Richter's, so you can borrow his thrusters and get him up on comms."

In response to the continuing conversation, Smythe looks around, hoping to spot the escape pods. "Well, I can't see them, but I can't move my mecha's head, so I that ain't much of a surprise. If we can't raise 'em on comms soon, I want to get out of here. Our little bar-room brawl might have attracted attention from something further up the food chain, and I don't think we're in any fit state for that.

[Valmark]

"That's quite a sensibile idea, Smythe. Anything to stop this spinning" I reply, rolling my eyes "Funny thing, don't ask me how to do it. Also, I wouldn't mind a bigger fish, for as long as it is the Geinsterdame"

[Mr. E]

"Oh right, yes sorry. I forgot I'm not hanging out with the engineers anymore. What you need to do is turn off your right legs power as well. You'll be stuck using your shoulder thrusters, and you'll manoeuvre like a pig, but it'll be good enough to get you home. Once you get close enough, there should be an emergency rescue gear control panel somewhere in your suit. Probably up on the right-hand side, although none of these mechs are what you'd call standard. Spin your suit round so you're face to face with Richter, and set the rescue gear going. It'll handle the rest."

Smythe starts off sounding amused at the flailing of Hein's mecha, although as she continues to reel off instructions, a certain element of strain can be discerned in her voice. She wipes her face again, and concentrates on deep, even breaths.

[LairdMaon]

Every so often, quietly, so you almost miss it, Richter's mic cuts in and whispers over the comm.

"No, I don't think that's right,
Jitney. I'm looking at you right now and I can't see how not having legs could be a benefit to either people or mecha."




"I, well... But, how would you gain the motive force to perform advanced maneuvers?"




"I think I see where you're going with that kind of thought... That's a lot of thrusters!"

[Valmark]

"Easy peasy Smithy" I say, doing as told. °Sure, for as long as it is a matter of going with half thrusters is "easy", the matter is when I'll have to do rest°
"Manuevering like a pig was an euphemism right? Bec...do you hear that?" I say, picking up Richter signal.
"The hell is he speaking about? Am I sure I want to connect with him?" I say, before finally aligning with his mecha.
I start fumbling with the cockpit searching for that rescue gear, finding something that looked like a lever around the side indicated by Smythe.
"Either this is related to the rescue gear or I'm going to blew up within seconds. In your hands!" I say, pulling it.

[Mr. E]

There is a certain lyrical quality to Smythe's swearing, which traverses more than one language in its quest to convey precisely how crappy the situation is. There's no way this is going to end well.

"Richter, can you hear me? Say yes if you can hear me. Richter? Does anybody know how we treat this kind of condition? I don't know what we do."

[Etherion]

Mute him and drag him back to base?

[Mr. E]

"No. This is because we were too slow to get him plugged in. I think we owe it to him try and help him. At the very least, this will be a reminder to check on everybody.

We are going to have to drag him back though." Smythe sighs heavily. "Look at the mess I made of our first op. One casualty and two wrecked suits, all because I tried to help people who, it would seem, didn't need helping. I'm brilliant at this..."

[Valmark]

"Smythe? Stop right there. You tried to follow my orders. And I asked you to try and help people on a wounded ship in the middle of a firefight. It's not your fault. The only thing that I managed to do right was to ASK O'TIERNAN AND DUTCH TO SHOOT. Hell, they acted better while I was frozen on the battlefield. So yeah, stop pointing the finger of guilt toward yourself and just think at the punch I deserve once back to the base" I say, while she works.
"Besides, it's probably fine. When he'll rest somewhere with enough oxygen. Besides, he's already crazy, how much worse can he get? Really"

[Etherion]

Tae be fair, oi wasn't sure ye actually ordered me tae shoot.

[Valmark]

"...see? I couldn't even tell clearly our GUNNER to shoot what's with the sudden accent? I did even half what I just said I did. So cheer up, I'm buying you all a beer back in the ship. Or whatever you prefer drinking"

[Etherion]

Ah'll be takin' a whiskey, t'anks

[Mr. E]

"It's always my fault. Always. How do you improve, if you did not first fail?

But yeah, yeah, I see you're point." Smythe suddenly sounds very tired. "Moping never helped anyone. You and I can have a no-holds barred throwdown over whose most crap at soldiering at debriefing. Anything else we need to do here, once we've plugged Richter in? I'm coming off my adrenalin rush as of right now, and pretty soon I'm gonna feel like total crap."

Given the ongoing conversation in the OOC thread, I believe it would be wise to point out at this point that Smythe is really not very good at psychology.

[Valmark]

"Yeah, maybe if we fight enough on who's guilty the captain won't say anything. Regarding your question, we should recover the lifeboat of those survivors and the enemy mechas, if possible. Than we are done"

[Mr. E]

"It maybe Boss-man, it just may be. I guess I'll just relax while you lot do the hard work, since my mecha ain't going nowhere without a tow.

And seriously, O'Tiernan, have you damaged your mike? Or does talking about alcohol and guns just bring out your inner Irish-ness?

[Valmark]

"Uhm... is Richter supposed to answer now?" I say, trying to get him on the comms

[LairdMaon]

"Hi guys! Didja miss me?" Richter sounds right as rain and perky!

[Valmark]

"...is it me or Richter brings half the enthusiasm of our group? Welcome back Richter"

[LairdMaon]

"Ha ha! Well don't mind me too much!
We're playing a great game of Rock/Paper/Scissors! So far, I'm winning!"

[Miraqariftsky]

Two patches on the asteroid's surface briefly boil a white-hot mess before quickly cooling into a glassy finish.

When the dust ---and the sensor static settle back down to a manageable level, Dagger Squad detects a faint ping of life-signs just beyond the lip of the nearby canyon. They retrieve two battered escape pods, but their comms systems are far too damaged to be of any significant use in speaking with the survivors within. All that could be heard are a mass of static and garbled words.

It is a long, slow trek back to base. They boost along the asteroid's surface in slow hops, for the most part letting inertia and momentum do the work for them and only correcting course with the maneuvering thrusters every so often. Along the way, there is another explosion on the surface. A brief pop up on top reveals that the crew of the pirate guncutter failed to stabilize it in time.

~~~~

The crew of the Geisterdame move with even more urgency than before as the mecha hove in. Three of them linked and limping together. The other two carrying three lifeboats between them. Though the worry of the crew is evident, even through their movements and their voices, so is their relief at the safe return.

~~~~

Hein, Smythe and Richter are taken to the Medbay for assessment and treatment. Most of their injuries boil down to minor lacerations, minor hypothermia, O2-dep and minor cases of chem/rad exposure. Hein is released soon after, though, his ills having been deemed too minor to take any more of the limited medical resources pn hand.

The usually quiet Medbay, however, is today, filled with gaunt refugees. The doctors and nurses hustle from bed to bed, from patient to patient, from family to family, treating wounds, providing emergency sugars and fluids, comforting them where they could.

~~~~

O'Tiernan, Dutch and Hein float in the Captain's office, holding onto rails and armrests as footage from their mechas' onboard cameras replays the mission.

She plays through every file, then fixes each of them with her stare. And then she says,

"Okay. Let me get this straight. TWO AND A HALF mecha out of our only unit returning at workable capacity. Two units are set back for MONTHS of repairs. One has its leg BORKED. Ammo is down 40-50%. Fuel and O2 by same, but looks to be worse figures. AND two pilots are in for weeks, if not months of recovery, for oxygen deprivation, chem-and-rad exposure, concussions, various shrapnel wounds, not to mention whatever psych-trauma they've no doubt got seeded in their poor little heads... And it's still miraculous they've gotten off as MINOR as they did. Ach! Mein! GOTT! Verdammtscheisse!"

"But on the other side of that... You seized the initiative and threw yourselves against enemies with superior firepower. You took strategic ground and had cunning, courageous tactics. You went back, even into harm's way, for your comrades and for innocents. You triumphed with only machine losses and nil K.I.A."

"You brought back a good deal of salvage. TWO Bulldog BDG-2 mecha, only slightly damaged. A 20% functional missileboat dropship... it's a damned RUSTBUCKET, but hey, what isn't? A cutter's worth of spare parts. A pod's worth of P.O.Ws for interrogation. HEH... or recruitment. Or disposal. HEH HEH HEH."

"AND a couple boats of refugees. For whom you risked your lives even though this was only a Heavy Recon mission. TECHNICALLY, you could have laid in wait beneath the ridge in low power, and, if all they really were after were those people in the shuttlecraft, if you'd just shut down your PD, taken a couple of minor debris hits and waited them out, they could well have just left you unmolested. But you didn't."

"I'm proud of you. Good job, Daggers."

[Valmark]

"...wait, no punishment or things like that? I could have done so many things differently!" I say, looking at her.
°We could have lost Richter and Smythe with some less luck...°

[Mr. E]

Smythe takes the hustle and bustle as an opportunity sneak out of the med-bay somewhat sooner than she technically should've. Her left fore-arm is swathed in bandages, although thankfully in way that does not seriously impede movement, and she's well over her recommended Rad dose, but she feels relatively cheerful nonetheless.

Two weeks of come in once a day, have us change your bandages is pretty light, all things considered. 'Specially since I can still use hand in the interim.Carefully floating down to the briefing room, Smythe finds it empty, then cruises along past it, up a hatchway, and over to a hallway on the right hand side of the ship. A row of small portholes provide a view out to the asteroid field. Floating crosslegged in the air, she sits and thinks over the days events.

[Etherion]

After the debrief, O'Tiernan grumbles to himself about the Captain's tirade.
Ay don't clap why ay'm gettin' lectured 'ere, al' me shorts belt!

[Valmark]

"Psssst O.T., Dutch, she's strangely complimenting us, maybe I'm just masochist asking for reprimands?"

[Miraqariftsky]

Later...

As the debriefing hoves to a close, Captain Foch shuts off the projector and says, "Alright, troops. Any questions? Remember that we're doing this going back over everything so that we, and more importantly, YOU, can learn and improve, both from your mistakes and the things you did right."

Gesturing at Hein, she asks, "Alright. What things could you have done differently, you think?"

If nobody has any further questions or concerns to raise, the captain gives them a salute and says, "Dismissed, troopers. Make sure to look in on your downed comrades and our latest crop of refugees, alright, heroes?"

Just before they turn the corridor, the debriefed pilots might hear a tone-deaf whistling in the Captain's voice as she, too, exits. If they happen to look her way, they might see that she carries a certain leather bag, old and cracked, reminiscent of what travelling doctors used to carry, and sometimes, still do.

