Lancer: No Room for a Wallflower (IC)

[n0ble]

5014 AU-Spring

The deck of the light carrier is warm and humid, a welcome change after the dry cold of stasis. Dim, recessed lighting glows a gentle amber, letting your eyes gradually adapt to seeing once more. The stasis headache is a miserable bastard – you’ll have to reassess your hydration cocktail, shout at the autodoc for that one, maybe box him one or two to make sure he’s functioning properly – but tea and a seat will help.

For now, you are the only ones awake on this deck. You’re the only ones needed awake. The artificial dawn is yours to enjoy. You pad barefoot from your roomette to an observation blister, find a couch, and sit. The dome above you populates, the void of space blooming across an opaque hexagonal field like ink dropped on a blank page.

Space. You and yours-the team-sit alone amidst functional semi-gimballed couches, the vacuum of space projected through the translucent glass. Your gut twists and the old fear sends a bolt of adrenaline to the back of your throat, but it passes; you know you’re still inside the observation blister. A jade and white disk hangs on the velvet field above you.

Hercynia. Big as a dinner table. But not for long.

What do you know about the place? Not much, and the packet was slim: early testing ground for the mechanized chassis, hostile local fauna, isolated for centuries before being forgotten, rediscovered and snapped up by a high-risk firm with a few other colonies under its belt. Apparently there was a local indigenous population that the on-the-rise colonists didn't know about, which led to some legal tangle between SSC and Union.

A mess, in other words. An emerald mess.

The ship to plays the sound of rain, cut with the odd rumble of reassuring thunder. You lay back upon the couch, tea on your chest – it’s still a little too hot – and float, surrounded by stars mad . You’ll be there in a few days. Systems organic and synthetic cycling to life. Some of you might not return to this little ship. Maybe you’ll die down on that world.

But right now you have the sound of rain. The hush of broad fronds rasping against their neighbors. The background hiss of air. The comfortable gravity. Peace.

Your slate pings in your pocket. The amber light floods the periphery of the blister. Your aurals hum a notification tone.

Ah well. Time to go to work.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

You would all know: the ship your on is Union Navy-designated as the Oneiric Coenobite. Its essentially a transporter that loads up on various crisis teams and deposits them at.in whatever site they’ve been designated to assist in. The ship then moves on to the next hotspot in Union conflict. You would know that Union has stored all of your things on-board-there's a locker room with all your pilot equipment complete with a genetic-lock.

The expectation is to rendezvous with the colonial elements planetside and get briefed on the situation. You don’t have your mechs with you once you’ve made planetfall you’ll utilize the 3D printer to create your mechs on-surface. The colony knows your arriving, they’ll be sending out a landing party to welcome you/coordinate your arrival.

The colony’s name is Evergreen.

[Seanfall]

Ezra Strachen had his feet up on the couch in the roomette, when the alert came in his dataplating lit up and threw up its HUD. The man sighed and switched off the notice, he sat up and took another sip of his tea. Before finally standing and grabbing his coat. Even after finding a place in Union, the consummate pragmatist still wore the same types of clothes he always had. He wasn't a pencil pusher, no point in wearing fancy clothes if their gonna get covered in mud, blood, and god knows what else.

He made his way to his equipment locker and pressed a hand against the Genetic-Lock, once it opened he grabbed his kit. Which included an assault rifle and a few clips. He left the weapon unloaded for now but slung it around his shoulders. "Time to get this **** started."

[Alteiner]

Ignis Kye-Fei sat, one leg crossed over the other, nodding his head to the music streaming from the dataslate in his pocket through aural augments in his ears, steaming cup of tea held between his fingertips as he watched the artificial dawn over distant Hercynia. It was probably the greenest planet he’d ever seen. The information the team had gotten from their CO had been thin: Corpro-state colonial interests, potential indigenous human population, extant on-world infrastructure throwing out comms radiation. In a word, it was a tangled mess. It seemed that the troubles into which Union insisted on sticking its nose only got more and more complicated as one got closer to the Galactic Core.

The Atlas line was the furthest he’d ever come from home. Last year, it had been the Altai, and the year before, the Sierra Madre. Each year, the orders of his overseers brought him further and further from the Long Rim; never to Cradle itself, but always deeper into Union space. Growing up, Kai had heard stories of the inner reaches of Union space that made it sound almost magical, of technologies and wonders that natives of the Rim could scarcely imagine. Reality, as he had learned, rarely if ever lived up to the stories. The systems closer to the Galactic Core were more plentiful, more prosperous than those closer to the outermost reaches of civilization, sure, but their nature in relation to the galaxy around them did not change; a hundred-thousand tiny pinpricks of light, swallowed whole in a gulf of fathomless darkness. The heat and hydration from the tea did wonders to quiet the pulse of pain at the front of head. Two months of near-light travel in stasis between blinkgate jumps, and how much time had he skipped over in realspace? How much over the last four years? Days? Months? Years? Such was the life of a Cosmopolitan, he supposed.

Kai clicked his tongue when his music was cut off by the ping from his slate. Time to prepare for planet-fall already? What he wouldn’t have given for a little shore leave before diving into his next job. This one was going to be a long one. Hopefully, it would be his last as a Union auxiliary. One more year, and he’d return to the battlefield as an Ungrateful.

“No rest for the wicked, I guess.” Kai finished his tea and made his way to his equipment’s locker. His hardsuit, part of Smith-Shimano’s Chrysalis line, compressed onto him, servo motors and synthesized powered muscle fibers roaring to life, until it fit him like a black-and-gunmetal glove. Over that, he donned an ankle-length cross-zip coat. His belt held the holster for a high-calibur handgun (caseless ammo and a magnetic propulsion mechanism ensured it would fire even in the vacuum of space). The gun was joined by its partner, a hand-forged curved sword from the Terashima enclave, auspicious rope charm dangling from its hilt. He slung the sword’s sheath over his shoulder and pulled up his hardsuit’s HUD, double-checking its system readouts to make sure everything was functioning correctly. Rules of engagement all but ensured his arsenal would go unused, but one could never be too careful. “Alright. Planetfall awaits.”

