The American Privateer
01-11-2008, 15:30
OOC: If you want to participate in this, please TG me to let me know.
IC:
New Tortuga:
Rebecca St. James stood atop the Polaris Ring in New Tortuga's Atlantis Hall. She looked down into the city-asteroid, blue light rippling as it played across her face.
Down below, on the floor of the fifteen story hall, the Stargate was open, with people streaming down towards Na Nex Sa through the gate. Loved ones kissed each other goodbye as women and children streamed throguh the gate, and for the first time in TAP'ian history, a Draft had been put into place.
All of those drafted into the Marines where wearing body armor and combat suits, but not the typical armor used by the Armed Forces. Power armor suits where useless against Hive, as the presence of more than thirty Hive could shut down a suit, no matter how robust, and render the person inside little more than a man in a tin can, waiting to be eaten.
The last group of refugees fled through the Gate, and it closed. The Iris locked itself, with only a very few being able to open it, and them members of faiths that did not allow Cybernetic enhancements.
Each soldier was handed a Lancer Assault Rifle, seven Pheonix Grenades, a longsword, and a lightweight rocket launcher. Thus equipped, they activated their personal distortion fields, which the Hive had not been able to uff, and stepped outside, onto the surface fo the Asteroid, protected from the Vacuum by their personal shields and their Armadillo Space Combat Suits.
The Manifest Zone:
Aboard the APN Theodore Roosevelt, the mood was tense. The combined force of three ships sat around the Manifest Zone, waiting for the insatiable horde to come their way.
"CONTACT, CONTACT, CONTACT" The tactical station announced, a slight note of panic in his voice. "500 Hive spheres incoming. Class Five all. Scans indicate 100 Soldier Spheres, and..." He stopped, panic in his eyes and a hitch in his throat. "Twenty Gluies, sir."
That stopped action across the entire command deck. Only one ship had ever survived contact with Gluies, and out of Thirty Samurai, only five of them had survived the contact.
"This is Admiral James Hamilton. All hands, General Quarters. Prepare to repel Hive. This is not a Drill."
Across the three combined fleets, gunports opened and the ships seemed to bristle with hostile intent.
The first Gorgon spheres became visibile in the Manifest Zone, a hundred of them moving at over ten lighyears a second.
"Fire Main Gun! Launch Missiles! Destroy them!"
Six Sovereign Class Super Star Destroyers fired their central line superlasers, breaking up six separate gorgon spheres, half of the member entities dead.
The other half kept wiggling. Organics wiggling in 2.8 kelvin, moving under their own power. Knowing what should happen to them was enough to chill the bones, as if the random-scattered taking of Gorgon claws on metal decks wasn't enough to give you nightmares for weeks.
Aldebaran Scarab Crickets started to go mad as in the command deck's ant terrarium, the ants began to purge out of their nests.
The Hive spheres kept coming, twitching and dodging as dark matter warheads detonated, creating micro-black-holes to suck as many gorgons into the hole as possible. However, it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
Nuclear warheads detonated, wiping out half spheres of gorgons. But still, it wasn't enough.
Turbolasers, Tachyon Cannons, solid projectile weaponry. It wasn't enough.
And then, the Gorgons where on the shields, gurgling as they insinuated through the shields, towards the tasty morsels of human, dog, insect, and so much more, tucked so conveniently in those giant metal cans.
Admiral Hammilton swore, loud and long, as the power was shut down. Mechanical generators came back online, powering the shields and grav plating.
The ship was filled with a harsh yellow light as the chemical backup lights came online.
Picking up a sound powered phone, Admiral Hamilton shouted out, "ALL HANDS. REPEL BOARDERS!"
IC:
New Tortuga:
Rebecca St. James stood atop the Polaris Ring in New Tortuga's Atlantis Hall. She looked down into the city-asteroid, blue light rippling as it played across her face.
Down below, on the floor of the fifteen story hall, the Stargate was open, with people streaming down towards Na Nex Sa through the gate. Loved ones kissed each other goodbye as women and children streamed throguh the gate, and for the first time in TAP'ian history, a Draft had been put into place.
All of those drafted into the Marines where wearing body armor and combat suits, but not the typical armor used by the Armed Forces. Power armor suits where useless against Hive, as the presence of more than thirty Hive could shut down a suit, no matter how robust, and render the person inside little more than a man in a tin can, waiting to be eaten.
The last group of refugees fled through the Gate, and it closed. The Iris locked itself, with only a very few being able to open it, and them members of faiths that did not allow Cybernetic enhancements.
Each soldier was handed a Lancer Assault Rifle, seven Pheonix Grenades, a longsword, and a lightweight rocket launcher. Thus equipped, they activated their personal distortion fields, which the Hive had not been able to uff, and stepped outside, onto the surface fo the Asteroid, protected from the Vacuum by their personal shields and their Armadillo Space Combat Suits.
The Manifest Zone:
Aboard the APN Theodore Roosevelt, the mood was tense. The combined force of three ships sat around the Manifest Zone, waiting for the insatiable horde to come their way.
"CONTACT, CONTACT, CONTACT" The tactical station announced, a slight note of panic in his voice. "500 Hive spheres incoming. Class Five all. Scans indicate 100 Soldier Spheres, and..." He stopped, panic in his eyes and a hitch in his throat. "Twenty Gluies, sir."
That stopped action across the entire command deck. Only one ship had ever survived contact with Gluies, and out of Thirty Samurai, only five of them had survived the contact.
"This is Admiral James Hamilton. All hands, General Quarters. Prepare to repel Hive. This is not a Drill."
Across the three combined fleets, gunports opened and the ships seemed to bristle with hostile intent.
The first Gorgon spheres became visibile in the Manifest Zone, a hundred of them moving at over ten lighyears a second.
"Fire Main Gun! Launch Missiles! Destroy them!"
Six Sovereign Class Super Star Destroyers fired their central line superlasers, breaking up six separate gorgon spheres, half of the member entities dead.
The other half kept wiggling. Organics wiggling in 2.8 kelvin, moving under their own power. Knowing what should happen to them was enough to chill the bones, as if the random-scattered taking of Gorgon claws on metal decks wasn't enough to give you nightmares for weeks.
Aldebaran Scarab Crickets started to go mad as in the command deck's ant terrarium, the ants began to purge out of their nests.
The Hive spheres kept coming, twitching and dodging as dark matter warheads detonated, creating micro-black-holes to suck as many gorgons into the hole as possible. However, it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
Nuclear warheads detonated, wiping out half spheres of gorgons. But still, it wasn't enough.
Turbolasers, Tachyon Cannons, solid projectile weaponry. It wasn't enough.
And then, the Gorgons where on the shields, gurgling as they insinuated through the shields, towards the tasty morsels of human, dog, insect, and so much more, tucked so conveniently in those giant metal cans.
Admiral Hammilton swore, loud and long, as the power was shut down. Mechanical generators came back online, powering the shields and grav plating.
The ship was filled with a harsh yellow light as the chemical backup lights came online.
Picking up a sound powered phone, Admiral Hamilton shouted out, "ALL HANDS. REPEL BOARDERS!"