THIS MACHINE KILLS ANTHROCHAUVANISTS - (Lancer IC)

[Bitter]

Union Navy John Brown-Class Cruiser Agonist - Depths of Space - 0.995 C - Year 5016u

Aboard Agonist, there is a new air of tension. It's been eight months since the ship and it's four corvette escorts set off from the DOJ/HR training centre on Hagenfell, heading out into the depths of space.

The tension doesn't come from being enclosed in a single vessel for so long because Agonist is like a small town. With the technology available in the 6th millennia of the Union era there is plenty for the 80 mech pilots on board to do; not to mention the several hundred engineers, navy personnel, administrators, humanitarian aid specialists and various others that form a small community aboard the ship.

It isn't the unknown nature of the mission that is causing the tension either. Seven months have gone by with only fantastical rumours of what you are going to be facing, but that's standard operational procedure for a lot of DOJ/HR missions. There are just too many old SecComm sympathisers still embedded in Union's structure who might get funny ideas about some of your missions and you all knew what you were signing up for. Plus despite what One Shot keeps on saying, you're certain that the mission isn't to try and breach the lightspeed barrier, travel back in time and assassinate John Harrison I as a baby.

(Well, maybe like 98% certain. She is pretty insistent.)

No, instead the tension comes from knowing that whatever's going to happen, it's going to happen soon. There's been no announcement but all mech pilots have been shifted onto the same sleep cycle and all three bars on the ship are now only providing milder drugs, like alcohol and hashish, that you can flush out of your system in a few minutes with a detox patch. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots and realise it's going to be time to deploy soon.

Still, until then life goes on.

A large part of that life is training to keep your edge sharp. Despite never having gone on a mission before, your entire 5 person squad has earned a grudging respect amongst the ranks of the other mech pilots with your consistently outstanding performances. Some now openly talk about you as lancers, the best of the best, but genital measuring has never quite stopped being a thing in the armed forces so others still insist on calling you "Rookie" and talking down to you as amateurs. Somehow they still call you this even after you've blown them away in a sim battle for the eighth consecutive time, but it's the semi-friendly banter of rivalry rather than anything more aggressive.

In your free time there's plenty to do. Some people take it easy at The Bottom of the Hole, the preferred bar for most of the mechs and engineers, and watch their favourite programs on the omninet while relaxing with a drink and a pipe. For those inclined to it, the prank war between the DOJ/HR enlisted and the Union Navy crew has reached new heights after the navy somehow managed to disassemble Tenderfoot's mech and cram all it's component pieces into his room. Various niche groups with common interests frequently meet, like the RPG club which is currently playing a game in the purportedly historical pre-Cradle setting of the Mexican-Mongol wars (Kublai Khan has just domesticated dinosaurs for his elite guard to ride). A few of the left-leaning politically conscious types even join Warper as he hands out pamphlets for upcoming elections, trying to garner support trying to garner support for the New Solidarity Coalition as he preaches about the dangers of not developing a political awareness.

Whatever your preference, you need to do something to keep yourself occupied until that fateful moment when you're called into action

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Welcome to THIS MACHINE KILLS ANTROCHAUVANISTS! We'll be getting to the action soon enough, but for the moment please introduce your characters with a small done-in-one slice of life vignette of what your character is up to at the moment in their day-to-day life on the ship.

Feel free to invent a random NPC and have them chat and react as needed. If you want to beat someone up in your secret underground fight club, that's fine, no need to roll for it! It doesn't have to be too long or anything, just something to let everyone get a good feel for what your character is about.

[DrakeRaids]

"A-A-M-I-It's time to wake up!~!"

U. was not a morning person. He may know precious little of his past, but that was at least something he was able to discover pretty early on. He was naturally slow to rise, and even now, with that voice humming in his ear, trying to encourage/force/yell him awake it was slow going. He stretched his legs under the covers, letting the minute aches and pains within his body slowly fade into the fabric below him, while his mind began the gradual process of expanding into something approaching functionality. He couldn't go back to sleep though, not with the new regulations. And he knew, logically, it was for his own good. If he was going to be in a combat situation he needed all of his metaphorical cylinders in motion. He hadn't survived everything he had so far, just to die in his first drop. Despite that though, he couldn't help but ask.

"Five more minutes Circe. Please?" His voice croaked out, still stained from sleep, his dry throat spitting out the words like so much dust. He rolled over, letting his face press against the pillow. He had nightmares, again. He always had them, vivid, stressful things. He had considered a few times, trying to get sleep medicine to deal with them but he still held out hope that somewhere in his dreams he might find a clue to his past. No luck so far though. His nightmares had exclusively bordered on the absurd, such as tonight, where he had been pursued by a monstrous version of the mascot of a popular cereal "Frosty Zeros!" who had been attempting to eat him alive.

All in all this is not what he could consider progress.

"N-no ca-nev-Negatory, boss~" It sounds like Circe was still getting spooled up too, the poor NHP was in as rough shape mentally as he was. She had failed to be able to maintain any kind of consistent avatar since their escape, but her voice had remained consistent at least. A young women, rich and sweet like honey, but tempered with just a slight dark, smokiness to it, like the last remnant of a dying cig. "I already let you sleep forty-five minutes over the allocated time because I'm lovely and beneficent. Now get up, get clean, and get to the mess hall before you collect a demerit." Her smug voice sounded out, not through speakers, or even directly in his head, but a weird pseudo-manifestation in the surrounding air waves.

A deep breath was taken in, then released as he threw his legs over the side of the bed, pausing only long enough to stretch out his arms before he began to move in earnest.