[bc56]

Ugh. Cryosleep is always the worst. Ransome's never sure if anyone is watching while he sleeps. He plugs into the omninet and checks the security recordings for anything unusual, and, once satisfied, unplugs again and heads to the locker. He suits up. Lightweight hardsuit, GMS manufacture. Orange stripes on grey. A quick diagnostic check using his implants, everything nominal. Then a cloak, dark green seems appropriate for this occasion, given that it's a jungle out there. Last, he picks up his weapons. First, his shotgun, short-barreled, gunmetal grey, all function and no form. He collapses down its stock and attaches it to his hardsuit. Next, the spear. A thin cylinder of alloys, sharpened to a deadly point. The perfect weapon to keep enemies at arm's length. Last, he takes up an array of needles, the emergency stims he relies on when he needs a boost.
He toggles up the comms suite on his subdermal dataplating, and sends out over the net. "We're here. Any idea what we're being called to this backwater for?" Something about the planet's history strikes him as odd. Why would they need to test early mech chassis on such an out-of-the-way place? SecComm did some strange things, but not without reasons. At the same time, he pulls up his designs for Python and starts making some tweaks. The jungle environment isn't going to treat it well in its current state.

[technoRomancer]

A choking snort came from one corner of the room, where an entire couch had been claimed by a heap of half-assembled machinery. A disembodied robot arm roughly smacked the back of its sole living occupant as she wiped cold tea from her chin. By the number of abandoned beverages scattered around her area she'd already been at this a while, and it was apparent she'd forgotten which one was the most recent. Her slate pinged for the third time, sounding increasingly insistent. Her brush with asphyxiation had broken her focus enough that she finally registered it - along with the presence of the teammates who had slowly been filtering in and gearing up. "Oh. Uh."

Mikka blinked owlishly for a few seconds, winding down from her mechanic's fugue. With a start she pulled down the half-mask resting on her forehead and quickly scanned the unread messages that had accumulated. She realized she'd been sitting in the same position long enough her legs had fallen asleep, and awkwardly stretched them out, grimacing in anticipation of the pins and needles to come. She might have gotten up sooner at least to relieve herself at some point, but she'd made the mistake of not bothering to take off her hardsuit after its systems check and that had made it easier to just keep working. At least she'd saved herself the trouble of having to struggle back into it now. Currently its upper half was unfolded around her hips, its mismatched appearance cobbled together from standard licenses and her own custom components, mostly in matte gray. Revealed where it opened was a black sports bra and pale skin covered in equal parts freckle and ink. It left little to the imagination, but on the other hand there was little there to imagine in the first place.

Looking down to study the object in her lap for a moment, Mikka sighed dejectedly. "Guess the rest of the mods'll have to wait till after the op. It's... done enough?" It was a mech-scale multitool, a hefty device made for cutting, welding, and prying apart heavy components. Or as she liked to call it, The Spork. It seemed like she was mostly muttering to herself, but several of the disassembled drones perked up around her, or tried to.

"I will conduct a post mortem examination of the experiment and tell you what it died of," a male voice chimed from several speakers, before the somewhat nightmarish disarray of limbs and other moving parts settled back down into the heap.

"You're right... we won't know how it handles in the field until we try it." Mikka nodded agreeably, then did something to the tool that folded it in on itself until it was roughly the the length of her forearm and placed it against the thigh of her suit, where it secured itself. Casting around for a stray rag, she gave her hands a halfhearted scrub and tossed it into the pile of parts before finally acknowledging the other people in the room. "So! Um." Her voice cracked a bit, hoarse from long disuse, but she didn't trust the tea anymore. "Still got awhile before the Oncey drops us off. I don't know anything about Hercynia that wasn't in the dossier, but I've been to my share of colonies with growing pains. Most folks resent outside interference even if their bigwig'sre the ones who called us in. In my experience it can't hurt to bring a housewarming gift with us?" She sounded unsure - not of her advice, but of how seriously it might be taken.

[Volthawk]

At this point, cryosleep was something Tobias had gotten quite familiar with. Service as an auxillary had pretty much defined his life so far, and that meant a lot of travelling. It still wasn't pleasant, but nonetheless, it was a familiar kind of unpleasantness. He planned on staying the distance with the Union Navy and the auxillaries, so spending lots of time asleep was something he'd made his peace with. This was the life he'd chosen, so he was going to excel at it the best he could.

Walking to his locker, after pulling on the Navy uniform he normally wears (the team's role didn't technically require them to wear the uniform, and while the others took advantage of that he still preferred to wear it, even if most people on the ground wouldn't see it under the suit or the mech), the first bit of his gear he picks up is his shotgun, a old, heavy thing cut down to serve as a sidearm. He'd brought it along with him when he left his homeworld to take an interstellar Auxillary contract, and the old girl hadn't failed him yet. Not that he had much reason to use it, most days, but having it on his side was never unwelcome. After a moment of remembering, he puts the gun back down, since he needed the hardsuit, an armoured powered suit that was rather larger and heavier than the suits of his peers. He was told that it incorporated some pretty advanced biomechanical elements. He didn't know how it worked, exactly, but it meant it did a lot of the maintenance and repair work itself and hooked into him for power - convenient in some ways, but it meant he always felt pretty hungry after a period of particular activity. On one shoulder was the suit's missile launcher, a relatively unobtrusive and innocuous rectangular bulge for now, the nastiness popping up when needed, but a bit of extra firepower that sometimes came in handy - when trouble did come, it rarely came in a nice small easy to manage way.

In response to Ransome's question, Tobias shrugs. "Know as much as everyone else, but things must be escalating on the ground if we're being brought in. Auxillaries don't just resolve legal disputes." He sighs. "Gut tells me this place is going to be trouble. Sounds like the kind of place where two sides are shooting at each other, neither one wants you there getting in the way of their fun, and you can't do anything without Union disapproving." Mikka's suggestion gets a little thought, before another shrug. "Got any ideas? If it might be useful, it's worth bringing something along. Might not use it, but having the option won't hurt."

[DoctorFaust]

Robert jerks upright at the alarm chime, having fallen asleep somewhere during the hours-long approach to Hercynia. He blinks as he tried to process the alarm and chatter around him through the cobwebs of sleep before a few swigs of tea brings his brain back up to speed.

