NationStates Jolt Archive

Sign-up thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=504892)
http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a192/CacoRPG/El.jpg

OOC: This is the thread for the Ellesrun, the mercenary frigate that serves to complete various missions for money, and the like. Anyone wishing to hire the Ellesrun can post ICly here, making an offer, and telling the Ellesrun of the mission they wish it to perform.

Note: The unnamed room between the demolitions room and the mess is the briefing room. The unnamed green room is the lab - it's shielded from the rest of the ship, and a few engineers and scientists inhabit it, but it's off-limits for most of the crew.

IC: Johannsen smiled. He'd hired the remainder of the crew - a few more grunts, and he'd purchased a few laser rifles. The station had been fairly poor, and there were no missions offered. But he had money to pay the crew until such time as they found a mission - and he had no doubt that they would. He stroked his cheek, feeling the grey-red whiskers, as he prepared to guide the ship off the launchpad.

"This is Captain Johannsen. I want all command staff in the bridge now. All ground personnel, corporals, and other crewmembers are to report to the briefing room."

The Ellesrunwas unique in that it only had one inhabitable deck - the rest of the ship was devoted to armor, shielding, weaponry, and two major cargo bays - it wasn't a very hospitable ship. In fact, it was fairly crowded. But it was easy to make your way around - there was more than enough room for everyone, and each room was massive, as were the hallways.


Johannsen just wanted to brief every new crewmember on what the protocols would be with the new ship - the old ship he'd piloted, the Yalmak, had been a gunship, and most of his crewmembers were new ones. This frigate had taken up most of his savings, and, although most would probably know what to do, it was best to make sure.


And besides, he was hoping for a contract. And the little station they were docked at would make it far easier to receive a transmission..

Apollo wandered into the bridge, passing by the big dry-erase tactical display and stood near it. He wore his duty uniform. The little green Blub's eyestalks turned to the Captain expectantly, blinking.

To:Any mercenary in the Galaxy that is looking for work
From:General Steven Johnson, Section 3, 1010102 Office of National Intelligence
Subject: Contracts


Hello, My name is Steven Johnson. I am the Commanding Officer of 1ONI. You may know that my nation is at war with The American Privateer. There is a group known as Nova Company, that is basically a group of Privateerian radicals that want to disrupt peace talks between The American Privateer and me and my allies. I want the leader of Nova Company; Joshua Mendoza captured alive, and brought to Cavous Station,for questioning. We are willing to Arm, you. Your payment will be seven-hundred-fifty billion if he is in good shape. You cannot kill him as he will just come back onboard the Privateerian Resurrection Ship.

-----------------------------END-----------------------------------

OOC: Edited my post. Realized CAG is command. :)

Main Hangar Bay
Lt. Emma Walsh was soldering the control for the right etheric rudder back into place when the announcement came on. "Goddammit," she muttered, and jumped off the wing of her personal fighter, the Cancerjack, and walked through the morass of pilots and mechanics walking through the briefing room, occasionally yelling at them to hurry it up. She finally got to the bridge a few minutes later, and stood at the back, desperately wanting to get back to her fighter. As she waited for the captain, she found herself staring at the CAG. What a strange creature...


Primary Magazine
Cpl. James Redgard got his head out of the outer shell of a faulty torpedo. "Someone say something?"

"Yeah, Jimmy, we gotta get to the briefing room," said one of the crewmen.

James sighed and packed up his gear, and shuffled through the cramped hallway with the rest of the crewmen. He sat near the middle of the room, and waited with the rest of the magazine workers.

Turk Tearsend was browsing the gun racks, inspecting the quality of their arms, when the call came. Damnit he though, as he was going to re-do his rifle later on. Ah, f the briefing room, lets look at the bridge. Turk didn't exactly follow all the rules when it came to, well, anything. He started on his way to the bridge, and slipped in quietly when he got there.

Kralthix was jolted out of its meditating as the captains message went through. Leaving its sleeping mat and where it spent most of his days, it went straight to the bridge at a crawl, going at less than 5 miles an hour.

OOC: Do you have some way for me to contact TAP? After all, we're going to need to RP with him to be able to do this.

Johannsen looked at the contract briefly, and quickly wrote up a response. Seven-hundred-fifty billion.. a considerable sum of money, indeed. Considering the low-end pay of a mercenary was a hundred thousand a year, and considering the Ellesrun was only worth 1.7 trillion.. he'd be able to put in some delicious upgrades. After all, a cloak was always something he'd wanted, as well as a mobile sensor array.

He opened up his console, and typed in a message rapidly.

From: Captain Johannsen
To: General Steven Johnson
Subject: Re: Contracts

This mission is very tempting - however, I have some questions. Firstly, do you have any lead on his location? Trying to discover the location of someone we have absolutely no information on could make our mission time much longer. And secondly, keep in mind we'll require a quarter-payment up-front. That's our insurance - we need the money upfront to kit ourselves out for the mission, whether we fail or succeed. And thirdly, since you're at war, we require a Notice of Privateering of equivalent - a document stating that we're in the legal employ of your government, so when peace comes along, we're not hunted down by the offended party.

End message.

- - -

Johannsen turned from his console, to face the command staff on the bridge. He had a hologram in the briefing room, which he'd use to speak to the non-command staff. But, for now, he spoke.

"Gentlemen, welcome to the Ellesrun. I just want to brief you all on basic safety procedures. Firstly, none of you are authorized to change the output of the antimatter annihilation plants - those are best left to the engineers who know what they're doing. Secondly, we have a fabricator. This little baby can make us just about anything - but it's horrendously expensive. You're all authorized to use it, however, anything for personal use comes out of your own pocket.

Thirdly, the command quarters are all to the northwest of the Ellesfear. The first block is command quarters, and we've installed shieldwalls so that we can all get as much privacy as we want. And lastly, you're all command staff. As such, you're all given the ability to order non-command staff around, for the most part. Don't interfere with one another's orders unless it's an emergency. You're all command staff, I have no doubt you possess the ability to figure out the majority of what you need from the datalinks we've installed in your rooms, and here on the bridge. You'll have access to any mission data you need.

And by the way, we're currently undergoing a deal with a General Steven Johnson. He's offered us three-quarters of a billion to capture a rogue element who's trying to disrupt peace talks between his nation and another. I think you can all appreciate that that's an immense payment - as such, I want you prepped and ready to perform your duties within a few minutes. Any questions?".

His speech to the command staff was simple - if they couldn't figure out what they needed to know, they shouldn't be there. He'd posted holographic sentinels at the door of every room in the new craft, and they'd stop all non-command staff, and give a brief spiel on each room as they entered it - that way, he'd be able to minimize the amount of talking he did.

He smiled, and waited for the staff to disperse. He saw the Blub pilot sitting there - and he walked over to him, and spoke to him. "Ah, Apollo. Very good to see you. Note that I've authorized a five hundred thousand credit chit for your fighter - you can upgrade it and tweak it however you wish. Get parts from the station in the next few hours if you wish, or use the fabber. I've also transferred the first part of your salary across - twenty-four thousand credits to use as you wish. I have a feeling we're going to need fighters on this mission."

To: Captain Johannsen
From Steven Johnson

We are willing to pay the upfront sum of one-hundred-eighty billion-five-hundred-million. From what my operatives have learned he is at the Botany Bay minning prision. Ofcourse we can give you a Notice of Privateering of Equivalent. Please come to Cavous Station. We willbeable to give you the up front payment and outfit you with some of our best weapons.

---------------------------END--------------------------------------------

Vincent Mallor or as he prefered, Cookie, scowled at the intercom. The captain of the Ellesrun had a very un-melodious voice. Turning the things that could be turned down, he headed out to the briefing room to see what was what.

************


Seth V. Ţepeş had been sleeping in the embrace of music when the intercom woke him. Listening to the message for a second, he laid back down and was about to go to sleep again when an UO ordered him to get the lead out.

Rather than raise a stink about it, he got up and headed to the briefing room. What was different about him was that save for a small earpeice, his pendent, a pair of black boxer-briefs and his two knife sheathes, he was naked.

A hologram appeared in the briefing room. It was a hologram of the captain's upper torso and head, and spoke only briefly. The captain was a man of few words - he preferred to have his subordinates think for themselves. If they didn't, it meant he had to guide every operation step-by-step, and that simply wouldn't do.

"Good morning, crewmembers. This is your captain speaking. I'm briefing the command staff in person, however, you all need to know a few basic things. Firstly, each of you have had the first five thousand credits of your salary transferred to your accounts - we're in the process of signing a contract now, and the remainder of your first half-yearly payment will be advanced to you then. All crewmembers are earning 75,000 a year, and all grunts are earning a hundred kay. Corporals and sergeants, and specialised crewmembers, who do vital work on the ship will have their pay set to the usefulness of their work. Keep in mind that nutrition packs from the vending machines in the rec room are free, and contain everything you'll need to maintain a healthy diet,and come in enough varieties to service any species - if you want something fancier, with flavor, or perhaps texture, you'll want to head into the ship's mess. "

The hologram took a breath, and the captain continued speaking. "Keep in mind that the demolitions room, the command quarters (the upper-left square in the crew quarters), the fabricator room, the life-support system, and all power supplies are off-limits. The hangar bays may only be accessed by authorized personnel, and the main-gun room is only accessible by likewise authorized personnel. Note that the fabricator room may be accessed by request, if you wish to fabricate gear for a mission, provided that you pass it by me, or one of the fabber-engineers first."

Another breath. And another small monologue. "The green-shielded room is the ship's lab and experimentation table, as well as serving other purposes. Only specific personnel are allowed to go in there, or those authorized by myself. I've installed information terminals, complete with holograms, near all rooms, as well as entertainment terminals in your quarters. The armory and the bridge you are authorized to enter - but don't loiter around there. Captain Johannsen out."

The little green blob came to attention smartly and nodded when the Captain finished speaking. He chittered, the translator on his uniform replying, "Aye sir. I'll see what I can do as far as upgrades. I also need any information on the mission, sir, so that I can make sure our air group is equipped for the specific jobs."

He paused, drawing up information from memory, "While we're here at the station, we might as well stock up on expendables. Cannon rounds, rockets and bombs. You never know what we might need out there. After this, I'm going to call a meeting of the pilots and see who we've got to work with, sir. If we have enough, I'd like to form two squadrons of ten or twelve aircraft each with potentially an abbreviated squadron for utility. Recon, S&R and support, sir."

Apollo knew his stuff. That was why he'd applied to be CAG, of course.

To: Captain Johannsen
From Steven Johnson

We are willing to pay the upfront sum of 180.5 billion. From what my operatives have learned he is at the Botany Bay minning prision. Ofcourse we can give you a Notice of Privateering of Equivalent. Please come to Cavous Station. We willbeable to give you the up front payment and outfit you with some of our best weapons.

---------------------------END--------------------------------------------

OOC: Ah, so much more readable.
IC:
Walsh snorted at the Blub's preferential treatment, and hustled back to the hangar bay. A mission was coming up, and repairs to the Cancerjack weren't complete yet. The right etheric rudder still needed repairing, the cannons needed recalibration, and the mounting brackets of her pilot seat were still loose...

Meanwhile, at the briefing room, James waited for the captain, his feet propped up on the chair ahead of his.