~~~~

In the Infirmary, and later...

Richter awakes, strapped to a hospital bed. Strapped as is normal, per a micro/zero-G environment, not strapped because he's dangerous to others around him. He finds his shrapnel wounds bandaged and shunts in his arms feed him detoxification drugs.

He also finds a faint warmth on his shoulder and a shadow that fades away before his eyes could fully shake off the fog of sleep.

~~~~

In the Infirmary, later still...

Once again, Richter awakes from a fitful slumber. He hears a bed rattling beside him. A strange voices cries out, hoarse and haggard, coughing. "Where... ah... thank God we're... are we... safe?"

"Shhhhh. It's alright. You're safe. You were rescued." Dr Iman al-Massoud touches the patient gently with one hand, the other preparing to administer a dose of painkillers. An emaciated hand shoots out to hold hers. "Where? Y-your? Need. Tell. Vitalinform-KOFFKOFF-ation!"

[Valmark]

"Well, for istance not going with Richter in melee without support which we had and not by my order, ironically. And I did send Smythe to help the refugees in the middle of a firefight resulting in almost killing her and Richter. It's my fault that they got hurt, only my fault" I tell her.

After the debrifieng I tell the others "I'm going to check on Richter and Smythe, what're you going to do?"

[Amaril]

The squadleader's question draws Dutch out of the daze he's been in since the flight back to the ship. Hearing his squadmates talk, seeing the looks on their faces...it makes him feel out of place. How can they be so calm? Richter and Smythe almost died out there, on a mission that should've been easy. And those pirates...they might have been scum, but they were dead now. Some, maybe, because of shots he'd fired.

It's not like he hadn't known he might be fighting people like that when he signed up. He's not even sure what he expects everyone else to do. It just feels wrong for everything to go on as it was after what just happened.

"I'll go too," he says. What he really wants is a drink, but that can wait.

[Etherion]

Aye, ay suppose ay'll join yer guys den.

[Valmark]

"Very well, let's go." I say, starting to walk down the corridor.
"How are the two of you holding up anyway? Especially you, Dutch. You seemed kind of nervous back before our mission" I tell them "If there's anything feel free to speak. We ARE squadmates now, after all. We need to be able to confide in each other"

[LairdMaon]

Richter carefully unstraps himself and reaches for the clipboard detailing his health. Physically, he checks out just fine. Psych says he's "fit for combat". "Good enough. Says we can fight, Jitney."

He places the papers back, changes out of the hospital gown into his more standard attire, and leaves for the gallery. "Hungry..."

[Amaril]

Dutch fidgets uncomfortably under the squadleader's scrutiny, embarrassed at being singled out. "I'm okay...just still getting used to all this, I guess." He finds himself unsure what to say. Is he honestly supposed to believe it's not normal to be nervous before a sortie, or stressed after one? Or is he just letting it show too much? I won't be a burden... He tries to straighten up as he floats along.

The sight of Richter drifting around the corner pulls him out of his head. "Richter!" he calls, waving. "Hey, you okay? The skipper said you'd be in longer..." Probable psycho Richter may be, but somehow, it's still a relief to see him apparently unhurt.

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan laughs and claps Dutch on the back. "Ah don't worry! Everyone gets a bit shaky at first, ye git used ter it. Ye should've seen me on me first job!"

[LairdMaon]

Richter jumps a little at the sound of his name, "Dutch! Yes, this guy is cool. Don't worry about me, I'm ready to go! Well,
after a bite to eat..."

[Valmark]

"Glad to see you up, Rich" I say to Richter "Let's get you all filled up, my threat. Wait, where's Smythe?" I conclude.

[LairdMaon]

"No idea. You're the first we've seen.
How'd the debriefing go? We all fired?"

[Valmark]

"Strangely not, I guess we actually did it right thought for a brief moment she seemed to ignore me"

[LairdMaon]

Richter floats along serenely, as though he heard nothing at all.

With a chuckle he turns and winks at Dutch, "Kidding! We ain't gonna ignore you!
Maybe the boss has a broken replacement eye and didn't see you?"

[Amaril]

Dutch forces a brief chuckle. "So where's Smythe? They still working on her?" Much as he wants to go drown his anxiety, it feels wrong celebrating without her.

[Mr. E]

Smythe folds up the letter, and places it inside a plain white envelope. She quickly scribbles an address on the front, then places it in a top pocket of her fatigues. Then, gliding along a companionway running across the top of the ship, Smythe stops off at her quarters and places the envelope inside a pocket of her kit bag. Turning around, she begins to float down towards the engineering bay, passing by the briefing room as she does so.

She's heading towards the corridor where the rest of the team are in conversation,
and should be about to run into them.

[Etherion]

Seeing Richter, O'Tiernan cracks a grin

Well luk who's up an' aboyt! 'Oweya feelin' mucker?

[LairdMaon]

"Better, O'Tiernan. How'd you come out? All in one piece?"

[Etherion]

Aye, naw problems 'ere. But den, ay didn't run in ter rip their 'eads aff, did ay? Dat wus sum impressive work, by de way.

[LairdMaon]

"Twas nothing, my friend!" Richter turns a deep bow into a twirl that looks potentially stomach moving, "All in a day's work.
I aim to please."
A wink, "And to decapitate."

[Valmark]

"And to steal this page first post, it seems" I say, giving Richter the evil eye

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan gives Heins an odd look. "Aye, yer nade ter clap de doc nigh?"

[Valmark]

"Nah, don't worry about me, I'm fine" I reply to O'Tiernan "We should prooooobably find Smythe, right?"

[Etherion]

"Aye, yer are proobably roi. Ye seen 'er Richter?

[LairdMaon]

"Let me ask."

Richter's expression zooms far away for a moment, "Have you seen her? No?Hm,
well neither have I..."

When he returns to the here and now he offers, "Nope, haven't seen her."

[Amaril]

"Oooo-kaaaay," says Dutch, wishing it were easier to shrink away from someone in zero gravity as he eyes Hein and Richter. God, I really am surrounded by psychos...

The sight of Smythe is a relief. "Oh, hey, speak of the devil!" He waves her over, eager to have someone trustworthy around. "So you're okay too? I was freaking scared out there..."

[Mr. E]

"Naw, the devil usually has less bandages." Smythe swoops down and claps Dutch heartily on the shoulder. "I'm all good, this lot's pretty much cosmetic."

"Richter! Good to see up and about." Smythe waves to him, then turns back to Dutch. "Guess I owe you and him one."

[Valmark]

"He, we're all together and fine now!" I say, pulling everyone together into a group hug "Are you hungry? I know I am. Come on, let's go eat, my treat. We'll get you properly updated on how the briefing went on the way. Sausages for me!"

[Mr. E]

Smythe attempts to awkwardly avoid getting group hugged, although is doubtlessly unsuccessful. They're all lovely people and all that, but: 1. none of us have showered for some time,
and 2. I'm really not cut out for this touchy-feely crap.

Smythe keeps her thoughts to herself, however, aware of the fact that she is already ruining the mood slightly. Instead, she moves onto to less divisive subjects. "Foods really sounds great at this point. I haven't eaten since.." She begins to count on her fingers, then gives up after the count reaches the six hour mark. "Too long, anyway."

[Etherion]

Ah, ay cud go for sum grub, especially if yer payin'.

[Amaril]

"I could eat an entire pig right now," Dutch groans. "Right behind you, fearless leader."

[Valmark]

"Fearless leader? I like that" I say, leading the way °Thought it sounds more like a joke°
When we get to the canteen I notice a man eating by himself, someone who looks like he's seen hell. 'Say, that guy. Isn't he one of the survivors that we rescued? Why's he eating all by himself?" I say to the others.

[Mr. E]

"Only one pig? Dutch, you losing your appetite, or something?" Smythe teases as she walks down towards to the mess.

[LairdMaon]

"Heh, if he's lacking any appetite you can count on us to feast on his leftovers. I feel like we haven't eaten in months."

[golentan]

Spotting the others, and hearing them notice him, Kurt's eyes flicker. He's a little scrawny, but has thus far just been picking at his food. He picks up his tray and walks over to the table, sets it down, and cuts his piece of Ham in half, sliding a piece of it onto Dutch's plate and another onto Richter's. He nods at Hein, and finally gets out a "Thanks."

He then continues eating his beans and rice, with a bit more vigor, and a slight upturning of his lips.

[Valmark]

"Uh... nothing?" I say, glancing at the guy.
°Not much of a talker uh... WAIT, DID HE JUST TELEPORTED US TO A TABLE WITH PLATES AND FOOD? WE WERE STANDING AT THE ENTRANCE BASICALLY! SO COOL!° I think, now fully paying attention to him.
"So... what's your name? I'm Hein" I say before starting to eat.

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan sits down with a satisfied sigh, with a heavily laden tray in front of him

Ah, oi fale loike oi 'enny eaten in donkey's years. Savin' yer really worked up me appetite. Is mise O'Tiernan, by de way.

[Amaril]

Dutch returns the stranger's nod of thanks as he offers the food. "Dutch. Good to see you're out of the infirmary." The 'dame must have some impressive medics aboard, to be discharging so many patients so fast. Without further pause, he digs in, scowling at the still-unfamiliar difficulty of cutting up food in zero gravity.

The squad have hardly a moment to start celebrating before the intercom crackles to life. "Attention, all hands," comes the skipper's voice, managing to sound a little more cheerful than usual. "This is Captain Foch. As most of you probably know by now, our resident mech jockeys recently decided to start earning some of the food they're taking out of all your mouths and completed a successful sortie against the pair of pirate boats that had been hanging over all our heads. They're probably letting it go to their heads, so feel free to disabuse them of any delusions of grandeur." A general cheer rises up from the rest of the mess, grins and applause directed at the pilots. "Yeah, yeah, we're all very impressed," the captain says after giving them a second. "Moving on to...oh, hey, whaddaya know, more good news for once. On top of salvaged equipment from the engagement, we've also taken delivery of some new crew from among the survivors, which means a few more minutes of sleep for each of us, huzzah. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that I expect you to be the most gracious of hosts to our temporary guests, and to play nice with the new blood. New assignments and details of shift revisions will be coming your way once we're done taking inventory. Congratulations, ladies. We've managed to do something right. Announcement ends." Luckily, the rest of the crew doesn't share Foch's gloom, and her speech gives way to hands clapping the squad on the shoulders and offers of drinks. For the first time in too long, smiles light up haggard faces.