Moving more quickly now, he swings himself up and stretches, his joints popping from stiffness from the cryosleep and his nap. As he walks to his equipment locker and begins to retrieve his hardsuit, he joins in the speculation. "It could be a lot of things. Conflicts between the colonists and the indigenous people, SecComm experiments gone rogue, newly discovered megafauna wrecking havoc, rats that have gained sapience and built their own mechs. I just hope the Evergreen officials that called us in will actually tell us the truth." Robert looks sideways at Mikka and pauses, considering her words. "I don't know. I feel like the planet I grew up on would see that as condescension, but that's a smaller sample size than you have. Do we even have anything aboard to take down as a gift?"

[n0ble]

Multiools. Shotguns. Hardsuits. Loaner EVA-gear for those of you that don’t have it. The silence that follows in the wake of you all donning your things answers any questions you might have: what you’ve packed is what you’re bringing with you. Just when the quiet gets a bit too awkward, a pleasant monotone voice sounds out “Please don EVA suits. “ Upon reflection there is, perhaps, just a hint of authority behind that pleasantness.

A notification sound byte rings out from everyone’s slates. There is a simple dual-tone, familiar to all of you: Union’s briefing package sounding off in time with your departure. However its displayed, a quick check at whatever ominet address each of you has logged with Union reveals the following message from your direct CO:

“Greeting Lancers,

Receiving this message indicates that you are soon to depart for Hercynian atmosphere. The planet should be visible via the observation blister now. The following message constitutes the extent of Unions knowledge as to goings-on planetside.

From what we’ve been given to operate with, Hercynia was an old field testing facility under SecComm control. It was once subject to a widespread and catastrophic SecComm expeditionary campaign. Our extent details on the situation is scare, but building from what has been recovered from the old Union Colonial Mission indicates that the Second Committee mounted a handful of similar campaigns against resistant populations. Radiations. Distress signals. Encrypted communications. These sorts of SecComm pacifications methods will almost certainly account for some of the local infrastructure your going to see down there.

Speaking of local infrastructures, from what we’ve been told, Landmark Colonial elements-theColony itself is called Evergreen-have encountered and engaged in skirmishes with hostiles insurgents planetside and things are poised to get even more bloody if a mediator isn’t brought in. To that end, your current assigned set of objectives is simple: by now you should have received clearance from Evergreen to land and convene with their elements on-ground. Do so, and integrate into the local colonial hierarchy. I’d like to personally amend this with the following”-

You can practically hear whoever wrote this clearing their throat-

“-remember that you are acting as Union’s representatives in this conflict first, comport yourselves appropriately, preserve life to the best of your abilities and seek peaceful resolutions to conflicts.

I have all faith that you will do the best job possible,
Liaison Lt. Christina Hamlin, UDoJ/HR”

A second, sharp chime sound indicates clearance from one “Edena Ji”, colonial Attaché and Second COO of Evergreen, to arrive on Evergreen soil. Mapping data arrives along with the notification to corroborate the landing zone for your dropship, as well as a rough window of time where Evergreen militia are expected to convene with your team. Another burst of chimes indicates that the correct flightpath,vectors and decelerations data have been matched to Evergreen's location-uploaded to the dropship's autoflight in time with each of you getting clearance.

Once you’ve all donned the appropriate EVA gear, some hidden signal causes the exit from the observation blister to open, sliding into the wall without so much as a hiss. The way before you is simple: the spartan inside of a landing craft all of you passed through on the way to the stasis units. The more tech savy amongst you easily recognize it as a remote pilotable dropship, one capable of limited atmospheric entry. Two rows of fold down crash seats great you, three-wide. Each has a bright, cant-miss-it port for individual hard suit oxygen. For when the dropship disconnects from the larger ship feeding it oh-two. Just as well. The first step in reveals the dropship isn’t pressurized. Storage space has clearly demarked dimensions: the walls and flooring have special areas one may grip to reveal the cargo space built-into theses areas. The dropship ceiling has a web of netting spread across the top as more storage, like digital grey canopy. This carrier is clearly a pass through. It drops you where you go. Refuels, performs a flight check, and takes off the next day after you land: the light carrier that brought you to Hercynia, correctly named by Mikka as the Oncey, has other stops to make, and will return in a year.

Below,Hercynia turns. What was once jade is now cut with blue: a strait divides the continent your viewing from it’s as of yet unrevealed sister-landmass. If the data included with the briefing packet is any indication, that other continent-the western one-is your destination. Evergreen. Its easy to see why they’d give the colony a name like that with the view you all have. But until you get down their its just another ping on the slate.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

If anyone needs EVA gear for the dropship, Union has provided some.

Broadly speaking you wouldn’t be expected to bring a gift of some sort nor would there be anything really with you on the drop ship outside of personal gear that’s gift-able. However, there are definitely facilities on-ground to make one in Evergreen once you’ve made planetfall if that’s something y’all want to pursue during out of mission free-play/downtime, and there are definitely NPCs who’d appreciate it as well

Otherwise the expectation for now is largely to just make contact according to what your CO has outlined-its going to be a few hours in-game heading down to the surface, but that will put you down late afternoon on the western continent, designated as Solo Terra in Edena Ji’s clearance notification.

[Seanfall]

Ezra watched the rest of the team file in one by one, Lancers were all individuals. They all had their own story a reason for being here, for ending up in a Mech and excelling at it. He suppressed a chuckle, half-listening to them talk. When the time came he removed his coat and jacket and slipped into his light hardsuit and sealed it. He slipped his coat back on over top of it but stowed his jacket and the rest of his kit in the compartments. "For anyone not used to atmospheric re-entry...well it'll be entertaining for the rest of us."

Ezra took his seat and connected his hard suit to the O2 supply, switching on his Dataplating he watches some minor info from the nearby net scroll by. This place reminds me of home. The older man looked out at the world and let his thoughts drift to the past for a few moments.

[technoRomancer]

"Sadly my access to, uh, psuedo-sanctioned resources ain't what it used to be. But I'm sure we can figure something out planetside. Get to know our hosts a bit, see what I can whip up from what's on hand. Uh, metaphorically speaking... probably..?" Mikka stood, stretched, then flicked her mask, eliciting a beep of protest from it. The upper half of her suit began to rise from its relaxed state, and she struggled into it as it clacked together around her, plates sliding seamlessly into place around the mask. "Time to go to work, Kaboodle!" The mess she'd left behind on the couch trembled ominously before most of the disparate parts somehow kludged themselves together into a single drone. The robot shoved the rest of the pile into a dilapidated duffle and hefted it as it rose unsteadily to hover behind Mikka. "Thanks, buddy."

