Post by EmperorMyric on Oct 18, 2021 16:47:16 GMT
Accirus System: Old ACGO station orbiter
“Hello children! Its been so long, and I have deeply missed you all”
The caring words of the short and very old lady echoed in the old set. Rusted, worn and dilapidated props and backgrounds lay behind her as she began her broadcast. To many it was absolutely iconic, this was the place where Ancerious favourite children’s show had been filled ‘Tasty Adventures’ before it had unfortunately been cancelled following the ACGOs disbandment due to Palm Rashidas monetary expansions. The old lady sat on her stool, a small wooden thing which she used to perch on for countless years and make children smile across the galaxy. She missed it dearly, she wished so desperately to go back to that time, so much so that she was now here.
“I know by now many of you are no longer children, but I like to think of you all as my children still. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of all your smiling happy faces and the good times we had with not just each other, but all the Tasty Adventure gang. For those who don’t know me, I am Sally McChoc, I used to run the most scrumptious chocolate factory in the galaxy but alas no more.” She looked genuinely sad as the cameras and support staff kept the video rolling, the various people behind them made up of the mercenary forces who had been hired and were now here to get a full briefing. But they had arrived to find Sally conducting this media operation instead.
“I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to stop making what I and you loved, but I was bought out you see, all of us at Tasty Adventures were. We couldn’t compete with the evil tumorous likes of Palm Rashida. It’s not evil like Old Man Webley bless his soul, its evil because it cares not about you, or your happiness, it merely provides in order to grow itself. It took over my factory and virtually all food substance production across the whole galaxy, if you’re eating something right now chances are it was created deep in the bowls of that creature. I am here to ask for your help you see children, I want to ask for your help in aiding me in getting my factory back. To rise up against this uncaring beast and to oversee a people who enjoy in producing your delicious foods again, safely and ethically.” She had tears in her eyes.
“I have missed you all so dearly, and it pains me to ask you to put yourselves at risk. But at last I am taking the first steps, I am going to retake my factory by any means and I won’t let this continue anymore. For all of the Tasty Adventure gang’s sake, and for your sake too I will see that Palm Rashida is forced to re-evaluate itself. Those who stand beside me I will thank you eternally, those who do not I understand and I still love you all. Until next time children, this is Sally signing off”
The cameras went black and the crew made the sign that the broadcast was over. Sally sighed somewhat before attempting to get up, the frail old black women being helped to her feet by two individuals, one of which was perhaps the most surprising. A huge Skia, which stayed by her side and while not speaking intently watched the women and looked out for her. El’Gigante its name was, and it had featured on Tasty Adventures too as Sally’s friend. How the Skia had ever become her friend let alone a children’s TV icon was beyond the knowledge of everyone and was subject to much speculation, but the twisting black serpent seemed intent on keeping her safe and protected.
“I’m fine I’m fine don’t worry” She muttered to her aides before walking over slowly with her ornate walking stick to the teams of mercenary representatives awaiting her, and she smiled.
“Welcome, welcome, don’t worry about the media team they will be out of here quickly. Thank you for coming, as your aware from the contract you are each being paid half now half on completion. Your mission is to help retake my chocolate factory from that fucking tumorous mass of shit that calls itself Palm Rashida. I need that factory intact and as far as I’m aware it is, the creatures just grown on top of and all around it, the factory is huge as many of you know it covers the entire planet. Long story short it’s going to be a tough haul, but I know what you’re thinking, ‘why bother Sally its gone and your time in the limelight is over’” She chuckled to herself and turned to El’Gigante.
“Well because I’m tired of grieving. I bought smiles and happiness to children across this galaxy with my friends because we cared, because we made high standard foods and because we wanted this place to be a second chance for us all. It can be again. Its time I took that leap. Here…” She reached her shaking hand into her knitted jumpers pocket but fumbled for a moment before the Skia stopped her, reaching in one of its huge claws it carefully and kindly picked a small vial from the pocket. It was filled with a red transparent liquid and she took hold of it with a smile.
