*The following is a transcript of the After Action Report presented by Commander Shyeer Alvarin, serial 10C-NVZ to CEO Wiyrkomi Honor Guard Malcolm Khross regarding Operation Ashen Sky.*
Malcolm Khross: You realize you cost Wiyrkomi a substantial amount of Kredits, Commander Alvarin. Your service record post-implantation is spotless save for that fiasco with your infiltration op.
Shyeer Alvarin: I'm aware, Malcolm. I'd credit the failure to several equipment malfunctions. Notably the prototype cloaking devices my team were provided with...
*Aboard the Station*
The minidrones circled Shyeer's Caldari Logistics CK0 dropsuit. Fitting the drone pack consumed a staggering amount of power that none of the suits in her arsenal could provide. This combined with the computational requirements that could only be provided by the specialized Logistics suits made the "Fast and Light" option no longer viable.
Mechoj and Cthulu stood in the near-perfect darkness of the server room, their eyes constantly watching their motion scanners. Everything was silent. The too-precisely timed Flux Grenade knocked out every piece of electronics in the room, including the team's shields and cloaking devices. The crackle of fried equipment produced a constant hiss on the comms, effectively cutting them off from their exfil on Darnoch's modified Blockade Runner.
With a hiss, Shyeer popped the visor on her dropsuit. "Now would be a good time to run, guys. Reinforcements can't be far behind now that the first team's gone dark."
Mech and Cthulu popped their own visors in unison and nodded, immediately splitting up and activating their taclights to navigate the thoroughly destroyed server room. An alarm in everyone's helmets told them that their original entrance was now blocked, courtesy of the station security forces. "Primary exit's outta the question, boss. No offense, but I think the pooch is officially screwed," Cthulu said.
"Wiyrkomi isn't going to like dis," Mechoj added.
"You're both being very helpful right now... Make sure the self-destruct on your suits is functional. If we can't get out, we have to destroy the prototypes."
*Briefing Room*
MK: You've described no equipment failures to me, Commander. And you're honestly going to sit there and tell me you told your team to destroy our prototypes?
SA: You going to court-martial me over it, sir?
MK: That remains to be seen. Continue, Commander.
*Aboard the Station*
With their exit cut off, the team had only one other way out, such as it was. The front door wasn't much of an option, but it was all that was available. They knew they had Operatives on board. The security team that originally intercepted them in the server room no doubt reported the presence of enemy Operatives, which meant they would send more members of the DUST Program their way.
"Anyone bring party favors?" Shyeer's tone was nothing short of unprofessional, though she knew Mechoj had more than likely opted to pack along explosives in the event things went well and truly south.
"You tinking of blowing de front and rear at de same time, boss?"
"I knew there was a reason I picked you for this reason, Mech. Double the load against the rear. We'll use the front door. And pray, if that's your thing."
*Briefing Room*
MK: You're admitting to committing an act of terrorism and bombing a station?
SA: Should I stop, sir?
MK: *lets out a deep sigh* We'll continue this at another time, Commander. End recording.
Monday, March 7, 2016
Sunday, February 14, 2016
Dead Six: Infiltration
A
word from the wise. Never take a job from someone that tells you it'll
be simple. That's what this was. A simple job. Easy in, easy out. All we
had to do was take on an entire station controlled by some backwater
corporation doing research on a new kind of Hive. Didn't know who they
were, didn't really care. The Dead Six landed the job over the other
mercs on the table because we have a reasonably good rep, and Wiyrkomi
trusts me despite the fact I'm in all technicality a traitor to the
state.
My NEOCOM flashed in my helmet. "Incoming call from Wiyrkomi."
The insides of the blockade runner were amazingly cramped. Granted, that was largely my own fault as I'd had to stow my own cloning equipment and router networks to ensure we didn't just get one shot like the rest of the baseliners that inhabited the station. Apparently, the "Beehives," were worth a lot of money to Wiyrkomi. They were supposed to be developed for use by ground forces much like my squad and I. The rumors had it that they could be tooled for damn near any job. Wiyrkomi must have been irked by the 'self-replicating nanites." Something about mercs no longer needing the State manufactured Nanohives for ammo regeneration bothered a lot of people.
Except us of course. Granted... They had other attributes. You could set them to energize your shields if you had a dropsuit that was more shield heavy than armor, or they could be set for armor logistics. I wouldn't mind acquiring a stock for my operatives just for that, honestly. Our Logistics division is already overrun. They have a hard enough time getting work as is. What I need is more guns on the field. "But you're always going to need a Logi-Bro." It's true. We are always going to -need- them, but there's nothing saying we're always going to -have- them.
"Your orders are clear enough, Alvarin-Haani. Steal the blueprints, or destroy them. Whichever option is easier. We may have downplayed both the difficulty and importance of this job. Your transport is equipped with long-range transmitters in case your mission is a failure. You won't be dying today." I didn't even know this suit's name and I already hated him. I don't like being deceived. Lucky for me, that was all he had to say. I didn't have to restrain myself. I had the job now.
"Mechoj, Cthulu, I need you two to override their security. Give us a feedback loop. You've got the only suits with cloaks. Try not to break them."
Cthulu just shouldered his Kalakiota Tactical Sniper, the visor of his scout suit closing automatically. Mechoj on the other hand grinned and thumbed the safety on his plasma shotgun, grabbing a set of explosives from the equipment rack. For this job, I had to go Heavy. Something about being in heels with the Gallentean Dragonfly model scout dropsuit was just unappealing. Regardless of the cloaking systems we had available, they wouldn't kill the sound of heels clicking on the floor.
Darnoch's voice came over the intercom in the cargo hangar. "We're five minutes out, guys. Test the cloaks before you go in and make sure they work." At least I have a Capsuleer I trust in on this.
The air hissed as both Mechoj's and Cthulu's cloaking systems engaged. I got the impression that the cloaking system manipulated the shields somehow since it was the same sound. True to our employers word, they worked, but it was both loud and flashy. With my visor up, I could smell the ozone in the cold dank air. More impressive was how the shields literally electrified before the cloak kicked in.
"Systems are optimal, boss. I think my shields tried to eat themselves, and it's getting kinda hot in here." Typical Cthulu. Very, very rarely did he take anything seriously that didn't involve a sniper rifle and a moving target at three hundred meters plus.