"Then we came forth, to see again the stars."

"You said it, Boods." Flipping an armor-padded half-cloak over one shoulder, Mikka marched into the landing craft, turning to walk backwards for a few steps as she passed Ezra. "Take care, Oncey! Keep it cool!" With a friendly salute, the engineer stowed herself and her gear, gloved fingers tapping idly against her legs as she waited for launch, taking in the interior of the craft briefly. "I dunno Ez, this lander looks pretty stock, and Union takes care of its gear. Probably gonna be a boring... uh, smooth, a smooth drop?" she hastily amended, realizing belatedly that he'd been joking.

[bc56]

Ransome activates the vacuum seal on his hardsuit and steps into the dropship, belting in. While reentry wasn't pleasant, he's done it enough times. This world on the other hand... Ezra might be reminded of home, but Ransome's home has always been more of an urban jungle. Hopefully this "Evergreen" city would be large enough. Decent facilities would make his job a lot easier. He frowns at Mikka's cheery demeanor and her drone. Something about that scrap-metal critter gives him the creeps. He feels like it's watching him, and not in a good way. But he's not going to mention it. "Looks like a pretty normal situation, at least. Natives and colonists are at odds, we need to make peace somehow. Just need to get to the root of the issue." Worst comes to worst, the problem won't be solved except by completely neutralizing one side. But hopefully that can be avoided. He double-checks that he's in a secure position, and that he has all his gear. Weapons, check. Stims, check. Just in case, he loads the syringes into a compartment on the arm of his suit. If he needs them, they're right there now. And he can always take them out if he needs to give them to someone else. With that done, he waits for the descent to start.

[Alteiner]

Kai could not help but roll his eyes reading the message from their CO. “Hostile insurgents,” huh? Was that what they were calling an indigenous population these days? He supposed they could’ve been pirates, searching the planet for old military installations to strip down. In fact, he silently hoped that was exactly what these “insurgents” were. Taking out one pirate crew and spending the rest of the year on shore leave certainly would’ve been less of a headache than brokering peace between a corporate colonization force and the people who were already living there and waiting for Union DoJ/HR to make a ruling that would almost assuredly satisfy no one.

He affixed the O2 feeds on his mask to his suit, and his suit to the ship’s air feed. His helmet’s components rose from his suit and formed around his head to protect him from the pressure changes before the dropship could descend. It would be a year before he’d set foot on the Oneiric Coenobite again, assuming he didn’t die on Hercynia.

“It would be nice if it were a smooth drop.” Kai said, setting himself down on one of the crash seats. “You don’t normally get green this dense on a planet without a serious monsoon season. Come here at the wrong time of year and, depending on atmosphere density, ionospheric weather could make planetary descent pretty bumpy.” Geomagnetic storms had been a serious problem on especially heavily-forested world on the Dawnline Shore where he’d fought. Even after repairing the destroyed comms infrastructure, his team was lucky to get a missive from the rest of their cell more than once every couple months. “Even in the worst case, walking around planetside will be worth a little turbulence.”

[DoctorFaust]

Robert sets his helmet in place and locks it with a hiss of seals engaging before he follows the group into their dropship. His rifle gets collapsed down and stowed before he gingerly lays his trusty old revolver and a satchel of frag grenades on top of it. Pondering the situation as he hooks himself into the drop seat and O2 hoses, he silently hopes that it isn't pirate activity, and that the insurgents, if that's really what they are, are able to be reasoned with. And that they really don't have access to old SecComm prototypes that might have been left lying around the planet.

"Oh, you were one of those people?" he jokes to Mikka. "I would ask if you ever had your drone let you out of cryosleep to continue the grand tradition of there being a still on every ship in the fleet, but I'm not sure I'd like the answer."

[Volthawk]

Tobias is mostly quiet during the dropship ride, considering the briefing and what they might be facing and letting the others have their back and forth. It was good to see that they were figuring each other out - he couldn't escape that bad feeling that he had about this, and he suspected they'd need to have each other's backs even more than normal down there. He didn't like how spotty the information they had was. Not just the past, while that was not ideal it was understandable, but he didn't like how vague the details of the current situation was. Skirmishes with insurgents could mean anything, given how 'insurgent' was the kind of word that just told you what the speaker thought about them, not anything actually useful about them.

Ransome's comment about the mission gets him to speak up about his thoughts. "I can see some complications coming. We'll need to figure out who the sides are first. Sounds like we have two possibilities for who's opposing the colonists. Could be people descended from SecComm, could be the original natives that they failed to wipe out." He pauses. "Could be both. Could even be someone we don't know about who found the place while it was lost. Each would need a different approach. Particularly if they've found something SecComm didn't take with them, or the colonists haven't secured all their gear." He shrugs. "Not to mention getting the colonials to stand back and let us do our job. Be careful around them. Unlikely to start shooting us, but they have their agendas. Particularly if they have any corpro types down there. Keep your eyes open and watch your backs down there."

[n0ble]

Ground Party

Ensconced in the two rows, your suits register the switch to the drop-ship's oxygen drip. The view of Hercynia is much unchanged from the observation blister, though perhaps a bit closer for the drop-ship poking out from the Cenobite's main hull. The oxygen is crisp, if a bit stale with the taste of having been stored. The same monotonic voice as before sounds off with a "Please ensure you assume the optimal position for take-off. Departure for Evergreen-Solo Terra-Hercynia will commence in
Five
Four
Three
Two...

One." There a small bumping sound that grinds its way through the hull of the drop ship as the maglocks disengage the. For a few more seconds the ship hangs weightless in the void, drifting farther and a little farther still so that its engines dont score the Cenobite in the wake of your descent. Then the familiar cosmic pull sensation lodges itself in your guts: the engines have started, and several lights on the com/con.nav unit just under the viewport flash with computed telemetry data that signifies you flight path has been plotted out.

Your away to Evergreen. To Hercynia.

---

Several Hours Later

The deck rumbles beneath your feet, and for the first time you hear the howl of wind shear as the autoshuttle breaches Hercynia’s thick atmosphere. Seen through a condensation-streaked porthole, the world below is an emerald smear, scarred by ragged tears of black and brown. Patches of gray cloud cover speak to the months-long rainstorms that plague the surface.