“Thank you dear. The creature is such an immense size that it has countless redundancies, but its heart is like ours. It’s gigantic but it pumps to all of its mass over the planet, if we can get this substance in then it will kill the entire entity and decompose its corpse rapidly for me and my men to remove it and start getting the factory back in order. Be careful with it and don’t spill any of yourselves, it will kill you nearly instantly and we don’t want that children. Do you have any questions?” Sally asked, the women’s large spectacles staring up at the assembled soldiers.
Among the gathered mercenaries were a pair of Artificia. One, clad in much heavier armour in black and orange, leaning on the almost twin-barrelled hefty mass of a Unanimity shotgun, the weapon large enough it was just as viable as a club as it was a firearm, with a couple of others, all with a similar disregard for compactness or lightweight construction mounted on her armour, a contrast with the soft featured red visage of the woman known as Mihra. She had watched Sally's broadcast with a passive interest; her people had arrived too late to be aware of the context, but she could tell there was a lot behind it.
Leaning out from behind the armoured lightbulb, her long-haired companion of a strong orange colour was far less heavily equipped, dressed in an unmarked AUN officer's uniform, with a pistol on each hip and a folding rifle on her back. She was named Yuhna, though she sternly insisted on being called Captain Yuhna, and she had watched, and listened to Sally, with an almost childish glimmer in her eyes; while Mihra had expressed some interest, it was Yuhna who had energetically convinced Mihra to accept it. 'Convinced' mostly being 'aggressively shook and begged into submission'.
Yuhna's eyes were fixed on the red vial, such an externally energetic and cuddly demeanour entirely unfazed by the idea of poisoning a massive living thing that fed untold numbers of people, while a contemplative look crossed Mihra's face, putting a hand to her chin.
"Hmm..." she rumbled, before looking back up at Sally. "Do we know where this heart is? And how to get to it?"
Another group was a collection of Velnatharians and Velnatharii from the Order of Hastrax, being front and centred by a trio of troopers in combat gear with their head protection held to their sides and combat rifles slung to their backs fitted with an assortment of underslung attachments. The first of these bore a gold insignia on the left shoulder, in comparison to the whites of the others, indicating that he was in fact the group leader, introducing himself as Lieutenant Falthas before proceeding with his questions: "So then, without meaning to drop the formalities entirely, my first question is what information you have on the target in terms of terrain, defences, possible routes of approach?" He paused for a moment, giving the older woman time to process the question, before indicating the vial... "...and my second is who's responsible for carrying the deadly cargo?"
In the meantime the remainder of the trio at the front being two Velnatharii bearing Sergeant's insignia on their left shoulders turned to give a hand to the Velnatharius standing immediately behind them in taking off her much heavier and bulkier power armour headpiece, who bore the same insignia as the helping pair on her left shoulder, but had a far larger collection of direct-send ordnanace dispensing tools stowed on her back. This particular Sergeant went by the name of Auralea and was notably distinguised by her right shoulder insignia being rather more eloquent and formed even if it had no meaning to those outside the group. Having finished the lending of hands the two Sergeants Evol and Breer quickly snapped back around to facing their front rather than wishing to appear rude by having their backs turned, and Auralea was paying attention now with the headgear off, looking at the large black creature next to the expedition's 'sponsor' with curiousity even while she listened to the briefing conversations. Being able to multitask was a skill she had picked up quickly.
Beyond the quartet quite obviously equipped to be running around guns blazing was another group, in much lighter gear and with only some relatively compact PDWs for weapons. They bore a twin gear insignia on their right shoulder apiece and only the front man was a Velnatharii out of the lot. He stood observantly with a Staff Sergeant insignia on his left shoulder, knowing his duty as the second in command was to know the plan in as much detail as possible as the commander themself in case something went wrong. This was of course why he had patched into Falthas' helmet video feeds so he could get a good view even from the back, while a Corporal stood next to him with a notepad somewhat nervously making a lot of notes. The Staff Sergeant who identified as Vorkon side-eyed the nervous Corporal somewhat; before leaning over and whispering to him. "That many notes isn't going to be any good for quick reference in the field, kid. Trim it down and write down only what you need, it'll do you better." He then returned back to his previous position before whispering again, this time to his superior's earpiece for the questions Vorkon wanted raising with minimal interruption.
