NationStates Jolt Archive

ASD Aquitaine, Outer System Patrol, SR-2091, Associated Systems of Klonor

Date: July 23, Old Earth Calendar

The crew members of the ASD Aquitaine were bored. Well, that's not really true. With all the constant effort required aboard a Starship there were never many moments of actual innactivity. But, they were feeling a bit empty. The had joined for action and adventure, to defend Klonor from the endless amounts of pirates, rebels, and invasions that the news never stopped reporting. Of course, the news always seemed to forget to say that for every ship which sees intense combat there were several hundred that never even glimpsed it at a distance. Damn reporters.

"Admiral on the deck!"

The sudden shout made every bridge member sit a bit straighter and stand a bit taller. Feeling a bit empty or not, when the Admiral shows up you make every move count. This includes the ships Captain, who was the Admiral's first target.

"Status report?"

"All systems normal, sir. The ships running fine and we haven't had an anomolous sensor reading yet."

"Excellent. What about the blockade of the TLMDG?"

"Perfect, sir. Ever since we got the massge from Deneb it's been on lockdown. Not one unregistered ship can get through it."

"Excellent. Take us in."

"Sir..........?"

"You heard me. Set course for the TLMDG."

"Uh......okay, sir. Destination?"

"Tau Ceti."

"Tau Ceti, sir? But......why?"

The Admiral turned on the Captain, pale blue eyes seeming to pierce the lower officer.

"Is there some reason you're asking?"

"Uh.....well.......I mean, no, sir. It's just that there's nothing in Tau Ceti. Why would the General want us there?"

"He doesn't."

"Then why are we going?"

"Because he doesn't want us there, and because there isn't going to be another Klonor ship within a Parsec of Tau Ceti's Gate."

"But.........."

The Capain doesn't even finish his sentence, in a flash he is gone. Not lying on the floor, not a pile of ash, simply gone (The Admiral silently praised the newly developed hand-held Phase Initiator).

"The next man who speaks out of turn will end up in the Brig right next to Captain Dolers. Do I make myself clear?"

The silence clearly answers in the affirmative.

"Excellent. Now, as I told the new prisoner, set a course for Tau Ceti via the TLMDG. Transmit all the necessary codes. Get us under way as soon as our patrol is over."

With a flurry of activity the crew quickly steps into motion as the Admiral retreats to his private quarters.

It serves that damn Duke right. Why the hell wasn't I sent? Huh? I'm the best damn commander in the Corps and I'm left on freaking patrol. Who led us to victory over Bobaria? Who kept our borders secure during the Second Shivan Incursion? Who stayed loyal to him after he died? After all the times he died. ME, that's who. But instead he sends that freaking "Supreme General". So the guys the head of the KSC, big deal! It should have been me! Well, I'm done taking it from the likes of them. All done.

As he sat, deep in thought, the Aquitaine finished its patrol and moved towards the TLMDG. A few transmissions and they're granted safe passage. Another and the Gate opens. A few seconds later, they're 1.5 million light-years away.

Direct Beam Transmission: Grand Duke Solomon Klonor, Vicegral Palace, Deneb, Associated Systems of Klonor
Transmission Origin: Admiral Petrarch, Commander of the Seventh System Fleet, ASD Aquitaine, Location Unknown

Screw you.

Transmission closed

Seven minutes later the Admiral and the Aquitaine are branded Enemies of the State. To be Terminated on Sight.

Date: August 3, Old Earth Calendar

Ensign Qos walked down the hallway towards the Aquitaines seldom used brig. Rows upon rows of cells were emtpy, a single person occupied the entire deck. Superficially a good thing, crime and insubordination were in short supply aboard the Aquitaine, the fact that it was the Captain of the ship put a slight tilt on the view.

Tha guards outside of the Captains cell, while not exactly a pair of DD's, were alert and well armed; Qos couldn't just stomp up to the cell and open the door. Fortunately, he did have a legitimate reason for being there. Well, he said that he had a legitimate reason.

"Admiral Perarch would like me to inspect the prisoner. He wants to make sure that he isn't equipped with the standard Phase equipment (which would thus allow him to easily exit the cell whenever he wished)."

"Captain Dolers has already been searched. Twice. He has nothing on him but his clothing and a bit of hair that we accidentally pulled out during the second search."