Dutch can't figure out where to turn, his face burning as he mumbles thanks and tries to say he didn't do much. It's only now beginning to set in: his first sortie is over, and they did their job, and everyone came back. His embarrassed look gives way to a grin, and try as he might to suppress it, it just won't go away.

[Mr. E]

Smythe leans back against against a bulkhead, and sighs contentedly. Having wolfed down her food with amazing speed, considering the zero-g conditions, she now begins to doze, letting the chatter of conversation wash over her. Cracking one eye open, she listens to the cap's announcement, then wriggles slightly to get more comfortable against the wall. Noticing Dutch's grin, she smiles sleepily back, then closes her eyes. He's a good kid, that Dutch. A real good kid... Smythe's head rolls to one side, and the faintest hint of a snore can be heard.

[LairdMaon]

Richter tries to take another bite of his toast, "Two things. One, those are raisins,
not the eggs of an interstellar parasite. Two, standing up on tables to accept praise is NOT how we do things around here, Jitney! So stop! Let me enjoy my food, you empty blood sack! I'll kill you again if you continue like this."

He looks up at his friends, "Food's good, yeah?"

[Mr. E]

Smythe cracks an eye open, then listens, head tilted on one side. At the end of his tirade, she raises one eyebrow. Oh dear... Leaning sideways to avoid Richter's field of vision, she attempts to attract Hein's attention, hopefully in a subtle fashion. Once she's made eye contact, she gestures at the door, and mouths: "Need a word, someplace quieter." Then getting up, Smythe heads out, trying to avoid undue attention as she does so.

[Valmark]

°Heroes, right... Big heroes...° I think, as I embrace myself nervously.
°If I was a hero I wouldn't have risked anyone life... The true heroes are all of them... They saved those prisoners, they defeated the pirates...° before I can fall anymore in my desparate monologue Smythe catches my attention, telling me subtly to head out to speak. I wait for her to exit, that after a little I stand up and say "Sorry guys, but I'm pretty tired as of now... See you all later!" I say, leaving the room. Not like I lied.

Once outside I tell Smythe "What's the matter? Tell me getting out of the med bay early didn't affect you... And don't tell me that you were regolarly dismissed, pretty sure neither you nor Richter should be up and about"

[Mr. E]

"I'm fine. No, really-" Smythe says in response to Hein's concerned look. "-I've done far worse to myself. Mess round with pocket reactor's for long enough, and you get a few rads, a few burns. 'S part of being a combat engineer." She half smiles at him. "You're not me Mum, Hein, I can handle myself.

Now Richter, on the other hand." Smythe pauses, searching for the right words. "Presume you heard him talking to himself in mess. Not sure he should be out. It's all munted up top now." She taps her head to emphasise her point. "They don't have time to fix him, so they give him a gun, point him at the enemy. Make him a weapon." The New Zealander kicks a bulkhead angrily, then sighs and looks at the floor. "I guess what I'm asking is: what are we gonna do if he goes off the deep-end? If he snaps mid-op, if he loses it and can't tell the good guys from the bad, what do we do then?"

[Valmark]

"I see your reasons. But... I don't think he will, at least not soon" I say, thinking about him "But we can't really leave him like that, if possibile I'd like to help him. Tought these things require a certain touch." I keep going, leaning weakly against the wall "Be sure to be there for him, if he'll need us. He'll need time to come in terms with it, and someone to talk to. If he snaps..." I curl up my fist "I'll take him back. It's the least I can do.
And, Smythe... I'm your captain. I'm more than your mother" I end with a little laugh, trying to lighten up the situation.

"Really, we have to be there for him. I'll make sure to take care of him, both in battle and out of it. Do the same, if possible" I end, with a smile.

°...what if we end up snapping, thought...°

[golentan]

Kurt sits up, watching the exchange closely between the... other pilots, now. Technically. Hein seemed more on edge, but... Well, if you want to protect people, it's not okay to just protect their body, you have to worry about their spirit.

Attention focusing back on the table as Hein and Smythe left, Kurt smiles at Richter. "Raisins safe. Watch the pudding." he says, making little antennae with his fingers and waggling them.

[Etherion]

Ah, well ain't dat grand! We're genuine 'eroes nigh! An' Richter, ye take a belt upside de noggin or somethin'?

[Mr. E]

I don't think he's going to snap tomorrow, either. But I'm no expert, and I don't think you are either, so I wanted to be on the same page. I'd love to help him, but I've got no clue how, other than being "nice" and "there for him". Still, good to know you're thinking about it. Gotta have a plan, and all that.

Tell me, Hein," Smythe says, suddenly changing the subject, "you ever know somebody who died before you came out here? I mean really know, not just the little old lady who you saw every third sunday.

[Valmark]

Smythe's words take me completely by surprise. In a second memories long forgotten, or so I hoped, came to me in waves of red pain. Memories of the knife, memories of the gun, memories of my sister, my friend... my father... I could barely stand on my feet, embracing myself, barely hearing Smythe's last words while the pain of those two nights made me relive everything.
"...Y-yeah... I-I did... thought not because of the aliens, at least not directly..."

It takes me a while to start talking again.
"...my family died. My mother died at my birth, leaving me and my sister with my father. He was NOT a good father" I say, forcing myself to speak those words. It hurted every sillable, almost choking when calling that man father.
"He would often be drunk, and beat us if he could. My sister, who was older than me, used to protect us from him whenever he had these violent moments... at least until they started getting worse. But by that time I could already hold my own, because of that we could live in relative tranquillity, for as long as we had each other.
The problem is, military service in my country was obligated for a year. And you had to live in the soldier's cabin, having to stay away from home for the whole time, with a short break after six months..."
I look at her, unable to keep going.
Instead, I stifle a little laugh.
"...You know, it takes quite a big amount of force to overpower someone and stab him with a knife, more than once. Apparently I had it.
Otherwise... my father... would've killed me too" I finally end up finishing, keeping my tears in check, shivering.
It takes a while to stop it.
"...you know, I have another story but I'm pretty sure I've already made this depressing enough" I say, smiling weakly. "You didn't even ask for it. Thought, when someone asks that they usually ask some more questions, don't they? He.
...you could say that that makes me weak. I don't fight for money, nor fame, nor family, nor my country, nor... yeah, I fight just because there's nothing else I could do.
I guess that'a why the death of those pirated didn't touch me in the least while thinking about losing you because of my mistakes terrorizes me" I say, before suddenly getting red "I-I mean you as all of you, of course!

...awkward. Now that I told you my story, which is probably more than what you wanted, why did you ask? Did you... had a similar experience?"

[Mr. E]

Smythe listens.

She inspects her boot slowly, staring at it, admiring the oil stain on top of it. In an odd way, she realises she's never been so aware of her surroundings. After all, anything is better than looking at Hein right now. She fiddles with her jacket zip while he speaks. The distant sounds of people talking in the mess are distorted and strange to her ears. Eventually she comes to the sudden and unpleasant realisation that she ought to do something, say something, to Hein.

Smythe tries a few out in her mind as Hein tries not to cry but finds them flat and lacking. I’m sorry? No that just sounds pathetic. Condolences on your loss? No, that makes me sound like the official letters home. That’s terrible? No, stating the obvious… Eventually Smythe comes to the conclusion that she has nothing to say at all. While Hein struggles for words instead of tears, she takes a step forward and tries awkwardly to give him a hug.

I feel like this is what he would want, Smythe thinks, although I’m not really sure. Where’s my big brother when I need him? He was always good at saying the right thing, and actually didn’t mind hugging people either.

Oh. I’m thinking about my family, while Hein has lost most of his. A nasty acidic feeling sits in the pit of Smythe’s gut. It’s not improved by her pre-existing dislike of getting too close to others, either. As Hein continues to speak, she is unpleasantly aware of the distance, or lack of, between them. A small nagging thought about how awkward this would be, should another Dagger Squadie run into them, bobs unpleasantly around her head. Mind you, that would mean I needn't have to answer his question.

[Valmark]

Saying that she got me by surprise would be an euphemism. Homewever, it feels too good right now, to have someone know my story and try to understand me.
I wait a bit in her arms, before everything leaves my mind aside from...social awkwardness.

"T-thank you. Really. Right now I must look like a wrecked mecha" I say, hugging her back against my better judgement.

After a short while I break away "I'm pretty sure there are better places to be hugging in tears then in front of the mess room. Mainly because the more time it passes the higher the chance that O'Tiernan walks in. Because in this situation it would surely be him" I laugh. An heartfelt laugh, rather than a forced one like before.
"You know, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. Besides, whenever you want I'm free, even because I've got something in my mind that involves your technical skills, so there will be time to talk" I say, waiting for her reaction.

[LairdMaon]