-----

It was only a few minutes later that he sat, staring down at his first meal of the day. He was dressed plainly, black pants, a light green shirt, and a longer white jacket. He had long wiped the sleep from his eyes but that didn't stop him from staring down at his food in displeasure, before sighing and reaching down to take a spoonful. It was his own fault, being late. He had let Circe order the food for him while he was on his way here, something he should have known better to do.

And so, to the soft laughter of his NHP, he scooped up another bite of 'Frosty Zeros!'.

[DataNinja]

"Hello to my lovely DragonHive out there," Eliza addresses to her camera, "your girl Eliza is back! You've been seeing some of our training, and you've met the lovely~ people I'll be working alongside. Even if some of them can be a bit of a grouch sometimes. But seems like things're changing a bit. Deployment is on the horizon, and we're going to get out there and bring the justice!"

"Not sure yet what exactly we're going to be setting out to do, but, believe me, you all out there will have a front row seat to see the DOJ kick some butt!" She grins widely. "So, strap in, my aspiring friends, and I'll see you all in the cockpit! Dragonfly, out!"

Well, that seemed good enough. At least for an opening. Gotta get people excited for what'll come later in the video. "Weaver?" she asks.

"Yes, queen?" The avatar of the NHP was always a little unsetting every time it suddenly appeared. It's a very distinctly nonhuman look, a face with four, red, inhuman eyes, a lack of a nose, and sharp fangs from the mouth. She's gotten mostly used to it, but it's always a little bit... concerning.

She's sure it's fine, though. She'd been with Eliza for some time, after one of her sponsors or something sent it to her back before this DOJ gig. What one was that for? Eliza can't remember, though they've been pretty good at sending her instructions on how to keep the casket and whatnot maintained and upgraded. Regardless, the NHP has been an invaluable member of the team, and a great companion, even if she has a few issues taking initiative without explicit parameters. Also her insistence on calling Eliza 'queen'. She hasn't been able to stop that, and it's frustrating, if at times endearing. But mostly frustrating.

"Find some song track in the files to play under that," she says. "Triumphant in tone, we want to pump people up for what's going to happen. Preference given to something we haven't used in a while. Then save and set aside as per usual."

"Anything else?" If Eliza didn't know any better, she would say that the other was getting exasperated. She actually hopes that's the case. Because maybe then she doesn't have to tell her to do everything, and they can actually hold a decent conversation.

"No, thanks. That's everything, Weaver. I'm going to pop down to the mess hall, grab something to eat. Page me if anything that needs my attention comes up, though. And don't push yourself too hard. We're probably going to see action in the next few days, so don't want you getting tired."

"Queen, I neither get tired nor have the ability to push myself to increase performance. Your advisories are unnecessary."

"...one of these days you'll make a joke," Eliza grumbles good-naturedly, as she makes her way to actually get some food.

[Apogee1]

The prior evening

“Paragon, if you drop a Full Wing again I swear…”

“Not this time Ground. Got nothing.” Dropping the worthless hand on the table, Paragon slides over two of the data-chips the regular card players around The Bottom of the Hole had started using as currency. “In fact, I’ve booked an evening slot on the sim-range in forty and wanted to swing by Mainstay and check the tension on the lower blades before that, so I’m headed out now”

“Oh come on you checked that yesterday; play another.”

“Man you’ve already fleeced me. Any more and I’ll be carrying your gear around for a month.” Since there was not much worth gambling, a system of selling chips back to destitute players in exchange for favors or having them embarrass themselves had popped up. “And anyways, you know one of the technicians keeps tightening them past the point they respond nicely.”

“That happened once and you know it. Rookie just wants to spend time with his mech.”

Rudely gesturing back towards Ground as he slaps on a detox patch -- one of the handiest things on this ship -- Paragon hurries out of the bar and up towards the hangers. Getting in on the card scene through Ground was one of his better decisions. Striking it off with the guy after asking him about why a cosmopolitan who seemed to fly his mech every chance he could took the callsign “Ground” (Answer: “Dramatic Irony”), Ground and company were a nice change of pace from the rest of the ship. Not that he didn’t love training and sims and making sure no one changed the tension on his blades, but kicking back was an important thing too. And his squad, for all they were one of the best teams on the ship, were all kinds of weird. Sure, Dragonfly and Biloxi could be fun to kick back with, and the other two had their moments, but he needed something a little closer to normal. But, in the meanwhile, it was time to check up on a few things, then practice nailing suckers with an assault rifle.

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

The morning

With the automated timer on his dataplates pinging him awake, Paragon stirs slowly then bolts upright and throws on his uniform. Pulling up a word processor, he jots down a few ideas for patriotic quips before shrugging, closing that file, and pulling up a different document -- “Common Terrain Types and Methods of Navigation.” With a deployment coming soon, and no real clue about what they might face, it would pay to be ready for wherever they go.

About 15 minutes before morning mess, he straightens his uniform, checks if any messages have come through, and starts heading out. Catching a lift up to the main hall with a few technicians he doesn’t recognize, Paragon grabs a pile of some sort of wheat-adjacent cereal and ambles over to join whichever part of his squad is currently around.

[Arayl]

In the early morning, it was almost guaranteed to find Biloxi using the gym keeping himself in the best shape he could, before heading for a boxing ring and going a few rounds with a few pilots, including a particularly stubborn one going by Einstein who refused to believe that he was being defeated so often. They'd earned the name not for their intelligence but for their refusal to try different tactics, but when they worked they worked impressively.