"The Admiral has ordered me. Would you like to go tell him to stuff it?"

The two guards didn't have anything to say to that. They knew what happened when you crossed the Admiral. A stay in the brig was something far beter than you could expect from even the most trivial of offences.

"Okay, go on in. But be quick about it."

"Yes, sir."

Ensigne Qos pulled open the door, walked in, and immedietly began to outline his plan to the Captain.

Date: September 19, Old Earth Calendar

Flight Lieutenant Ell Tors looked at a picture of his wife and kids, a tear in his eye. He would never see them again, and he knew it. In fact, odds were he would never again see anything except the blackness of Space. He would be dead inside of five minutes.

He might love life, he might love his family, it might even be said that he loved the ship he served, but none of that compared to his love for Klonor. For Klonor he had risked his life again and again, and for Klonor he would finally give his life. At least it would be painless. The Phase Fighter wouldn't even re-integrate before it blew.

He gazed out of the window, a glimpse of hatred in his eye. He eyed the Aquitaine, floating in space, and no longer thought of his family. That bastard had imprisoned his Captain, made his ship an outlaw, and had turned against Klonor. What was done now had to be done.

He flipped a switch, broadcasting over the ships standard communications frequency.

"For the Duke! For the Association! For Klonor! You have strayed from the path, and I gladly drag you down to Hell!"

He flipped another switch, disappeared, and re-appeared inside the ship.

The detonation shook the ship from bow to stern, causing the lights to flicker and the gravity to fluctuate. Then both failed altogether as the MiniStar II, undamaged in itself, shifted a bare milimeter and burned away the power chords in one bright flash. Power died throughout the ship and crewmembers gasped and flailed their arms in shock. More important than that, it caused the locks throughout the ship to disengage.

With one mighty shove the Captain slammed into the door of his cell, swinging it open and crushing one guard beneath it as it slams into the wall. The other guard, already training his gun on the Captain, is suddenly penetrated by a variety of small metal objects moving at extreme velocities. Out of the other cells stepped the Loyalists, Phasing into them hours ago and waiting for the perfect moment.

The Captain surveyed the unconcious & dead guards, nodding his head.

"Police their weapons and armor, hide the bodies, and make it quick. I want us on the bridge in 10 minutes."

"Yes, sir!"

"I want my ship back."

OOC: Okay, just a brief outline. The ship is a Hecate class Destroyer, over 2 kilometers in length and with a crew of over 10,000. More specific details, such as weaponry numbers and types, can be found in the Storefronts. This RP is planned to be a sort of Civil War aboard the ship, the Captain versus the Admiral in an attempt to gain total control. It will mainly be all infantry combat, but there will be a little space combat as well (single man fighters and such).

The restrictions on what you can and can not do are really small, but I do have three requests.

1) Don’t kill the entire ship, it would just ruin it for the rest of us
2) The fighting isn’t going to start right away; people aren’t going to go “The Admiral imprisoned the Captain? War!” For a long time the Admiral is going to have control of the ship and the Captain is going to stay in his tiny little jail cell. The RP’ing will start with fighting right away, but IC’ly it will have been weeks, maybe even months, since it all started.
3) Other than that, have fun. I’ve been told that I can be a bit bitchy and unpleasant when it comes to RP’ing, so I’m trying to stay away from the narrow and unwavering plot that will get me screaming at you the instant you do anything I don’t like

If you want in, and have actually taken to time to read all this, simply TG me with a request to be in the RP. You can be a Loyalist (With the Captain), a Johnny (With the Admiral), or even some random third faction if you want. The only requirement is that you can spell. Let me say this right now: If you can't spell then you will not be in this RP.

OOC: For info on Klonor ships, technology, and services, feel free to visit these wonderful Storefronts

http://www2.freepichosting.com/Images/134012/0.jpg (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=346008)
http://www.bateshome.com/jordan/kwsig.jpg (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=288603)
http://www.bateshome.com/jordan/ksig8.jpg (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=292319)
http://hometown.aol.com/jbk405/images/ksig4.jpeg (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=353996)

OOC: Okay, when I first made this RP a few months ago, when it was invite only, I had two people posting within the first five minutes. Now, when it's open and those people are actually allowed to post, they're nowhere to be seen! WTF?