"Nice, Kurt! Though you're right,
the pudding is distilled from alien boogers!"

"And, O'Tiernan, a belt on the head? Is this some superstition we don't know about?" Richter smiles with a sly smile, "is that how you go into battle?"

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan sighs.

Nah, ay'm askin' if ye struk yer noggin on somethin'. Yer are actin' a bit fierce quare.

[Mr. E]

Smythe breathes a heartfelt and unfortunately audible sigh of relief as the two seperate. Thought that was never going to end. Still he seems happier now, so mission accomplished, I guess? She laughs along with him, pleased that she did something right.

"Yeah, O Tiernan would never let us forget it. Though, it'd almost be worse if it were Dutch. He'd be so horrified by the whole situation. Or, actually," Smythe's eyes go slightly wide as imagines the worst possible outcome, "what about Captain Foch?" Repressing a shudder, she hurriedly moves on.

"I appreciate the offer, but it's fine, it really is. I'll busy for the next few days anyway.
We'll have to break two new reactor cores out of storage, for mine and Richter's mechs. Bringing one of those from cold to hot is about forty-eight hours work, and it can't be rushed. Feel free to look me up, if you want some company, and don't mind fetching coffee for the pit crew."

So, thinks Smythe, Hein thinks I've got a tragic past, does he. Still, better that than the truth. Past loss is better than being a present git, after all...

[Valmark]

"Joking right? Captain Foch always ignores me, she'd be surprised by you hugging yourself" I say laughing.

"I think I'll take you up on the offer, a lot of coffee never hurt anyone. I think. I hope. Drinking coffee doesn't make reactor cores explode right?" I try not to sound to ignorant, but for my knowledge it could be true.
"So, what will you do now? I'm not going back to the mess hall. I wouldn't stand those cheers, really. I'll probably go chill off while reading a book, or sleep. I need to recover from... earlier" I say, avoiding to expliciting mentioning my emotional breakdown.

[LairdMaon]

"We're playing with you, O'Tiernan! I'm fine. No head cracks or anything! Just get back in a cockpit and you'll see I'm in great shape!"

[Mr. E]

Smythe chuckles merrily, delighted to see Hein back to his usual chirpy self. "Make them explode? Hein, m'dear," she says with mock seriousness, "reactors practically run on coffee. Or, at the very least, those who repair them do.

Sleep's sounding pretty good right now, but I'll head back to the hall and keep an eye on the kids for a bit. Make sure none of them get all carried away with the free drinks, or get in a bar-fight or something. Anyway, hope you sleep well." Turning away, Smythe heads back in the direction of the mess.

[Valmark]

"He, alright. Watch on them even for me" I say, waving her goodbye and heading to my cabin. Once inside the room I almost land on the bed even before starting to move.

°A lot of things happened, uh. Shouldn't really be sleeping like now... there's Rich... than as a squad leader I should probably check on everyone...° these and other thoughts flood my mind as it wanders to the dream, eyes closing on their own while watching Hein's bookfilled room.

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan tilts his head and gives Richter a questioning look, then decides to move on

Bah, never mind, just get me another drink.

[Mr. E]

Smythe wanders back into the mess hall, trying to look inconspicuous, stops off at one of the tables to chat to the pit crew, then sidles back round to the pilots table. Settling herself in one corner, she attempts to return to her comfortable, half dozing state. This proves difficult, as the her previous conversation with Hein runs through her head. She shuffles around a few times as she searches for the perfect angle to rest against the bulkhead.

[Etherion]

Getting no response from Richter, O'Tiernan stands and mutters "Fine, ay'll get it meself." as he goes to get himself more alcohol.

[Mr. E]

Seeing O'Tiernan retrieve another round of alcohol, Smythe looks at him closely, checking for any signs of excessive consumption. Seeing no obvious ones, she does not get up, but waits for him to return. When he reappears at the table, she leans over and asks "So, how many rounds is that, O'Tiernan?"

[Etherion]

'Mm, ay tink so'tiz me seventh.

[Mr. E]

Smythe chuckles. "If you can't remember how many you've had, maybe it's time to stop, ay? Captain Foch will want us all up bright and early tomorrow morning, and that'll be no fun with hangovers."

[LairdMaon]

Richter looks up at his two friends, ""Sorry, I'm not allowed to drink anymore. Doctor's orders. Something about one of me getting drunk wasn't a good idea, ha!"

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan looks Smythe right in the eyes as he downs his drink, breaking eye contact only when he finishes and stands to get another.

[Mr. E]

"Well, I can't stop you drinking yourself silly if you want to. I presume you're aware that you could get called out any time to defend the 'Dame, though? Won't be much use to the rest of us if you're dead drunk on duty, O'Tiernan." The slightly acid tone in Smythe's voice makes her true feelings clear, as she leans back against the bulkhead, inwardly despairing about ex-mercenaries.

[Etherion]

Ay'm fine, quite yer worrying. Ay'm barely even tipsy yet, ay bet ay can shoot better than al' av yer.

[LairdMaon]

Richter looks up with a mouth full of food, "Mmph! Shooting keeps you too far away from the action. Better to get up close for the kill."

[Etherion]

Aye, we al' saw 'oy well dat went for ye last time.

[LairdMaon]

"Mhm, solid kill, first attempt.
Cleft in twain. No surviving that."

[Mr. E]

"Really?" Smythe points an outstretched pinky at O'Tiernan. "Want to prove that? I bet the shooting range isn't busy at this time of night. See which of us can bag the most bullseyes."

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan's face splits into a wide grin
Oh aye, ay'll take ye on! What are de stakes?

[Mr. E]

If I win, you have to abstain from alchohol for the next twelve hours. If you win, I have to abstain from coffee for the next twelve hours. Sound fair?" Smythe gets up, to head over to the range. "Richter, Dutch, wanna watch our marksman strut his stuff?"

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan scratches his chin for a moment before responding. Nigh, that's a trifle borin' don't ye tink? Ye'll sleep through yisser wager, 'tis done so soon. Let's make it a week instead, naw?

[Mr. E]

"Uh, whole week without coffee? Maybe not. How's this for a compromise: next three days, or 72 hours to be precise.

[Etherion]

Gran', if dat is al' yer brave enoof ter chucker.

[Mr. E]

"Don't call me a coward, sniper-man." Smythe's voice has the bland, unnaturally calm tone of one who is rapidly reaching their patience event horizon. "Shall we go?"

[Etherion]

Whatever ye say missus combat enginare.

[Mr. E]

Ignoring O'Tiernan's comment, Smythe gets up and wanders in the direction of the firing range, assuming that the others will catch up.

[Etherion]

Reaching the gun range, O'Tiernan signs out a pair of pistols and passes one to Smythe.

So, 'oy are we doin' dis, score, groupings, 'eadin' at it wi' multiple targets, wat?

[Mr. E]

"Y'know, I don't think I've really used one of these since basic." Smythe looks over the pistol carefully, making sure she remembers the safety instructions. "Well," she says, in response to O'Tiernan's question, "one of these has tens rounds in the mag, right? So I say we take ten shots at a standard target, and count up points afterwards. Highest points wins." If he raises no objections, she takes stance and begins to open fire, taking her time. After all, the bar closes soon, so the more time we spend here, the less time he has to get excessively drunk, she thinks.



[Roll]2d6
2d6
2d6
2d6
2d6
2d6
2d6
2d6
2d6

[Etherion]

Gran'! O'Tiernan replies, and squeezes off his rounds.

I'm gonna be obnoxious and roll for each shot. If you like, we can only compare rolls for the first roll.
1 [roll0]
2 [roll1]
3 [roll2]
4 [roll3]
5 [roll4]
6 [roll5]
7 [roll6]
8 [roll7]
9 [roll8]
10 [roll9]

[Mr. E]

Continuing her unhurried pace, Smythe slowly and carefully fires off the rest of her mag. "What'd you get, O'Tiernan?" She asks when she finishes.


Considering that you got a twelve for your first shot, I think I might take option B.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]
[roll7]
[roll8]

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan squints at his target, then glares at Smythe's. Bah, watch dis for a rayle show av skill!

With a flourish, he tosses a new clip into the pistol, has the gun do a neat little flip in his hand, points it downrange, probably toward the target although it's difficult to tell as his back is towards it. He squeezes the trigger, and... the safety is still on.

[Mr. E]

Smythe winces as O'Tiernan breaches about six different safety protocols at once, then snickers as the gun fails to fire. "Well, 'real shows of skill' aside, it looks like we were pretty much equal. Which suggests, all things considered, that you really have had too much to drink.

Anyway, I suppose neither should drink our favourite beverages for the next three days. Seem fair?"

[Etherion]

"Och, ay canny say ay don't deserve it after dat 'ames. Fine, you'll git yisser blasted sobriety, clap if ye don't."

[Mr. E]

"Good. Although, I'm not much looking forward to no coffee.

Anyway, if I'm going to have no coffee to wake up with, I'll turn in for the night. Nobody left in the bar, I believe. See ya's all in the morning." Smythe puts her gun away, then heads off in the direction of her bunk.

[Miraqariftsky]

It has been several weeks since Dagger Squad's first mission. In the interim, new crewmembers got acclimatized and refugees were accommodated in suddenly cramped quarters. During travel, their resident mecha squad ran defensive patrols, alternating among themselves with two-man teams.

The Geisterdame rock-hopped its way to Mars Orbital. Beyond the modules of the station and the other ships currently docked there was the rocky, rusty mass of Mars, dotted and criss-crossed by newly resurrected waterways and atmo-farms, themselves safeguarded by certain protective structures. Partially occluded by skidding whorls of white-brown clouds, there sprawl half-spheres of steel and glass. Cutting across the sky is a long band of small asteroids--- the Ring of Terror, the Sword of the Heavens, the Peace Horizon, the Never Again Monument--- the remains of the shattered moon, Phobos.

Those who were near any viewports at the time pressed their faces to the glass, grinning and laughing. Those elsewhere pounded the closest people with tearstained embraces.