"Einstein no matter how much you try you ain't going to beat me with the same attacks over and over, I've half a mind to refuse you until you get yourself some new ones at least" Biloxi says leaning on the top rope with little sign that he was being pushed by the man and returned to a ready stance as he said, "One more round and then I'm finished here, so try and make it worth your time and mine this time"

A few hours after this routine Biloxi has cleaned up and headed for the mess hall, and get something in him to refuel himself. Getting a large bowl of cereal he looks around the mess hall until he catches sight of one of his squadmates and sits near them eating in silence for those who preferred it or joining in conversation with the more talkative ones.

[DaedalusMkV]

Cardsharp has spent their months on the Agonist fruitfully, if uncertainly. Amazed by the sheer diversity of Union, if slightly intimidated by thousands of humans moving around with their faces uncovered all the time, they've done their level best to experience as wide an array of the miniature military society on the cruiser as possible. Watching ullamaliztli games, spending time at the bar, and of course training with their new squad. People here even watch strange things called 'soap operas' that seem to exist solely as a means of vicariously experience the personal lives of others, a disturbing and fascinating concept which they've been unable to avoid experiencing, in much the same way that one cannot tear their gaze away from a mag-lev derailment or a shuttle crash. 914 had wondered if sending SSS members on a diplomatic mission was truly necessary; they no longer had that concern. Most Sigma would have broken down into a terrified mess within a week if left alone in the immense chaos of this place.

In the end, it had been necessary to fall back into old habits as a way to cope with the stress. In this case, that meant training. Physical training in the gym, of course, and practice in the mech combat simulators, but more and more often it meant working in the personal combat sims, weapons in hand, running through mission sim after mission sim. It was comfortable. Familiar. A good way to counterbalance the chaotic mess they've landed directly in the middle of. Cardsharp's most persistently nosy squadmate, Dragonfly, had nearly caught a bullet barging into the firing range during a particularly vigorous training session. Cardsharp, ever concerned with propriety, had apologized for the near-miss, though it was of course entirely Dragonfly's fault for not being sufficiently careful.

This morning is no different. As is their custom, Cardsharp retired early and woke early, fully intending to squeeze in a bit of extra training time before going to meet with the squad. Respecting their privacy, particularly, has proved... Largely impossible. They don't care, but it still rankles. Hardsuit on and weapon free, they dash into the training area, scanning for hostiles. No more time for thinking. Only time to move and kill and move again.

---

30 minutes later, Cardsharp is dead, riddled with laser fire from the imaginary foes. Not unexpected, considering they had chosen a simulation singlehandedly infiltrating a large bunker complex housing a prototype Mech designed to deliver weapons of mass destruction on a continental scale. The 'Shadow Moses' operation is notoriously near-impossible, and frankly rather fanciful. Still, it was an excellent release from the stresses of Union society. Time to go find the rest of the squad and plan for the day. Perhaps Dragonfly can explain the setting of this Upton Monastery serial they encountered during media time the previous night. It is entirely baffling to 914, yet perversely appealing. After a quick stop by the equipment lockers to drop off their stealth-optimized hardsuit and weaponry, Cardsharp makes their way towards the mess hall, quite looking forwards to a breakfast of mineral water and protein shake ingested carefully via mask-mounted feeding tube. They must remember to look at putting together a holographic privacy curtain to eat solid meals in public. Frankly, it's more than a bit worrisome that Union never considered the idea themselves.

[DrakeRaids]

"Wh-wh-Hullo friends~"

The moment the squad centered around the table, Circe's chipper voice broke out around the table. She was hard to ignore when Deadface was around, the strangely animated NHP often more conversational than he was. That's not to say he wasn't conversational, but Circe had a willingness to talk over people and he couldn't get rid of her because she was stuck in his head. He lifted his spoon in greeting before popping another bite of the sugary mess into his mouth. His look across each one was as always briefly appraising. For someone who was a solid seventy percent sure he had been a civilian he had a certain military air to him when he was tired, or acting on autopilot. The moment passed briefly enough though, as a small smile slipped past his lips as he went back to his own data-slate.

"I assume you all have heard the rumors by now. Looks like they are finally going to make us earn our keep." He spoke cleanly and precisely, U.'s tone always leaning towards the clinical. He didn't do it on purpose, he had tried to break it and be more animated briefly, reasoning it would make him more likable but it was difficult. Before long he had fallen back into the same familiar rut. Familiar, even if he didn't know why.

"Fufu, to drop into the crucible to kill, fight and die~ How many of you will be taking a human life for the first time I wonder?"

"Circe stop acting weird for perhaps five minutes, please?" He glanced up at the air and shook his head, "Look. We still no information on our drop. I'm no military genius but I still do not think this is the right way to go about something like this. How can we perform at maximum efficiency without proper intel on our mission until the very last moment? Bah. We'll have to do data analysis and strategic planning in real time. I'm sure command would like to imagine us as just puppets to direct where we need to go, but how long will that last in live fire? Things always go wrong." He sighed stirring his cereal, his own anxiety starting to rise. He liked knowing things. "It just. Gives me a bad feeling."

"All you have are bad feelings, U."

[DataNinja]

"Hey, be nice to her, she has to ride around in your head all day, U," Eliza says, with a grin and a wink. Half of her was jealous of the sort of animation the NHP seemed to have... but the other half was relieved to not have another voice stuck in her head all hours of the day. And that half wins out by a long shot.

"Besides, we don't know when exactly we're dropping. Sometime soon, surely, but also there might still be time," she shrugs. "Heck, I half expect this to just be so they see how we react to this stuff, and we'll be teased with action for another week or two." She's mostly just nibbling on toast and some preserve that may-or-may-not be fruit.