(OOC: Hehehehe... Klonor... At least one of my colonies is itching to get you back for the sudden attack...)

OOC: You mean when the DRA just showed up and started blasting you to pieces? If they're still angry, I could have Salm show up and help pacify the area

OOC: Still waiting for participants........

OOC: You mean when the DRA just showed up and started blasting you to pieces? If they're still angry, I could have Salm show up and help pacify the area
(OOC: Well you were facing against secondhand warships in disrepair... You managed to blow one frigate up, but you would have undoubtedly be overwhelmed by the amount of warships in system. Sometimes Quantity does best Quality. But if you actually went up to my main nation's navy, you'll have your hands full.)

OOC: Uh....I think you have it backwards. The DRA was the one with collapsing ships that blew up for no reason and retreated do to the most basic equipment failing during even the most simple of combat operations. The entire war was just so I would have an excuse for the DRA to go "Wow, we're screwed" and join up with the other factions to reform Klonor.

Now somebody join the RP!

(OOC: Well you were facing against one of my breakaway colonies...)

For god sake, somebody join the damn RP!

(OOC: Calm down, Klonor. I'll join, but not just yet.)

I am calm! Look at me, see how calm I am! Behold my calmness!

But seriously, why did this RP get so much attention last time but not this time?

I think its because you've frightened so many people with the two rants that you've posted...

Oh.......right.

So do you think that's it?

Frankly, I have no idea. I've had one person (besides you) contact me to be in the RP (He should be joining sometime tonight). Everybody I talk to has said this was a fantastic idea, and last time people were practically begging me to be in (I'm serious, people were actually begging!), but this time it's like Death Valley.

I think it might be that people think this is actually the same RP from a while ago, not a newly posted RP, and that since I kicked everybody out last time (It was an invite only RP with a very specific plot that I worked out over a very long time on AIM with the other participants) they're not going to bother reading it.

OOC: Right, so, here's what I have to say. A) I don't actually know where your storefronts are, since the links are just to pictures, so I'm going to try avoid mentioning specific weapons and whatnot for the nonce. B) I'm a fits and spurts kind of guy. Bear with me. C) I am willing to change anything, so just tell me when this or that should be changed.

IC:

Lieutenant Commander Andrew Brackwell would always remember when he first heard the sounds of battle. The furtive snippets of an officer's sidearm sounded somewhere in the distance, followed by a protracted burst of automatic weapons fire. It dwindled away to nothing, but left something other than silence. No, the klaxxons, the intercom announcements, the screams - it all meant that it had begun. His fight. His victory. His future.

Lt. Cmd. Brackwell was what his psyche evaluators would have called 'an opportunistc sociopath' had they not been bribed into a reserved and reluctant silence back during his officer candidacy examinations. He was tallish at 6' 3", had dark black hair that was clipped regularly and judiciously and pale, pale eyes that had disturbed many a man deeply and profoundly. His one strength when it came to people was an unexplainable aura of command about him. There was a feeling of destiny, of authority about him. And, for some strange reason, when he talked, people listened.

And he had talked. And talked and talked and talked. What he said and who he said it to were carefully calculated. To some, it was that life in the Klonor navy was foredoomed to violent, painful death at the hands of pirates or scoundrels or alien menace or civil action. To others, it was that the military existance was boring, that not enough action had been seen. The conclusion, however was always the same.

They needed to leave. Leave Klonor, leave civilized space, go out and get away. Conquer some aboriginal world and build a new planet from the ground up. To some, it was salvation, to others, adventure. To Blackwell, it was destiny. He would have the ship, he would found his world, he would be a king.

But first, he needed the ship. He had planned and talked and coerced for so long now. And this was exactly the sort of situation to begin it all! It had fallen into his lap! As Chief Engineer of the vessel, he knew her workings inside and out, he knew how to run her, how to control her. He also had the entire Engineering staff on his side, which was a plus.

He snatched his service weapon from his equipment locker, dashed out the door and ran toward his station. The Engineering deck was a wide open area, dotted liberally with control stations and computer readouts. Most strikingly, however, was the huge power core which dominated the massive room. It was a marvel of science of some kind or another, and powered the ship. ALL of the ship, so impossible to turn to his advantage, unfortunately. There was no way to keep his territory running and yanking the plug on everyone else.