OOC: By "authorized personel" as far as the gun room goes, that means me only, or me and all command staff? Just so I know not to freak out if someone else wanders in

IC: Turk exited the brige the same way he came, quietly. Sounds like fun, except for the whole getting bossed around thing. Oh well, I doubt many pilot pansies will bother me, they're too attached to their planes to bother with a lowly gunsmith. Heh. Turk walked around some, and headed to the briefing room. The hologram their asked him if he wanted to replay the captain's message to all crewmembers. He let it, and watched. 75 thousand credits? I wonder what the conversion ratio is to silvers? Eh, doesn't matter, if I'm onboard something with a fabricator, I don't need much money. He reminded himself that he was going to look into getting a full access to the fabricator like the command staff had. He turned and headed back to the bridge, looking for the captain...

"Caveos Station... co-ordinates uploaded. It'll take us a few hours to embark, as we're going to need to run some routine checks on the ship's wormhole drive."

He turned back to Apollo, after hitting the 'send' key. "Very good. I'll be advancing the same credit balance to each of our pilots - inform them, will you? If anyone wants me, I'll be in the fabber room, overseeing the fabrication of a small armor unit."

He saluted, "Yes sir." Once the captain turned away, the little Blub made his way to the hangar bay. Entering, he took a look around at the various ships there. They were all different models, it seemed. Unless they could fit the same weapons on them, it would be a logistical nightmare trying to keep three dozen types of cannon ammunition onhand.

Spying Walsh working on her craft, Apollo approached. The translator clicked on when he began chattering, "Hello there. Walsh, isn't it? Are you combat-ready?" Pause. "And is your ship?"

When Turk reached the bridge, he saw it was, for the most part, deserted. S---, where to look now? was his only thought. He looked around at the few people left on the bridge, but decided not to ask any of them. A blob? Hell if he'll know anything. He decieded that maybe he should just go to the fabrication room and check it out. So he left the bridge, and headed for the fabrication room.

He saluted, "Yes sir." Once the captain turned away, the little Blub made his way to the hangar bay. Entering, he took a look around at the various ships there. They were all different models, it seemed. Unless they could fit the same weapons on them, it would be a logistical nightmare trying to keep three dozen types of cannon ammunition onhand.

Spying Walsh working on her craft, Apollo approached. The translator clicked on when he began chattering, "Hello there. Walsh, isn't it? Are you combat-ready?" Pause. "And is your ship?"

As soon as the CAG started talking, a thought floated to the surface of her mind: How the hell does he keep that uniform on?

She quickly suppressed that and turned to the CAG. "I'm combat ready, but the Cancerjack is still being repaired. A few hours work, at least..."

OOC: Are you ever going to address the crewmen in the briefing room, Hyperspatial?

After the briefing, a rather tedious affair where he found out the rate of pay of the crew and grunts, and that 'specialists' pay was based on 'usefulness', he headed back to his kitchen.

As various things simmered and cooked, he poured himself a drink.

****************

Seth had shrugged and headed to the rec room to get something to snack on. He didn't really care that he was getting paid a hundred grand a year for this gig, but about getting something to eat and sleep. Punching in an order for enought food to feed five people and then stretched out on a couch. The couch that was most opportune for watching whatever entertainment programs that the ship got or carried.

Downing the food, he cranked the tunes back up and fell back asleep in short order.

OOC: Already did via a hologram, bucko. Seven posts before yours, in fact. I'm not big on long-winded briefings.

IC: Johannsen's plan for a small armor unit was simple - it wasn't an armor unit, as such. More excessively armed powersuits. They weren't hundred-metre behemoths of deadly design, which could be used to level cities. No, they were tanks - of a sort. A tank large enough to hold smaller crewmembers, armed to the teeth with all sorts of weaponry. The sort of thing that would serve as both fast attack, and could also make sure not too many men died. Of course, it would cost millions in power alone - luckily he'd stored a fair bit of extra fuel onboard.

He strode down to the fabber room, one of the largest on the ship, almost as large as one of the hangars - and saw the many fabrication devices there. He smiled. "This is Captain Johannsen. I want a PRX-LA Personal Hovertank fabbed. Four of them. They'll be providing light armor support for our troops on the surface, if we require them. I want their overall width reduced so that they can fit through your average corridor. Keep the costs under 80 million credits apiece - and fit them for durability rather than firepower."

The ship's lead designer, hired by Johannsen specifically to design things for the fabricators, spoke. "Got it, Captain. I'll fire up the second-largest fabber right away."

Johannsen turned, and looked at the fabbers. He had his comm open, so anyone wishing to contact him could do so with ease - no doubt all the crew members wanted to use the new fabricator facilities...

Turk rounded a corner rather harshly, and *SMACK* ran right into Captain Johannsen. "Ah, just who I was looking for." he said with his smirk that never left his face, making him look like he was up to no good. I was wondering, since I'll be repairing guns and making new ones quite often, I need metal, and lots of it. I'd like to get it through the fab machines rather then melting down the hull for scrap metal, wouldn't you agree?" He chucked at his own sarcastic jab. "So, I came to request permission for permenant access to the fab machines. I know you had previously stated that we had to clear things first, but I highly doubt you want to be bothered everytime I want to make something." He scanned the captain's face. Redder then most, maybe that's why they call him Red. Could be the hair as well tho...

Johannsen watched him in disbelief, as, after the boy rushed into him, he picked himself up, and proceeded to ask for unrestricted access to the fabricators. His face grew red, and his tone grew colder.

"There is a chain of command in place here. Do you know what that is? I would say it's the chain I beat you with to show you who's in command, but that's wrong. It's this."

He spoke quietly, under his breath, and the floor electrified itself beneath the crewmember, knocking him over. "You might need those fabbers. Let's see how much you want them, boy. This time, ask. I'm your captain, not your damned drinking buddy."

He took a careful step backwards, allowing the man to rise to his feet, and prepared to give the order for another shock. He didn't deal with insubordination well - letting the crew know that you could be walked over was the first step to mutiny. He looked at the man calmly, and waited for him to speak...

OCC: next time on desperate Planet wifes.....

OOC: He tried to be serious at the end, he really did :D

IC: Boy? I look young to him, or is he just being an asshat? Hmm, oh well, I need the access, time to suck up the pride... "Excuse me, Sir. I'm in deep regret for running into you like that, it will not happen again. I have come to request permenint access to the fabrication machine. I request this access for the purpose of getting metal when I need it for general gun repairs. If I request access on a time-to-time basis, I believe I will become an annoyance to you because I need metal quite often. If you would be kind enough to grant me access, I would be very thankful." Turk said this with as serious of a tone as he knew how. Chains of command didn't interest him much, but he did need the access.

"Mercenaries? for something this of import?"

The slender figure of the Secondary Foreign Advisor looks over the large office desktable of the Prime Advisory of Foreign Affairs, Lady Seto, the prementioned Lady Peorth querying the obvious. Lady Seto fully understood.

"You do realize what kind of attention, no matter how low key, ninety years of diplomacy over a large, but singular area of space can condone from unseen forces that do not care for our presence in the cosmos.

The Lord Excellency surmised this at the last Council session, remember? After the Opresth Galaxy missions?"

Peorth looked glum. "Didn't make else much sense where those Infernal units came from. Does this mean the entire operation is compromised? Is all naught and forboded to doom?"

Seto shook her head. "Actually it was Apocracy interference, more likely Dark Ascendancy sponsored, more than Infernal incursions. Infernals hold to treaties better than trans-dimensional minions do.

In any case, we have eyes watching our activities too much, we need to consider new avenues to finish what we started. The Expansion is slated for fourth months from now, and the kid was correct, in opinionating enforce we would not be detered to the final scheme we have planned for.

So... how else can you make better cover, than cloak and dagger. Use the traits of our enemies against them."

Peorth stood and watched, as Seto walked around the desk a quarter of the way, and looked out the Office Overlook, out from the Palace Tree, to the Sapphire Sea and beyond as she offered.

"Lady Funaho was kind enough to have the Milky Way Core Galaxy Information Corps, locate a number of mercenary transport units and agencys we could use as a interm courier service, that could make well use of our nigh resources we have in replete.

The idea, is that we use them to make a simple delivery, of an obvious artifact of great import, diplomacy sealing wise, while we use 'that', to hide an even greater treasure underneath, that would essentially signal the start of the Fourth Great Expansion.

While we have the mercenaries make the delivery, we unfurl pomp and circumstance and wanton, to distact most attention away from said tools. In return, almost anything as a reward would be of consequence."

Peorth sighs and shakes her head. "You and Utsutsumi keep making up plans while you two make love, still do you?" Seto just giggles a blush in acknowledgement. "And what of it?"

Peorth just coughs, not wanting to know more. Instead she offers. "Shalt we use a lesser communications standard to put this into motion? I am sure we still can have a paper and pencil made from a replicator if you wish."

Seto claps her hands in mock excitement. "Ooh! Can it be a malasyian tree bark type? The smell was a favorite when I went to school." Peorth just stood there, and tried 'very' hard to imagine such an image, removed by goddess knows how many years prior to the two hundred of the Ascendancy's existence. Seto saw this strain on Peorth's face and coughed. "Don't pull a gyro-unit, I know I'm old as dirt."

Peorth tried to be amicable. "I hear the dirt from Omanus XIII is clean and fresh, even fragrant."

"Oh shut up."

"No no, the dirt from Luna-Sol is a clean gray ash that is all the rage in Sphere bathhouses." Lady Yurika says from afar as she enters a short bit ago. Seto just grabs a flufpall toy and lobs at at her near the doorway.

----

The vast as all hell and heaven Comm-Orb Internetwork that existed in all objective of importance galaxies the Ascendancy was involved in, combined with the human and angelic intellegence from many sources, came up with a list of potential canidates that could do the job. type of drive and even vessel condition didnt even matter to the Sphere, as that meant (to be honest) such a lowkey operation would be beneath the notice of the power of the cosmos, and thereby most (not absolutely) likely be unnoticed by those the Ascendancy would work hard to distract.

When one wants to transport a diamond, you dont want to advertise it much, save for the job listing.

Hence the mercenary comptroller and advisory boards were spammed for a few days about a lucrative, though dangerous offer.

---

:: ~ To: Any brave/foolhardy mercenary crew wishing to conduct an operation of vast import to the nation of the Sphere, Intergalactic in all it's might and vision.

From: Said blowhard type nation, offering a open ended reward of the operator's/owner's choosing (Imagination is required to impress us.)

Date: 30 October 3389

Subject: Transport of two meager items, across a large intergalactic distance.

To the call of any and all privateer, from the name of the Ascendancy Sphere Economic Commission, and the Prime Foreign Advisory. Her Ladyship of the words of power that drive many a galaxy to great strides in the name of the Lord Exellency. Know that we seek unique and unorthodox assistance, to help us in a matter of import, meant to start a chain reaction of events that will change the physical universe in all political and historic spectrums.

The rewards are as vast as the owner wishes, as the objects of focus are of even greater import.

Know that we ask of this, full well and knowing of the nature and resource capability of each and every mercenary operation, we have taken the time to catalouge, and sent this request for. Our resources for the past century have forced us to call upon am differing method of transport, and we are willing to upgrade any operation that is willing to undertake this mission.