The Lieutenant was finishing off a few formalities before putting in a last pair of questions: "...and I'd also like to know how things stand regarding optimal weapons dispositions and vehicular access to the area specifically if that isn't too much to ask. Other than that I'm sure it'll be a pleasure working with you and getting some children their entertainment programming back" There was of course a notable change in his voice from the formal toned operator to a much more cheery and genuine person in the last point, obviously Falthas was taking this far more to heart than his usual 'day-job'.
A trio of a similar number of species stood to the side. Nominally a private military conglomerate, their weapons and kit - primarily of AGA-bloc manufacture, in particular Carnaithian - told the scrutinous everything they needed to know while their custom-marked nature maintained disconnect. The man in front was a human, speckled with custom cybernetics and clad in a thick black cascading poncho that was obviously lighter than it appeared. The others were a couple of unaligned species, unremarkable in notability and their kit, only accompanying the human for the sake of escort and information dispersal - very deliberately not clogging the area with unnecessary attendees.
Conversely to his jagged and rough appearance, the man bore a wide-eyed expression and turned to each speaker as they brought up points. His visage implied that despite his occupation he must have been one of those fans so long ago, giddily approaching this meeting as a subchapter to the wider operation. He wasn't so giddy as to interrupt the tactical discussion, but it was evident he very much wanted to - instead, he remained wordless as the Artificians and the Hastrax covered the necessary data points for the briefing. He was just as content to simply stand to the side and listen in - at least until there was a follow-up question to be asked.
"Grug learned that not everything is sunny and pretty forever... sometimes life just changes and Grug remains the same..."
The colossal boot hit the ground with a thud and the APC's suspension rocked when its biggest and heaviest passenger made it out surrounded by personal assistants and worried journalists. It was an old, worn-out combat boot with a Capitol imprint that had long faded. Crude construction, synthetic leather, nothing like the ergonomic and lightweight boots that the Capitol Army regulars had worn during the Second Ancerious War. Boots like that had been made by second-rate factories in backwater worlds because their wearers were never expected to complain about them due to how simply-minded they were.
The wearer of this boot had never complained about it. Not because it was comfortable, he was well aware it wasn't, but because it reminded him of who he was and of times past. It reminded him of all those others like himself who did not live to see the end of the war, who had marched bare-footed and kept up with Empress Inara's fearsome mecanized divisions. They were cherished boots and the discomfort that they caused to his feet was a more welcome feeling than the comfort of any other footwear.
"When Grug came home and Manny told Grug that Tasty Adventures was over, Grug cried. But then Grug understood. Things change. Sally McChoc's Chocolate Factory Tasty Adventures wouldn't be in the TV anymore." The gentle giant spoke as he placed one hand on top of the APC. "Palm Rashidiya bought the sweets factory. But then Grug learned Palm Rashidiya fed many children across the galaxy. Grug thought.... Palm doesn't have a fun TV show but they make a lot of food. Sally McChoc won't be in the TV anymore but Palm will be able to make even more sweets for children with the chocolate factory. Palm will make more people happy. So Grug accepted. Things change around Grug but Grug remains the same."
After him, nine other passengers stepped out of the Restevian BTR-688 armored personnel carrier. All nine were identical down to the cellular structure, merciless and methodical killers wielding integrally-silenced assault rifles whose uniforms were marked by shoulder patches that bore a single unadorned word: ANALOG. With their crimson berets and their urban camouflage, they all lined up in front of the entrance to the APC right after the giant stepped out to salute. This wasn't out of procedure, ANALOG's mercenaries had little loyalty to anything beyond their own improvement, this was out of genuine respect. Grug nodded at them then turned around back to the APC and placed his heavy hands on a package lying right behind the vehicle's turret.
"Grug accepted." The gigantic Capitol brute said as he softly unpacked the bundle of cloth, revealing the worn brutalistic forms of an AW1-era VM-1 heavy machinegun. Every sinle part of the weapon showed glimpses of its age. But beneath the scratched paint and blunted metal, the weapon was evidently well taken care of, oiled and fitted with new custom-milled parts. Human soldiers required a tripod or a pintle mount to fire this gun, Grug did not. "Grug accepted... but then Grug heard that Palm Rashidiya was not using Sally McChoc's factory to make sweets anymore. Grug heard that Sally McChoc's factory was being used to make biofuel. And none of the children would have their sweets anymore. Then Grug realized that Grug couldn't just accept."