“Thirty minutes remaining.” The flightcom’s voice in your ear, unaffected by the turbulence, comfortable back aboard the ship. “Please leave your helms on for now. Cabin remains pressurized. Turbulence is a factor –please keep your helmets on to avoid cerebral trauma.”

The radio clips off. The cabin lights flicker from an especially hard knock, then the wind shear dies down, and the howling engines settle to a level cruising roar. The hiss of air through your helmet subsumes all other sounds.

Below, emerald Hercynia. Its quite the site up close: rain spackles the drop-ship's view ports as you pull in close to the planet's surface. Huge swathes of waxy green trees collect in a near omnipresent rainforest, one that briefly gives way to a vast sea of tall grass dotted with boulders before the swath of wet jungle continues onwards. If you squint hard enough you see it easily enough: those aren't boulders. They're the corpses of mech-suits. Some jut up half finished amidst the grass, limbs splayed or twisted beyond the their functions. Others still lie half buried up to the chest in earth and grass, like some sort of cairn to a great metal god. Those of you with magnification devices built into you EVAs can make out a feature that links all the chassis together: they're dotted with flowers. White petals. Purple centres. Then the vista passes soon as its registered, subsumed as you continue onwards into Evergreen territory.

Still, you catch a break. The rain gives way as the drop-ship advances and while the air doesnt exactly dry out more, sensors indicate that it the moisture content doesnt exactly increase either. The rear door of the shuttle drops and the humid Hercynian air rolls in, wet and warm.

The shuttle’s engines wind down to an idle, buffeting the tall grass that surrounds the landing area with a steady blast of heat-shimmer air. An update passes through your slates as to the reasons for this particular LZ. The most prominent one: the colony’s main landing bowl is out of commission today – flooding opened sinkholes under the pad. Whatever it is, the place you land appears to be a clearing hacked out the green for this very purpose.

A light, cool rain falls around you. Evergreen sits a kilometer away, backed up on the banks of a wide, muddy river. You can see the white-wrapped towers of its first apartment blocks, built but not occupied, and the low gray of the first-generation habitats crowding around their feet. In the dying afternoon light, the settlement’s street lights are steady beacons illuminating the colony’s borders. Beyond, the panorama disappears into the solid green of dense, temperate rainforest, and the gray of low clouds and fog, obscuring the rest of the valley.

A small group approaches the shuttle, weapons slung, the hoods of their dark ponchos held against the downdraft – representatives of the colonial militia. There are only ten of them, arranged in a ragged line, crouched low, scanning the waving grass and the treeline beyond.

“You the pilots?” shouts one of the soldiers. Their leader, judging by her kit: a thin armature exoskeleton, powered by a blocky pack from which a tall spray of antennae emerge. She carries a long anti- armor rifle held with the assistance of a mechanized tertiary arm. “Brava Hadura,” she says. Her blonde hair is cropped short, and while she has relatively young looking features that youth ends at her eyes. “Commander of the militia here. Glad you’ve finally arrived. Listen, we shouldn’t be outside the walls too long – there’s a sniper in the area.” Hadura looks around the waving grass, leery, hunched over her long rifle. “We should move – the bugs are good shots. And get that bird in the air. It’s an easy target on the ground.”

The troopers lead the way to Evergreen, splashing through the culverts that run on either side of the muddy road that leads to town. You follow, ducking under as the shuttle lurches up into the sky. You’re on Hercynia now, and will remain until the job is done.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Welcome to Hercynia everbody! Feel free to flashback to time spent aboard the drop ship/the journey down before you arrived on-surface as well.

Also Picture of Brava Hadura to be linked to the images channel soon!

[bc56]

Ah, fresh air.
Not that Ransome can smell it through the hardsuit, not until he detaches from the shuttle's hoses and unseals the vents. Smells like water and mud. Not the environment he'd prefer, but he doesn't get to decide that anyway. He nods to the militia leader and unseals his own visor, revealing his face, bleary-eyed from long cryosleep, with wiry implants under his skin around his eyes and ears. "We are." The news of a sniper causes him to look around a little nervously. He's been under fire before, but he hates the idea of being spied on like that, where a bullet could go through his brainpan at any moment. He does note the word "bugs." An odd choice to refer to rebels. Maybe they have some local insect as a symbol? Or it could be a deliberate choice to dehumanize them. Either way, that can be worried about later, when there's no risk of a bullet in the brain.

[Seanfall]

Ezra spent the hours aborad the shuttle intermittently going over diagrams for upgrades to his drone, going over mission specs, and napping. When they made their final approach he snapped awake. He marveled at the massive mech corpses, some he fancied he recognized others were either too weathered to place or simply ones he had never seen. Once they finally landed he disconnected from the shuttle's O2 supply disentangled himself from his crash webbing. He slung his kit around his back and his rifle around his front. AFter Hadura had introduced herself he made sure to load a mag into the weapon.

"Bug's an odd choice of word, Hadura." He stepped out into the solid ground and savored the feeling of being on solid ground again. "You might have to explain that one," He nodded when Ransome confirmed their identities. "Yeap, straight from Union's barracks to all the galaxy's hotspots. Name's Ezra Strachen."

As they clipped along, Ezra activated his drone setting it to hover low until they had jogged a bit then it floated up and around in a spiral pattern. His plating lit up again and he shared the drone's view of the area. Always nice to have an eye in the sky.

[Alteiner]

The helmet of Kai’s hardsuit began depressurizing as the shuttle hatch hissed open and Hercynia’s air flooded the compartment. Stepping out onto the tall, thick grass surrounding the LZ, he took in the lush wilderness around him, his helmet’s flash suppressor filtering the worst of the UV from the sun. He disengaged his purifier mask and took in a breath. Fresh air sharpened his senses and all of the familiar feeling came back to him: the solid ground, the planet’s heat, the sounds of trees and grass and weather, the rush of life, the old scars of war, faded but not forgotten. He was starting to feel like himself again.

As Commander Hadura introduced herself and hurried them along towards Evergreen proper, Kai couldn’t help but appreciate the urgency. Better to get them behind city walls quickly so they could properly get to work.

“Ignis Kye-Fei, Union auxiliary, I guess. Good to meet you, Commander.” Kai briefly nodded while following Hadura and her troopers down the road, keeping an eye on the treeline for hostile activity. There wasn't really a "subtle" way to make landfall on a planet, and a shuttle touching down and taking off again was bound to attract some attention from anyone watching Evergreen. “While we’re on our way, what can you tell us about what the militia’s been dealing with? Given that gun you’re carrying, I’m guessing it’s a little bigger than rifle-toting infantry?”