Those that are of intrest, may leave a cursory notice upon the mercantile networks, or apply in person at out Galactic Hub Trade Station, operating out from the near Core zone of the Milky Way galaxy. Those that need assistance for piggyback, or even those that wish to traverse to our Homeworld, may only ask, as we can transport your vessel enroute. We can even upgrade drive type enroute if the employer so do wishes.

We know the extent of our request, and for us, no cost is to far reaching, for the goals at stake. To conclude for us this mission would gain great rapport within Sphere space, for anything the employer desires. As we control decent sections of the Milky Way Galaxy, and even small parts of the Motherworld Sol System, we can conduct the transaction and details on ground of your wish, on our grounds.

The employer must know, we will only conduct negotiations on sovereign Sphere territory, and those wishing to seek our access, must comply with this one mark. This is our only requirement. All else is open ended.

To those that have read this far, we reward with this knowledge. The Sphere is prepared to reward even small partitions of terriroty of Sphere ownership, as a forward base for future operations, and know we have no need to tax any mercenary crew of anything at all. Also know this is a irrevacable moment for the Sphere, and this is the time for those to partake in the next step in the future of our empire.

I, Lady Seto of the Sphere Republic, will be the final negotiator, so do know the truth in all I say when we first meet. As such, I look forward to those that will make the attempt to the goal we seek.

The new age I so bluster about, needs your support, and we await well and good for the brave we will respect forever. Until then fellow mortal souls.

Regards,

Lady Seto Kamiki
Gaian Prime Foreign Advisor ~ ::

---

And now, the waiting part......

OOC: Yeah, but my captain's a wee bit paranoid. And it's not a character flaw in this line of work...

IC: "Good. At least you can learn to be polite, boy. I'll grant you access to a basic weapon fabber - if you want to make something on ship credit, there's a comlink to Anders. He's our fabber tech, and if he thinks something is worth the money, I'll trust his judgement on that. Just send in a basic request of what you want, and he'll fire up the fabber for you. We can't keep them on all the time in any case, You can have unlimited access sofar as using your own money goes. But you're still going to need to send in a request to get it fired up to Anders. There's no way to activate them in the room."

If someone apologises, you then cut them some slack. Basic crew management. If the man proved to be efficient and judicious with his use of the fabber.. he'd instruct Anders to give him near-unlimited access. Otherwise.. Well, Anders would do as he saw fit. And Johannsen had no problem with that. Anders was one of those few people he trusted unilaterally..

Golem sat in his quarters forever adjusting, calibrating, and tinkering with his rifle. He decreased the antigrav to give it more steady, then played with the sensitivity of the gyroscope. No not quite right. He'd owned the gun for over a year now and had yet to get it "right", something others attributed to a personality flaw rather than poor craftmenship.

This was how the summon to attention found him. He got up, disconnected his wingshield from its charger and made his way to the briefing room.

After the briefing ended he remained in the room. The pay was quite sufficient. As long as he could remain healthy, well geared, and do his job he was happy. He retained his military obsession with training and maintaining efficiency, to allow oneself to become unprepared was very dishonorable. For Golem, the honor of how he preformed his duties had encroached on the other facets of his life to the point where he barely had one outside of work.

For now he looked around the room trying to identify the ground forces commander.

Unfortunately for the young Turk, at that point did Vynd round the corner, habitually saluting the captain then turned to the self-styled 'Chief'.

"Are you not supposed to be on your rounds, Corporal Tearsend? I do not look kindly on the shirking of one's duties." he said coldly.

He turned and looked at his superior.

"I swear, captain, you're too kind to them."

The first mate has the right and need to cut no slack. Basic Crew Management #2 - after all, there's hardly going to be a mutiny to oust the second in command, is there? Discipline cannot be enforced to its full extent as a captain.

The cleaning duties had been carefully assigned so every corner of the ship had at least someone there at all times - the first lesson of damage control.

"Ah, yes. I felt that the young corporal could benefit with access to one of the smaller fabricators - he will obviously not be using them in his work hours, apart from those allocated during a particular mission."

The captain returned the salute, and then looked at the corporal. "You may have two hours off to construct yourself a weapon for this mission. Right now, the efficiency of our ground forces is paramount, if we are to earn our pay. However, I advise that you conduct yourself with more decorum, that which befits an officer, from now on."

Johannsen was more formal in the presence of his first mate - where the captain and a crewmember could socialise to some degree, officers could not, at least not in front of the men - formality had to be observed. He turned, and walked off. He'd come back to the fabbers a few hours later, however, for now, he had more business to conduct.

As he rounded the corridor to the bridge, it struck him. The Ellesrun was big. Hundreds of metres long, it had enough space for those inside, and more. It took some time to walk from one place to another, and the inertial dampeners he'd had put in place were... well worth it. As he spoke, they were accelerating at 4 gees - hardly fast, by any means, but enough to inconvinience any low-gravity beings, like humans, considerably. And yet the ship remained at a stable 1 G of acceleration, apart from various rooms, where it could be customized.

He reached the bridge again, and strode into the room. The bridge itself was massive - it contained enough room to house the entire crew with ease, if it came to that. But the command segment of the bridge was tiny - it housed the navigator, a few officers, and that was about it. He was going to give the order for wormhole travel soon - a small trip, with a massive, high-power wormhole. Virtually nil discomfort, or even noticeability.

Of course, the shields had to go down, but.. he smiled. The Ellesrun had shown itself to be capable when generating wormholes - but he'd installed a lot of new components. He wasn't going to travel through the wormhole without sending a probe through, of course. Safety was paramount; and he wanted to know that his new ship wouldn't even be scratched...

Bumble yawned and raised his head from off the fighter's control console, leaving behind a small patch of drool. Glancing about groggily he saw the Blub CAG and Walsh talking, and cursed when he saw that she had made more progress on her ship.

Bumble was way behind on his, if you could call such a thing a spaceship, and he was running out of parts too. Struggling to his feet, he exited the fighter on the side away from the two and crept off to the briefing room to replay the briefing he assumed he'd missed.

On his return he had to pass the Blub again, while he didn't particularly mind serving under an alien commander, he didn't relish the idea of getting a lecture on tidiness, so he quickly straightened up his creased pressure suit and strode briskly past, trying to look awake.

It looked like he'd made it, but still ready to hear a sharp word from behind him at any moment, he began to work on his ship's landing stabilisers again.

Returning from the briefing, Aramius returned to his room to finish securing his equipment, taking special care to ensure his customized SMG, Z-3 Laser Rifle and his Pressurized Assault Suit had survived the movement without damage. Seeing that they had, he promptly stripped off his duty uniform and dressed in the Assault Suit, slinging the Z-3 Rifle onto his back and slipping the shoulder strap of his SMG over his shoulder. Drawing his short sword out of it's storage scabbard, he slipped it into his hip scabbard, and mounted his undeployed Razorwind onto his wrist mount. Finally, he considered stocking his mounted bandolier with a selection of grenades, but decided against it, knowing the potential repercussions of an accidental detonation, both from physics and the rage of the superior officers. He then finished by securing his helmet, before exiting his quarters and proceeding to the armoury to take a look at the kinds of weaponry the Ellesrun stocked.

Entering the armoury, Aramius was slightly surprised to find that the armoury was well stocked with laser rifles, smaller SMGs, the works. Leaving the room, he swung by the Rec Room, and noticed a basic shooting range. Smoothly swinging his SMG down and bringing his Z-3 Laser Rifle up, he fired three shots in rapid succession, and met slight dismay as he saw he had hit the middle rings. Taking more careful aim, he fired another round, and hit dead centre. Leaving the room, unhappy with his performance, he returned to his quarters and settled in for a quick sleep.

The Blub squinted at Walsh's craft, "Okay. Get a rundown on any parts you need. Don't worry about ammunition for the moment. I want you to take your list to the Chief tech for the aerosquadrons and tell him you need 'em post-haste, CAG's orders."

He wandered from ship to ship, speaking to the pilots privately. He came upon Bumble and nodded, "Hello there. Get a list together of the parts you need, get 'em to the Chief. I'm going to make sure the flight crew are ready for combat. We'll probably see the first combat whenever we arrive at the mission site."

And with that, he wandered over to the Chief Tech who was overseeing a crew putting spare parts and munitions into place and organizing their work area, "Chief. My pilots need some help repairing their birds. They're going to give you a list of what they think they need, and I want you to provide it. Next time we visit a planet or space station I want you to see if you can scrounge up more spare parts. Electronic boards, armor, landing gear, engines.. whatever you can get to keep our ships going. Use my personal credit account if you can't get approval from the Captain."

Kralthix, as the corridors began to clear out, began to get his daily needed exercise, which is about a mile of sprinting and around three miles of around human speed. Making sure that he had enough room to run on one of the larger corridors, he began to run up and down it, going at a measly 15 miles an hour so he could stop in case someone came into the corridor.

Walsh nodded and hopped into the pilot seat of her fighter. After stretching out for a bit, she grabbed the repair manifest and sent a request for a new maneuvering jet control and conduit, and a pair of reinforced mounting brackets for her seat. As she waited for the replacement parts, she got to work on calibrating the mis-aligned tachyon cannons.


Meanwhile, near the fabrication plant, Redgard was getting also getting ready for the mission. He lathed out a number of rounds for his autogun and boltpistol, and started determining the explosives he would need. He eventually settled on six Light Attack Munitions, for door breaching and the destruction of power armor, and a pair of high-power plastiques, for distractions. After the machine was finished lathing, James started loading up his magazines, waiting for orders...

Raven sat calmly on his bed cleaning out his rifle his ship was in good condition and it never hurt to clean his gun he just hoped the mission started before he got to boad now that he was thinking about it he better check that they had the right ammo onboard

After taking his daily exercise, Kralthix went to the Mess Hall in order to see if they had any raw meat, passing several humanoids on the way.

Bumble was surprised, and slightly amused with the CAG's offer. Taking the parts manifest, he strolled casually around his ship, his pen ablur. Realising that it was probably taking the captain's generosity a bit too far to hand in more than a whole page worth of items, he trimmed it down slightly.


Three landing legs, Imperial standard.
Two forward firing linked laser cannons.
Two torpedo launchers (fighter size) and ammunition.
Hull sheeting plates:
2mx1m
2mx80cm
1.5mx1.5m
Ten 50cmx50cm
Seat covering (black)
Seat Brackets
Seat Belt
1 fuel intake
Coffee (black)


Grinning with satisfaction, he strode around in search of an engineer.

OOC: I didn't miss anything too important did I? I didn't realize that the thread started so soon.

IC: Jorador was currently making his check of the ships systems. The old ship always did have one or two things for him to fix, but it gave him more opportunities to prove his worth. It's true that people don't usually see a dinosauric creature, but with such a diverse crew, he wasn't really so strange.

Cookie looked up as someone entered the eating section of the mess hall. He wondered if he was looking for some place or something to eat. Taking another sip of his drink he sat back.

Turk thanked the captain for his generosity in granting him at least partial clearance to the fabricators. He quickly wrote down a few things, and sent his requests to Anders. It read
Formal Fabrication Request Form (FFRF)
FROM: Cprl. Tearsend (Approved for fabrication access - level 1)

I, Cprl. Tearsend, request the following items for fabrication:

20 heat-tested steel sheets (10cmX(50x50 cm))
A Boring Kit
Military Grade Cutting Laser
6 Laser Crystals

Most Respectfully,
Turk Tearsend
Corporal


Turk then headed back to the armory to field requests for ammo, weapons, repairs, new guns made, and general requests.