"I doubt they're gonna drop us off into the heat of the danger straight off, anyways. We're not top of the line, in mechs or talent. And they want to make this look good, a star squad of sorts. Can't do that if half of the ensemble cast dies, after all," it's said in a lighthearted way, though there is, admittedly, a bit of nervousness behind it. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Just remember the training we've had."

[Apogee1]

"Not top of the line? Tell that to our simulation record versus the rest of these clunkers." Trenton chuckles, before turning more serious for a moment.

"Anyways, I understand we might be bumping into something nasty, but I'm sure DIAMOND and the XOs have whatever we are doing simmed out far enough they are confident it won't be a complete disaster. We've trained for this, I'm sure we are ready, and I imagine we will get a plenty detailed briefing once the guys upstairs are ready to pull the trigger." Trenton jabs his finger up in the air twice while referencing the leadership of the vessel.

His face lighting back up, he laughs again while saying: "Unless we are actually doing this whole ridiculous time travel plot One Shot cooked up."

[DaedalusMkV]

Cardsharp approaches the table sipping on a thick protein shake contentedly. Strawberry flavoured, whatever a 'strawberry' is supposed to be. Presumably some sort of sugary confection, based on the taste. Just the thing to follow up a good training session. They listen to the discussion quietly until the rest of the tasty, nutritious liquid is gone, then respond. As always, the Sigma's voice is slightly distorted by the voice modulator built into their mask, making it difficult to read emotions or guess at what sort of vocal chords produced the words. "I must agree. We are clearly close to deployment, yet have received no mission briefing. This would be extremely irregular for a Special Situations Section operation." A glyph, looking somewhat like an ornate cross, appears in front of their mask. Whatever the heck that's supposed to mean. "Hopefully, it represents a need for operational security and secrecy in the planning phase, and not a lack of combat intelligence."

They turn their head, seemingly to look at Paragon. "It seems unlikely. I ran the numbers through a simulation. Odds of a reality-collapsing paradox in such a scenario are close to 100%."

[DrakeRaids]

"I would have you know my head is excellent real estate." U. shot back, and before he could elaborate Circe was quick to jump in, "Oh, he's n-h-not wrong! It's basically an empty canvas in here. You have no idea the things I can play with. For example, U., did you know one of your squad mates isn't real?" The amnesic scientist blanched at that, trying, and failing to hide his sudden start, before shaking his head, "Circe, you can't do that. Not without risking major brain damage. So I think I am fine unless you decide to ruin your ride." He reached out for his cup of caffeine, sipping at it for a moment. "Sharp likely has the most expertise here in these kinds of operations though, and if you think something is odd it just makes that gut feeling stronger. Not a lot we can do about it if this operation does indeed go sideways though, aside from try to survive. I think I may try and get my hands on an extra survival kit."

"...I wonder if One Shot does have some actual intel about all this. Not the time travel thing but in general. She's one of the more experienced pilots, so she may be trusted more than us. Or she may be just making up fun stories. Assuming this is a trust thing and not 'the brass have no idea what they are doing' thing. Damn, I hope its the former."

[Arayl]

"Of course it's different to where you're from, you guys probably didn't have to deal with people like SecComm sympathisers, they sometimes pop up and throw a spanner into the works if info on critical missions leaks" Biloxi says when Cardsharp brings up the radio silence on what the mission was going to be. When U brings up One Shot maybe having insight into what the mission is going to be about he continues, "I'm 50/50 on whether or not she's just messing with anyone who'd listen to her about it"

[DataNinja]

"It's okay, we'll let him keep thinking that," Eliza says towards U. (and Circe), winking. "Regardless, nothing we can do about anything now."

[DaedalusMkV]

Cardsharp's mask turns to face Biloxi, the cross-like sigil blinking out and being replaced by a slightly canted line with a pair of small dots above it. Their voice sounds... Thoughtful. "Ah. I am used to being in the reliable minority. I had not considered that a part of joining Union's military would involve being recategorized to a member of the unreliable masses, but this is a likely explanation. Thank you for your perspective. I shall adjust my assumptions accordingly."

[DataNinja]

"Something else you need to learn about here is that a lot of people like making it known that they're important," Eliza says, wryly. "So the less people that know about something, the less risk it'll end up getting to someone who's just so excited to be important that they tell it to the wrong person."

[DaedalusMkV]

Cardsharp turns next to Dragonfly, the canted line moving to a straight horizontal while the dots morph into a pair of canted lines and the entire holographic image turns blue. "Hmm. Yes, this I have noted. One definite weakness of Union cultural practices seems to be inherent creation of hierarchies, which leads to desire to advance within hierarchies. It is easy to understand why you might find this frustrating." The image overlayed on the mask disappears, leaving Cardsharp featureless once more, and this time their modulated voice sounds a bit hesitant. And slightly lower in pitch and volume. "Are you, by chance, familiar with the entertainment program 'Upton Monastery'?"

[Bitter]

Union Navy John Brown-Class Cruiser Agonist - Depths of Space - 0.995 C - Year 5016u

*DING-DONG*

The chime sounds across the mess hall loud enough to cut through the chatter. It's the signal that there will be a major announcement and always seems to be inappropriately cheerful and lacking in gravitas for what is usually a noteworthy military announcement.

A few moments later, the screens on the canteen wall that had been showing a variety of idyllic scenes switch to the less idyllic vista of Commander Andrader's scarred face.



“Pilots and crew," xe says, gravelly voice delivering his news in the same calm tones you've become accustomed to from xer, "It's time."