[Volthawk]

Snipers from the word go. Yeah, this was going to be one of those missions. Times like this, Tobias was glad he wore one of the heavier hardsuits going. He doesn't add to the questions for Hadura as they move to cover - questions and getting a good lay of the land can wait until they're in safety. Not that the others weren't asking good questions, though. They'd picked up on the right details, at least. That was encouraging.

[DoctorFaust]

Once the shuttle lands, Robert straps his kit back on with economy of motion in mind before disembarking the shuttle. As the others begin to introduce themselves and ask questions as they walk, he stares around at the surroundings looking for movement or vantage points the sniper might've taken up. The rain and the overgrown forest around them make him grimace, thinking of all the extra maintenance he's going to have to do and possible ambush positions that these "bugs" might've set up before the question about enemy forces snaps him back to reality.

Robert Browning. Nice to meet you, Commander Hadura. Adding onto Ignis' question, if you know there's a sniper in the area, do you have any other information about their local force dispersion?

[technoRomancer]

The planet was interesting enough from orbit, but Mikka had seen plenty of worlds, green and wet or otherwise. Far more captivating was the graveyard of frames that swept beneath them, Kaboodle dutifully capturing what data it could from their limited perspective for later perusal. Somehow Mikka had managed to slip her restraints without setting off any alerts, faceplate pressed to a viewport, one of the drone's flexible camera-stalks slipping around her chin. She seemed unconcerned about the possibility of turbulence, secure enough against the webbing her gear was stowed in.

Once the team disembarked, she approached the commander, Kaboodle clipping itself to her back. Ezra was already sending his own unit out for an eye on the surrounds, so Mikka wanted to keep hers close, and with the threat of a sniper she didn't want to leave it a tempting target. She'd just finished recalibrations and it'd suck to start all over with replacement parts. The drone was mostly disposable and didn't actually contain Kaboodle, but still. "Mikka Kivinen. Combat engineer," she introduced herself, letting the boys rattle off a few questions regarding the sitrep before stepping back in for some small talk after the woman answered. "Fancy harness there, Brava, was it designed in-house?" she probed as they hustled towards the walls, wondering if the woman had any interest in talking shop or if her knowledge of such things was a soldier's, ending at how to use it.

[n0ble]

Brava Hadura leads your motley troop at a low, fast march. Well. Fast as the knee-high grass will allow for. The Militia Commander listens to each of your questions in turn, then replies to them one at a time. Ezra's comes first, a flaw of disappointment lodging itself in Haduras face. Definitley as much shame as she can allow, given how tense the situation is. "Bad term, Sir. This place used to be host to some form of xenolife. Years ago. You'll hear people say "Eggs", too." A bit more shame creeps through."Older folks-first gen colonists mostly-are entertaining the idea that its them behind the raids." she clearly pivots to Ignis and Robert's questions: "Attaché Ji and Patience-our administrator-"a little bit of tension creeps into her voice as she mentions the colony's NHP director."-should be able to fill you in more on them in terms of history. Nothing in their briefings about them piloting mechs though." She half-smiles as the ground under your boots becomes sodden. Gummed with mud.

As you get closer, Hadura's voice becomes more quiet. Something that could be mistaken for a dramatic pause occurs, then she resumes. "As of right now, we have some topography from meteorological satellites but all the lingering radiation, bush and the heat the bush is putting out its, hard to nail down specific microreactor heat signatures. Between that and the guerrilla tactics afforded by their mechanized infantry, exact hostile numbers have been hard to find. Attacks have been irregular in terms of timing. Theorys that its cells of some kind or teams. The sniper, for example." She pauses again and this time its not shame thats lodged in her face but something a bit more haunted. Your Lancers. You've seen it before. She's seen combat. "I can confirm they're-human ." A few more grunts of agreement from the other men with her. Stuck on the topic of mechanics, a bit of the grimness leaves Hadura's face as she ponder's Mikka's query. From the tone and inflection of her words, its easy to tell she's glad for the change of subject. Hadura's face brightens a bit. "Pretty snazzy, huh? I can't take the credit for this piece though, nor this peashooter here," she punctuates the words by engaging the tertiary arm and raising the barrel of her gauss rifle a little towards the sky. "But I'd be happy to introduce you to the man who did: First Gen engineer. Dont think Castor's seen an active mech in-action until the attacks started. Maybe as a blueprint though." Her smile becomes a bit bitter at the thought and she treks on in silence

Up close, Evergreen is a city brutalized by growth. The tall apartment blocks stand a dozen stories high, grime-streaked white monoliths wrapped in cling-tight plastic, looming above the low, mixed- material buildings. The colony is bordered by a low wall, buildings bulging right up against the barrier as if it were a waistline cinched tight by an unforgiving belt. Smoke drifts up from the dense settlement, blending with the low rain clouds.

The final approach to the city is through a clear and ugly cut, across a road made from metal plates sunken into the brick-red mud. Massive drones chew away at the forest as work crews gather and process the fallen lumber, organizing the fallen trees into tall, stripped piles.

The smell of sap and friction-singed wood is strong, increases as you approach further. Smoke drifts into the cool air from piles of controlled burns. Evergreen is growing. Brava Hadura leads the way into the settlement, waving away the defense drones that buzz toward you as you cross the cut. “We’ll get your particulars entered in our database,” Brava says, motioning toward the departing drones. They buzz away silently. Each is a small alabaster disk, of a common 3D-print make. “That way you can come and go without triggering the guns or drones,” she says. “Or the mines, once we get them planted.”

The troopers lead you into the muddy, churned streets of Evergreen, tromping across the soggy ground. There is little traffic to impede your progress; what people there are scurry from overhang to overhang, crouched over their bundles of goods to keep them dry.

Grimy prefab buildings crowd the colony’s mud- spattered blocks. Gutters burst with water. Power lines crisscross in thick bundles above the street, some hanging like black vines. Rain barrels have long since overflowed and spilled into the streets. You approach an intersection where a trooper waits, pressed to the wall of a two-story apartment building. The first floor looks to be shops – the wares on offer include local breads and other food‐ stuffs, judging by the signs painted on the closed metal grates – below a flat or two, their windows also shuttered. Brava Hadura leads the way, assuming a half-crouch that hunkers her down.