OOC: If anyone needs ammo, just post with the kind and I'll RP it.

Sergeant Killic got out of bed, unable to sleep, and exited his quarters, still in full combat gear. After exercising for 20 minutes, he returned to his quarters, sat at his console and typed up a message:

TO: Captain Johannsen
FROM: Sergeant Aramius Killic
TOPIC: Construction Of Proper Training Facilities

Sir, Sergeant Killic requesting permission to convert
a section of the Rec Room into a training area for
our ground forces. In my opinion, it is insufficient for
them to tell us what they can do; it is better to
actually see it. To facilitate this, I am requesting
temporary permission to have equipment produced
by the fabricators. If you do not want this to occur,
or you have a better place for a training area, then
please let me know.

Sending the message away, Aramius proceeded out of his quarters again, returning to the Rec Room and the makeshift range. He raised his SMG and fired a concentrated burst, blasting pieces of the target off, before raising his Z-3 Rifle and blasting further chunks off. Then, to finish, he activated his Razorwind and threw it straight at the target, cutting it clean in half before returning to it's mount on his wrist. Satisfied at his performance and grinning at the gaping mouths of the personnel in the Rec Room at the time, Aramius returned to his room, fell onto his bed and relaxed.

Domingo opened his eyes, the grimy vents which adorned the cieling of the Trolley welcomed him back to the world of the waking, he span to lower his legs off the granite hard bunk, he found that he slept better on his own ship, he could never get used to sharing rooms or sleeping in new places, "What does Matem demand of my time today?" He called out loud and the ship came to life.

"Greetings Domingo, I have been so kind as to record several messages that the Captain has left for you." Domingo had made it as far as the kitchen doorway and suddenly his shoulders slumped, he had only been on the ship a few weeks after having been picked up on a Smuggler Planet, he didn't really like the Captain but it was the only paying job within a lightyear that allowed him to keep his ship, he bashed the button on the wall and a thick chunky grey water splashed out into a dirty bowel left behind from several months ago.

Domingo took the gruel and sat at the cold steel table, he grabbed a spoon, "Matem playback last messages." He ordered, he knew it wasn't wise to do so to his Diety but he was in a bad mood.

"I believe that the Captain is informing you off limits areas, your pay and an upcoming mission, would you like me to delete these messages?" Domingo had a mouth full of gruel but responded in a series of mumbles, soon he got bored of the foul smelling gruel and threw on his Robes and decided to explore the flight deck, see if he could help out or find someone nicer than the captain.

Seth opened an eye as he looked over at someone who appeared to be a sargent began firing down the range. He was also showboating, and poorly at that. Closing his eye, he went back to sleep on the couch.

<The tech crew finish work on the fighters present in the hangar bay>

Meanwhile, a message would be broadcast throughout the ship over the intercom by one of the communications people, "All pilots to the briefing room in ten minutes. All pilots to the briefing room in ten minutes."

Apollo was waiting inside, examining some scribbles on the dry-erase board tactical display and tapping his 'chin' thoughtfully with a capped blue dry-erase marker.

raven walked into the hanger happy thta the ship had all the ammo he neaded he walked up to the interceptor and found that the ship was in flying condition besides a minor problem with the bomb rack that he could fix in an hour so he got started

Hate to be pedantic, but punctuation goes a long way.

Bumble glanced up at the sound of the tannoy, he had been enjoying watching the techies work on his battered fighter. The looks of disgust on their faces said it all. Finishing up his coffee, which someone had obviously noted his request for, he got up and headed to see what the blob thing wanted.

Golem had spent a few more hours sleeping and adjusting his rifle in his quarters after the briefing. Finally satisfied with his work, well for now at least, he picked up his GG-36 and a couple magazines and headed off to the rec room to test out his calibrations.

When he got there Sergeant Killic was already at the firing range, and Seth was laying on the couch. He continued on to the range, casually saluting Aramius.

"Afternoon Hawk. How's the mission prep going?"

He setup on the target next to the Sergeant, changing the settings to its extreme range and a smaller target was placed to simulate a greater distance.

Casually strolling down the corridor, Bumble soon reached the briefing room. Grunting in acknowledgement of the Blub CAG, he slumped into a comfortable looking padded chair, that was designated officer's only, and proceeded to hope quietly that the captain wouldn't look in.

Domingo, who was in the process of inspecting his constantly breaking Deflector Shield array, heard the intercom go and sighed, he wandered off down the stepladder and off towards the Briefing room.

He entered the room to find some Pilots already there and the most ungodly creature he had ever seen, he hoped the captain wouldn't be at this briefing but he knew it was a slim hope, instead he took a seat furthest from everyone but still in view of the front of the room.

raven just finshed his work when he heard the call he got up and went to the breifing room by the time he got there other piolets were already entering he picked a nice chair and decided to wait for whoever called to begin

john was loking through the armory seeing if had any good weapons and he was not disaponted he started to get hungry so he went to the mess hall

Turning to Golem, Aramius replied, 'Mission prep isn't going too well, mainly because we still don't have a definite mission. Once the Captain finalises the deal, we can get ready. Speaking of which, I need to go and have a quick chat with the Captain about few things...'

Slinging his Rifle, Aramius turned and left the Rec Room and proceeded to the bridge. Upon entering the bridge, he proceeded up to the command segment, found the Captain, came to attention and saluted, then began with, 'Sir, Sergeant Killic requesting a moment of your time.'

Apollo surveyed his pilots with those eyestalks dubiously. Then, he started chattering away while his translator device went to work, "Good morning. I'm Apollo, and I'm your CAG. This is an orientation briefing to get you familiar with what is expected of you here."

The little green Blub wandered back and forth, pacing. "First of all, we are the long arm of this ship. We are both the sword and the shield, responsible for striking the enemy and protecting the ship. We will support ground operations, we will support space operations, we will fight in atmosphere, we will fight in vaccum."

"The key to success is teamwork and efficiency. We'll train teamwork over time. However, efficiency is something we can work on right now. I know you all have your ships equipped to your personal choices, but it is strongly encouraged that you begin training with and equipping your ships from a selection of standard gear that I will be selecting from soon. This will mean, our squadrons will be able to share ammunition, and makes supplying our air group much easier."

"I expect to form two squadrons for now, ten ships each for combat. That means I need to promote two Lieutenants to command them. I warn you, the job is hard, the job has long hours, stress and a great deal of responsibility. If as a squadron commander you fail to keep your unit ready, then the Captain will bust my ass, and I'll in turn, bust your ass."

"In short, those with combat experience need to submit an application to me to apply. I will make my decision from there."

"Any questions?"

Bumble raised his hand.

"Do we get a pay rise if we get the lieutenant spot?"

"Any questions?"

Great, a blob is in charge, Domingo though comfortably to himself, he dare not let others know of his predjudice towards this creature incase they didn't like him for it, the thing asked for questions so Domingo shouted out, "Priest Domingo, I pilot the crappy Trolley out there, will the ship be providing any sort of discount for equipment if it's on your list of standards." Domingo needed some upgrades and any discount he could get, even from a blob, would do.

The eyestalks turned, looking at them both seperately, yet at the same time. He answered the questions in turn, "The pay would increase to Lieutenant-grade."

And then, "If you switch over to standard equipment, you won't be responsible for paying for your ammo. Standard ammo and spare parts come out of the air group budget."

raven raised his hand and said how are we grouping the sqaudrons one fighter one bomber or a mix

The eyes focused on the one person speaking now, "I will need to review our inventory of ships before making any final decisions on how I will organize the squadrons. It's doubtful I will segregate the ship types, but rather provide a good mix."

after eating a quick meal john went to the rec room to practice his shot when he got there he found people already taking up the firing ranges so he sat back and watched looking for the ones he could trust in a situation

Turning to Golem, Aramius replied, 'Mission prep isn't going too well, mainly because we still don't have a definite mission. Once the Captain finalises the deal, we can get ready. Speaking of which, I need to go and have a quick chat with the Captain about few things...'
...

Golem leaned into his rifle and calmed his breathing.

CRACK

"So long as we get one soon."

As the Sergeant left the range Golem checked his first shot. It was about 2/3 of the way from the center to the outer edge of the bullseye at about 10 o'clock.

"Damn, still pulling left."

Moving from his target line, he took his rifle over to one of the tables and began adjusting again. For some a shot so close at such distance would seem satisfactory, but for Golem and his highly advanced avian eyesight and hand-eye co-ordination, shots like this at a stationary target with no atmopheric disturbances should be as easy as pulling the trigger.

He played with the gun for quite some time, oblivious to all else as he struggled for perfection. Finally, temporarily content with his changes, he moved back to the range.

CRACK

The next shot went dead through the center. Two more in quick succession followed obediently through the hole of the first.

"Finally. Now that is more like it."

He shouldered his rifle and walked over to the entertainment area where he had noticed the man laying on the couch earlier.

"Anything good on?"

Seth opened an eye as he heard himself being address through his nap and music. "As you can see, there is nothing on. That being the case, the concept of good is void in the face of nothingness." He replied before closing his eye again and going back to the lands of Morpheous.

Guess he's not in the mood for watching hyperstream. Friendly though.

Golem shrugged and moved on. He thought about spending a few hours in the tactical simulator, but decided not to right now. That did remind him of something he had been meaning to do though. Now that he would have air support, this seemed like a good oppertunity to get a target marker for his rifle. One never knows when a strategic air strike on any target could save lives.

Of course it wouldn't do much good if the pilots weren't aware of it and able to detect the marker, so he headed off to find the CAG.

Seth rolled off the couch to land on his feet shortly after the unknown, but presumably grunt, had departed. He then headed over to the processor and got it to spit out another serving that seemed better suited to a gathering of people rather than one.

Returning to the rec-room, he found that someones had occupied the couch and took a seat at a nearby table to eat. After putting away more food than should have been remotely possible, especially considering the relatively short time between meals, he got up and headed over one of the practice mats.

As he was already bearfooted, he didn't have to remove his shoes. Taking a seat in the seiza position he closed his eyes and fell asleep again, waiting for either something to happen or someone to challenge him.

A definite chill flowed through the room as Vynd stepped into the off-duty room and glared at a few crewmembers who were on duty, who promptly vanished to their respective tasks. That being done, he walked to the noticeboard and tacked a duty roster to the bulletin board.

The crew and grunts had been divided into three groups and three shifts, two groups to a shift.

He then left as quickly as he came.

Formal Fabrication Request Form (FFRF)
FROM: Cprl. Tearsend (Approved for fabrication access - level 1)

I, Cprl. Tearsend, request the following items for fabrication:

20 heat-tested steel sheets (10cmX(50x50 cm))
A Boring Kit
Military Grade Cutting Laser
6 Laser Crystals

Most Respectfully,
Turk Tearsend
Corporal


"Ok, dude. Let's get right on that, shall we?". Anders wasn't really all that serious - but he was good at what he did. Fingers easily running across an antiqudated keyboard, letters flickered onto a screen as he approved the corporal's request. "Seems like someone wants to test out a few lasers, ok. You got my approval, dude. Firin' up the fabbers right now. I advise standin' by, and I'll lend you an antigrav lifter if you want to haul 'em around."