A trill of muttered excitement runs through the mess hall then quickly quietens as Andrader’s face is replaced by that of a planet.

“This is Harrandax, a Kakkarin Trade Barony world. The older hands will have worked some missions on barony worlds before, but this time we’re after bigger game then we’ve ever hunted before. This isn’t a case of some rogue principe using flash clones to turn a profit at a failing mine, we’re looking at a wide range of human rights abuses in dozens of different locations involving a host of different minor houses.”

Pinpoints on the global map spring to life showing occurrences instances of slavery, murder of political opponents, flash cloning, ethnic cleansing and more. If the old adage of DOJ/HR liberation teams not being sent out for anything less than a mass grave is true, Harrandax certainly qualifies as a valid target.

“We strongly suspect that Baron Moro-ExVisimo, the ruler of Harrandax, is the driving force behind these abuses but don’t have definitive proof linking him to it yet. The mechanised cavalry’s mission will therefore be three-fold. You’ll be looking landing in separate five-mech teams to resolve all violation events and simultaneously acquire proof linking the baron to them, showing that this is a planetary-wide failure. Once complete you’ll need to disable key planetary defence weapons so that we can extract you and any evacuees that you rescue.”

The previous pins fade and new ones appear in the shape of the standardised Union military symbols. A quick tally seems to show thousands of mechs, far outnumbering the 80 mechs the DOJ/HR will be fielding.

“Our biggest problem is the scope of resistance we’ll face, which is why we won’t be fighting fair. We’ve spent months coming in at near-light speed rather than taking a blink gate so we can take them by surprise. We’ll be conducting an emergency brake above Harrandax, -”

At this there is a chorus of groans throughout the cafeteria, not just from other mech pilots but the naval personnel as well. It’s understandable, you’ve all had to practice the emergency brake procedure in training and it’s simply the worst. Andrader’s announcement continues on regardless.

“- so from their point of view we’ll be appearing out of nowhere. Drop pods will be landing you at your targets and at the same time we’ll be deploying a viral kill-packet to their military networks, which should cut their communication and send most of their forces off to fight falsified emergencies and attacks. Once you’ve got us that data linking Moro-ExVisimo we’ll have a legal rationale to call in a full sleet for support, and as it happens we’ve got a fleet on stand-by. They’re ready to come in through the blink gate as soon as we send word. The trade barons don’t back losers and as soon as they see it’s a lost cause, the other houses will pull their support and Moro’s strength will fade away to nothing.”

“Pilots, your TacAd will be briefing you with the individual details of your team’s mission. For the rest of the crew, your team leaders will be advising you shortly on how we’ll be supporting the mechs from orbit. Good luck”

The broadcast ends and the screens revert to showing verdant tropical forests and the views from super-mountains. There’s a lot of chatter amongst the canteen now and most of it seems eager, the tone of professionals who’re finally going to be allowed to get on with their job. Those listening for it though do hear a few complaining voices talking about that ‘god-damned emergency brake manoeuvre’.

You’ve barely had time to digest this information when each of your comms devices chirrups, all five of them.



It’s Mette, your TacAd or Tactical Advisor. She’s your eye in the sky woman in the chair. Her role isn’t to give you orders, but to give you advice and support to help you make your decisions. Part of that if briefing the mission to you, to make sure everyone is clear on what they need to do.

"Right," says Mette, "Time to see if you're as good in the field as you are in training."

There's a deep inhalation and you know without seeing her that she is puffing away at one of her cheroots. A moment later, your formal mission briefing ping through to your individual omninet tools. The focus of the mission appears to be an underground laboratory located in some isolated highlands.

"You're in for a smash and grab with a side of sabotage. The House Harran FutureWorks Laboratory is meant to be investigating genetically engineered crops, but our sources say they're more interested in genetically engineering people and they're ain't bothering to look for volunteers. Your mission is to go there, free any living subjects and download the data from their servers. Those are in order of priority too, the mission is humanitarian first so if it comes down to it you just make sure you get any of those poor bastards held prisoner there out. That data on their serves might have evidence that'll help our case for expanding this to the baron himself, so get it if you can and we'll start data-mining it for anything useful."

A route on the map is added, leading from the lab to a city labelled Shenopolis around a hundred kilometres away.

"Once that’s accomplished, get the hell out of there with the prisoners. That there's the path to the nearest city with a space elevator. You need to take any evacuees from the lab and get them on that elevator where they’ll be primed for rescue on Agonist’s return trip. There should be plenty of vehicles for you to commandeer from the lab to transport anyone you rescue."

The map updates again, a point a few kilometres from the space elevator now illuminates and the image zooms in to show a capital class ion weapon, the kind that can be used to fire on a ship in orbit.

“That’s your final objective. Orders are to disable it but leave it intact if you can, if not to disable it.”

"In terms of what enemy forces you're gonna deal with, there's a small force of mechs guarding the lab itself but nothing you shouldn't be able to handle. The forces around the ion cannon are a hell of a lot tougher, but if Agonist’s viral attack works then as long as you don’t make too much noise a lot of them should be off chasing ghosts in the machine by the time you attack."

From Mette's tone of voice, you not getting to fight every single one of the mechs guarding the ion cannon is deeply disappointing

"Hit the lab. Rescue test subjects and get data. Get the test subjects to safety. Disable the ion cannon. Last but not least kick anyone’s mechanised ass who dares gets in your way. Questions?"

[DataNinja]

Eliza's about to star to explain the wonderful world of TV Dramas to Sharp, but just gives a shrug and a rueful look when the announcement starts. Looks like she'd misjudged - the frivolities are over already.