He took the powerful gun in his hands for the first time in what had seem like an eternity. Every single microscopic feature of the VM-1 felt familiar to Grug's palms, it was like putting on a beloved cozy sweater found at the bottom of a forgotten drawer. By reflex he threw the belt of 15mm API ammunition over his shoulder, like he'd done back then, except this time the last couple rounds dinged against the silvery urn inside which Manny's memory was held, clipped to the giant's belt.
"This time Grug must kill."
The ARK Journalist holding the microphone to Grug's face couldn't help but sniff and waver between sobs. Her eyes bloodshot, tears streaming down her eyes, she understood why the galaxy's Karolinska-winning literatus had heard the call of battle once again. She could not and would not do anything to deter the legendary children's book author from heeding the call of the galaxy's nan. But now she could at least hope that his sudden departure with a group of mercenaries would be understood. She could go on to tell his story to the press and the galaxy's intelligentsia would all spare a minute of silence for the simple- but concise-minded genius author who had brought inspiration to so many children. None of them even tried to stop Grug, they knew that the luminary behind "grug like flower" saw in Sally McChoc a kindred soul.
When he arrived and listened to the briefing, flanked by his troop of elite mercenaries, Grug himself was the one who had to hold back the tears and shift nervously to hide how his whole body was trembling at the sight of what might as well have been divinity. When she was done, the 9 foot giant simply bent the knee and cried.
“We do indeed child, initial recon done by the Cherenkov Guild has mapped out and done deep surface scans, we have found and located the heart. Such nice people here, a few of them helped me out free of charge, said they loved my show. Oh sorry yes for how we get there, direct drop is impossible I’m afraid, the whole areas a bobby mass of tumours and we wouldn’t be able to get through it from above even if we bombard it as I’ve been told. Instead we land to the east and make our way in through some of the lower levels to access it” She smiled to Yuhna. She then turned to Falthas.
“Well who carries the cargo is up to you, just make sure it’s safe. As for details on what we are up against well… “ She shrugged then winced at the pain “I’m not entirely sure, Palm itself has some biological defences, and no doubt after that broadcast it will hire mercenaries quickly, so whoever responds in time. Terrain wise expect cramped, moist and living terrain and we will be travelling underground prepare yourselves and make sure your all environmentally sealed it can get mighty fine icky down there kids. As for weapons…”
Sally paused, after all weapons and warfare were not to be expected of an old women who owned a chocolate factory.
“Bring rapid fire large calibre firearms I’m guessing anywhere from .50 upwards or energy in nature, demolition charges are also needed, likely a selection of light anti-tank weapons and some light artillery such as mortars to top it all off. Vehicle access will likely be limited” She then grinned and pulled out some chocolate “Care for some?” Just as Sally had offered the large APC had pulled up, revealing the brute of a man and his entourage. Sally clapped her hands together in delight.
“Oh my Grug! I am so surprised and yet so happy you could join us!” She hobbled over with her walking stick, El’Gigante staying close as she embraced the huge inhuman who knelt down to hug her gently as well. Sally had surprisingly once had a rare group of children which had come from Capitol to one of her shows, a rare occurrence in the Garren era by screw up of the draw Grug had been one of those chosen despite his supposed defects. He had loved meeting Sally in person and she had encouraged him to use his creativity to become what he was born to be, she had been elated when Grug had won his literary award that year.
“Thank you for coming, and congratulations for your success I knew you could do it!”
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at the grown big man over there Stacy, he's crying," Syko quietly snickered as he stood at the back in a corner, oiling the weapon parts of a 5.7mm machine pistol. He made sure to whisper, as much as the Panopticon had reduced him from a respectable soldier to a maniac on Rubikon II, he was still smart enough not to anger the Brute with an autocannon.