A few moments later, mass was rearranged by progidous amounts of energy, and a flurry of sheets simply.. appeared. A boring kit was a little more difficult "Dude, I don't think we have kits for being boring..", Anders muttered, laughing at his joke privately. And then, the rest of the gear slid out, still hot, the heat dissipated quickly back into the fabber to use in a future operation.

He tapped the intercom, and spoke. "Ok, Corporal Tearsend. Got your stuff right there. It seems to be for a legit mission purpose, so we'll foot the bill. Keep in mind if you want us to fab you a holograph, or a receiver for GalNet, you'll need to pay that. Only do stuff that's for the ship on the ship's money, dude."

He cut it off, and began working again. The wormhole drive design had him stumped. He understood it, but trying to modify it to the captain's specifications.. he was going to need the connection to GalNet, after all.



- - - - - -


Johannsen looked at the message, and sighed. The wormhole drives were still being fired up, though. He could wait a minute. He had assumed that the crew's individual room-sims would be sufficient - but.. perhaps not. Then again, as he well knew, the Ellesrun was by far large enough to support that sort of thing. But it was blocky, large, and... why not? He typed up a quick message back.

TO: Sergeant Aramius Killic
FROM: Captain Johannsen
TOPIC: Re: Construction Of Proper Training Facilities

I have a better idea, sergeant. As a matter of fact, I kept the Ellesrun to a single floor simply because it's easier to traverse - that, and it gives us a buffer zone of two floors above us, and two floors below us, the two outmost of which are used to generate our inertial dampening field - I kept the other two floors free to facilitate organisation. The roof is soldered, and the decks between us and the dampeners are fully walled, roofed, and prepared to house rooms. If you wish, you may take the area above the crew quarters to use as a training area. You can fab terrain as you wish, as I feel combat training for the crew outside of the holographic interfaces I've installed in your personal quarters could be useful.

Just take an antigrav lift from the armory, and a fusion cutter, and you should be able to fashion a rudimentary lift.
- -


Johannsen stopped typing, and smiled. It was time to initiate the test. If all went well, the crew wouldn't feel a thing, other than a brief moment of dizziness and discomfort. If all went badly... well, there wouldn't be any measures that would save them, in any case.

He hit the key. He couldn't see it, but the sensors showed a newly-formed wormhole. He rested his hands on the console, taking the captain right of linking neurally with the ship - he could feel the wormhole. The sensors were his eyes and ears, and his body was merely a vessel to faciliate this. He moved one 'leg', a booster increasing the acceleration, and... they entered the wormhole.

A moment later, he awoke. A crewmember was standing over him, asking if he was fine. He nodded, and spoke, his voice somewhat rusty from stress. "Did.. did we make it fine?".

"Make what fine, sir?", the woman asked. He smiled. "Young lady, we have just travelled through a short-range wormhole. The ship's wormhole system is operative."

She looked at him, shocked. He turned around, and spoke into the ship's intercom system. "This is Captain Johannsen. Congratulations. We have just made successful transit through a short-ranged wormhole. I am pleased to announce that the final ship's system is prepared and ready for our upcoming mission. We'll be several days in transit, and the majority of this will not be wormhole travel. Please note that GalNet services may not be entirely operative during this period of time, however, the fabricator and entertainment facilities will be. If any fighter pilots wish to conduct basic training, now is the time to do so."

Johannsen smiled. A ten-thousand cred bonus to every crewmember. That was something he could afford, even with the down payment on this mission from their new employers. No doubt they'd be happy to see that... He stood, and left the wormhole operation to Anders. That was the waiting period of a few days - reconfiguring the drive, and making sure everything was ready. And, of course, they'd have to monitor all communications - the mission was classified, so everything that went over the galactic networks would have to be approved beforehand.

He sighed, and leaned back. After a brief rest.. he might just go and see what the crew were doing..

TO: Sergeant Aramius Killic
FROM: Captain Johannsen
TOPIC: Re: Construction Of Proper Training Facilities

I have a better idea, sergeant. As a matter of fact, I kept the Ellesrun to a single floor simply because it's easier to traverse - that, and it gives us a buffer zone of two floors above us, and two floors below us, the two outmost of which are used to generate our inertial dampening field - I kept the other two floors free to facilitate organisation. The roof is soldered, and the decks between us and the dampeners are fully walled, roofed, and prepared to house rooms. If you wish, you may take the area above the crew quarters to use as a training area. You can fab terrain as you wish, as I feel combat training for the crew outside of the holographic interfaces I've installed in your personal quarters could be useful.

Just take an antigrav lift from the armory, and a fusion cutter, and you should be able to fashion a rudimentary lift.

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

Finishing his read of the message, Aramius smiled slightly, before exiting his quarters and heading straight for the armoury. Entering, he noticed that the on-duty officer was not present. 'Probably in the Rec Room...if Vyndie catches them there, there'll be hell to pay...'

Walking to the gear lockers, Aramius collected an antigravity lift and a fusion torch, took them to the end of the crew quarters section, deployed and activated the lift, then tuned it so it would lift him into an ideal position to burn the hole to the second level. Three minutes later, Aramius was in the second floor, surveying the area given to him for the training space with glee. He planned it all out in his mind. 'A bridge chokepoint section in that corner, interactive firing range there, live fire obstacle course there, and that section...that'll be the area for acclimatisation and preparation for missions. If I can get it pressurized right, that is...

Coming back down the lift, Aramius took a moment to set up a DO NOT ENTER sign, then proceeded to his console and typed up a message for Anders.

Formal Fabrication Request Form
FROM: Sgt. Killic

Sgt. Killic requesting the following equipment and materials for construction
of a large scale ground troop training area.

Eight square metres sheet metal, bridge construction strength.
Three hundred fifty metres barbed wire.
Five 2.5mm slug machine guns.
500,000 2.5mm slugs.
Six tonnes dirt.
One Pressure Chamber with variable climate.
Six programmable construction robots.
Four digital forcefield targets of the following sizes: 5cm diameter, 8cm
diameter, 12cm diameter, 14cm diameter.
One digital forcefield target, approximate size & shape of an
armoured vehicle of tank type.

Apologies for the size of this order, if certain elements will take
longer than others, no rush, can wait.

Most Respectfully,
Aramius Killic
Sergeant

Getting out of the seat after sending the message, Aramius resolved to stay away from any of the fabbie techs, especially Anders, for the next few days...

"Jeez! What is it with this new ship? It's like everyone wants to try out the new toy! And there's only four of us as it is. Hey! Gornan! Get over here! I want you to process an order."

The sergeant was cleared - a notice for fabrication clearance for the training deck had come through a moment before. But the wormhole drive took up all of his attention - Anders was one of the most expensive men on the ship. He liked working on the ship - they were outside the law, he had generally illegal toys, like annnihilation plants linked up to fabrication units, and the expenses on his salary alone paid for the six or seven personal experiments he ran in the lab.

He made money, as well, and he had a private, shielded environment. It was virtually like a research lab with unlimited funding - trying to get funding normally was impossible. Sure, he had to work for the captain as well, but.. he had no restraints on his research. He had assistants to boot, and access to the private, scientific circles on GalNet - if it wasn't for the threat of impending capture, death, or torture, he had no doubt that most scientists would've worked on mercenary vessels as well. Or, at least most scientists who 'thought outside the square', the square being ethics and morality.

Gornan, his assistant, was running the fabber today. Or at least he was now. "Gornan, get on these things, ok? The training deck should at least reduce the amount of runners on the normal deck, eh? We can get stuff in and out of the lab without being bothered by the crew who don't know us."



Eight square metres sheet metal, bridge construction strength.
Three hundred fifty metres barbed wire.
Five 2.5mm slug machine guns.
500,000 2.5mm slugs.
Six tonnes dirt.
One Pressure Chamber with variable climate.
Six programmable construction robots.
Four digital forcefield targets of the following sizes: 5cm diameter, 8cm
diameter, 12cm diameter, 14cm diameter.
One digital forcefield target, approximate size & shape of an
armoured vehicle of tank type.

Gornan looked at the list, and sighed. It wasn't a hard list to fabricate - apart from the constructure robots. A pressure chamber... just needed minor assembler units stored in the chamber to allow the users to change the type of air and water, and whatnot, and a simple depressurization system. Dirt, barbed wire, sheet metal.. he could pump them out in a second. If something isn't very complex, it still uses the same amount of power, but the time used to set the fabber was vastly reduced.

He set up a commlink to the sergeant's current location - non-dispersive sound was useful, at times. Only the sergeant could hear him, and there was no mindwaves or complexity involved - just sound directed so specifically at the sergeant's eardrum, that no-one near him would hear anything whatsoever.

"Sergeant Killic, I've approved your order. 'figured you wanted the pressure chamber first, so I've fabbed the individual sections, and I've also got a servo-bit with an antigrav lifter on its way up there to let you get it installed. The guns and the like are on their way - as is the dirt, and the other stuff. There's a set of transfer tubes up the second floor from the fabber - the 'tubes were originally there for access before the Ellesrun underwent her upgrades, and we can shoot out the stuff you need as soon as you get it set up."

He took a deep breath. He sounded a bit nervous - he normally didn't speak to the staff. And he was only really an assistant - Anders was invaluable; he couldn't be fired, almost no matter what he did. On the other hand, he wasn't.

"We have forcefields like that in stock in the armory - you can go pick up a set of variables, and just set them to the size you want. We've got a trio of ship repair and upgrade 'bots in the armory as well - they should be admirably outfitted to whatever you need. Fabbing materials is easy, fabbing AI programs isn't. I can still fab you the construction 'bots you need, but they'll take several days while we create the feedback loop so that we can give them enough intelligence to do what you want."

Another breath. He was less nervous, now. No doubt the man was somewhat worried, after all, he was the only one who could hear Gornan's voice.

"I've made the guns low-powered, the bodyarmor we have should be sufficient to protect your troops from uranium at the low level of firepower I've set. If you want anything else, just ask. Captain's given you all but free reign up there."

He sighed. The cost, as always, would be tremendous. Antimatter neutronium wasn't cheap, by any means. But, then again, they didn't go through legal channels. A pirate looking to get a nice bundle of cash from his looted freighter was their primary source of fuel - and the cost was inconsequential compared to the return, because of it.

But the robots.. he swore. Those damned 'bots.. fabbing anything was easy - provided they had the matter, and the energy, he could turn out anything they wanted - of course, fabbers couldn't make antimatter, but it wasn't limited to anything but mass and volume besides. Once he constructed the infinitely delicate brain.. they had to create an algorithm designed for construction and obedience, and feed specific data into it to construct an intelligence. And that was the hard bit. Taking time away from Anders's projects.. he didn't relish doing that, not one bit.

'Ok, thanks for the news Gornan. As for the construction bots, start fabbing them, but don't put them at a high priority. I'll check the repair and upgrade bots to see if they can do the initial work. As for the rest, just send it up, I'll get it all sorted out. Oh, and sorry about having to ask for bots...' replied Killic on his comlink, before dashing out of his quarters and into the armoury to order the upgrade & repair bots to head up the antigrav lift, before once again dashing back to the lift, heading up one level, then dashing over to the tubes to shift the order's components out of the way upon delivery.

Johannsen looked at the tactical display, and decided to open up a game. Of course, the 'game' was not a game at all, but a graphic display of an AI program - thousands upon thousands of ship designs, combat situations, national information, diplomatic sitatuations...