"I know that a lot of what's on the ground is probably unknown," Eliza says, "but can you confirm that the civilians should be safe when it comes to the space elevator? Or will we just be leaving them to deal with the unknown and hope for the best when we go deal with the ordnance?"

"Also," she asks, with a bit more levity, "any ETA on the brake? I'd prefer to be away from food when it happens. And have less food in me."

[DaedalusMkV]

Cardsharp remains silent through the briefing, barely moving and displaying no reaction to either the Commander's announcement or Mette's tactical briefing. When they speak, it is at a relaxed pace, as though they feel no need to hurry. "Objectives confirmed. Do we have an estimate of local time for commencement of the operation? Will we be operating in daylight or darkness? Do we have intelligence on enemy force composition at the research facility or topography for the mission area? Ideally, it would be wise to run through simulations of the mission area to familiarize ourselves with the AO before engaging."

After a brief pause, they add one more thing. "We have no ability to arrest targets at the lab site. Is liquidation or release a preferred outcome?"

[Bitter]

"You've got three hours until the brake," replies Mette over the comms, "and when you launch you'll need to be suited up by then, because as soon as we stop you're getting launched. That'll land you in the equivalent of their evening Sharp, so the initial fight will be in daylight but it'll be night by the time you're getting out of there. The space elevator is the best bet you have. It was built by Harrison Armoury decades ago and they still operate it now. HA aren't gonna help us, but if there's one thing we can trust about them it's that they're territorial as all hell and they're not gonna let baronial forces go on and abduct passengers. Plus it's way too vital a piece of infrastructure for them to just blow up just to silence some test subjects."

"That said, it ain't exactly an ironclad guarantee and it feels wrong to trust even the worst nature of the Harrisons" she adds, bitterness fairly oozing out of the comm sets along with her words. It isn't the first time you've gotten the feeling from Mette that she has a deep well of hatred for Harrison Armory. "If you think you find a better solution on the mission then feel free to take it though you gotta remember the planet's gonna be a low key war zone."

"As for rules of engagement, we're the Department of Justice and Human Rights, not the department of extrajudicially killing schmucks. If anyone presents a threat you're cleared to fire to protect yourselves any any evacuees, sure, but you can't plug a whole in someone or stomp them into a fine mist just because you're angry about the horrific **** they've been doing. The end game here is any criminals are gonna get sentenced and tried once ExVisimo is taken care of."

"Oh," adds Mette after a few moments silence when it seems like she'd finished, "and Eliza, if you're gonna be recording while you're down there then don't broadcast it until the mission's over. The idea here is we hit them while we don't know what we're doing, so if I catch you livestreaming this to the entire Omninet then I swear to Ptah that I'll find a way to make your reactor self-destruct."

A file pops through to everyone's comms, showing details of the topography and potential threats that Cardsharp requested. Details are scant, mostly months old but indicate that there are around half a dozen mechs thought to be guarding the laboratory and around thirty guarding the ion cannon, although if all goes to plan most of those shouldn't be around when you attack it. The laboratory is located in a rural snowy highlands area, after which you'll be heading to an urban city centre.

[Apogee1]

"This looks reasonably straightforward to me." Trenton states, scrolling through the data just dropped in. "I hope the virus does what its cracked up to because yeah, not looking to run into thirty mechs at once."

"Mette, you will be in contact with us throughout the mission, right? Anyone else have questions?" he asks while looking around at his teammates. Clearly slightly restless, he hurries onto asking "If not, should we start getting gear together and ourselves and our mechs into position?"

[DataNinja]

"Hey, look, I'm not an idiot," Eliza says. "I know what happens when you give out information to the people you're fighting against - especially while you're doing so. Both in the grand scheme of things, and personally. Ain't going to give a sniper all the info she needs. She gives a wry smile. "'Specially because 50/50 odds on you having sent it, and I don't want to give you the satisfaction." She winks.

"Besides," she mutters, "It'd mean I couldn't edit it. I want it to make things look good, and not cause people to lose interest when we have to stomp across four hours of wasteland. I know what kind of attention span people have." Anyways, three hours to finish her food, and then make sure to have it in there long enough to keep it down during the break, and suit up. Sounds reasonable.

[Bitter]

"Yeah, I'll be in touch all through the mission," says Mette. "'Less, of course, we get blown out the sky. Can't promise that won't happen, though once you lot are dropped we're planning to scooch back to put some room between us and Harrandax until the planetary defences are weakened so we should be safe."

[DrakeRaids]

"Information at last."

As the debriefing occurred you could absolutely see Deadface slowly start to loosen up. Despite the fact they where dropping into a hostile world filled with people who would want nothing more than to try and fill them all full of bullets and other fast moving killy things now he had information. Now he could start to try and make a plan. "Shock and awe is the order of the day then. Good." His posture was more relaxed as his data-slate, once displaying some technical draft he was reviewing, was now pulling up information on their plant of attack as quickly as possible, examining the last information on the terrain and state of the facilities.

"Get me to the server room and I can get the data you need. Circe should be able to hold herself together enough to autonomously pilot my mech for a few minutes while I grab that. I'll need cover though. Keeping all the test subjects we need to rescue pacified is probably going to be the hard part, but they're likely not in much shape to get rebellious. I'll let one of you handle them, I don't do well with people. Especially dumb, panicky people. Which they're likely to be, no fault of their own of course, but they will be."

"You know most humans are dumb and panicky, U. Like little piglets."

"Mmm. I don't dislike people, Circe. Don't phrase it like that."