"Then share some of the heat. It's ******* cold in here," I quipped.
"It's a Blockade Runner, not an InterBus. Besides, keeping the hold cold will drop our thermals. If they knew we had clone vats and reanimation units aboard, they know'd something's fishy. I'm running a skeleton crew as it is." Seems Darnoch could still hear everything. I wonder what it's like -being- a ship, I thought.
"Den maybe we can go to someplace warm after dis, yeah?" Mech's accent was thick, but out of everyone in the Dead Six, I trusted him to take the job as seriously as it should be.
Their cloaks only lasted a minute, and the longer they were active the stronger the ozone smell got. When it finally failed, both of their shields flashed the telltale blue of "Now would be a good time to run."
Cthulu spoke first. "Shyeer, my shields just failed. That's not normal, right?"
"Probably not. Dey are just prototypes though."
"So, now both of you know not to get shot." My comment garnered nods in unison.
The rest of the flight was carried out in silence until the "little" industrial lurched as it got clamped into the docking bay.
My NEOCOM flashed in my helmet. "Incoming call from Wiyrkomi."
The insides of the blockade runner were amazingly cramped. Granted, that was largely my own fault as I'd had to stow my own cloning equipment and router networks to ensure we didn't just get one shot like the rest of the baseliners that inhabited the station. Apparently, the "Beehives," were worth a lot of money to Wiyrkomi. They were supposed to be developed for use by ground forces much like my squad and I. The rumors had it that they could be tooled for damn near any job. Wiyrkomi must have been irked by the 'self-replicating nanites." Something about mercs no longer needing the State manufactured Nanohives for ammo regeneration bothered a lot of people.
Except us of course. Granted... They had other attributes. You could set them to energize your shields if you had a dropsuit that was more shield heavy than armor, or they could be set for armor logistics. I wouldn't mind acquiring a stock for my operatives just for that, honestly. Our Logistics division is already overrun. They have a hard enough time getting work as is. What I need is more guns on the field. "But you're always going to need a Logi-Bro." It's true. We are always going to -need- them, but there's nothing saying we're always going to -have- them.
"Your orders are clear enough, Alvarin-Haani. Steal the blueprints, or destroy them. Whichever option is easier. We may have downplayed both the difficulty and importance of this job. Your transport is equipped with long-range transmitters in case your mission is a failure. You won't be dying today." I didn't even know this suit's name and I already hated him. I don't like being deceived. Lucky for me, that was all he had to say. I didn't have to restrain myself. I had the job now.
"Mechoj, Cthulu, I need you two to override their security. Give us a feedback loop. You've got the only suits with cloaks. Try not to break them."
Cthulu just shouldered his Kalakiota Tactical Sniper, the visor of his scout suit closing automatically. Mechoj on the other hand grinned and thumbed the safety on his plasma shotgun, grabbing a set of explosives from the equipment rack. For this job, I had to go Heavy. Something about being in heels with the Gallentean Dragonfly model scout dropsuit was just unappealing. Regardless of the cloaking systems we had available, they wouldn't kill the sound of heels clicking on the floor.
Darnoch's voice came over the intercom in the cargo hangar. "We're five minutes out, guys. Test the cloaks before you go in and make sure they work." At least I have a Capsuleer I trust in on this.
The air hissed as both Mechoj's and Cthulu's cloaking systems engaged. I got the impression that the cloaking system manipulated the shields somehow since it was the same sound. True to our employers word, they worked, but it was both loud and flashy. With my visor up, I could smell the ozone in the cold dank air. More impressive was how the shields literally electrified before the cloak kicked in.
"Systems are optimal, boss. I think my shields tried to eat themselves, and it's getting kinda hot in here." Typical Cthulu. Very, very rarely did he take anything seriously that didn't involve a sniper rifle and a moving target at three hundred meters plus.
"Then share some of the heat. It's ******* cold in here," I quipped.
"It's a Blockade Runner, not an InterBus. Besides, keeping the hold cold will drop our thermals. If they knew we had clone vats and reanimation units aboard, they know'd something's fishy. I'm running a skeleton crew as it is." Seems Darnoch could still hear everything. I wonder what it's like -being- a ship, I thought.
"Den maybe we can go to someplace warm after dis, yeah?" Mech's accent was thick, but out of everyone in the Dead Six, I trusted him to take the job as seriously as it should be.
Their cloaks only lasted a minute, and the longer they were active the stronger the ozone smell got. When it finally failed, both of their shields flashed the telltale blue of "Now would be a good time to run."
Cthulu spoke first. "Shyeer, my shields just failed. That's not normal, right?"
"Probably not. Dey are just prototypes though."
"So, now both of you know not to get shot." My comment garnered nods in unison.
The rest of the flight was carried out in silence until the "little" industrial lurched as it got clamped into the docking bay.
"Docking bay's clear kiddies. Looks like their unloading is completely
automated. Try not to shoot everything that moves in there."
"Calm and quiet Darnoch. This isn't our first espionage job," I returned. Turning to my squad I said, "Alright, sort out your gear. If the docking bay is automated, we won't have to worry about shooting civvies."
"Or, you know. Bumps into one of us while we're cloaked." Mechoj immediately elbowed Cthulu after he opened his mouth. Saved me from having to hit his helmet.
"What is the plan, Shy," Mechoj asked. The only answer I could give was "I'll let you know when I have one."
We didn't even get a blueprint of the station, so we were flying- or in our specific cases, striding blind. This had better be worth it, Wiyrkomi. Hell hath no fury like me. As soon as the hold's doors opened, we were moving. Once we were out, Darnoch faked a critical systems failure that would give us at most an hour to complete the mission. His voice popped through my suit radio after we'd sealed our visors. "Greenlight, Shyeer. Remember, you've got one hour. I'd synchronize that to right about.... Now. Timer hits zero and you aren't on board, terminate your clones. Your suits should transmit any useful data back to my ships databases. We can overview what goes to Wiyrkomi and what we're keeping."
"Got it. Move out, Operatives. You're my eyes and ears. Don't let me get shot." Cthulu just couldn't wait until -after- we headed out to start talking again.
"So, we -have- to use Nova-Knives, don't we."