The trooper Hadura approaches has a large IX tattooed on his cheek. A massive pink scar-took healed to be anytime recent-crosses down across an eye and down the cheek opposite the IX, deep enough to reveal a bit of cheek bone glistening underneath. The eye is like a white belt-buckle, fogged over. A trio of what would be thin scars cross the man's lips, made deeper for their location. The trooper's armour has "PVT Novem" stencilled onto the side of one shoulder-guard. “Careful,” the trooper says in a parched-sounding whisper. There's an ugly pink-red scorch-a graze from laser fire-across the right side Novem's neck. “That sniper likes this street. Go fast when you cross.”

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Welcome to Evergreen folks! If anyone had any other questions I figure we can just have them occur in flashbacks on the journey to where we are right now.

[Volthawk]

As Hadura tells them what she knows, Tobias nods thoughtfully. So the other side was nicknamed after an old danger the original colonists had to deal with? Tobias supposed that made sense, although the fact that the simple matter of their enemy beig human was debated was concerning. "So you haven't been able to learn anything about them? Unfortunate. Nice to know why you're about to get shot at. How did it start, at least?" Sure, his thinking tended towards direct solutions to problems, but at this point they didn't even know what the problem was, or who needed to be taken down to solve the problem - whether the colonists or...whoever these others were...were the people they needed to talk to in order to get things sorted here. Let alone the issues trying to fit what was already looking like a messy situation into the nice orderly box Union rules would want them to stay in. Yeah, they needed more information. One thought did cross his mind, though. "Would be useful to know what you've learnt about their mechs, though. One way or another, got the feeling they'll try to shoot us at some point."

During a quiet part of the march in, Tobias follows up that train of thought with a quick message sent to the other lancers through his dataplating. <We're going to need every bit of information we can. Stay observant, ask questions, but don't cause too much trouble. Yet.>

In Evergreen, Tobias doesn't find the location itself of much interest. Defenses looked pretty tight, and sounded like they were getting better, which was presumably why the trouble was mainly in the form of guerilla tactics rather than frontal assaults. He didn't expect to have to do much fighting in the settlement itself, though - from what they'd learnt of their tactics, he figured the team would probably mainly need their mechs once they got back out into the forest, something that they'd have to do for one reason or another. When they reach Novem, Tobias nods. "Understood."

[bc56]

Ransome finishes the cycle of introductions with his own, just before they move out. "Ransome Hitch. Communications specialist."

The next question comes just after Hadura has finished describing the enemy tactics. "Do they have print capability? Or are they refurbishing wrecks like the ones we saw on the way here?" A lot of mech corpses. If SecComm used the xenos Bravura described as test targets, they must have been pretty effective combatants to destroy so many. He can see why the old colonists might be afraid of them, like some sort of boogeyman. Regardless, those wrecks are an opportunity and a danger. They could have dangerous or useful SecComm prototype tech in them. And if the rebels rely on them for materiel, they could exploit that as a weakness.

Finally, the city. Not much to look at. And still under fire. Hopefully they can get to a printer and get mounted up quickly, otherwise this will be messy. Ransome tries to ping the local omninet. Maybe with access to some of the city's basic systems, he could make this dangerous journey a
little easier. At minimum, he'd like to at least get a map of the area so that the Lancers aren't relying on Hadura for navigation.

[Seanfall]

"If it's Xeno-life, then first contact here went to ****." Ezra however doubted it was that. Dissidents might be using the rumors to spread fear and doubt, nothing to fear like an enemy you know nothing about right? He glanced at his boots and the mud caking around it and snorted. His drone fed him visual information over his plating's HUD. Then the message from Tobias skimmed by. He read then deleted the message as quickly as possible.

He mostly listened along the way through, there we several questions he wanted to ask, none of which Hadura was likely to know or be high enough to answer. Once they reached Novem he whistled at the man's wounds but didn't say anything. He appreciated war wounds, but some were connected to very unpleasant memories. He rolled his shoulders as that thought made a gash along his side ache. He knelt next to Novem's hiding spot. "How long's this sniper been active? Do you know which direction the shots are coming from?" A better question would be why they haven't sent a kill-team to deal with the bastard.

[technoRomancer]

"Castor," Mikka repeated thoughtfully, committing the name to memory. Or, to be more precise, assuming Kaboodle would so she didn't have to. "I'll look forward to swapping notes, then." As they hunkered down and prepared to cross through the danger zone, a small frown was visible under her mask. "Has this sniper - have the insurgents been taking shots at civilians? Or just, uh, military targets?"

"shoots you with a beam that immediately takes effect" her drone intoned flatly. Those who spent any amount of time around Mikka had possibly noticed the nascent NHP's creepy talent for somehow managing to verbally convey a complete lack of punctuation or capitalization.

[Alteiner]

Xenolife? That didn’t make much sense. Kai had seen and heard of his share of otherworldly creatures, from the kraits that made their homes on stations to the cyclopean megafauna lurking beneath the ice sheets of Sparr. But what Hadura was describing, guerrilla tactics, firearms use, mechanized chassis operation, it was too clean, too organized to be a bunch of animals. Yeah, indigenous humans made more sense. Maybe, maybe tactical software operating during SecComm occupation responsible for running autonomous war machines was still active and recognizing Evergreen as enemy activity, but for something like that to still be operational after centuries without activity was, at best, a stretch.

Kai felt his spirits lift a little upon arrival at Evergreen proper. The land was pockmarked by industry: housing blocks, infrastructure, the din of humanity. It wasn’t a big colony, but it would be good to walk the streets.

“What’s our itinerary after we’ve been put in your database?” Kai asked, taking special note of what was apparently the sniper’s favorite street. “Much as I’d like to get right to work, I guess we’ll want to talk to your administrators as soon as they can make time for us. In the meantime, if we’re looking at a protracted conflict, we’ll need to take stock of resources, get the lay of the land, take in the colony a little. I’d imagine we’d get a lot of our questions answered with just a few days of observation.” They were going to be stuck on Hercynia for a whole year. Finding a way to get comfortable wasn’t priority one, but with that kind of time frame, it was pretty close to the top of the list.

[DoctorFaust]

Robert listens silently to all of the information Hadura supplies them with, mentally filing away names and places to recall later. The message from Tobias is similarly filed away and then deleted from his dataslate.