//Ooooh be gentle with the oil Master! Yesshhh thats the spot!// Stacy cooed as her bolt carrier was being rubbed with a piece of oily cloth.
//Master how long will you keep indulging the slut? I'm the one that needs the carbon off my bolt!// Becky lashed out as she remained in Syko's right holster.
//Master has no need for prudes like you bitch!// Stacy growled back.
"Girls, girls theres no need to fight. I have enough oil and cloth for the two of my babies," Syko whispered as he took out the other machine pistol from his right holster, 'Becky' and laid it on the table next to 'Stacy'. 'Becky' and 'Stacy' were machine pistols of identical model and were like twin sisters, bickering over their owner's attention. Except the fact that they weren't actually twin sisters and were not real talking guns; everything in the 'conversation' was merely a figment of Syko's increasingly deranged imagination which gave his guns names and fictional personalities that put him as the center of their being. To the others in the room close enough to Syko, they would have simply seen him murmuring to his own guns like some kind of schizophrenic pervert.(edited)
-----------------------
As Sally McChoc replied to the questions and offered her congratulations to Grug, Syko partially listened to everything she and everyone else said as he remained busied preparing his tools of the trade. He only managed to absorb the part where they might fight Palm's biological forms and other mercenaries and the weapons needed for the job- the rest seemed irrelevant to him. He was only here for two things; the sweet sweet cash and murdering people. If completing this job meant that Sally paid him good cash and he gets the kill things there was no other questions that need to be asked. As a hitman, he didn't exactly have much in the way of heavy weaponry; he only had two machine pistols, two shotguns and some grenades. But he did not worry, for he had a special talent. As he took a good look at the heavy firepower the rest of the mercenaries brought with them with squads of soldiers and APCs, with a wave of his hand the bolt carrier he had been oiling lifted off the table and floated into the machine pistol's frame, elegantly sliding into place as the rest of the gun's parts were also subsequently telekinetically pieced together to fully assemble the machine pistol labelled 'Stacy'.
Falthas took a chunk of the offered chocolate - enough for his assembled men and women but not so much as to be greedy or deny the others the chance to have some - and gratefully thanked Sally. He handed out chunks to his troops and tasted some himself while she continued to talk to other groups, and greet the large new 'celebrity' arrival, even if he didn't know who it was himself.
The Lieutenant, after taking a moment for the old lady to finish talking to the others so that it was his 'turn', spoke up again. "Am I to see that as each group carrying some and me picking the carrier within mine, or me and the others coming to some sort of agreement for a single sample of... that?" Falthas paused momentarily again. "And are we talking kinetic 50's and upwards or .50 railguns and upwards here?" Falthas stopped to eat some more chocolate. "Environmentally sealed is standard practise and I think we have demolitions covered" He noted, indicating first to the large HIWS-type weapon on Auralea's back and secondly to their AEV in the back where the other vehicles were, the vehicle being loaded up with most obviously a dozer blade and some sort of demolitions cannon.
Sergeant Auralea, besides a moment where Falthas had needed to indicate to the weapons on her back, was still fixated with El'Gigante who was very strange to her even while she listened and ate her chocolate, while her immediate compatriots also enjoyed the food after passing some back to the crewmen in their rear sector. Vorkon kept his chocolate for later, while again speaking to Falthas through his earpiece: If she means 12.7 mil railguns our PDWs and battle rifles aren't going to cut it, Sir. With your permission we'll rearrange our weapons after this briefing if that's the case. The Corporals to Vorkon's sides, one still a little nervous, were still nibbling at their chocolate before the Staff Sergeant refocussed them onto the briefing.
Yuhna virtually began vibrating as the chocolate was offered, that combined with her own hardlight nature resulting in an audible hum emanating throughout the room. Mihra politely declined any chocolate, but Yuhna looked like a gleeful child, bouncing slightly on the spot and wording many rapid thanks. How and why Mihra had befriended such an overenergetic Artificia, and why she had chosen to bring her, was unclear. Or perhaps it was less that she had chosen and more that she had been unable to stop Yuhna from coming along.
"Mihraaaa! I wanna go do the thing!"