It was quiet, eerily quiet, as he entered. All of the ratings and engineers stood silently at their stations. The regular marines assigned to his deck stood at attention. Led by Sgt. Hernandez, jaw clamped shut on his ubiquitous cigar, they has signed up with him long ago. All followed him with their eyes as he stopped at his command station and surveyed the begginings of his Imperium.

"Sir?" There was a hesitant clearing of a throat somewhere behind him. Blackwell turned, and fixed his singular gaze on Ensign Mallory, who ran his communications switchboard. "Uh, sir -" She hesitated.

The man suddenly changed his manner completely, going from frightening to companionable. "Well, no need to hurry, Sally. Nothing important is going on, anyway." There was laughter, and the tension evaporated.

Mallory grinned. "Both the Admiral on the bridge and the loyalists want to know where we stand. What should I say?"

The reply was immediate. "Tell them both that we're on their side, then we'll seal off the pressure doors. We're going to take the ship, Sally. No need to tell them right away." More laughter.

"Sir, yes sir!" She was smart as a whip, that Sally Mallory.

"We have a destiny to meet, everyone! Let's got get 'em!" Blackwell whooped, and was cheered hysterically. He walked over to Hernandez.

"Sargeant."

"Lieutenant Commander."

"Well, you know what's what, right? We're going to seal ourselves in with the emergency blast doors until we're ready to move. We want 'em to think we're on both their sides until the end, but we'll be playing defense for a while."

"Sir, yes sir!" With that, the Sarge and his marines stalked out.

"Let's do it boys and girls! This is our destiny!" Blackwell grinned as they cheered him. They didn't realize. It was his destiny, not theirs.

OOC: Now that is a damn fine post! I mean....wow, I wish my RP's were that good. I only see one problem, and that is that the power has been lost throughout the ship. When that guy teleported his fighter into the ship and it blew up the MiniStar II, essentially a miniature star, shifted a bit and the intense nuclear fire that makes the star all glowy and bright burned away the leads taking power from the star to the rest of the ship. Other than that your post was awesome

What do you mean the links are only to pictures? You just click on them and they take you to the Storefront. Well, here's the link to the Storefront with this specific ship.

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=353996

Captain Dolers stood inside what was once his prison cell. Though small and depressing, the single solitary entrance and extremely thick walls made it easily defended and it provided him with a quiet place to plan his rebellion. His order to be on the bridge in ten minutes had been worthless, and he & the men knew it. Of the entire crew they'd only been able to gather a bare few dozen to their cause, thousands more were still loyal to the Admiral. Well, loyal wasn't the right word. Scared shitless and terrified of being vented into space, that was the proper description of the rest of the crew. But loyal out of fear or love, it didn't matter. The Johnny's (As they were already being called by the Loyalists) outnumbered and outgunned the Loyalists by a margin of several thousand to one. Brute force wouldn't to anything, the Captain had to find some way to out smart the Admiral.

Great, I'm screwed

A knock on the door snapped the Captain out of his internal monologue as he quickly grabed the KSMAR-983 propped against the wall. Raising the weapon belonging to one of his former prison guards, he slowly called to the man outside.

"Enter."

In walked Ensign Qos, the man who had organized the breakout and given hope to the Captain. He was scheduled for quite a promotion once they got back to the Association.

"You have news?"

"Yes, sir. So far our advance teams have captured four Johnny's on this level. None were armed, they were just freaking out after the gravity went out. We've managed to patrol the entire level, it's been cleared by Lieutenant Relo. We have guards at both entrances, but with only one KSMAR and seventeen sidearms we can't really throw much lead at an attacker. We're either going to need a lot more firepower, or we'll need to abandon the brig."

"Unfortunate, but forseen. Any word on what the Admiral is up to?"

"No, sir. The four captured men had been off duty for hours, his current actions are still unknown."

"Damnit. He knows exactly where I am and he knows you will have tried to break me out. He's going to be sending soldiers down here soon, we need to know when."

"Sir, we can't know when."

"Then we need to leave now. Lock the captured crew into cells, give them food and water for a day, seal it mechanically (since the powered locks are still all not working). Tell everybody to pack up, we're leaving the brig."

"Yes, sir."