It was the ultimate 'game'. It had a cult following over GalNet, who played it vigorously. Johannsen, on the other hand, ordered an AI moulded to the program, modified it extensively, and used it to plot out individual situations in their mission.

He sighed, as the tiny Ellesrun was shattered to pieces by a larger destroyer - the ship certainly didn't have enough firepower to go toe-to-toe with supercaps. Again. A Star Destroyer. Of course, the key to destroying one of those was a situational advantage. Some Star Destroyers were weaker than others - those in the employ of the Empire proper, for instance, would reduce the Ellesrun down to a ball of molten slag with little trouble. However, the shoddy, weaker Star Destroyers, those employed by many vassals of the Empire.. those were vessels he could hope for victory against.

But it didn't really matter that much. "The American Privateer", he muttered. A basic search on their capabilities was only what was available over GalNet - not a complete design document, but a gauge of their power and skill in combat, on average. He didn't know where they'd be going to capture this so-called renegade, and gauging the Ellesrun's capabilities...


Hmmm.. not much information on TAP vessels. It would be some time yet before he was ready to make for the 1010102 station - but he could still prepare himself for the mission in other ways.


To: Relevant 1010102 department of affairs
This is Captain Johannsen. I've been hired with the mission of tracking down a Privateerian renegade who seems to be interfering in your affairs - however, I have a feeling we might have to engage TAP ships during the course of this mission. If you'd be so kind as to transmit basic tactical data on the capabilities of the weapons, shields, and both FTL and sublight engines on the TAP vessels you've encountered.. it'd go a long way to helping us prepare.

- Captain Johannsen, Privateer in the service of the 1010102 Empire.

Turk thanked Anders for the supplies and took them to the armory. Finally, something to work with he thought. He began to bore a hole in one of the metal sheets, and started shaping some of the other metal pieces. He used a laser crystal mounted in a holding bracket, and shot at his practice wall in the armory. It burned satisfactory, so he placed it in the weapon he was crafting and condinued. In about an hour, he had made a long-range zero-atmospheric sniper rifle.

He was still tinkering with a way to make the laser not appear, but just hit the target when a sergent came in looking for robots. Never use them anyways... He let the sergent have them, and asked if he wanted training weapons similiar to those that all the crewmembers used.

Bumble grinned, as unnerving and potentially disastrous each of his flights were, they were still enjoyable, and he couldn't wait to try out the modifications he'd ordered.

He set off in search of the CAG to ask for clearance for a flight, but stopped on the way. To his knowledge noone else had applied for a Lieutenant position, and despite his frequent runs of bad luck he was a pretty good pilot, and probably more experienced than most of the others. Finding a free terminal, he typed a message to Apollo, or whatever the thing called itself.

TO: Ellesrun CAG
FROM: Burt Henkt
TOPIC: Lieutenant Application

I would like to apply for the position of Lieutenant for one of the squads proposed in briefing earlier.

I can bring several good qualities to the position:

I have nine years flight experience, six of which are combat flight.
I have experience of dogfighting and skirmishes around a 'mission critical' object.
This was a space station but the concept could be transferred to a frigate vessel.

While I have never officially commanded a squadron,
I have enjoyed positions of responsibility within squadrons, and consider myself a team player.

I believe that besides piloting skill and weaponry, which appear to be in abundance here.
I have other qualities that are essential to an effective squadron.
I have communications skills and a knowledge of tactics on a squadron to squadron basis, as well as ship to ship.

I also believe it would be a wise idea to conduct some training sessions in the near future,
so that we may see the actual combat effectiveness of our pilots.

Thanks for your time,
Burt Henkt.

Johannsen looked at the tactical display, and decided to open up a game. Of course, the 'game' was not a game at all, but a graphic display of an AI program - thousands upon thousands of ship designs, combat situations, national information, diplomatic sitatuations...

It was the ultimate 'game'. It had a cult following over GalNet, who played it vigorously. Johannsen, on the other hand, ordered an AI moulded to the program, modified it extensively, and used it to plot out individual situations in their mission.

He sighed, as the tiny Ellesrun was shattered to pieces by a larger destroyer - the ship certainly didn't have enough firepower to go toe-to-toe with supercaps. Again. A Star Destroyer. Of course, the key to destroying one of those was a situational advantage. Some Star Destroyers were weaker than others - those in the employ of the Empire proper, for instance, would reduce the Ellesrun down to a ball of molten slag with little trouble. However, the shoddy, weaker Star Destroyers, those employed by many vassals of the Empire.. those were vessels he could hope for victory against.

But it didn't really matter that much. "The American Privateer", he muttered. A basic search on their capabilities was only what was available over GalNet - not a complete design document, but a gauge of their power and skill in combat, on average. He didn't know where they'd be going to capture this so-called renegade, and gauging the Ellesrun's capabilities...


Hmmm.. not much information on TAP vessels. It would be some time yet before he was ready to make for the 1010102 station - but he could still prepare himself for the mission in other ways.


To: Relevant 1010102 department of affairs
This is Captain Johannsen. I've been hired with the mission of tracking down a Privateerian renegade who seems to be interfering in your affairs - however, I have a feeling we might have to engage TAP ships during the course of this mission. If you'd be so kind as to transmit basic tactical data on the capabilities of the weapons, shields, and both FTL and sublight engines on the TAP vessels you've encountered.. it'd go a long way to helping us prepare.

- Captain Johannsen, Privateer in the service of the 1010102 Empire.

OCC: that might be a problem. He uses anything he can get his hands on, from BSG to Zoids. he has a world devastator, he claims to have several super star destroyers, anything like that.

Corporal Redgard had tried to catch some sleep, and failed miserably. The tension of the upcoming mission was keeping him up, and he needed something to do. He decided to go down to the rec room and get some excersise. Before leaving his bunk, he changed into a pair of loose shorts and a sweatshirt.

He walked through the halls, ignoring the stares of others at his bare feet. After he stepped into the rec room, he stripped off his sweatshirt and took a quick jog around the exercise area to warm up, and then stretched his legs, looking around as he did so. He saw another man, whom he'd seen in the halls a few times and recognized as Seth. The man, Seth, was sitting, in a way that James only knew as Nipponese-style.

Redgard gave himself a mental shrug, and walked to the practice mat, sitting down, splay-legged. He realised Seth's eyes were closed. After pausing for a second, James asked, "Hey, you asleep, man?"

Seth heard a voice through his sleep and music and opened his eyes to see someone sitting splay-legged on the mat. "Well I was." He replied dryly. "But you seem to have taken it upon yourself to wake me. That being said, is there something you would like, Sir?"

With the inflection he used on sir, he turned it into even more of an insult than it would normally be, considering he was addressing an corporal as an officer.

OOC: Sorry, I had to eat.
IC:

Redgard stood up and held out his hand, a nonverbal offer to help Seth up. "No decor, Seth. It is Seth, right?" James shook his head, brushing his own question aside. "Anyway, you come across as the only competent hand to hand fighter here, so I want to spar with you. Wanna play along?" James grinned.

Seth didn't take the offered hand as it was neither needed, nor helpful in the given circumstances. "Correct, and judging by appearence, you are Corporal James Redgard." He replied as he finished standing.

"Play?" He asked with a raised eyebrow as he prepared to mock his military superior. "I've yet to find any competent practioner of any martial art who refers to it as play. Do you wish to spar unarmed or armed?"

ooc: No prob

The insults didn't faze Redgard.

"Unarmed. I see no reason to stab you," James said with an easy grin. He put his right foot forward and brought his hands up to eye level. "Ready?"

Wandering into the recreation room, as the the bipeds seemed to not like to watch him eat raw meat, the two bipeds conversing interested him. The bipeds assuming combat stances interesting him, and he ate and watched them at the same time.

Seth undid the sheaths for his pair of knives, setting them down on the edge of the mat, depositing his ear piece as well. Returning he bowed, keeping his eyes on James the entire time.

Straightening, he assumed a mirrored position, "You may begin."

James nodded and slowly stepped forward looking for an opening. When one didn't present itself, he used his right (back) foot to sweep at Seth's front ankle.

As this wasn't intended as a serious match, or at least Seth wasn't viewing it as such, he simply backstepped to avoid the sweep. He was watching for side or limb favouratism, the signs of old injuries and the other tell-tales that gave up an opponents weakness, while conserving his own movements to minimize his own.

OOC: Okay, fix'd. I never intended for him to keep wearing the shirt in the first place...

IC:
James read the backstep just as it began, and shot for Seth's legs, aiming to barrel him down and pin Seth under him.

As he slid backward, James lunged forward in a low tackle. Considering he wasn't really interested in doing serious injury for a couple reasons, the most primary being the fact that he didn't know how vengeful Redgard might be to someone who broke his nose, Seth brought his knee up a fraction later than the ideal damage point.

Unless the corporal was insanely flexible, he'd find out what a knee to the clavicle felt like. With the blow delivered he was still hit, but higher up than James had been intending. Still falling, he landed on his posterior rather than in a supine position.

OOC: Why didn't he just go for the jaw? That would have ended the fight right there, with no lasting damage... although, that's assuming Seth got his knee up in the first place. Seriously, the clavicle, though? That's just going to give James a better position after the tackle...

IC:
James grunted from the hit to his collarbone, but it worked out to his advantage. He fell with Seth and ended up about level to him, sitting pelvis-to-pelvis, rather than Redgard's pelvis ending up on Seth's shins or ankles, or, even worse, between his thighs. As it was, he was pretty much in perfect striking position: James started throwing elbows and straight shots at Seth's jaw and forehead.

Rather than attempting to block the first punch thrown by James, he did twist to avoid it while launching a counter-attack of his own, one that necessitated high amounts of flexibility.

Swinging his foot up in a rapid arc, he kicked Redgard in the back of the head, while at the same time getting a partial grip on his ribcage and falling backward, in effect, preforming a throw from a position that would be most unexpected.

ooc: For much the same reason he avoided the nose. Broken teeth can make people very testy as well.

As James managed to land up relatively in a similar position, comparatively close, he launched a opened handed blow at the man's left eye-socket. As he did so, James launched his own assault, prompting Seth to lean backward.

While it lessened the effect of the slap, it would stil, cause a flinch reaction. In the instant James' eyes closed, Seth rolled to the side and onto his feet.

ooc: For much the same reason he avoided the nose. Broken teeth can make people very testy as well.

OOC: I've never lost teeth from that... And, anyway, from that position, it would have just slid the jaw backwards, pinching the nerve behind it, knocking James out. Also, how did Seth get to his feet? Does he suddenly have the ability to become noncorporeal? <_<

IC:
James barely even noticed the slap, but it formed an optical shield that somehow allowed Seth to slip out of his mount. From his crouched position, James pounced at his legs just as Seth stood again.

As the two bipeds continued fighting, Kralthix watched with interest at this ritual combat. It began to wonder how strange they must be, for neither biped had as of yet gotten much progress in hurting the other one. It watched on with glee, wondering which one of them would die, and whether it would be considered a family kill, and so all would share in the meat, or a singular kill, where only the killer got to eat it.

raven entered he rec room and saw a small circle sourronding to people fighting seeing it was a sparring match he decied to watch he had never been good at hand to hand but he could see this would be good

Standing up to review his work, Aramius smiled, having just finished pressure-testing the acclimatization chamber, with a positive test. Turning to survey the work of the upgrade & repair bots, he noted with satisfaction that the Bridge Chokepoint setting was set up, and the firing range and live-fire obstacle course was completely ready. Hitting a button, the firing range forcefields lighted up, the 2.5mm slug guns loaded and the pressure chamber power plant whined as the chamber came to the set temperature, air mix and water composition.