~~~~

They took another week for much-needed R&R, as well as refit and resupply. During this time, the refugees they'd picked up were dropped off and handed over to the local authorities for further care, all except for those who preferred to stay on as new crew.

They travelled back to the Belt and slowed back down to stealthy, rock-hop velocities. Reconnaissance patrols were deployed along several vectors. Their targets were apparently complacent, or overconfident, having barely moved in the interim time. Judging from certain spots of leftover radiation and debris, they weren't idle, though.

~~~~

The plan was audacious, but it was what everyone involved had eventually agreed upon.

A deliberately damaged (but not critically) lifeboat was set adrift in the bandits' usual hunting grounds. As expected, it was pounced upon and those operators within were seized and put to work deep in the mines. And all the while, the Geisterdame and two of the Daggers had stayed just beyond detection range, but just within immediate response range, should something go awry.

Along the way, intel was also an objective. Data drives were pilfered from command personnel if they exposed themselves. Other than the slave trade and warmongering, there were apparently rumours going around bandit crews, of searching the Deep Belt for what most spacers have considered to be merely rumours or urban legends--- claims of mothballed fleets, full of incredibly advanced yet dangerous cutting edge technology that were buried there and forgotten.

As planned, the deep strike undercover mecha pilots reunited in the belly of the enemy, incited a slave revolt and used the ensuing chaos to assault their specific targets. Primaries were killing enemy mecha pilots with machines confirmed to be fully functional and the seizure of these said mecha. Secondaries were guard barracks (or mess halls or anywhere they happened to be vulnerable). Tertiaries were enemy command personnel.

Some were strangled from behind with plundered chains or wire garrotes. Some were shanked with shivs. Some were shot with their own guns or shot with improvised firearms. Some might even have been just up and clobbered with whatever came closest to hand, or shoved out an airlock.

~~~~

The first phase of the operation went well enough. A slave revolt was raging in the bandits' nest. They wouldn't last long once the element of surprise wore off and their captors rallied.

Their primary targets were neutralized and bandit defences were even more surprised when what they thought were their comrades suddenly blitzed through them. Through this assault, at certain points when crucial help was needed, there came shots from outside the base perimeter.