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

Admiral Petrarch stood on the bridge and stared at the various computer screens. Each showed a different map of various enemies of Klonor, each map a potential shelter. Unfortunately, not many of the mapped nations still irked Klonor. An enemy of Klonor didn't remain an enemy for long. They didn't remain in existence for long, either.

Suddenly, the power flickered and died. The bridge was cast into darkness and the crew began to rise off the deck, gravity failing along with the lights and casting the officers in chaos (Cause described in this (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=7278872&postcount=3) post)

"What the fucking hell was that?"

Silence answered him.

"Damnit, answer me!"

"Uh...we don't know, sir."

"Well, find out! Get the power back on! NOW! And get somebody down to the brig, make sure the Captain doesn't get out."

"Yes, sir."

OOC: Now that is a damn fine post!

OOC: Why, thanks. There were so many errors when I read it again I almost went crazy. Anyway, has anyone else TGed you to join in?

Blackwell floated midway towards the high ceiling of the massive Engineering section. It was quiet save for the meanderings of a Cello dozing its way through an ancient Bach piece. Someone had put it on to drown out the Admiral's constant demands for a status report.

Blackwell came down gracefully, knees bent, as the gravity sputtered back into life. Rubbing his temples, he turned and walked over towards the gang of engineers and techs swarming over the ship's reactor. "Simmons!"

"Lieutenant Commander, we're trying as hard as we can." The crewman raised a hand to forestall his officer. "I know that we can't take the ship until we have power again. I know that the admiral will send someone to check on us eventually. But this thing was nearly totalled."

The soon-to-be-king groaned. "It may be that we need the power back up to win, but I want it up so that the Admiral would just stop complaining."

Simmons belly-laughed, saluted, and turned back to work.

"Sir?" Ensign Mallory was at his elbow. "The Admiral's on the horn again."

Blackwell sighed and turned. The communications link to the bridge was a good thirty feet away. His exasperation turned to surprise as an energetic step became a mighty bound when the gravity went off again. "Simmons!"

"Sorry, sir. Nothing I can do at the moment."

Blackwell tried to keep from laughing as he punched a button on the console. The Admiral would probably be wondering why his head was upside-down on the com screen.

The image of the Admiral opened its mouth to speak, but then suddenly narrowed its eyes. Something was wrong. Suddenly Blackwell realized what it was and felt his stomach leaden.

Standard procedure would be for his second-in-command, Lieutenant Winters, to answer the call while he himself carried on overseeing the repair work.

Lieutenant Winters who had objected to his plans.

Lieutenant Winters who Simmons had had to garrote to keep from informing on all of them.

Oh, crap.

Nothing to do but bluff it. "Sir? You called?" He smiled a genial smile. One way or another, Simmons would need to finish soon.

OOC: Nope, still nothing. I'm beginning to think that my Blazing Glory of a Reputation has finally died

Well, this is your chance to rebuild it, is it not?

OOC: I doubt it, most players on NS don't even remember the Galactic Alliance and that is my primary claim to fame.

If anybody happens to be reading this, I really do want more people to join this RP. Please, sign up!

IC:

Admiral Petrarch fumed in the Captains chair. Well, he actually fumed above the Captains chair, floating in the air while the gravity continued to play possum.

"How long since the explosion?"

"Nearly half an hour, sir."

"Damnit. I'm guessing this isn't going to be fixed in another ten minutes. Very well, we need to make sure this stays as just a minor inconvenience. Contact a Marine squad. Outift them with a set of KSMAR-1000's and have them head down to the Brig. Secure the Captain."

"They're on their way, sir."

"Good. Now get a comm line to Engineering, I want to find out why the hell they haven't gotten the power back yet."

His subordinates quickly scrambled, grabbing personal communicators and power packs and attempting to get a signal down to the power plant. After a few minutes of frenzied action they come back to Petrarch, satisfaction on their faces.

"We have Engineering, sir."

"Excellent. Pass me the communicator."

"Here, sir."

"Blackwell? Where the hell is Lieutenant Winters and why aren't you working on the MiniStarII?"

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

Captain Dolers marched at the head of his men, slowly heading deeper into the bowels of the ship. They had left the Brig long before and had been searching for a place to adequately serve as a command center. The Captain knew every single hole in every single wall along every single corridor throughout the entire ship. But he also knew that every single hole in every single wall along every single corridor had people in, near, and around it. They couldn't conquer anything, so they needed a lucky break.