"Well, you've got a choice. The personnel on this station should all be baseliners. You can either be a mass murderer, or you can keep quiet and stay under the radar."
"You -really- have no idea what 'fun' is, do you."
"Cthulu, jus' remember. **** off the boss and she can terminate your clones permanently." Ahh, Mechoj, the voice of reason.
As soon as Cthulu said, "Right, shutting up now," we were all moving out of the hangar. The benefits of having a Heavy suit meant that it had plenty of room for extra parts. Unfortunately, I had to sacrifice my shielding to amp up my scanners range just so we could have an on-the-fly map of the station's nooks and crannies. As soon as we found an maintenance hatch we disappeared from plain sight. A good thing too. I recognized the automated turrets they had installed.
"Someone's expecting Operatives, boys. Those turrets are automated HMG's like the systems I sold to Evelynn Meiyi." My answer was silence. If we got caught, we were pretty well screwed.
We crawled through the maintenance tunnels for a solid half an hour. This this rate, we were either going to have to terminate our clones, or make our escape loud and impressive. Considering the speed of the scouts, and the lack thereof with the Heavy suit I was stuck in, part of that was my fault. Most of it, actually. But I wasn't against making an impressive escape. Thankfully it wasn't too much longer until we found what we were looking for. This particular section of the station was cut off from everything else. When I say "cut off," I mean it was black. No communications, no network activity. I couldn't even tell if someone was breathing in there.
"Think we found it guys. Lokun i Gangi."
"Calm and quiet Darnoch. This isn't our first espionage job," I returned. Turning to my squad I said, "Alright, sort out your gear. If the docking bay is automated, we won't have to worry about shooting civvies."
"Or, you know. Bumps into one of us while we're cloaked." Mechoj immediately elbowed Cthulu after he opened his mouth. Saved me from having to hit his helmet.
"What is the plan, Shy," Mechoj asked. The only answer I could give was "I'll let you know when I have one."
We didn't even get a blueprint of the station, so we were flying- or in our specific cases, striding blind. This had better be worth it, Wiyrkomi. Hell hath no fury like me. As soon as the hold's doors opened, we were moving. Once we were out, Darnoch faked a critical systems failure that would give us at most an hour to complete the mission. His voice popped through my suit radio after we'd sealed our visors. "Greenlight, Shyeer. Remember, you've got one hour. I'd synchronize that to right about.... Now. Timer hits zero and you aren't on board, terminate your clones. Your suits should transmit any useful data back to my ships databases. We can overview what goes to Wiyrkomi and what we're keeping."
"Got it. Move out, Operatives. You're my eyes and ears. Don't let me get shot." Cthulu just couldn't wait until -after- we headed out to start talking again.
"So, we -have- to use Nova-Knives, don't we."
"Well, you've got a choice. The personnel on this station should all be baseliners. You can either be a mass murderer, or you can keep quiet and stay under the radar."
"You -really- have no idea what 'fun' is, do you."
"Cthulu, jus' remember. **** off the boss and she can terminate your clones permanently." Ahh, Mechoj, the voice of reason.
As soon as Cthulu said, "Right, shutting up now," we were all moving out of the hangar. The benefits of having a Heavy suit meant that it had plenty of room for extra parts. Unfortunately, I had to sacrifice my shielding to amp up my scanners range just so we could have an on-the-fly map of the station's nooks and crannies. As soon as we found an maintenance hatch we disappeared from plain sight. A good thing too. I recognized the automated turrets they had installed.
"Someone's expecting Operatives, boys. Those turrets are automated HMG's like the systems I sold to Evelynn Meiyi." My answer was silence. If we got caught, we were pretty well screwed.
We crawled through the maintenance tunnels for a solid half an hour. This this rate, we were either going to have to terminate our clones, or make our escape loud and impressive. Considering the speed of the scouts, and the lack thereof with the Heavy suit I was stuck in, part of that was my fault. Most of it, actually. But I wasn't against making an impressive escape. Thankfully it wasn't too much longer until we found what we were looking for. This particular section of the station was cut off from everything else. When I say "cut off," I mean it was black. No communications, no network activity. I couldn't even tell if someone was breathing in there.
"Think we found it guys. Lokun i Gangi."
"Cthulu, see if your scanner can penetrate whatever it is that's
blocking my dropsuit's sensors," I said quietly. Cthulu had his scanner
out almost immediately and thankfully without a word.
"Nothing. Not even half a blip. The room's empty, at least of anything that would give off a different sig than the station."
"Mech, prime your charges. Delta, we think we've got what we're looking for, but we're half an hour out. If this is it, the station is going to be crawling, and we're going to be hot. We won't make it back in time for extraction if we go back the way we came."
"Roger that, Sierra Actual. Prepping the party favors."
Before we left Lonetrek, our Operatives attached remote charges to the hull of the Blockade Runner that would blow off the docking clamps. The ships hull was reinforced, so we were hoping that would be enough to protect our pilot from the blast. Key word being "hoping." Nothing was assured in our line of work.
Mechoj reached for the holo-interface pad on his wrist, and a sound chimed in all of our helmets warning us that the charges placed a few hundred meters back on one of the access hatches were now armed and waiting for detonation. Our task now was to get into the room, get what we needed, and get the hell out. Wearing full body armor, we were going to be drawing a lot of attention and we had to make it back to extraction in one piece.
I pulled close to the locked access hatch so I could work a bypass on the door. Doesn't feel that different from hacking installations in the DUST Zones. Granted, every Operative was extremely skilled in all manner of hacking. Whether it was doors, vehicles, turret systems, or installations, if we could connect to it, we could break into it and make it ours. THIS door however, was stubborn. "I'm locked out. The security system's picked up on my hack. We need to get in -now.-"
I pulled away, motioning for Cthulu to do the same. "Ten meters. Mech, set the charge and get us in." In absolute silence, he set the charge on the seam of the door where it would be more likely to push the door, rather than turning it into thousands of allow fragments. Once it was armed, he joined the rest of us and awaited my orders. "Get ready to cloak. You two sneak in first. I'll follow." I reached around my back to grab my BK-42 Assault Combat Rifle. This one thankfully came equipped with a suppressor. It wouldn't be completely silent, but it was better than trying to defend my team with harsh language. I'd have liked to bring my MH-82 HMG, but I'd have been lugging around a lot more weight and slowed my team down even more.