"You seem awfully enthusiastic about shooting people and poisoning what might be the largest organism in existance, Yu. How do I know I haven't brought along a psychopath?"
"I wanna help the old lady! If meatbags get in the way, that's their fault!"
"Yeah, yeah. Most people aren't so gleeful about popping skulls."
"I'm thinking about the ends, Mihr, not the means."
"Well. That's all I've got to ask. How soon're we to deploy?" Mihra asked, arms crossed, as Yuhna nibbled on her chocolate.
Up to this point, the group of Restevians in a mishmash of gear near their BMP had largely stayed quiet, observing and taking notes on the nature of the mission and what they needed to do. There were about seven of them all told, veteran soldiers of the War, a man in power armor and few troopers wearing surplus gear that nevertheless moved with the air of people determined to get the job done. They were of course ready for this, the livelihoods of a lot of people back home were harmed by this thing, and besides the fact, while each trooper had their own reasons, they were still here, and still armed for bear to get the job done.
"We're ready to deploy as soon as the word's given, comrades." Lieutenant Nisov said, both hands resting on the stock of his slung AK like it was the pommel of a sword. While the personal weapons of a few weren't fifty calibers, they absolutely had the power of fifty calibers... and the weapons the others had would do just as well. A few LAWs and explosives were stashed in the BMP, the vehicle itself had it's own weapons, and PA trooper, Vanya, had brought a weapon just as large as Grug's in the form of a VK rotary. When the chocolate was offered a few of the troopers took some, and the lieutenant spoke again.
"I'll have my medic carry our cargo, and if needed, we'll take point with comrade Grug's boys."
The human in the poncho gently and elegantly acquired one of the offered morsels, spinning back to his men and dispersing pieces as he broke the bar into individual servings before taking a bite into his own piece. He listened to the nearby Hastrax personnel mutter about themselves about the kit suggestions and placed a hand under his jaw, surveying his own mens' weapons. OICWs would certainly fare well, especially considering the ETC propellant packed behind the kinetic element. He shrugged, may as well.
"Louis, pal, head back to staging and let everyone know to pack as many of the FIST weapons as possible. Replace sidearms with high-impact PDWs and short-shotties. Thanks!," He brushed off the officer - spinning once more, this time towards Sally's, though he couldn't help but chuckle at the Hastrax fire support vehicle's presence. "Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt what must be a heartwarming moment for you, but -" He stuttered, grinning ear to ear - "I am <i>so</i> excited to be working with you, though I always grew up hoping it could be under a more innocent context," He smiled up at Grug, quietly recollecting himself.
"Seeing as Palm is biological... does it have the ability to re-route entryways? It's a fairly common feature among more security-oriented megaorganisms, and of course the factory only has so many accessible paths in the first place, but... I'm sorry, I say that too much- I don't want to get stuck in a room unable to keep moving. I hardly wish to become personally acquainted with its defensive systems for an extended period."
The chocolate was incredibly tasty, it was a gooey soft mix of caramels, milk chocolate and fudge. It seemed to satisfy whoever eat it, genuine Sally’s chocolate was hard to come by these days with the factory being out of business for so long. But Sally herself had kept the recipe and legacy alive by creating small batches in her private kitchen.
“We only have one vial I’m afraid children, so someone’s going to have to take good care of it. I couldn’t get anymore, it took a great deal of my personal funds just to get that amount, its highly illegal you see, or well Palm made it illegal by lobbying most of the galaxy into making it so. Also kinetics, just be sure to suit up in NBC gear I’m sure Palm will have some nasty bugs for us as we go deeper” She smiled. Watching the people enjoy her home cooked chocolate. The large Skia turning its head to stare directly at sergeant Auralea who was in turn staring at El’Gigante.
Sally turned to the man and grinned “Oh I am so glad, I do apologise it is under such circumstances but I really hope that if this venture succeeds then I can meet far more people again under better circumstances, and bring light again to children’s lives. As for the rerouting, I’m almost sure of it now that you mention it. If we carry enough demolitions and manage to keep the vehicles with us we should be able to barge through, besides we have this fine strapping fellow here to help as well” She smiled up at Grug “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name child?”