"Halt!"

Damn traitorous luck.

"Drop your weapons!"

The four man Marine squad slowly inched forward, their weapons trained on the Captain and his followers. The men behind the Captain prepared for action, but the Captain shook his head. They had an assortment of personal sidearms and two older model KSMAR's, the weapons the Marines in front of them held would slice them to pieces in seconds.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but the Admiral wants you back in the Brig and back in the Brig you shall go. Now move."

The Captain sighed, feeling something snap within his chest. If they got him and the other Loyalists back in the Brig it was over, they'd never get another chance. He wanted to fight, but he wouldn't lead his men into a battle they couldn't possibly win. Defeated, he threw down his gun and heard the others follow suit. Raising their arms they began to walk back towards the prison.

The image of the admiral glowered dissaprovingly at Lieutenant Commander Blackwell. The newborn king sputtered mentally, yet his face was a serene mask of innocence. Why, of course there was an explanation. And of course the admiral would just die laughing about it. What it was, though, was a good question.

"Engineering's only casualty thus far, Admiral, was -" he turned away from the pickup in theatric angst "-was, our dear Lieutenant Winters. One of the Captain's bastards got her, sir. I can only hope that - "

"Sir! The MinistarII is back online!" Simmons waved a mangled spanner from next to the huge reactor.

Blackwell turned back to the pickup. "Well, the power's back, sir. I had best see to the defense of the Engineering deck." With a flourish, Blackwell switched off the communications link to the bridge. The Admiral's expression had been neutral, and there was no way to know if he had bought it until the Marines started blowing holes in the bulkheads with KSMARs.

It was times like this that Blackwell truly appreciated the scope and breadth of his resources as the head of the ship's Engineering core. Shipboard atmosphere sensors could register the presence of humans through bodyheat, gunfire through discharge in the air, and so on and so forth. Engineering was also responsible for the vast majority of mechanical and electronic maintainance. THAT meant that Blackwell had a backway into half the systems on the ship.

Interesting things like... the launch bays. The armories. Environmental controls. And security systems.

OOC: OK. So, A) sorry I took so long. It's been a rough couple of days. B) Just tell me which of those things I mentioned Blackwell can take control of. Engineering's only something like 500-1000 people in my mind, and I don't really have a firm idea how you crew your ships. The marines might be another 150 or 200. I think they need some sort of equalizer.

OOC: What he can take control of? Pretty much everything. What he will take control of....well that depends on your grasp of infantry & guerilla combat. Nothing's going to be handed to you on a platter. However, based on the posts you've made so far I don't think you'll have much trouble in taking some part of the ship.

Oh, and just FYI, KSMAR stands for Klonor Standard Marine Assault Rifle. They are numbered in order of development. The 1000 series is the newest and best, with a high rate of fire, large magazine, and impressive penetration. An excellent infantry weapon.

IC:

"Bullshit."

The Admiral turned to the acting Captain of the Aquitaine, promoted once the real Captain had been jailed.

"The Captain hadn't even gotten near Engineering when he was picked up. Blackwell is lying. His ambition knows no bounds and neither does his stupidity, he's going to try to take the ship. Sera, head down to Engineering and execute him. Kill whoever he's managed to sway to his side. This is my ship, and it's going to stay that way."

"Yes, sir."

Sera quickly left the bridge and headed to the lift, glad that Blackwell had at least managed to get everything working again. A pity he wouldn't be around to receive his commendation.

"You two, come with me and bring some friends."

Flanked by a pair of burly Marines armed to the teeth he hopped into the futuristic elevator and headed down. The elevator stoped two floors beneath the bridge, thirty Marines joining the three people already in it.

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

The door loomed larger and larger, seemingly ready to swallow the Captain and his men whole. It hadn't seemed quite so imposing when he and his men had left a bare few minutes ago. The guns against their backs probably influenced their perceptions.

"John, don't do this."

"Shut it Rob. You had your chance, you decided not to stick with the Admiral."

"Damnit man, he's a freaking traitor! What the hell would Janis think?"

"Janis is dead and you will be, too, if you don't shut your damn mouth."