"I do! Present company (probably) excluded of course <3"

He rolled his eyes, Circe's ability to somehow vocalize emoticons like the heart one notwithstanding, they needed to focus. Though he did want to find out how she did that. He tapped his screen slowly, "Mmm. No time to change loadouts, which is a shame. Harbor isn't going to be particularly useful during the initial mission. I wonder if it's time to consider a change of strategy on my end... But that'll be a consideration for later. At the very least she can offer good fire support when we assault the cannon."

He had read about Harrison Armory and their worlds atrocities since he had woken up, but they didn't really fall into place for him yet. He was... honestly kind of curious to see what it was actually like. The baronies and the big bad they got up to. What would it make him feel? Would it jar something out of his mind, remind him of something?

[DataNinja]

"It's okay," Eliza says, with a wink. "There's a lot to dislike about people in general. But we manage to worm our ways into your heart nonetheless. You just need to find the right ones."

[Bitter]

Union Navy John Brown-Class Cruiser Agonist - Depths of Space - 0.995 C - Year 5016u

With the key question covered off, the team breaks apart to see to their individual needs. The hours go by in a flurry of preparation and, perhaps for some, anxiety.

By t-minus 20 minutes, each pilot is in their mech as engineers scurry about conducting final preparations and checks; including printing a new replacement assault rifle for Mainstay after some micro stress fractures were found in the barrel of his previous one.

At t-minus 5 minutes the engineers retreat to their crash couches and the mechs ensconce themselves into the drop pods, huge rain drop-shaped vessels designed to carry up to half a dozen mechs and allow them to “land” safely by crashing into a planet at several thousand kilometres per hour.

With thirty seconds until the emergency brake, the cockpits of each mech start to fill with a thick transparent liquid that closes itself over your heads, purple yet still transparent so you can still see through it. With your respirators attached, it’s barely any discomfort at all.

Which is when the needles come out, extruded from the interior of your mech suits and pointed towards your bodies.

A thin one stabs into your jugular, injecting a complex chemical formulae that races round your bodies and solidifies your blood into a rubber-like solid. Two much larger needles, almost the diameter of pinky fingers, puncture your chest and penetrate each of your lungs; filling them with a slurry that would look very much like concrete if you could see it. More target the kidneys, liver, heart and other vital organs.

Thankfully one of the needles contains a complex pain-killer that relieves almost all of the incredible pain this would otherwise call, though not the feeling that you are choking or that your blood vessels are about to pop. It’s just a little unfortunate that the needle needs to jam itself through your eyeball to deliver the dose directly into your brains.

Under conventional physics, suddenly going near-light speed to a relative stop would involve enough force to annihilate you at the molecular level. With a paracausal warping of space-time to cause the sudden deacceleration this can almost entirely be avoided, but not quite to the level of total safety.

So it is that when your countdown finally reaches zero, your lungs don’t collapse and you don’t internally haemorrhage from every single organ. Instead, you merely feel like you’ve been punched by a forklift simultaneously on every single point of your body external and internal, while at the same time you’re choking from lack of oxygen and fighting back the urge to vomit.

By the time the needles have stabbed out again and reverted their changes to your biology, the dropship is already well underway - the mere discomfort of pulling several Gs as it launched being nearly unnoticed in comparison to the emergency brake.

From your feeds you can see outside, using cameras mounted on the drop pod’s exterior. The pods of the other teams briefly blaze alongside yours as your start to enter the upper atmosphere but quickly retreat out of sight as their plummet towards their own mission locations. All the time Harrandax is coming closer.

“I hope you’re all doing well,” chimes DIAMOND’s voice through your comm system. A quick looks shows he’s specifically speaking to your team, though with his capabilities as Agonist’s NHP he could be carrying out a thousand simultaneous conversations if he needed to. “I know the emergency brake procedure can be rough. The viral kill-packet has been deployed and seems to be working well and now we’re in-system we can get our eyes on some of what’s going on. It looks like the guards at your target are all congregating together, probably trying to work out why their comms are on the fritz, so I’ll be directing your drop pod to land right on top of them. If you disable them quickly before they can work out how to send some kind of signal, you might keep the element of surprise for a while.”

By this point your point of view from the pod’s cameras doesn’t show an entire planet any more, instead, it’s focusing on a snow-covered mountain range which quickly shrinks down to a single mountain as you dive ever closer.

The drop pod impacts the ground, the enormous fire-covered ball of metal sending out an explosion of dirt, heat and steam as the impact shakes your mechs around in their harnesses. A moment later it has stopped. The harnesses loosen. The thirty-foot high doors to the drop pod spring open.

All readings show green, it’s been a perfect landing. As you move quickly out of the crater of the drop pod landing site and crunch onto the two-feet deep snow, your sensors register movement ahead.

You’re in a valley that a river has cut down the side of the mountain and standing on the opposite side of the river, just now moving into action after your shocking entrance, are eight mechs.

Seven of them are similar in size to your own, though coming in various specialised configuration. The eighth mech humanoid in design and six times the mass of an Everest, carrying a large shield on one arm and what looks to be some kind of rocket launcher on the other.

There’s a moment, just a single moment of stillness. This is your first live combat mission as part of the Liberation Team. For the guards, they’ve probably drilled hard but never had to deal with any real-life mechanised combat. There’s just enough time for everyone to realise that “yes, this is really happening” before a shot is fired. Before anyone can realise who fired, even what side fired, the battle is on and weapons on both sides start blasting away.

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm posting the roll20 details in discord in just a moment. 1st step before anyone takes their action is to pick starting positions, so hop in in and pick a spot!