I held up one hand and counted to five silently before closing it. As I did, the door imploded inwards filling the maintenance tunnels with a deafening "thoom." Before the smoke cleared, both of my Operatives disappeared, presumably into the room as I didn't see their corpses on the ground. I gave them a couple of seconds before heading in myself. I was relieved that I wasn't facing a dozen guards, despite heating alarm klaxons throughout the station.
"Sierra Actual, whatever you're going to do, you've got five minutes before station security is on you. They have my ship on lockdown."
"Copy Delta."
We didn't just find our research lab, but a fitting station for Dropsuits. Either the scientists were immortal like us, or they had Operatives -like- us on the Station. Regardless, I was going to need to do something about the armor I was wearing. I needed to be fast. "Alright boys, figure out which server those blueprints are on. Copy and destroy the originals. Get the backups too. No trace. I'm going to bring a prototype with us and destroy the rest." Again, their cloaks failed in unison. This time though, -my- shields failed as well.
"FLUX!" I shouted over the comms, reacting completely on instinct. "Cthulu, find those plans. Mech, on me. Get something less squishy."
"Roger," both said in unison.
Mech and I hit the fitting station like it was the last thing we were ever going to do. With his shields down, he'd be meat for the grinder if someone glanced his way. He called up the plans for his usual Matari Logistics Mk.0 fitting while I spent twelve seconds modifying my Gk.0 Logistics fitting to make use of one of the Hives. It took seconds for the machines to dismantle our armor and assemble our new suits around us.
Turns out the twelve seconds I took was all the time we got. Security was on us and spraying plasma into the room from their assault rifles. Four men, Medium Frame Caldari Dropsuits. "They're going Shield heavy. Flux out!" I shouted in the comms. I heard the loud crack of Cthulu's sniper, the round slamming into the casing of one of the servers as one of the security goons ducked. "Well... There's one way to destroy the data..."
"Nothing. Not even half a blip. The room's empty, at least of anything that would give off a different sig than the station."
"Mech, prime your charges. Delta, we think we've got what we're looking for, but we're half an hour out. If this is it, the station is going to be crawling, and we're going to be hot. We won't make it back in time for extraction if we go back the way we came."
"Roger that, Sierra Actual. Prepping the party favors."
Before we left Lonetrek, our Operatives attached remote charges to the hull of the Blockade Runner that would blow off the docking clamps. The ships hull was reinforced, so we were hoping that would be enough to protect our pilot from the blast. Key word being "hoping." Nothing was assured in our line of work.
Mechoj reached for the holo-interface pad on his wrist, and a sound chimed in all of our helmets warning us that the charges placed a few hundred meters back on one of the access hatches were now armed and waiting for detonation. Our task now was to get into the room, get what we needed, and get the hell out. Wearing full body armor, we were going to be drawing a lot of attention and we had to make it back to extraction in one piece.
I pulled close to the locked access hatch so I could work a bypass on the door. Doesn't feel that different from hacking installations in the DUST Zones. Granted, every Operative was extremely skilled in all manner of hacking. Whether it was doors, vehicles, turret systems, or installations, if we could connect to it, we could break into it and make it ours. THIS door however, was stubborn. "I'm locked out. The security system's picked up on my hack. We need to get in -now.-"
I pulled away, motioning for Cthulu to do the same. "Ten meters. Mech, set the charge and get us in." In absolute silence, he set the charge on the seam of the door where it would be more likely to push the door, rather than turning it into thousands of allow fragments. Once it was armed, he joined the rest of us and awaited my orders. "Get ready to cloak. You two sneak in first. I'll follow." I reached around my back to grab my BK-42 Assault Combat Rifle. This one thankfully came equipped with a suppressor. It wouldn't be completely silent, but it was better than trying to defend my team with harsh language. I'd have liked to bring my MH-82 HMG, but I'd have been lugging around a lot more weight and slowed my team down even more.
I held up one hand and counted to five silently before closing it. As I did, the door imploded inwards filling the maintenance tunnels with a deafening "thoom." Before the smoke cleared, both of my Operatives disappeared, presumably into the room as I didn't see their corpses on the ground. I gave them a couple of seconds before heading in myself. I was relieved that I wasn't facing a dozen guards, despite heating alarm klaxons throughout the station.
"Sierra Actual, whatever you're going to do, you've got five minutes before station security is on you. They have my ship on lockdown."
"Copy Delta."
We didn't just find our research lab, but a fitting station for Dropsuits. Either the scientists were immortal like us, or they had Operatives -like- us on the Station. Regardless, I was going to need to do something about the armor I was wearing. I needed to be fast. "Alright boys, figure out which server those blueprints are on. Copy and destroy the originals. Get the backups too. No trace. I'm going to bring a prototype with us and destroy the rest." Again, their cloaks failed in unison. This time though, -my- shields failed as well.
"FLUX!" I shouted over the comms, reacting completely on instinct. "Cthulu, find those plans. Mech, on me. Get something less squishy."
"Roger," both said in unison.
Mech and I hit the fitting station like it was the last thing we were ever going to do. With his shields down, he'd be meat for the grinder if someone glanced his way. He called up the plans for his usual Matari Logistics Mk.0 fitting while I spent twelve seconds modifying my Gk.0 Logistics fitting to make use of one of the Hives. It took seconds for the machines to dismantle our armor and assemble our new suits around us.
Turns out the twelve seconds I took was all the time we got. Security was on us and spraying plasma into the room from their assault rifles. Four men, Medium Frame Caldari Dropsuits. "They're going Shield heavy. Flux out!" I shouted in the comms. I heard the loud crack of Cthulu's sniper, the round slamming into the casing of one of the servers as one of the security goons ducked. "Well... There's one way to destroy the data..."
Seven
As soon as the grenade was in the air, the goons were scrambling to get out of the way. Flux grenades were fairly well known for their potency. In addition to frying the shielding of pretty much anything inside of a six meter range, they wreaked havoc on pretty much any electrical systems. Time seemed to move in slow motion while the grenade sailed in the air to bounce off the ceiling in the middle of the largest server cluster.