"Do you think that the Admiral can escape? The Aquitaine is a freaking Hecate, man. The Duke is going to hunt this ship to the death. What will you do when the Colossus shows up and sends a Harbinger up Petrarch's ass?"

"Whatever we do we'll do, now shut up or I put a bullet in your skull."

The cocking of the gun adds emphasis to his point as the Captain tries to calm down his subordinate.

"Rob, calm down. You can't help us if you're dead. Our time will come."

"Bu......yes, sir."

"Everybody, just shut up and keep walking. Back in the brig, then back to your cells, then wait for the order to come to Space you. Anything else and you get shot here and now."

Simmons frowned a thoughtful frown. As a general rule he thought of all obstacles as challenges; opportunities for growth. He viewed the detachment of marines coming towards Engineering central as just such a hypothetical puzzle. The environmental grid was his chess board, the blobs of human-level heat on all of the big, industrial elavators were the enemies pieces. The fact that those pieces could kill him and everyone near him quite dead escaped him.

"Uh, sir? I don't think that Petrarch bought it." He waved Blackwell over.

Blackwell poured through the data only briefly and was amazed at the extent of his intelligence network. It wasn't perfect, because he could only tell that the big transport elevators were working, and that the level of heat on them suggested large numbers of hostiles, but that was pretty good considering that there were only a small number of major corridors on the Engineering deck, which itself meant that he could make accurate guesses as to where the Admiral's troops would show up.

"Damnit. Hernandez!" The noncom was at his boss' elbow before he had even turned around. Blackwell wasn't thrilled that his number one gun-toter could do that sort of thing, but he was willing to accept some quirks for the man's competent leadership.

There was no acknowledgement, but the raised eyebrows signified the sargeant's attention. "Listen up. The Admiral didn't buy it, but the bulk of his marines will have to come through corridors J-12, M-7 and Q-23. We don't have the numbers for a static defense, so here's what I want to do...."

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

Corporal Horace Flynn didn't like tight spaces. At all. It was a serious problem, considering that his line of work - shipboard marine - involved things like cramped EV suits, dense warrens of bulkheads and, of course, service crawlways. The suits were easy to think of as not existing. The faceplate was clear, so he could just as easily be wearing heavily starched class-As. The bulkheads DID allow for breathing room, so he could live with them. The crawlways, though. Ouch.

They were dark. They pressed in from every side. And there was no obvious way out.

It was just his luck that it was the crawlway that his platoon was in. He had been shuffling along on his hands and knees for the past five minutes and the past two hundred yards, with nothing to do but push his KSMAR-1000 forward in front of him and wish he had something nicer to look at than Private Ramsey's armor-plated ass. But now they were in position, and he could get out of the damn place any moment.

There was an audible click as his com device turned itself on. Staff Sagreant Hayes was plainly audible. "All right, boys. We don't have the Admiral's numbers, but we have the same equipment and twice the know-how. Kick some butt. Over and out."

The transmission ended just in time for Flynn to hear boots strike the deck above him. "Go! Go now!" he commanded in a loud whisper. There was a snap as Ramsey cut the lines feeding the hallway's lights. There was a matter of seconds for the newly arrived marines to collect their wits as they were plunged into darkness and then assaulted from below. The cielings of the crawlways doubled as the floors of the corridors, and they were pushed up and cast aside by Hernandez's marines as part of the sneak attack.

The rogue Lieutenant Commander's men all had good equipment (including the vital, last-minute addition of night vision goggles), but inferior numbers. It was surprise and tactics against superior force. Neither Ramsey nor Flynn took long to consider this as they started firing their weapons.

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Back in the relative quiet of the Engineering section, Blackwell turned to Simmons. "Assuming we're still alive in twenty minutes, we should look into freeing the Captain. He'd fracture the crew." The comment was offered only as a hypothetical if. Their future was still very much in doubt.

"Yes, sir," Simmons replied dutifully.

OOC: You think three people, one not even a soldier, is superior numbers?

IC:

Sera and his escort froze when the lights died, instantly alert for trouble. Moving forward, the Marines began to surround the superior officer and perpared for an assault. The gravity was still on so they knew it wasn't another power failure, it had to be intentional.

"Ricky?"

"Motion trackers are off the scale, whoever it is they're close."