[DataNinja]

Ugh. The brake was prepared unpleasantness. The drop pod... not quite as much. No talking during the descent, no witty quips. Just trying not to throw up, thanks. But the cameras are go, at least. She makes a groggy mention to Weaver to make sure to record the pod cams, too.

And then landfall. Blissful cessation of momentum. But, no time to waste. Action calls, as her systems spool up.

[Arayl]

Biloxi hated emergency brake maneuvers, the feeling of having no air was something he could never get used to no matter how many times he went through the process, but as soon as the needles withdrew he quickly got ready for combat.

As soon as they landed he scanned the battlefield and saw that most of their foes were the same size as them, although there was a much larger one that might be a bit more trouble.

[Bitter]

Harrandax - Olov Province - 5016u - The Battle of the Crater - Round 1

The Liberation team advances forward, away from the crash site and onto the icy plain.

Across from them, a variety of mechs making up a mixed combat group of different roles designed to support each other. The liberation team is outnumbered and outgunned, but not outmatched.

The first shot fired comes from Dragonfly, using Huntress]'s Anti-material rifle to take down the large 30 foot tall Bastion model mech with a single shot that takes it straight in the forehead. The power of the rifle's shot is enough that the entire head comes off the body, and it crumples to the ground.

As Dragonfly follows this up by launching a turret forward, the enemy reacts defensively and while the two sides trade shots the two recon units deploy cloaking fields which reduces the profile of the mechs within it to a vague shimmer.

Deadface takes the same approach, albeit from a slightly more low tech angle, and sets off a smoke mine that provides himself and his comrades with a fog of electromagnetically charged particles designed to throw of electronic and manual targetting attempts. This doesn't stop a close-combat orientated Kriegerin model mech from dashing across the river and locking swords with Habour, both ready to strike each other down as soon as they can find an opening.

The two sides trade fire with Deadface and Cardsharp's mechs getting tagged with assault rifle rounds, but the enemy combatants get the worst of it by far. Paragon fires off a quick snapshot which utterly destroys one of the recon vehicles, dropping it's cloaking field along with its body. Cardsharp meanwhile keeps the Kill:Shot ratio of anti-material rifles at a perfect 1:1 by with a direct centre mass shot to an Armsman, all despite the invisibility cloak that rendered it nigh-on invisible.

Clearly the most aggressive of the liberation team is Biloxi. To Mette's loud approval over the comms, he runs forward, blowing chunks from one of the Armsman mechs and closing the distance while allowing Huntress's turret to shoot the enemy in the flank while it's distracted.

[Bitter]

Harrandax - Olov Province - 5016u - The Battle of the Crater - Rounds 2,3 & 4



The mech battle rages. The Kriegerin with its ten foot long sword engages in a back and forth exchange of blows with Paragon, their weapons slashing. Each sustains heavy blows against the other, but when Deadface blasts the swordmech with his shotgun it gives Paragon the distraction he needs to have Mainstay plunge a knife into the Krierin's chest.



Biloxi dishes on ahead as the vanguard of the liberation team, closing with the Armsman Alpha and nearly chopping it down with his energy blade. The Armsman rams into A Moment of Silence, sending Biloxi's mech flying back into the river, but even as he's flying through the air Biloxi lines up a final pistol shot that drops the Armsman before it can retreat back into the cloaking shield, then drops a smoke grenade on his own position to grant some protection while he rights himself.



On the northern side of the river, the enemy mechs continue to do their best. The final assault rifle-wielding Armsman manages to clip several of the team with bursts from its gun while the NoScope frame sniper takes careful and blows news holes in Huntress and Dead Man's Hand.



Despite this, the Liberation team take it in their stride, alternating between delivering their own withering barrages of fire and taking time to rest behind cover and engage their auto-repair systems to recover from the worst of the damage.

Pushing forward, the liberation team downs the final Armsman in a volley of attacks while the NoScope is badly damaged by the cuts of Dead Man's Hands's armblades and a final anti-material rifle shot from Dragonfly.

Spoiler: OOC - MISSION SUCCESS

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Congratulations, you've proven you can defeat a numerically superior force in open combat with ease. You are truly Lancer level mech pilots!

Statuses:
Dragonfly/Huntress - 1 repair used, 1 turret used, 1 leadership dice used
Deadface/Harbor - 1 repair used, 1 smoke charge used, 3 prototype shots remaining
Paragon/Mainstay - No repairs used, 10/16 health, 2/6 heat, 1 overcharge used, 1 smoke charge used
Biloxi/A Moment of Silence - 1 repair used, 3/6 heat, 1 overcharge used, 1 smoke grenade used
Cardsharp/Dead Man's Hand - 1 repair used, 1/12 HP, 1 heat, 1 overcharge used

Please let me know if anything in the above doesn't seem right (Or keep quiet if I've forgotten to allocate damage to you ), I'm aware that I'm especially prone to mixing up the Deadface and Dead Man's Hand and have personally had to correct like 5 instances in my notes of which one of you got attacks/received damage. We're now re-entering narrative play.

The NoScope stumbles back wounded. With Cardsharp standing before it in Dead Man's Hand, the rest of the liberation team close behind him and all other hostile roundly defeated the pilot comes to a fairly obvious conclusion. Throwing its anti-material rifle down onto the floor, the mech raises it's hands in a gesture of surrender and then sinks down to it's knees with a thud. After a moment the front of the mech's torso peels away and reveals the pilot saddle, where a hard-suited pilot frantically waves their arms shouting "I surrender! Oh please, I surrender, don't shoot me!"