Six
One of the idiots decided turning around and heading back to the grenade was a good idea. As soon as his helmet popped into view, it promptly disappeared in a cloud of red and grey mist thanks to a flaylock micro-rocket courtesy of Cthulu. "Kill confirmed."
Five
"Three to go," I said over the comms. Let's see if these little drones do what they advertised... I tapped button on my wrist computer, activating the drones. Didn't know they'd need a couple of seconds to start flying though. Poking my head out from my cover, I almost instantly regretted it as plasma weaponry tore into the console by my helmet.
Four
Cthulu poked his own head out to level his sniper and get a bead on the next goon to poke their head out. Unfortunately for him, the scope of his rifle blew out into his visor as the goons concentrated their fire on his light dropsuit. "DAMNIT!" I screamed into the comms.
Three
"Mech, Drop-Links?"
"In de tunnels, boss."
Well, he wouldn't be taking long to get back to us at least. "Cover me," I said, taking a breath.
Two
I leveled the BK-42 on the servers before I even stood up fully. In the space of that half-second, eight rounds had left the barrel. Because they were Matari-made, the muzzle flash was as impressive as my utter lack of accuracy. Still, I caught the distinct sound of something at high velocity connective with shields.
One
Mech had his repair tool on my as quickly as he could manage. If anything, it bought me time when my shields failed, and at the rate fully automatic plasma bolts were slamming into the shielding over my chest and head, it wouldn't be long. All I could do was pray the BK-42 Combat Rifle would drop the three remaining goons before they dropped me. Useless... Goddamned... Drones... WORK!
At that precise moment, the flux grenade I threw detonated. The resulting electrical surge destroyed pretty much all of the electronic systems connected to the main power supply in the room. Everything went dark and I began firing at anything with a muzzle flash that wasn't standing right next to me. In addition, three drones popped out of the beehive unit mounted on my back and began emitting pulses that energized my shields, allowing them to recharge despite being under fire. Saved by the drone...
As soon as the grenade was in the air, the goons were scrambling to get out of the way. Flux grenades were fairly well known for their potency. In addition to frying the shielding of pretty much anything inside of a six meter range, they wreaked havoc on pretty much any electrical systems. Time seemed to move in slow motion while the grenade sailed in the air to bounce off the ceiling in the middle of the largest server cluster.
Six
One of the idiots decided turning around and heading back to the grenade was a good idea. As soon as his helmet popped into view, it promptly disappeared in a cloud of red and grey mist thanks to a flaylock micro-rocket courtesy of Cthulu. "Kill confirmed."
Five
"Three to go," I said over the comms. Let's see if these little drones do what they advertised... I tapped button on my wrist computer, activating the drones. Didn't know they'd need a couple of seconds to start flying though. Poking my head out from my cover, I almost instantly regretted it as plasma weaponry tore into the console by my helmet.
Four
Cthulu poked his own head out to level his sniper and get a bead on the next goon to poke their head out. Unfortunately for him, the scope of his rifle blew out into his visor as the goons concentrated their fire on his light dropsuit. "DAMNIT!" I screamed into the comms.
Three
"Mech, Drop-Links?"
"In de tunnels, boss."
Well, he wouldn't be taking long to get back to us at least. "Cover me," I said, taking a breath.
Two
I leveled the BK-42 on the servers before I even stood up fully. In the space of that half-second, eight rounds had left the barrel. Because they were Matari-made, the muzzle flash was as impressive as my utter lack of accuracy. Still, I caught the distinct sound of something at high velocity connective with shields.
One
Mech had his repair tool on my as quickly as he could manage. If anything, it bought me time when my shields failed, and at the rate fully automatic plasma bolts were slamming into the shielding over my chest and head, it wouldn't be long. All I could do was pray the BK-42 Combat Rifle would drop the three remaining goons before they dropped me. Useless... Goddamned... Drones... WORK!
At that precise moment, the flux grenade I threw detonated. The resulting electrical surge destroyed pretty much all of the electronic systems connected to the main power supply in the room. Everything went dark and I began firing at anything with a muzzle flash that wasn't standing right next to me. In addition, three drones popped out of the beehive unit mounted on my back and began emitting pulses that energized my shields, allowing them to recharge despite being under fire. Saved by the drone...
The Dead Six: War Story
My
TACNET flashed while my squad and I were on approach to the research
outpost in the Myron class dropship. My pilot, Rhespen Duskmere had made
something of a name for himself during his brief service in the Dead
Six. Well accomplished as a foot soldier but an even better dropship
pilot.
"Enemy LAV at twelve o'clock. Coming around for a broadside."
LAV's were rarely more than a nuisance. Rapid ground transport and nothing more. Disposable. I pitched the missile turret mounted in front of me downward and opened fire. All it took was for one shot to hit the driver. After that, we could swoop in and hack the LAV, turning enemy resources against them. No sooner had my first shot hit and a second was on the way that the dropship shuddered and lurched.
"Sica in the mountains and a Gunloggi between the spires! One more hit and we're heading back to the CRU." Rhespen was a good pilot, but he knew when he was being worked. The LAV was clever bait, and the dropship would be an expensive loss.
"BAIL! Xin, Ronan, Harkon, on me. Dakon, Mendov, find a safe place to call in some armor. I want those tanks -gone!-
Every squad needed the token fat suit. Xin's massive armor plating meant that even if the rest of us lost our clones, he'd be mopping the floor with his Boundless. There wouldn't be much left aside from mush. Ronan was our backup logistics, and training to be a Murder Medic. Harkon was our resident Assault. As fast on his feet as he was, his tactical competence left something to be desired for a long time. Still, he trained well.
Dakon and Mendov were my lieutenants from The Outcast Dead, both experienced tankers, both extremely competent on their own, but truly a terrifying force to be reckoned with when they tagged together. They stayed in as long as they could while Rhespen's dropship limped away from the impromptu LZ before the third shot from one of the tanks slammed into the cockpit of the Myron. With the shields already depleted, the round tore through the Myron. The angle it was fired from meant it missed the pit holding my tankers.
"Harkon, light up my TACNET. I need to know where they are. Xin, take point. You've got the big gun. Ronan, stay on Xin's ass. If something so much as nicks that armor, I want to know about it." Barking was what I happened to be good at. No time for small talk on my field. "Harkon, I want you being eyes and ears for our tanks. Give them good targets."