The deep strike team emerged from the smouldering wreck of the prison colony, that particular bandit group dazed and bamboozled, licking their wounds. In their wake came a series of launches, the mob of ex-slaves having stormed the hangars, commandeered anything that could fly and zooming out of there. Some of the more vindictive ones blazed up the guns to kick their former captors while they were down.

~~~~

Having rendezvoused with Dagger Squad's support units--- them also repainted in the colours of the Suzail Hooks, one amongst a confederacy of many slaver bands in the area--- they then set out for the territory of the neighbouring group of bandits. These are the Jest Grin End Bear Hit, a small but ferocious band of pirates led by the ruthless warlord Khan Sha Yu, whose lust for freedom is only exceeded by his sheer unbridled love for violence.

PRESENTLY, they come upon the closest of Sha Yu's bases. As per the plan, a double volley of extreme long range torpedoes from the Geisterdame have already been launched from beyond sensor range towards the projected position of the warlord's base, with the intent to impact from the vector of the Hooks base and at the estimated time that the onsite Jester guards are engaged by Dagger Squad.

Presently, Dagger Squad crests a rise on the enemy rock's surface, intending to raid the Khan's outpost. Just as they clear the edge, those with keen eyes on their sensor screens spot blips that are moving consistently and in formation, despite the already-established annoyance of sensor-ghosts and electromagnetic interference from the exogeography.
Punching up the magnification and engaging Enhanced Imaging mode, they see around a dozen enemy mecha painted in red and gold jags. The first enemy squad, just over one thousand five hundred metres away. Just far away enough that a standard AC round takes a little OVER a second to cover the distance. The second enemy squad is out to over three thousand metres away. Both contingents are arrayed in Wedge Formations.

The closer ones bring their guns up to bear, firing wildly as they accelerate towards Dagger Squad, their thrusters redlining on juiced-up afterburners, and letting loose a barrage of AC rounds and scrap-shot missiles.


Sorry I was away!
IN MEDIAS RES continuation, bebeh! And, yo, if you'll kindly note, that's the option y'all voted for, before my unexpected hiatus.
PLEASE ROLL FOR EVASIVE MANEUVERS.
Since they're firing wildly AND moving AND y'all are immediately close to cover, any Evasive Maneuvers rolls will be at +4.
ha-ha-ha, I wanna kick myself, that's fookin' generous.

[Valmark]

"EVERYONE! COVER! I scream in the comm as the bullets come rocketing past...



And don't even graze me "O'T, h
What do you see? Can you give us an opening?
Ducht, Rich, assist me and Smythe! Smythe, shoot!"
I say, while pressing the trigger myself.

[roll]2d6+1

[Valmark]

oooops. [roll0]

[LairdMaon]

"YAHOOOOO! JITNEY! GIMME SOMETHING TO DANCE TO!" Even as Richter is telling "Jitney" to put on tunes, Richter's hand is hitting the play button on his console. Hard, angry rock music fills the cockpit as he shimmies his mecha out of the incoming fire.


Skill +2
Situational +4
[roll0]


"You want a hand, you got a hand, Hein! Richter slams his fist into the rocks causing a small explosion of rubble to fly into the airless sky. Enough, he hopes, to confuse the enemies and make them easier targets.


Awareness +1
[roll1]

[Etherion]

As Dagger Squad enters the mecha hangar to pilfer the machines, O'Tiernan looks ruefully at the mechas.
Och, well for sure that's a sorry collecshun av scrap, innit jist?
He wanders over to one that, to his discerning eye, seems better suited to long range combat.
Ay mean luk at dis! 'Tis as borin' as Smythe's machine, for god's sake! Ugh, ay guess it'll 'av ter do.


Excuse me? Smythe shoot? i'll 'av yer nu dat party wus a fluke!

To punctuate his point, O'Tiernan fires a shot at the leading enemy mecha, with his specialty ammunition, then dodges quickly into cover.

Open fire, with heavy ordnance so it kills on hit rather than damage: [roll0]
Evasive Maneuver: [roll1]

The shot flies true, striking the lead mecha in the chest. With the lack of the explosion, the other enemies likely didn't even realise the shot had been fired, or that their friend was hit. All they knew was that for some reason he stopped moving, they didn't see the AP bullet penetrate through the mecha to strike the pilot in the head.

[Amaril]

Secretly, Dutch is intensely glad to be running this mission in his own Type-1.

Thinking about it makes his stomach twist with guilt. When the skipper had looked them over to decide who'd be best for the deep cover job, her eyes had barely touched on him for a second. He'd almost heard the words. Not you. Too fragile. He'd grit his teeth and swallowed the shame, but when they'd been dismissed without his name called, it had been like the weight of the whole ship lifting off his shoulders. He should've stepped up. It was the hard duty. But Foch's judgment had been sound. The thought of all those days, down there in those tunnels, no lifeline if things went bad...he couldn't even think about it.

His knuckles whiten on his controls. I'll make it up to you guys today.

Hein's call cuts through his thoughts. Alarms flash--incoming fire. Here we go again. Slamming the throttle up, he twists and dives for the cover of the rocks...

Evasive maneuvers: [roll0]

[golentan]

Kurt is breathing fast and his jaw is tight as he grips the controls. A couple months to train has him feeling better about this, but the difference between simulation and reality... As the incoming volley fires, he puts some lateral movement on his thrusters, putting a rock between him and tries to loose a few missiles to keep the enemy from moving out of the brackets of the firing team.

[golentan]

Note to self: don't preview to make sure the formatting is right, it irreparably screws up the formatting:

[roll0]

Assist a teammate [roll1]

[Miraqariftsky]

Most of Dagger Squad readily dive for the cover of the ridge they'd just crested. Flak shells scour the rocks above them with shrapnel and explosions.

Except for O'Tiernan who braves the barrage for a couple more seconds, ascertaining his shot. Dropping his reticle on the lead Jester's cockpit, his own sharp mind plots suitable trajectories in parallel with the targetting computer putting out several firing solutions. The reticle flashes from green to gold and he squeezes the trigger, sending a dedicated AP round crashing through the enemy mecha's head section, pulping the pilot within.

Sensors confirm that it's a clean kill... But apparently O'Tiernan forgot to account for inertia. Despite that there is no longer a living mind controlling the lead enemy mecha, the unit itself is still a multi-ton warmachine rocketing forward at full throttle. And even without the pilot giving it direction, momentum and inertia still turn it into a kinetic kill weapon all on its own.

He falls backwards at an awkward angle into cover as more shots crash into the ridge, the spot he'd been occupying suddenly bursting asplinders as the husk of his target smashes through. Just before the beheaded mecha could crunch into its killer, Smythe steps in, spears the wreck with her piledriver and hauls it in front of her as a makeshift shield. It shudders as shards of armour, hargel and shredded internals fly off from being struck. Coolant fluids and spilled plasma begin to spew from rents in the chassis.

At the first lull she gets, Smythe reaches into the husk's torso and rips out its reactor core, then hurls it at the next closest enemies on their left flank. The critically damaged engine spins through space, trailing wisps of miasma. The final bits of damaged containment rupture as it hits its target square on, superheated gasses erupting, exploding in a massive fireball. The next closest enemy on that flank still has its momentum, but it is practically dead in the water, having been affected by the EMP-like aftereffects of the blast.

Richter finds a bloom of cracks in the rock beside him. Acting on a hunch, he punches that spot with all the force he could muster. For a moment, nothing happens. The remaining Jester guns fix on him, and then cracks ripple and pop along the ridgeline. Apparently, it had taken too much of a battering and that punch was the final straw as the immediate area shatters into gigantic boulders suddenly tumbling in all directions. Meanwhile, while his onboard computer has been droning ++Critical damage. Right arm. Critical damage. Hand actuator. Critical...++ Meanwhile, the sudden limb loss blasts sympathetic pain through his neurohelmet's cybersynaptic connection.

All throughout, PD turrets have been firing practically nonstop, swatting at battle debris and rock shards as well as incoming missiles.

On the other side of the line, Kurt pops three sandblaster-loaded missiles at the bandits on the right flank. One disintegrates into a molten mass as PD lasers slag it. The other two bloom into expanding cones of buckshot and scrap metal. The two Jester mecha in that sector evade before their PD systems could be overwhelmed. One goes straight up and away from the immediate killzones of the raging battle. The other pushes its engine even further, punching straight through, rocketing off of various pieces of tumbling space rock before Dagger Squad could nail it with their own PD. Its jinking seems utterly erratic yet its pilot's skill shows as it comes closer and closer, shooting off 3-round bursts with every leap.

Hein has his fill of suppressed targets. One that is fried and haywire. One that's gone on a long dodge along the Z-Axis but has yet to bring its guns to bear. One that's too busy rolling from the rocks cast up by battle damage. Hein takes aim at the closest, then fires a couple of 10-round bursts. The first misses but the second connects, lopping off a leg, sending it spinning.

Wildly inaccurate fire slashes in around Dutch's deep hole. The Jester that had taken the high road has come a-calling... but missed its mark.

Beyond, the second contingent has decided to forsake the asteroid's surface and go on a long Z-arc to outflank the embattled Dagger Squad by going over them. Two more singular outriders strike out in a thin pincer maneuver, launching a fusillade of missiles at them. The PD systems prioritized the HEAP-loaded rockets that came straight in over screaming missile lock alarms. This, however, left the majority of the enemy sandblasters unimpeded as they burst behind the Dagger Squad, creating four cones of rapidly expanding scrap metal.


DODGY GITS:
All manage to avoid damage.
Notable almost-an-exception: Roll of 8, so, consulting Da Book... Success but with disadvantage. O'Tiernan manages to get out of the way of incoming fire, but took too long to aim, gets into cover awkwardly. Any action that is either a move or a shoot from him on the next turn takes a -2.

DAKKA:
HEIN: Shooting
Roll: 6 + 2 + 2 = Success, STANDARD HIT

RICHTER: Assisting Hein
Roll: 7

O'TIERNAN: Heavy Shot
Roll: 10, success, KILL.

KURT: Assisting Hein
Roll: 9

DUTCH: Dodged successfully.
(Got shot at. Roll: 5+1=6, FAIL.)
Entitled to a free shot, on top of any other shooting you may choose to do.