Once they reach the intersection the sniper has covered, Robert pauses for a second to take stock. He looks for any tall vantage points he can see from behind the building, noting them down on his slate before he opens his mouth. "Alright. Once we get briefed more fully by Ji and Patience, I'll see if I can take a crack at the sniper in the area. I have some experience with that sort of operation, and the less opportunities people have to strike civilian centers the better."

[n0ble]

Approaching Evergreen

You keep walking, Evergreen coming on ever closer and larger as you progress forward. And, for those that take notice, at a steady downward. The change in height is gradual, but enough. Those of you that would care to calculate the telemetries or have experience running sniper blinds would be able to tell: between the cover afforded by the jungle and the height of the lush hills surrounding the colony those walls ahead would offer little protection if the sniper decided to start firing into the the streets of Evergreen.

Brava adresses Ransom first"Ah so you saw those on your way in, eh?" she states in reference to the mechanized chassis graveyard you flew over after breaking down through Hercynia's atmosphere, "Wouldnt surprise me if it started out with just scavenging-there were definitely some field printers on those old mechs you flew over. Honestly-" she brushes a bit of rainwater from her forehead, releasing one of her hands from the gun's grip. It dips a little before the mechanized arm compensates with a slight squeak. "-its probably a bit of the latter now supplemented with the former, I've been told by our engineers that the two can definitely inform one another." She doesnt gesture along with these words. In fact her hand returns to her weapon. Her eyes flit from Mikka to Ransom.

She tactfully ignores Ezra's first comment before clearing her throat. " The sniper's been hitting us-Evergreen-for about the past week now. The attacks themselves though? About a month ago or so. Patience can tell you more, but they started proper targeting the Gray Towns. In terms of their attacks on us, really they've been concentrating on anyone outside our established perimeter, firing from a different location each time. Trying to wear us down." For a second she looks like she wants to point at the drones or maybe a work crew out from Evergreen on a job, then stops herself "-trying to stall the colony's progress, by Patience's reckoning. Kept our main elements good and pinned down while places like Merricktown cant get aid."

A sardonic grin comes across her face-"Been fighting the milita recently, though-" the smile is gone fast as it comes on,"-its been difficult responding when we have to split our focus between defending here and the Gray Towns. As such we've been largely left reacting to their tactics rather than swingin' out some of our own." She looks at all of you and allows herself a tight smile with some restrained hope behind it. "I'm hoping your arrival means that can change." Celarly she hopes you can make a difference where she and hers couldnt. A few grunts and nods of agreement from the militia around you answer this.

At any questioning looks or ones of confusion at the terms "Gray Towns" or "Merricktown", Hadura explains: "Independents-farmers. We call them Gray Towns because they're technically not citizens-so gray area with Landmark, right? Patience says the territories they occupy are lightly populated. But even so...I wish I could do more." She trails off, seemingly taking comfort in the silence rather than f

Evergreen looms larger. Brava wipes her forehead again, breaks her silence and speaks to Ignis "Once we get you past the outlying perimeters proper we'll get you squared away in terms of lodgings before Patience briefs you. Our west sides the least developed-local hab blocks are definitely the least populated-future generations'n all." She gestures to the left side of Evergreen-the west-where you can see the outline of ten-story high apartment complexes breaking up Evergreen's skyline. "I believe patience has made accommodations for you on the eastern side, but I'm sure they're amenable to giving you a place in the western residential area if you want." To the right-the east-you can see architecture thats much shorter. Buildings on the eastern side are barely visible over the wall, maybe 2 or three stories high compared to the tens of story buildings situated in the Evergreen's west. The entire right side seems more dense. More packed and developed with infrastructure if the number of buildings peaking over the wall are any indication.

You can trace a squat, prefab wall around the entire river. Tracing the water source to its origin,you can see that it flows east to west, from the strait to under the bridge your soon to cross. Beyond the tree line, mountains ripple the distant east, while the west is sprawling forrest not yet cleared. Another series of mountains comb north, a bruise low on the distant horizon. Gunmetal grey clouds have begun to build and flit in from the west

An awkward beat pauses, then Brava resumes, "Would you like to get your mechs printed before or after Patience and Ji's briefing? I'd offer to do it for you but I'd imagine thats something a Lancer likes to oversee themselves."

---

The Crossing

Cutting across the street will take you east. To the printer. To the briefing. To where you can rest up later. To the dense sprawl of humanity. Inside the walls things are somehow more and less thriving than the outside clear-cut. The streets arent vacant-not quite-but Evergreen is far from busy. A hushed, private sort of silence has filled the absences in the streetlife. People hug to the corners, shadows and blindspots of avenues, and any business you overhear sounds furtive, and done as if both the participants are harried. Like they just want to be done and inside where theres no jungle, and the only rain they have to hear comes from recorded or mixed audios. The atmosphere is clear, and easily readble as you all hunker down with Novem and Hadura: this is a colony trying to do its best while under siege.

The cross-section of shadow between Evergreen's prefab walls the apartment building you found Novem leaning on offers little in the way of comfort. Novem grunts and makes a few hand signal gestures at Hadura. The Militia commander does a quick hundred and eighty degree spot check, then nods. The plan is simple: including Hadura and Novem there are six militia troopers total. You'll cross in pairs, soldier & Lancer, straight across the intersection. East. From there hand signals wont do with explaining. Hadura's voice is hushed, like the sniper can hear her conversation with you. "Alright. This intersection takes up far enough east that we can cut down into the interior of Evegreen-we call it the "Governor's Farm"-I'm good with detouring if you all want to drop your stuff and get your mechs printed." Tension creeps back into her voice. Probably a sign of stress. "But lets just cross this street first, eh?"

[Seanfall]

Ezra had his drone float across from them weaving in and out of the buildings to avoid getting a bead drawn on it. "Sounds like a plan, Sniper's gonna take shots at us. No doubt about it. I'm not the only one with a drone right? If we set our's up in the right spots then with them and our own dataplates...I think we figure out where our sniper is after a shot or two...try to triangulate their location?" He wipes some sweat from his brow. "We'll decide what to do once we actually get across...I volunteer for the first pass. If I go down...I'm setting my drone to return to this location," Ezra eye swiped and brow clicked a few things from his HUD. "So whose the unlucky SOB going with me?"