Mendov's voice came through my helmet radio. "Gunloggi inbound, ETA thirty seconds. Wiyrkomi'd better not botch this drop."
"Friendly armor inbound. Rally at Alpha, best speed. Wiyrkomi wants that research outpost," I called. "I want minimal damage to the structure."
From there, we split off. As soon as they nodded their acknowledgements, I'd called for an Ishukone Watch LAV. I was going to need transport, and while I may have been a Logistics Operative, I wasn't completely defenseless. While I waited for the arrival of my LAV, I checked my munitions. Fully loaded Rail Rifle, two R-9 Drop Uplinks, two K-2 Nanohives, Six-Kin repair tool, and three remote explosives.
Time to make some noise.
As soon as my LAV dropped, I planted explosives under both the driver and passenger sides of the LAV. The IWS could take some punishment, but if the vehicle was lost, I refused to let it fall into enemy hands. After I climbed in, my first stop was making a reconnaissance pass through the complex. Mendov kept his Ion-Cannon outfitted Gunloggi well behind my LAV in the very likely event I'd need an extra hand. Or cannon, in this case. When opened wide, the tank was truly menacing. I could use that to my advantage.
Ronan's voice exploded into my helmet. "Heavy contact Alpha. They took the crew and they're working on the depot. Xin's gonna make a push, but we need armor support."
"I can do one better than that," Rhespen's voice again. "I've got Beth, Mechoj, Cthulu, Trist, and Hunter. Check your fire, we're dropping hot." He must have gotten into a new clone and picked up a new dropship.
"Enemy Gunloggi down. The Sica's retreated. Clear skies, Rhespen. LOKUN I GANGI!" Shut them down. Dakon would enjoy the hunt and keep the enemy from spitting anti-vehicle weaponry into the sky.
"Mendov, go help the ground team. I'm going to deal with the crew," I said.
"Alone?"
"I've got an explosive personality."
I could almost feel the sick grin coming from the team. Thankfully, I kept extra ammunition stocked on the LAV. I was going to need the extra punch. At that moment, my TACNET alerted me that we had air-support available. "Thank you Rhistel," I thought. "Orbital incoming, gentlemen. Find something to hide under."
Lucky for me, my team kept the enemy penned up at the crew, holding back their advancement. Unlucky for the enemy, it had nothing to hide under. Placement of the orbital was pretty much a no-brainer. No sooner had I requested the strike and asked for a ten second delay was I in my LAV, positioning myself just at the outer edge of the orbital's impressive range waiting for the hell to rain on the enemy.
The first round dropped out of the sky, tearing a gaping hole in the clouds above as the first of eight hybrid rounds slammed the shields of the CRU. The overstressed structure shimmered briefly as the shields were overwhelmed by the kinetic energy, causing them to fail immediately. Any living thing, shielded by dropsuits or otherwise, was vaporized in the blast. My window of opportunity shrank with every second I wasted outside the crew.
The Installation was suffering from severe structural damage from the blast. The sooner it was destroyed, the sooner we could collect our payday and go home. Finishing it off wouldn't take much. The explosives on my LAV did the job rather nicely.
"Sweep and clear. Execute any survivors and get back to HQ. This outpost now belongs to the Wiyrkomi corporation. Let them worry about the damage."
"Enemy LAV at twelve o'clock. Coming around for a broadside."
LAV's were rarely more than a nuisance. Rapid ground transport and nothing more. Disposable. I pitched the missile turret mounted in front of me downward and opened fire. All it took was for one shot to hit the driver. After that, we could swoop in and hack the LAV, turning enemy resources against them. No sooner had my first shot hit and a second was on the way that the dropship shuddered and lurched.
"Sica in the mountains and a Gunloggi between the spires! One more hit and we're heading back to the CRU." Rhespen was a good pilot, but he knew when he was being worked. The LAV was clever bait, and the dropship would be an expensive loss.
"BAIL! Xin, Ronan, Harkon, on me. Dakon, Mendov, find a safe place to call in some armor. I want those tanks -gone!-
Every squad needed the token fat suit. Xin's massive armor plating meant that even if the rest of us lost our clones, he'd be mopping the floor with his Boundless. There wouldn't be much left aside from mush. Ronan was our backup logistics, and training to be a Murder Medic. Harkon was our resident Assault. As fast on his feet as he was, his tactical competence left something to be desired for a long time. Still, he trained well.
Dakon and Mendov were my lieutenants from The Outcast Dead, both experienced tankers, both extremely competent on their own, but truly a terrifying force to be reckoned with when they tagged together. They stayed in as long as they could while Rhespen's dropship limped away from the impromptu LZ before the third shot from one of the tanks slammed into the cockpit of the Myron. With the shields already depleted, the round tore through the Myron. The angle it was fired from meant it missed the pit holding my tankers.
"Harkon, light up my TACNET. I need to know where they are. Xin, take point. You've got the big gun. Ronan, stay on Xin's ass. If something so much as nicks that armor, I want to know about it." Barking was what I happened to be good at. No time for small talk on my field. "Harkon, I want you being eyes and ears for our tanks. Give them good targets."
Mendov's voice came through my helmet radio. "Gunloggi inbound, ETA thirty seconds. Wiyrkomi'd better not botch this drop."
"Friendly armor inbound. Rally at Alpha, best speed. Wiyrkomi wants that research outpost," I called. "I want minimal damage to the structure."
From there, we split off. As soon as they nodded their acknowledgements, I'd called for an Ishukone Watch LAV. I was going to need transport, and while I may have been a Logistics Operative, I wasn't completely defenseless. While I waited for the arrival of my LAV, I checked my munitions. Fully loaded Rail Rifle, two R-9 Drop Uplinks, two K-2 Nanohives, Six-Kin repair tool, and three remote explosives.
Time to make some noise.
As soon as my LAV dropped, I planted explosives under both the driver and passenger sides of the LAV. The IWS could take some punishment, but if the vehicle was lost, I refused to let it fall into enemy hands. After I climbed in, my first stop was making a reconnaissance pass through the complex. Mendov kept his Ion-Cannon outfitted Gunloggi well behind my LAV in the very likely event I'd need an extra hand. Or cannon, in this case. When opened wide, the tank was truly menacing. I could use that to my advantage.