~~~~

SMYTHE (GM-botted):
Evasive Maneuvers: Roll: 9-1+4= 12, Success.
Heavy Shot: Roll: 11+0 = 11, Success, KILL.

[Amaril]

DU slugs streak past the Type-1, glowing like shooting stars with molten heat. Dutch weaves through, fast and low between the rocks. His tracker flares with more bogeys than he can keep in sight. Deep breaths. Come on. You've got this. You have your orders.

He rolls to put his back to the rocks, sighting on the target Smythe has pinged. Before he can pull the trigger, though, she's right there with it in his sights; for a second, his breath catches, but then she tosses it away and sails clear, none the worse for wear. "Nice one, Smythe!" His cockpit judders as the core explosion lights up the combat zone, cutting him off. Shaking his head clear, he quickly scans the other hostile signatures. There--flankers, arming missiles. "Heads up! Bogeys, 5 and 7!" No time to wait for new orders. Match trajectory...lead... "Firing!"

Recoil rattles his cockpit again. Rather than wait to confirm his shot, Dutch scans his target's surroundings, already lining up another. Lotta debris from those missiles...should keep them as blind as me. Pulling up, he climbs away from the surface, hoping to put the debris cloud at an angle that will screen him from his target's return fire.

Using that free shot on the missile-armed outrider at 7 o'clock. Not sure if I need to roll for that one, but just in case, open fire: [roll0]

Since that's an extra action, also gonna attempt to focus my strength to gain an advantage related to the debris clouds kicked up by the missiles: [roll1]

Hmm, okay. For that shot, if the roll counts, I'll hit, but take a disadvantage. Focusing my strength gives me an advantage of the narrator's choice.

[Etherion]

Satisfied with his first shot, O'Tiernan switches focus to a different enemy, this one missing a leg but still in the fight, and shoots off a regular round in hopes of finishing it off.

[roll0]
On a 7-9, gonna take the disadvantage to get the kill

[Valmark]

"Good job Dutch, O'T.! O'T, can you shoot the undamaged missile one?
Kurt, shoot the one that's shooting Dutch together with Smythe, Dutch support them! Richt, cover me!"

I say in the cockpit while shooting at the one damaged from Dutch.
°We need to take as many of them out as possible before the other five arrive, otherwise it'll turn in a death trap..."

[LairdMaon]

Richter's voice cuts across the coms channel, "Damn it! Right arm is (EXPLETIVE DELETED) damaged! Locking it down for now."

Teeth gritted against the sympathetic pain of a damaged arm, he manages to hit the toggle that simultaneously locks the arm across his chest and disengages the neural link with it.


"Wait, was my (EXPLETIVE DELETED) language (EXPLETIVE DELETED) censored? That NOT COOL! I'M (EXPLETIVE DELETED) CHANGING THAT (EXPLETIVE DELETED) AS SOON AS WE GET HOME! I'm going to need a moment to calibrate to fighting with one (EXPLETIVE DELETED) arm. I have an idea to take out zippedy-(EXPLETIVE DELETED)-doo-dah there, but I'll need someone to coax him into flying past me."

Richter shoves his shovel into the rock face, shovel blade pointed up.


1d6+1

[golentan]

Grinning at the effect of the Sandcasters on the enemy, Kurt thinks back to a book from his childhood. "We throw rocks at them, Manny." As the flanking maneuver is deployed, he realizes almost too late the irony.

Oh, Richter-words, they throw rocks at US. Listening to the chatter on his headset, he punches his thrusters and kicks into a run. "On it."

Two syllables. He was getting downright loquacious.

Getting a little clearance from the chaff with his motion, he swivels towards the mech targeting Dutch as he thumbs his ammo selection to something with a bit more... punch, then waits for the tone of a solid lock as he prepares to squeeze the trigger.

Shooting as ordered.

[roll0]

[Mr. E]

Combat swirls around Smythe, fierce and satisfying. She’s been feeling off ever since the infiltration job. The team needed a mech-jacker, and with her “previous experience” as Captain Foch so tactfully put it (she’d called Smythe to her office one night, and been so terribly, terribly kind, d*** her) she was the ideal candidate. Nothing’s been right since then. Avoiding her teammates only works for so long, and her interactions with them have been forced and unnatural ever since.

A brawl feels comfortably straightforward after all this confusion. The faintest hint of a grin curls over Smythe’s face as she watches her impromptu hand-grenade go off. The mecha she rustled was a good one. ’Compared to the mining mech I was flying before, the reflexes on this thing are beautiful. It even has a similar weapons load-out. When I get home, I’m pulling the neuro-interface out of this guy.’ she thinks.

The conflict leaves no time for pipe-dreaming, however. Dutch’s warning comes blaring through her headset, almost immediately followed by Hein’s orders. Still smiling, Smythe turns to face the new foe. Ignoring the whine of PD warnings, she stretches to her full height, reaching up for a perfect shot. Flicking a switch, the targeting sensors are turned to infared. 'Sensor suite’s crap in this can.' Even with the cold space back-dropping them, the bogies barely show up. ’Still better than radar, with all the dust flung up (Thanks Dutch!).’

The unguided rocket pod on her shoulder’s tracks the new targets, and Smythe squeezes the firing trigger. With a roar, a barrage of slugs streaks away towards the two flankers.


I’m back! Also, Mira’s back!

I’ve assumed Smythe was on the infiltration team, and thus has a new ride (with extra ammo.

Shoot to kill: [roll0]

[Miraqariftsky]

Dutch and Hein's cannons converge on the starboard flanker. A well-trained shot towards centre-of-mass from Dutch hits him in across both arms. Shreds of armour and wrecked conduits peel off, the enemy mecha's velocity turns out of whack. Compensating with the leg and shoulder thrusters, the Jester flanker lets loose an alpha strike, firing all its remaining missiles all at once. The storm of steel is met by Hein's own, firing flak shells in a steady stream of steel, almost emptying his gun. Blooms of shrapnel intercept the incoming missiles, detonating in a dozen fireballs... and the rest punch through, ripping the first flanker apart. At the last shot, though, his cannon CLUNKS, and no matter what he does to disengage the current magazine, the fouled mechanism just won't clear.

O'Tiernan's expert marksmanship sees him through once again as he dispatches the closer skirmisher with another headshot. The wreck drifts along on its last entered trajectory.

One-handed, Richter rams his improvised stake handle-first into the surface of the asteroid. He turns and braces, gears humming and motors revving as he prepares to push off.

Kurt checks his loadout--- 5/8 scattershot semiguided missiles remain in his left-shoulder rack, with 8/8 high-explosive semiguided missiles in the right-shoulder rack, and an additional 2/2 on forearm mounts --- and toggles the weapon selection to the HE shots. On Kurt's HUD, the jittering missile lock bracket keeps going off course as his target dodges and weaves. The acquisition beep goes off and on, slowly growing stronger as his patience pays off when the reticle turns yellow, then a solid angry red, all while his reticle is actually leading the target bracket. He presses the firing stud and sends a seeker on an intercept course. The missile's final phase kicks in as its attitdue thrusters jink to avoid streams of PD-fire. The Jester that had Dutch in his sights knows that he has too much velocity to bleed off and that he's already within the incoming missile's blast radius, even if his PD turret pegs it. He turns his AC against it, trying to throw up a flak wall while shoving his throttle into full reverse. Kurt's missile blows and ragdolls the Jester in a fireball.

Smythe takes a bead on the other flanker. Upon boarding the mecha earlier, she was sure the large cylinder on the arm that wasn't sporting a giant piledriver was a rocket pod. Even on the HUD, its software registered it as a rocket pod. However, when she does squeeze the trigger, it clicks off a whirring and a grinding that swiftly speeds up into a whine and then a roar as what is, in retrospect, a short-barreled rotary cannon lights up the void with a barrage of HEAP/INC rounds. The first hundred jerk wildly off-target from her surprise. The surprise turns into a visceral glee at the sheer rumble and rate of fire. She paints her target's projected trajectories with streams of bullets. Because of the distances involved, it takes a while for the ****s to arrive--- or register as complete whiffs. She weaves her shooting closer and closer... and... eventually... hits, ripping apart even the wreckage after it explodes.