“Oh and we will be dropping as soon as everyone’s ready, don’t worry about any orbital battles I’ve got that all covered from some old friends. Those of you who are ready feel free to mount up, anyone who doesn’t have transport can ride with me it won’t be a long way to the factory and once we are there we will swoop in like angels and make the drop” She beamed clearly excited at the prospect.
Falthas nodded. "Perhaps some sort of marker on whomever carries the vial, highly visible to us but indistinguishable to palm - if that is even possible - would help us ensure the cargo makes its way there." Falthas then quietly whispered to Vorkon over comms: We should be fine with our weapons then, make sure to pack heavier secondary attachments as insurance. Pack some heavier stuff for AEV crew though, not sure PDWs will cut it. The Lieutenant then returned to addressing Sally, "I think the nastiest bug was it's take-over in the first place, from a certain point of view. That aside, I'll have my troops start loading up for drop. I myself will stay here to coordinate with the other leading elements if they have more to say."
At that, the rest of the group turned and headed back toward where their vehicle and stores were: loading up ammunition, locking helmets and auxiliaries onto armour, making well-drilled pre-battle checks and making adjustments to weapons under direction of Vorkon, who paid particular attention to the Corporals as they set about loading up the vehicle's 25mm RCWS mount. Sergeant Auralea stayed somewhat behind, continuing to have a 'staring contest' with the Skia, curiously. Of course she knew better than to do so at the expense of preparation, but she was fully laden before the briefing anyway seeing as her heavier armour took far more time to load up. Falthas was also unable to load up directly, so the occasional appearance of one of the others to load him up while he continued to wait for any questions that might be thrown his way.
Grug nodded happily along, shimmying in anticipation and gawking with wonderment at being addressed in such a manner. The people he'd known throughout his life had made quite a point to tell him to never meet his heroes but he'd never understood it, much less now that he had seen Ms. McChoc was even greater in real life than she was in the show.
"Let me go with you!" Grug said, his voice trembling a bit "Grug wants to drop! Mr. Krug can take the vehicle!"
Upon hearing this, the soldiers that had arrived with Grug nodded and went back to the waiting BTR. On their way they took note of the Restevian crew, somewhat sizing them up as they walked along their former compatriots.
The BTR-688 was a large eight-wheeled Restevian personnel carrier not actually used by the Restevian Ground Forces themselves. Mainly used by the MGDF, it was mostly a private venture by one of the industrial factories of Restevia; built abroad and with only the faintest link remaining to the Restevian motherland. The same could have been said of the soldiers that crewed the vehicle.
Twenty years ago that link had been far stronger; it had practically defined the life of Viktor Zavomirovsky Krug. VKR Spetsnaz operator active in the interwar period, he had been considered an outstanding soldier by his superiors. But the good graces that the STAVKA had shown to the promising soldier gradually faded as he climbed up the ranks proved himself a subpar NCO. Unable or unwilling to mature along with his peers, he had retained the idealistic, romantic and manichean view of warfare of a fresh recruit well into his 30s; whereas the rest of his class had come to grips with grim realities like acceptable collateral and geopolitical expediency, Krug still saw his duties through the lens of a patriotic fight between good and evil, light and darkness. His original comrades kept climbing the ranks and gradually transferred to administrative, command and instruction assignments while Krug remained with the infantry, looking progressively more and more out of place with each new wave of recruits.
While psychological evaluators recommended that he be retired or transferred to another assignment, divisional commanders couldn't help but be somewhat in awe at the man who was in his late 30s and still managed to keep up with recruits in their early 20s. It was as if something was giving him strength, a sort of unshakeable conviction that one day the right mission would present itself, an opportunity for him to do what STAVKA knew he would do with absolute efficiency and suicidal determination: defending the innocent and fighting back the forces of evil.
In AME 46, #IMAGO staged a large scale hostage taking in the Tsinskaya Airport T4 passenger terminal.