Ronan's voice exploded into my helmet. "Heavy contact Alpha. They took the crew and they're working on the depot. Xin's gonna make a push, but we need armor support."
"I can do one better than that," Rhespen's voice again. "I've got Beth, Mechoj, Cthulu, Trist, and Hunter. Check your fire, we're dropping hot." He must have gotten into a new clone and picked up a new dropship.
"Enemy Gunloggi down. The Sica's retreated. Clear skies, Rhespen. LOKUN I GANGI!" Shut them down. Dakon would enjoy the hunt and keep the enemy from spitting anti-vehicle weaponry into the sky.
"Mendov, go help the ground team. I'm going to deal with the crew," I said.
"Alone?"
"I've got an explosive personality."
I could almost feel the sick grin coming from the team. Thankfully, I kept extra ammunition stocked on the LAV. I was going to need the extra punch. At that moment, my TACNET alerted me that we had air-support available. "Thank you Rhistel," I thought. "Orbital incoming, gentlemen. Find something to hide under."
Lucky for me, my team kept the enemy penned up at the crew, holding back their advancement. Unlucky for the enemy, it had nothing to hide under. Placement of the orbital was pretty much a no-brainer. No sooner had I requested the strike and asked for a ten second delay was I in my LAV, positioning myself just at the outer edge of the orbital's impressive range waiting for the hell to rain on the enemy.
The first round dropped out of the sky, tearing a gaping hole in the clouds above as the first of eight hybrid rounds slammed the shields of the CRU. The overstressed structure shimmered briefly as the shields were overwhelmed by the kinetic energy, causing them to fail immediately. Any living thing, shielded by dropsuits or otherwise, was vaporized in the blast. My window of opportunity shrank with every second I wasted outside the crew.
The Installation was suffering from severe structural damage from the blast. The sooner it was destroyed, the sooner we could collect our payday and go home. Finishing it off wouldn't take much. The explosives on my LAV did the job rather nicely.
"Sweep and clear. Execute any survivors and get back to HQ. This outpost now belongs to the Wiyrkomi corporation. Let them worry about the damage."
Monday, January 21, 2013
Death Before Dishonor
Patient Name: Alvarin, Minae (Shyeer)
Patient Number: 10C-NVZ
Race: Caldari
Bloodline: Achura
Age: 25
Family: Deceased
The following is a written documentation of a standard interview following the mind wipe procedure and DUST integration.
Shyeer: Where am I?
Enari: You are in a medical facility owned by Wiyrkomi's DUST Program. Are you feeling any discomfort?
At this point, the patient examines her surroundings.
Shyeer: What is the DUST Program?
Enari: It is a program designed to create and help soldiers like you.
Shyeer: Like me?
Enari: Yes. You are an immortal soldier. You work for the Wiyrkomi corporation to protect State assets on contested planets.
Shyeer: Death before Dishonor.
Specialist Note: Psychological conditioning it taking well. Recommend continued observation during training exercises.
Enari: You're remembering. Good. Do you remember anything else, Shyeer?
Specialist Note: Verbal cue given to bring in existing DUST Operatives to issue her armor and weapons.
Two armed DUST soldiers enter the room and specialist Enari steps aside. Behind them is a trolly with standard issue training gear for new soldiers.
Shyeer: Those are for me. Those are my tools. Why am I not wearing them?
DUST Lieutenant: Why indeed. Suit up and be ready to move. We're going topside for training ops in two hours.
Specialist Note: The patient almost seems happy to be applying her armor. Advise blanket wipes to all new DUST Operatives. We will continue monitoring her psychological condition as time progresses. Lack of emotional attachment and prior memory should limit inhibitions sufficiently.
Her movements in the suit seem almost mechanical at first. A few minutes are spent in the room with the officers as they explain everything before she exits. -End Transcript
File taken from a secure database in a Wiyrkomi DUST processing facility on *error-planet not found
Patient Number: 10C-NVZ
Race: Caldari
Bloodline: Achura
Age: 25
Family: Deceased
The following is a written documentation of a standard interview following the mind wipe procedure and DUST integration.
Shyeer: Where am I?
Enari: You are in a medical facility owned by Wiyrkomi's DUST Program. Are you feeling any discomfort?
At this point, the patient examines her surroundings.
Shyeer: What is the DUST Program?
Enari: It is a program designed to create and help soldiers like you.
Shyeer: Like me?
Enari: Yes. You are an immortal soldier. You work for the Wiyrkomi corporation to protect State assets on contested planets.
Shyeer: Death before Dishonor.
Specialist Note: Psychological conditioning it taking well. Recommend continued observation during training exercises.
Enari: You're remembering. Good. Do you remember anything else, Shyeer?
Specialist Note: Verbal cue given to bring in existing DUST Operatives to issue her armor and weapons.
Two armed DUST soldiers enter the room and specialist Enari steps aside. Behind them is a trolly with standard issue training gear for new soldiers.
Shyeer: Those are for me. Those are my tools. Why am I not wearing them?
DUST Lieutenant: Why indeed. Suit up and be ready to move. We're going topside for training ops in two hours.
Specialist Note: The patient almost seems happy to be applying her armor. Advise blanket wipes to all new DUST Operatives. We will continue monitoring her psychological condition as time progresses. Lack of emotional attachment and prior memory should limit inhibitions sufficiently.
Her movements in the suit seem almost mechanical at first. A few minutes are spent in the room with the officers as they explain everything before she exits. -End Transcript
File taken from a secure database in a Wiyrkomi DUST processing facility on *error-planet not found
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Dust to DUST
-My name is Minae Alvarin. As of this writing, I have not yet been submitted to the mind wipe. I have no doubt that by now my existence has been wiped from the GalNet for the treason I committed against the Caldari State and the Wiyrkomi megacorporation. I write this not as the manifesto of a traitor looking for sympathetic minds, but as a word of caution to those who would walk in my shoes.