Presently, the Jesters' second squad has closed the gap to just within effective missile range but just beyond the effective range for cannons. A full 20 HE missiles come blazing in at Dagger Squad from a full zenith envelopment, all or almost all with target lock acquired.




Actions, lessee:

Dutch:
Opened Fire at Flanker One
Roll: 8, partial success. Disadvantage, takes a -2 to Evasive Maneuvers due to becoming out-of-cover skeet. (+1 from debris cloud cover no longer applies, since the guy he was dodging is already dead and the current dangers are the second wave of Jesters.)
Focused Strength? (His position WOULD HAVE given him cover via debris cloud from Flanker One, but Hein already splashed that guy.)
Roll: 9. Advantage: Your choice of +3 to either next movement or next shooting. (Still, it's a bit more freedom of movement, and he's able to take a quick little breather.)

O'Tiernan:
Opened Fire at Bleeding Skirmisher
Roll: 12, full success, full KILL. Finished him off.

Hein:
Opened Fire at Flanker One
Roll: 7, partial success, full KILL. Disadvantage: Primary weapon fouled and loaded/fouled mag won't even disengage. Does Hein resort to his sidearm, or take the longarm from Smythe's first kill, still drifting nearby?

Richter:
(Correct me if I'm wrong? Your idea is to somehow get an enemy to either charge at you and then dodge and have 'em self-impale on the grounded shovel?)
Focused Strength
Roll: 7, temporary +2 bonus from boosting against something large and solid.

Kurt:
Opened Fire at Z-Leaper
Roll: 9, partial success. Disadvantage, takes a -1 to next shooting action.

Smythe:
Shot to Kill at Flanker Two
Roll: 12, full success, full KILL.

Enemies remaining:
First squad:
Able One, disabled by reactor EMP.
Able Five, stil on Z-Leap, now jinking, but already damaged.
All else, neutralized.

Outriders:
Flanker One, destroyed by Dutch & Hein.
Flanker Two, destroyed by Smythe.

Second squad:
Have now broken ranks and gone around in an enveloping maneuver.
Everybody, please gimme EVASIVE MANEUVERS.
-1 if still taking advantage of the still-expanding debris cloud.
---They have to defend against BOTH damage from overlapping areas of grapeshot AND the incoming missiles, hence the difficulty.
---IF your character chooses to have their PD prioritize the incoming HE missiles, you'll have to mark your mecha as Damaged from getting battered by the unimpeded grapeshot + debris clouds, but your modifier for Evasive Maneuvers will be bumped up to +0.
---IF your character chooses to scoot behind the large chunk of asteroid that Richter had liberated, you get a +6 bonus to Evasive Maneuvers now, but -4 if they try to get out of there in the next turn. Also, there will be a Keep It Together and potentially a -6 to Evasive if they simply elect to smash the rock your character had used as shelter.

+0 if your character elected to forgo the cover of the debris cloud in the previous round, the Evasive Maneuvers are unimpeded and the PD systems are not overwhelmed, but they are still dealing with a more than average amount of incoming seeker-missiles, so it's not a +1.


GM's note:
Working with missiles this time... required quite some research yet again. Sorry for the delay and the wiffle-waffle.

Also, Mr.E? What the heck was that? Your last paragraph... kiiiiinda didn't make sense. So... I tried to incorporate the spirit AND the letter of your post, and tossed in some humour.

Yo Amaril. Juuuuuust wondering. I'm going with Evasive Maneuvers check for now, but, in the future, when y'all (or the enemy) are doing suppressive fire, DOES that fall under Evasive, or Keep It Together? Or is "waste an action diving into cover" considered one of the possible Disadvantages under Evasive Maneuvers?

[LairdMaon]

Without a second thought Richter snatches up his shovel and rockets off the rock surface. Shovel spinning in his remaining hand to clear a path in the shrapnel and grapeshot between himself and his target he screams, "BANZAI, MOTHER(EXPLETIVE DELETED)!"

When he's mere metres away from Able Five he discards the shovel and reaches for the injured mecha. With his hand securely on Five's ankle, he takes the role of a fulcrum. A well timed release of Able Five sends the enemy into the largest cluster of incoming missiles...

All momentum spent, Richter twirls in place and smashes his defensive system activation stud. Point Defence turrets almost instantly turn red as they spin up well beyond factory specs. PD ammo feeds wall as their flow increases past safety limits until there is nothing left to throw into the void.

"I need a cigarette."


That'll be a Charge In +2, (as per the Focus Strength) (gets him to Able Five and grabs him)
[roll0]
Open Fire at +2 from built-up momentum during the Charge In (that tackles his slinging Able Five at an optimal trajectory towards the thickest concentration of incoming missiles)
[roll1]
Evasive Maneuvers at +0 (the machine's a bit overtaxed at that point and any, PD cover notwithstanding, he'll have a bit of a harder time with dodging).
Using my Defensive Systems for a 10+ bonus
[roll2]

[Mr. E]

Smythe looks in sudden surprise as her 'shoulder mounted rocket pod' turns out to be nothing of the sort. "Whoever last repaired this bucket deserves to be shot..." she growls at no-one in particular. The gun works, however, and the enemy mecha is shredded by a barrage of slugs. Satisfied, she turns her head slightly to the right, and sees about twenty incoming missiles.

As it turns out, Smythe's mecha does not have a swear filter. She hunkers down into a crouching position, then raises her cannon and returns fire. PD turrets flash away while she lets off a long full-auto burst. 'Who needs accuracy when you've got ammo to burn?'

I try to dodge everything. I've taken no damage, so even if it goes horribly pear-shaped I should be good.

Evasive Manoeuvres: [roll0]

Smythe then returns fire with her cannon.

Shoot to Kill: [roll1]

[Etherion]

O'Tiernan does his best to dodge the incoming hail of fire, and does a quick scan of the battlefield to see what can be seen.

Evasive maneuvers: [roll0]
My Skill score is 0, so I start at 0, and I honestly have no idea what modifiers are applying to me right now? It looks like you're saying being in cover will give us a penalty, or are you saying the cover we had blew up so we have a penalty because we're also avoiding the debris?

Anyways, gonna roll to Assess the Situation! [roll1]
On a 10+ I get 2 questions from the list, 7-9 I get 1, 6 or less none. So, top priority question: What here can I turn to our advantage? Second priority question: what's the biggest threat right now?

[golentan]

Kurt isn't going to let his target get away if he can prevent it, but neither does he want to waste too much time on one foe with a second squad coming in. He squeezes the trigger on his jumper one more time, then kicks back on the motion controls and tries to avoid overextending, looking for a good place to avoid the storm, afraid he might already have been... too exuberant.

Shoot to Kill [roll0]
Evasive maneuvers [roll1]

[Valmark]

I dodge as best as I can, seeing that most of my teammates already did the most sensible thing. As projectiles and debris fly past me while leaving me unscathed, I notice that Kurt is not having the same fortune.
"Dutch, take cover as the others, everyone prepare yourselves for the next squad!" I say then I turn to Kurt. To little time to operate. Time to use it.
"Launching Shi-1!" I scream, as a shield comes off from the back of the mecha. Grabbing it I start the tracking of the missiles incoming on Kurt. I had to time it.
"Wait... wait... NOW!!!". I scream, pressing the boosters on the shield to launch it towards the missiles coming on Kurt.

The evasive manuever is in the ooc, it's a 10 so dodged.

Also, that elaborated bit regarding the shield? Spending a luck point to make Kurt evasive manuever a 7-9. He'll take a disadvantage but no damaged yet

[Amaril]

The shot slams the Jester sidelong, explosive flames trailing around its spin, like streamers. Memories of incessant instruction flash to the surface with each thruster flame of its return barrage. Keep the pressure up. One hit doesn't mean you're clear. More slugs meet the missiles, not from Dutch's weapon. One second, the Jester is out there, the next, nothing but shredded armor and leaking coolant.

More missiles--new contacts. How can we track this many? Hein is ordering him to take cover. Kurt's still exposed. Hein's handling it; nothing else to do. Missiles still incoming, and all that debris from the first two flankers...just have to hope PD can catch enough...

Taking the +3 on movement option for my advantage. Not having my PD prioritize, and not taking cover behind the liberated rock, so with the -2 to evade from my partial success on that last shot, that works out to a net 0. Awesome.

Evasive maneuvers: [roll0]

Also rolling to keep it together. Technically, Hein killed that last target, not me, but Dutch fired the first shots, and that plus the flanking has him rather off-balance. Remember, guys, killing someone for the first time really should call for this move, as might any number of other stressors Mira thinks are severe enough.

[roll1]

On a fail, I'll use luck.