Walking over to a console, he typed up two seperate messages:

TO: Captain Johannsen
FROM: Sergeant Killic
TOPIC: Deck 2 Training Area

The Deck 2 Training Area has been completed, and I will begin conducting training sessions immediately. However, I would like to request climate conditions for the planet we are to be operating on. Also, I would like to invite you to inspect the area.

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

TO: All Ground Combat Personnel, Sergeant & Below
FROM: Sergeant Killic
TOPIC: Deck 2 Training Area

All Combat Personnel are recommended to make use of the new training area on Deck 2, accessible from the anti-grav lift at the bow end of the crew quarters section. Training sessions and acclimatization postings are to follow.


Sending both messages, Aramius picked up his Z-3 Rifle from it's place, propped on the wall, set up at the 5cm Target Range, and proceeded to let loose.

OCC: that might be a problem. He uses anything he can get his hands on, from BSG to Zoids. he has a world devastator, he claims to have several super star destroyers, anything like that.

OOC: Ah. Is he amenable to this mission? Have you talked to him about it? 'cause I don't want to send the whole RP off towards him, and then get shot down before we even start..

"Ah, another message. Well, it's not like I was winning in any case", muttered Johannsen. The Ellesrun was once again shattered - this time by an ESUS vessel, one of the participants in the great war that raged across the galaxy - one of the few scans that was running around GalNet illicitly nowadays.

TO: Captain Johannsen
FROM: Sergeant Killic
TOPIC: Re: Deck 2 Training Area

Unfortunately, we have not received information about our mission's location - as of right now, I'm extracting information from our employers to extrapolate his location - once we discover his location, I'll be sure to inform you of the operative parametres we'll be acting under.

Also unfortunately, I have to continue my work on the bridge - right now, I don't have time to inspect the new area. However, as soon as I have some spare time, I'll swing by, and take the antigrav lift up to the combat deck.

- Johannsen.
- - - - - - - -

He hit a key - there were only nanonic cameras in the area. A nanobot by itself made for a poor camera - but millions of them, strewn across the ship, were like thousands of tiny little eyes which could act in unison to see what was happening across the ship. The area looked.. formidable.

That was one of his less intelligent 'improvements'. Nanocameras were incredibly delicate - he'd lost over half of them in two days. He considered simply installing normal, but hidden cameras on the ship.. perhaps it was an invasion of privacy, but.. there was always risk. And it was best to allay risk before it could come about.

Vynd was at his desk in his quarters, looking over the highly varied firearms employed by the crew and grunts on the ship, and sighed dejectedly. It would be hell to keep sufficient stocks on hand for everybody's weapons and distribute them efficiently.

"These things can't be issued quickly at all. And two or three clips isn't going to last an extended firefight..."

At that point, a reasonably unrelated idea struck him, a union between the principles of Damage Control and Logistics.

"That's it!"

He tapped out a message to the captain on his console.

To: Captain Johannsen
From: Lt. Com. Guripo
Topic: Munitions

Our current ammunition stocks are highly varied owing to the variety of personal weapons carried by the crew, however intercompatibility between firearms is low - in event of an extended firefight provisions of specialised ammunition is nigh impossible.

As such, I am requesting permission to implement and enforce standard-issue sidearms and the production of specialised ammunition to enhance versatility during a firefight.

Such ammunition would include High Explosive rounds, Incinedary rounds and Neutrino rounds, among others, in addition to standard Armour Piercing rounds. This I believe would allow for additional versatility when combatants are reduced to sidearms, as well as maintaining a high potential kill rate against armoured opponents.

"...neutrino rounds? Surely the man means neutrons. Ah, well. There are typing errors in every message."

A quick missive back to the first mate, and Johannsen continued his research.


To: Lt. Com. Guripo
From: Captain Johannsen
Topic: Re: Munitions

You'll find that any powered armor suited for combat that we have is already built to factory specifications - they all use the same ammunition. Most troops will be kitted up in the body armor we've got before they enter combat. We've also got the capabilities on-board to fabricate enough ammo for.. well, forever. If you wish, however, as you have near-unlimited useage-limit with the fabricators, you may create a set of standard-issue guns and ammo to give out to the crew on possibly long missions.

Then again, I'm also mildly distressed at the useage of slug weapons in this crew - they may be easily renewable, provided a small reshaping device is built-in, but.. ah, well. The men choose their own weaponry. After all, no matter who we fight, we're almost guaranteed to be outgunned and outnumbered. A large amount of overwhelming firepower in a short amount of time gives us time to get the hell out of hostile quarters - if we're in there for the long haul, chances are that we've lost the Ellesrun, or we're being paid enough that we can afford to drag a few fabbers down the surface just to keep the troops happy.

- - - - - -

Another simulation. TAP forces seemed to be relatively weak - numerous, it was true, but weak on their own. Surgical strikes, in-and-out within minutes seemed to be the way to go. If they had information on the location of this renegade.. they'd earn a lot of money with very little damage done.

"Snap. Damnable autofiller."

The reply came quickly, and Vynd tapped out a confirmation of the finalised plans for reference.


To: Captain Johannsen
From: Lt. Com. Guripo
Topic: Re: Munitions

Very well, I shall produce prototypes for evaluation by the grunts. Current high-priority loadouts would be the HE and Incinedary rounds, for tactical control reasons.

Having witnessed the use of HE loadouts, it must be said that despite low penetrating power against power-armour, soldiers must be trained explicitly to ignore such a threat, as the psychological effect is impressive, besides often disabling secondary sensors.

I will report when prototypes have been completed and the soldiers have had opportunity for field testing.

Tenarius had been sitting in the mess hall this whole time, generally lounging around and not doing anything.
He had taken some time to watch these two idiots fight- how pathetic. He was reading nearly every single move of theirs.
Wondering about any missions that were being undertaken, he decided to head off and find the captain wherever he was.

Bumble was being tracked down. Eventually, while Bumble was exiting his quarters one morning, he'd find that little green Blub staring up at him with eyestalks. The translator kicked on, "Greetings. I have seen your application. It has been accepted. I am promoting you to junior-grade Lieutenant, upgrade pending successful leadership of your squadron."

He handed over the comission paper. "Pick ten pilots and a name for your squadron, then provide me with a TO&E/OOB for the unit as well as the logistical needs. Ammunition types, fuel types and such."

Bumble raised an eyebrow, he hadn't really expected to get the commision, although he was naturally pleased that he had. The paperwork of course was going to be a hassle, but it made a nice change from maintenance jobs, which he had seen far too much of lately.

He immediately had a name in mind, he knew how hard it would be to keep track of squadrons in battle, and he wasn't going to make someone's life harder by picking something odd. Obviously then, being the first squadron formed, it was logical to take 'Alpha' as the name, it would double as a callsign too.

He'd never filed an order of battle nor an organisation and equipment table before, but he was pretty sure he'd need to get some pilots onboard before he could complete anything.

Heading over to a console, he drafted a quick message to the other pilots.

To: Pilots
From: Burt Henkt
Subject: Squadron sign-up

As you heard in the briefing earlier, the Ellesrun is to maintain two squadrons of attack craft, I'm fortunate enough to be commanding one of them. Alpha Squadron is now looking for pilots of fighters, interceptors and bombers to sign up ASAP so that training may commence before we reach the target.

Please reply if interested, and remember, ALL attack craft are required to join one of the two squadrons.

Junior Lieutenant Burt Henkt.

Golem finally ran into Apollo.

"Afternoon CAG. Golem Fledger, I'm a scout with the ground forces. I was going to go talk to the gunsmith about getting a target marker for my long range rifle. I wanted to check in with you first to see if you had any preference. After all, you and your pilots will be ones targeting the thing."

Just then his PDA quietly indicated he had a new message. He noted it and would check it after this conversation was over.

OOC: Ah. Is he amenable to this mission? Have you talked to him about it? 'cause I don't want to send the whole RP off towards him, and then get shot down before we even start..

There times when he goes 5 or 6 days befoire logging on to NS.

Domingo staggered back into the Trolley, he would need to fix that last step which would throw people inside, before he could call out Matem had loaded herself up and was awaiting command from Domingo, "Yes, yes, bring up any messages, Matem happily obliged and her face was replaced by the following

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

To: Pilots
From: Burt Henkt
Subject: Squadron sign-up

As you heard in the briefing earlier, the Ellesrun is to maintain two squadrons of attack craft, I'm fortunate enough to be commanding one of them. Alpha Squadron is now looking for pilots of fighters, interceptors and bombers to sign up ASAP so that training may commence before we reach the target.

Please reply if interested, and remember, ALL attack craft are required to join one of the two squadrons.

Junior Lieutenant Burt Henkt.

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

Domingo sat back in the most comfortable chair around, he sighed and closed his eyes for a brief second, "Send a response, Domingo, pilot of the Trolley is signing up for duty in Alpha squad, or I dunno anything similar..." Domingo said little more before his eyes became heavier and he curled up on the chair, his Robes acting as a rudimentry blanket.

Wandering around and so far unable to find the captain, Tenarius stopped around at a room that said Recreation.
"Hmmm, interesting"
He walked in, wondering what was in it.
OOC: Hyperspatial, what is in the Rec room, anyway?

To: Pilots
From: Burt Henkt
Subject: Squadron sign-up

As you heard in the briefing earlier, the Ellesrun is to maintain two squadrons of attack craft, I'm fortunate enough to be commanding one of them. Alpha Squadron is now looking for pilots of fighters, interceptors and bombers to sign up ASAP so that training may commence before we reach the target.

Please reply if interested, and remember, ALL attack craft are required to join one of the two squadrons.

Junior Lieutenant Burt Henkt.


raven got the message and quickly deceied to sign up he figured he had to do it sonner than later

to: letuinet burt henkt
from:raven
Subject: squadron sign up

I am signing up for alpha squadron if there is anything you need tell me

To: Alpha Applicants
From: Burt Henkt
Subject: Accepted

Thank the both of you for your applications, the CAG has asked me to prepare an order of battle and equipment list for the squadron, and as such, any details on your vessels and preferred roles would be useful.

Thanks again,
Junior Lieutenant Henkt.

Domingo rolled out of the chair and crashed onto the cold steel floor, Matem had herself open again and Domingo slowly stirred, he wasn't gonna get any sleep, he glanced at the new message which had appeared.

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

To: Alpha Applicants
From: Burt Henkt
Subject: Accepted

Thank the both of you for your applications, the CAG has asked me to prepare an order of battle and equipment list for the squadron, and as such, any details on your vessels and preferred roles would be useful.

Thanks again,
Junior Lieutenant Henkt.

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

"Matem, could you upload the specs of the Trolley to this message?" Matem remained silent, "Ah bollox, the voice thingies broke again right?" Matem nodded, Domingo sighed but rather than work on it now he decided to write up a response.

To: Burt Henkt
From: Junior Engine-Priest Domingo den Bergh
Subject: Specs

I thankyou for granting me the chance in the Alpha, the specifications on my vessel a little hard to comeby at the moment, from memory I can tell you that I have a poor quality Deflection shield, a Missile Pod and two forward Laser Guns, I do know that I would be best suited in the role of a Tow Ship, although I am lightly suited to combat conditions and would not mind if you did put me in a combat role.