"Everybody switch to hig-"

Before he even finished his command the floor heaved to the side and erupted enemy soldiers, the very image of demons erupting to drag you down to hell.

"Everybody down!"

The Marines promptly dropped to the ground to reveal Captain Sera holding a highly concentrated gas pellet.

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The Captain sighed, took that final step, and was locked back into his cell.

Well, this sucks.

He slowly sank to the floor, barely keeping the tears from flowing. He'd failed and doomed his loyal followers to a swift death.

Maybe I can make an arangement with the Admiral, get him to spare them all. There has to be something I can do.

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Seargant John Perasons stepped back from the cell, locking the final member of the Loyalists away. The fact that it was his former bunkmate didn't really sit to well with him.

Hey, his choice. He chose to go with the Captain. It's not my fault.........it's not my fault......it's not my fault.......it's not my fault......

He was still repeating it to himself when the blade quickly moved through his neck and he tumbled to the ground.

"Moron."

John, or rather what used to be John, is quickly dragged to the side and dumped on top of what used to be the rest of the Marine squad guarding the Captain and his men.

"Sometimes I wonder why they even bother. Captain, it's time to come out."

On cue the many doors swing open, releasing the Loyalists to stand before their rescuer. Their very large rescuer. Their rescuer who could, if he wanted to, snap each and evey one of their necks in the time it takes a man to brush his teeth.

"Private Jimmy, Dealer, reporting for duty, sir."

OOC: Uh.....Conquest?

OOC: I am veryveryvery sorry. Things have been extremely complicated and taxing lately, and I haven't been able to find the time to RP while holding things together. I'm out the door at this very moment, as well.

But, all has been resolved, and I shall return on the morrow. I beg your forgiveness.

OOC: You have it (My forgiveness, that is)

Blackwell felt the tension ease out of his shoulders as a host of red wedges winked out on the jury-rigged three dimensional tactical display Simmons had rigged up. Almost simultaneously a green circle denoting Private Ramsey was snuffed out. The sudden release of anxiety was followed by an upswelling of grief and rage. A coffee mug with the Aquitaine seal went sailing out into empty space to shatter itself against the ceiling.

While the Lieutenant Commander was in it for himself, he had always had a soft spot for his Marines. Steadfastly loyal, they had been his first converts - and his most steadfast. They had followed him, and now they were going to die. It was just the beggining, and they were already falling.

He calmed, and turned to the everpresent Simmons. The Dutch-Irish Klonorian was waiting to say something. "What?" Not especially diplomatic, but a solid question nonetheless.

"Sir. You said you wanted to send someone to get the Captain out? I've detailed a squad of five. Corporal Flynn is in charge. He's a solid performer."

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The newly blooded Corporal Flynn strode down the corridor to the detention block. Surrounded by heavily armed and armored compatriots he approached the last turn before the maximum-security cells.

Suddenly, he made out voices. Rasing his left hand in a complicated gesture, he ordered his mates to put their backs to the wall. Was it the Admiral's men come to space the Captain? Was it the Captain's trying to free him?

Flynn worked the action on his KSMAR, a purely theraputic measure. All he knew was that if they were the Admiral's thugs, he'd be emptying a few clips.

Ramsey would have wanted it that way.

The Captain and the Loyalists began to outline their new plan to capure the ship. They were still horribly outnumbered, but with the additon of Private Jimmy things were beginning to look up.

"I'd begun to think you'd abandoned me, Jim. After you didn't break me out the first time I thought you weren't coming."

"Seriously? Come on, man. The day a Dealer betrays his country is the day the Duke turns sober."

That got a chuckel from the rest of the men as they went about their business of taking weapons from the downed guards (again).

"Now, we need to le---"

Jimmy suddenly stopped speaking, his arms raising to indicate silence.

Men outside the door. Heavily armed. I'd say at least ten. No prob.

He reached down to his belt and grabbed a gas grenade, lightly tossing it around the corner and holding his breath.

OOC: Well, I'm sure I seem like a 100% Grade-A bastard at the moment, but my connection has been out for days, now. It still is, and I'm using my friend's laptop to jot out this quick message. I'm trying to get a new router tomorrow, so here's hoping.

OOC: Don't worry about it, I've been a bit busy recently myself (What with Halo2 coming out and all)