-There is no perfect government. There is no perfect crime. There is no perfect Citizen. My actions cost the State lives numbering in the tens, if not hundreds of thousands. My infiltration of the Wiyrkomi corporation allowed me access to both troop and fleet movements across the cluster over dozens of fronts. I did not sell these movements to the Matari fleets to give their Gallentean allies. I wrapped them with a bow and handed them to the Matari on a silver serving platter.
-My infiltration was not within Wiyrkomi itself, but their Honor Guard. Devout patriots to the State, tried, tested, and true every single one of them. Except for me. There was a time I believed in what the Caldari stood for, but by that point I had completely forgotten about it. My late wife, Myri Alvarin, had a sister that afforded me a number of opportunities with the Honor Guard. Given she was already a friend to the Honor Guard, getting a recommendation was an easy matter.
-I worked with the Honor Guard as a communications officer, managing incoming and outgoing intel, decrypting enemy transmissions, etc, etc. Most of what I gathered was downloaded, put under a dozen different cyphers and hand delivered to my Matari contact in a Gurista hangout. I can only ask myself now if it was worth it. Then again, it won't matter soon enough.
-I was captured four months ago. Since then, I have endured numerous regimes of physical and psychological torture, hard labor, interrogations, 'medical testing,' and humiliation at the hands of the families whose lives I destroyed. A small price to pay for my deeds, I suppose. My options now are to live out the rest of my life in labor camps, death, or the DUST Program. Perhaps in another life I will restore my honor with the Caldari. But for right now, just this once... If I ask myself if it was worth it...
-I've always wondered what it would be like to be an Immortal Soldier...
Excerpt taken from a decrypted file on Wiyrkomi servers.
-There is no perfect government. There is no perfect crime. There is no perfect Citizen. My actions cost the State lives numbering in the tens, if not hundreds of thousands. My infiltration of the Wiyrkomi corporation allowed me access to both troop and fleet movements across the cluster over dozens of fronts. I did not sell these movements to the Matari fleets to give their Gallentean allies. I wrapped them with a bow and handed them to the Matari on a silver serving platter.
-My infiltration was not within Wiyrkomi itself, but their Honor Guard. Devout patriots to the State, tried, tested, and true every single one of them. Except for me. There was a time I believed in what the Caldari stood for, but by that point I had completely forgotten about it. My late wife, Myri Alvarin, had a sister that afforded me a number of opportunities with the Honor Guard. Given she was already a friend to the Honor Guard, getting a recommendation was an easy matter.
-I worked with the Honor Guard as a communications officer, managing incoming and outgoing intel, decrypting enemy transmissions, etc, etc. Most of what I gathered was downloaded, put under a dozen different cyphers and hand delivered to my Matari contact in a Gurista hangout. I can only ask myself now if it was worth it. Then again, it won't matter soon enough.
-I was captured four months ago. Since then, I have endured numerous regimes of physical and psychological torture, hard labor, interrogations, 'medical testing,' and humiliation at the hands of the families whose lives I destroyed. A small price to pay for my deeds, I suppose. My options now are to live out the rest of my life in labor camps, death, or the DUST Program. Perhaps in another life I will restore my honor with the Caldari. But for right now, just this once... If I ask myself if it was worth it...
-I've always wondered what it would be like to be an Immortal Soldier...
Excerpt taken from a decrypted file on Wiyrkomi servers.
Ashes to Ashes, Hnolku
-Minae used to be a simple communications officer under the Caldari Megacorporation, Wiyrkomi. Many consider those that operate in the Wiyrkomi war machine to be patriots to the Caldari State. Although, no one in the cluster can truly create a flawless system with perfect citizens that adhere to the ideals of their governments.
-This woman, Minae Svad'n Alvarin, was a traitor to the State.
-You may ask yourself what treason she committed. What crime could have been so terrible that her existence has been systematically wiped from the GalNet? Now, ask yourself honestly whether or not you ever considered that you had been born into the wrong government. Would you have sold out your compatriots for ISK because you didn't like them? Would you bribe a CONCORD officer to ignore a shipment of "mood enhancing drugs?" ... Would you plant yourself in a position to give away valuable intelligence to enemies of the State to have a personal hand in its' downfall?
-Minae Alvarin certainly did the last. In her eyes, the Caldari represented tyranny of the highest form. How many can argue against the Caldari stereotype that is mindful only of their profits? Her entire world had been built around profits and efficiency, and every culture must have its' poor and destitute. "It's not fair," she said during a private call prior to her capture. "It's not fair to children to teach them the importance of profiteering when they're barely out of the creche." In her defense children should have good lessons mixed in with their childhoods, but we all have to make an honest ISK somehow.
-Perhaps in her mind everything she did was justified, but you have to ask yourself how many lives are worth selling out your own fleets to the enemy. How many innocent lives must her actions take? How many families has she deprived of mothers and fathers?
-It is my personal hope that she is no longer among the living. The cost of her idealism is too high to allow her to spread it like a disease amongst the masses. Hnolai ki tuul, ti sei oni a tiu.
Anonymous
-This woman, Minae Svad'n Alvarin, was a traitor to the State.
-You may ask yourself what treason she committed. What crime could have been so terrible that her existence has been systematically wiped from the GalNet? Now, ask yourself honestly whether or not you ever considered that you had been born into the wrong government. Would you have sold out your compatriots for ISK because you didn't like them? Would you bribe a CONCORD officer to ignore a shipment of "mood enhancing drugs?" ... Would you plant yourself in a position to give away valuable intelligence to enemies of the State to have a personal hand in its' downfall?
-Minae Alvarin certainly did the last. In her eyes, the Caldari represented tyranny of the highest form. How many can argue against the Caldari stereotype that is mindful only of their profits? Her entire world had been built around profits and efficiency, and every culture must have its' poor and destitute. "It's not fair," she said during a private call prior to her capture. "It's not fair to children to teach them the importance of profiteering when they're barely out of the creche." In her defense children should have good lessons mixed in with their childhoods, but we all have to make an honest ISK somehow.
-Perhaps in her mind everything she did was justified, but you have to ask yourself how many lives are worth selling out your own fleets to the enemy. How many innocent lives must her actions take? How many families has she deprived of mothers and fathers?
-It is my personal hope that she is no longer among the living. The cost of her idealism is too high to allow her to spread it like a disease amongst the masses. Hnolai ki tuul, ti sei oni a tiu.
Anonymous
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