Signing off
Junior Engine-Priest Domingo den Bergh[/QUOTE]

I have a regular tie interceptor that can carry a veiw small bombs for infantry support but can not do much against a medium size ship all though my deflection sheilds are good

OOC: Dentara, you might have missed this
He was still tinkering with a way to make the laser not appear, but just hit the target when a sergent came in looking for robots. Never use them anyways... He let the sergent have them, and asked if he wanted training weapons similiar to those that all the crewmembers used.

Just wondering on a reply, no biggie.

IC: Turk was making final adjustments to his zero-atmospheric rifle. He had gotten the laser to not show up, and was silent, making for a excellent sniper rifle. His current problem was the heat it gave off. Sure, if you shot someone with it, anyone with normal vision would have no clue where it came from, but anyone with thermal imaging and the like would be able to tell in a heartbeat.

As he was tinkering, he heard people outside the armory talking about getting a target marker for a rifle. Anticipating the formal request, Turk started getting material together for one. He hadn't worked with lasers much before, but he would use his knowleged from the weapon he had just crafted in order to make the marker's laser only show up on the target. He was going to need a chip as well to send the coordinates of the marker to the planes that would be bombing the target. He thought up a quick message to Anders in the fab room.


TO: Anders, Head Fabricator
FROM: Cpl. Turk Tearsend

Anders,
Thank you again for the last batch of stuff. I am requesting a AI chip,
the smaller the better. It needs to have a trasmitter and reciever built
in, and be programmible. I don't need any AI with it, just the chip. It
is for a target marker. Thanks again.

Respectfully,
Cpl. Turk Tearsend

Another assistant scrambled to type the message - Anders was annoyed, now. He spoke. "Man.. take all incoming messages for me, 'less they're from the 'Chief, or the Mate.".

Illyno, the next assistant, used Anders's account - it was easier than using his own, and getting a number of 'who' replies from the crew. He typed in Anders's full name, and got an annoyed glance in return, just before he sent it.

TO: Cpl. Turk Tearsend
FROM: Yomovich Anders, Chief Fabricator Engineer

Sorry, Corporal. We're a bit queued up right now; got a few orders going through. However, you can find chipsets build to communicate with the Ellesrun in the armory, I believe. Warchest Four, as the captain calls it. Use the console there to open Warchest Four, Section Eight, Unit Five. Fabbing computer parts is complicated, and anything that's small and expensive, we've probably got already.

- - -

Guripo typed out another message and sent it to the fabber room in advance of his arrival.

---
To: Yomovich Anders
From: Lt. Com. Guripo
Sub: Munitions

I am currently looking into the possibility of sidearms capable of delivering both High Explosive and Incinedary ammunition to be issued as standard. To be effective they should be capable of approximately a half metre radius of effect, and would like to discuss the mechanics of such an endeavour.

I will be coming down in an hour to that end.
---


Vynd headed down to the fabrication room personally, uncharacteristically preoccupied as he walked.

He entered the room, locating Anders and going over to him.

"Oh, you've gotta be kiddin' me. Who the hell-".

Anders was cut off by his assistant. "It's the First Mate, sir. He wants to talk to you."

Anders swore. "I almost had this wormhole thing figured! Damnit!".

He turned around, and looked at the First Mate, trying to compose himself as well as he could. "Hello, Lieutenant. Would you care to converse with me?".

Lessee, red wire hooks up to the green wire, yellow to purple...

Jake fiddled around inside of the shell, finishing hooking up the gravy-system to the box. Sitting back, he flipped the thing on and watched it rise slowly into the air. Smiling, he patted its metal top affectionately.

"Good boy... Now, get daddy a drink, yes?"

The floating box chirped happily, and hummed as it went to work. Within moments, a hatch on the front of it, and a zeegee bag filled of a dark brown liquid plopped out. Smiling, Marlin stabbed the bag with its straw and took a sip. Grimacing slightly, he set down the bag.

Too sweet... Hrm, maybe less vermouth next time...

As he leaned back into the inner workings of his new pet minibar, Marlin heard the door to the fabber control room open. Shutting the hatch on his faithful drinking buddy, Jake wandered over to the control panel, man's best friend bobbing along behind. Seeing the look on Ander's face, Marlin decided that this probably wasn't the best time to ask about the latest upgrade on his tank...

"Yes. It has recently become a potential issue that in an extended firefight any munitions supplies will rapidly run out - while this issue is not apparent with most energy weapons except where it pertains to cooldown, many heavy weapons are munitions reliant."

He paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the peculiar sight of what appeared to be one of the lieutenants with a smallish box floating behind him.

"To that end, would it be at all possible to miniaturise high explosive and incinedary loads to sidearm scale while still retaining around half metre radius? Grenades do this wonderfully, but when they run out a lot of options become closed."

OOC: Sorry barbarosea.

IC: Sitting at his quarters console, Aramius began typing up a message to the armoury officer who had asked him a question which he'd not heard. He'd found out about it when he did his typical review of his speech logs and found an entry at the time Aramius was searching for the bots.

---------------------------------------------------
TO: Cpl. Turk Tearsend
FROM: Sgt. Killic
TOPIC: Apologies

I only just found out that I had missed a question from you pertaining to the training course on Deck Two. Very sorry about that. Yes, I would like a stock of training weapons supplied to the firing range section on Deck Two for those who wish to use more generic weapons.

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

Finishing the message, Killic began typing up another message.

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TO: ALL Corporals & Troopers
FROM: Sergeant Killic, temporary Deck Two Training Officer
TOPIC: Training Schedule
FLAG: Important

All Corporals and Troopers are to read this message. The following is a listing of personnel who are required to report to the training deck (Deck Two), accessible by use of the bow side antigrav lift at the end of the Crew Quarters corrider, for a test operation using the 'Bridge Chokepoint' Scenario setup.

Corporal Turk Tearsend
Corporal James Redgard
Trooper Seth V. Ţepeş
Trooper Golem Fledger
Trooper Nexlon
Trooper Arthur Tenarius

All personnel are to be arranged into teams, to be agreed upon and chosen by the Corporals. Each team will consist of three people (One Corporal, Two Troopers) who will be assigned one of these roles: Squad Leader; Support Gunner; Rifleman/Scout. Note that this scenario will be undertaken several times, so that all personnel get some experience with each position.

Teams will be operating on a 200m x 80m area, consisting of a bridge, hilly terrain on either side of the bridge, and a channel of water, over which the bridge crosses. Although you will be able to (in this paticular exercise) wade across the water, thereby removing the dangers of the bridge, the objectives remain the same: one team is tasked with defending the bridge from an assault, the other team is assaulting the bridge. This exercise will take place six times, allowing all personnel to operate in each position and with both roles.

Please note that, while this exercise will involve us operating in standard Terran conditions, other exercises will differ, therefore I advise caution when debating whether or not to attempt to wade across the channel. Once I feel that you are operating at the required standard, I will begin introducing...complications. The first time these are used, you will be notified.

If any of the posted personnel cannot attend this exercise, please send a message indicating the reason (and it better be a good one).

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

Sending off the message, Aramius stood up and went back up to the training deck. Swinging his SMG into line, he began blasting away, looking for possible faults in his setup.

Seth rolled away from the sargent as he heard the announcement. "I guess this'll have to be put on hold." He commented as he went to get his ear-piece and knives.

Putting them back where they'd been, he headed off to the training deck for 'training'.

Turk had felt foolish for not knowing where the chips were located. He found one that fit his specifications and loaded his own gun-programming language on it. From there, he sync'd with the Ellesrun and tested out a few "bombing" runs. It worked, and he placed it on the top shelf of his gun rack.

With that done, he began working on his intergraded clip design when his quantum pulsed. A message he thought as he removed the device from his belt. As he read the messages, he began to over-charge the electrodes on his gun. He finished reading the messages. So I need to make the guns, but I need to report as well. Ok, I'll hold off on making them for now, I doubt anyone will want to use them right now. I'll just bring the 6 that I have already made. He went back to his clip design. As he released the clip, the next clip sitting on the table was immediately caught up by the magnets and lock in place. Turk looked at the clip in wonder. That wasn't supposed to happen, but it works. He noted to add a de-magnetizing strip to his body armor.

With that, he stored the six training weapons in a carrying case, and suited up. He was ready to go, and as he was walking out, he locked the room, only to be overridden by the captain himself.
---
As he arrived on Deck 2, he set down the equipment and looked around. He turned as...

(OOC: It's k Dentara. Also sorry for the short post, I'm running late)

To:Captain Johannsen
From General Steven Johnson
Subject: Our Contract

There has been some changes. The Privateerian leaders have agreed to hand him over to our forces. However that does not mean we have to end our contract. The Target will only change.

If you are interested then please contact me for more Information.

--------------------------------------END--------------------------


OCC: Basicaly my leader Thomas Johnson Sr. is having a fight with Steven Johnson, his youngest son, Steven wants his brothers out of the way. but his brothers are in very high places.
Thomas Sr. Dictator-bounty 6 trillion
Thomas Jr.- Leader of Imperial guard, and heir to the throne-bounty 2 trillion
William- Commander-in-chief Army-bounty 1 trillion
Roger- Commander-in-Chief Navy-bounty 1 trillion


Total bounty 10 trillion

this will come from the vast wealth of the Johnson family, totaled in the 100-500 trillion range. yhis has been aquired over several tousand years.

A trillion dollars.. or credits. Or whatever the people who were hiring them used. Even if each credit was only worth a cent, it'd be a massive sum! There wasn't really much of a choice. Bounty hunting was a difficult occupation, but, in this case, it seemed, it was a valuable one.

But... no. This was assassination. High-placed government officials? The Privateering notice they had certainly wouldn't cover killing those sort of people. Money was good, yes, but being alive to spend it was even better.

Our apologies, but we cannot assassinate high-placed officials of your government. We simply do not possess the firepower, nor do we possess the will to constantly be on the run, in the instance that we succeed, and your government comes down on us like a ton of bricks.

OOC: that was not IC. And once you kill them, General Steven Johnson will lead the 1010102 goverment as the new Dictator.

OOC: It's a coup, but to the public Steven will be loved as the only surviving member of the assassination attempt instead of the backstabbing murderous usurper. Am I correct?

OOC: It's a coup, but to the public Steven will be loved as the only surviving member of the assassination attempt instead of the backstabbing murderous usurper. Am I correct?

OOC: yes.

OOC: So, in effect, your contract is to make us do a series of black ops, where, if we are discovered, we are disavowed by our contractor and essentially offered up as a sacrifice to ensure you remain blameless?

OCC: actually, you will be cloned and the clones will be executed.

OOC: Except that if we fail, we would probably actualy be executed because the person who made the deal would not be in power yet... So yes, if we fail, we become scapegoats.

OOC: I say we take Gaius' contract

OOC: Seconded

OOC: Ah, why not? If GA can assure us of stuff to blow up (there's not much point in being mercenaries, otherwise), we'll take it.

OOC: This still going? We still gonna go assassinate some high profile people and pray we don't get either A) discovered or B) betrayed? We still gonna go blow some stuff up?

OOC: Riiiiiigght after my exams.

So we're still gonna blow shit up?
More of a post to emphasize that I'm still around.