There had been perhaps not a single day ever since in which Krug did not wonder what had gone wrong and what had made it so that a mission that had seemed tailored to his exact character had been failed in such a painful way. From having spent most of his career in denial of the realities of the ambigious morality of the spetsnaz, Krug had gone to spend his days thinking of nothing else. He had trained too long, every corridor and service access in the terminal were practically replicas of the kind of exercise sites that he had spent years upon years training in while his comrades graduated off to higher-ranking assignments. The only thing more shocking that the feeling that fate had prepared him for that one mission was the fact he'd failed it. It wasn't the first mission that had ended bitterly for the veteran Spetsnaz but it was by far the most impactful. Krug had never stopped trying to find meaning in that tragedy, looking for it obsessively and sensing that a dark and malicious intelligence had been behind it all, personally striking at him. It wasn't #IMAGO, they had merely been the instrument. Krug felt like there had been something else behind that morning, that airport; behind IMAGO and the VKR Spetsnaz and the police and the civilians and the dead children. Finding that accursed thing, whatever it was, and wreaking vengeance upon it had become his reason of being.
By the time the war was over, Viktor Krug was no more and in his place was ANALOG. Thirty thousand clones of the disgraced Restevian soldier armed to the teeth and organized in multiple mechanized divisions, selling their services to the highest bidders. Despite their newfound reputation as a deadly and efficient PMC, establishing ANALOG had costed so much that they were now wholly owned by the Yamanakako Military Corporation. His services were sold far and wide across the galaxy to the vilest of organizations and, in an ironic twist of fate, to #IMAGO itself. But the idealistic part of Krug had long died, cost and morality were now secondary considerations to a hive mind that had become hyper-focused on one single goal: finding out what had broken in him back at Tsinskaya and making sure it would never break again.
"Back us up" Krug addressed Nisov in a monotone, his arms crossed over a matte black silenced assault rifle. "We have one RPG, one grenade launcher and a 12.7mm on the BTR. If terrain is too rough for the vehicles then it's too rough for anything worth firing a rocket at. We'll be going light."
"I'm ready!" Yuhna blurted out almost immediately, netting a sigh and a shake of the head from Mihra, watching her friend excitedly bouncing slightly on the spot.
"Yeah, we're set whenever. We haven't got any AFVs like...a lot of people here decided to bring along, but I have a motorbike." she shrugged, turning to her orange compatriot.
"I get being gung-ho but rein it in, alright? This is likely more delicate than you seem to think, and if we--or you--screw this up, we don't get the other half of the reward and you don't get to see a big ol chocolate factory start back up. Alright?" she muttered.
Yuhna slowed down almost immediately, sternly maintaining eye contact with Mihra.
"...Alright. I'll calm down." she nodded slowly.
"Good." Mihra smiled, turning back to Sally and the other groups.
"As stated, ready whenever."
“Oh don’t worry Grug my boy you can stay right here with me, after all I’m coming along too it’s my factory after all and I’ll be damned if I let you youngsters go in and do all the work for me” She smiled “Come on lets go, I think that’s our ride arriving” She grinned, the station they were on began to vibrate, a low level hum which permeated all material. It was like being in close proximity to gravity engines…
Sally in her jolly mood led the group including the vehicles and her own staff who had packed everything away towards one of the larger cargo airlock sections. It was heavily run down, just like this entire orbiter but it still functioned, the vehicles having easy access through the large openings. As they made their way onto the huge cargo hangar and looked out into the void it became apparent that it was not just any ride they had awaiting, but several, and quite legendary ones at that. Sally had not been lying, any orbital war would be over quickly.
Three vessels waited in the vacuum ready to dock with the station, one was the huge form of a Hephaestus class dreadnought, produced by Triarch Industries and named ‘Forge Father’ it was captained by the quite famous Amitt, someone who had attempted to fight the Ghosts of the Tradex, and actually won. The second was by far the largest of the three vessels, although it looked like more of a construction site than any true warships. The unmistakable shape of an Axiomatic Blinker lay cloaked in countless scaffolding and assorted structural supports especially around its mid-section, the famous Blinker Carpalis who had held the line at Aedleshaven against the allied attack and had been split in half in the battle. Presumed dead it had merely jumped away, both its halves left to drift in different sectors, it had been content to merely ponder its existence in the time of its unfortunate exile free from the concerns of the Blinker fleet and the now cyber civil war of the Axioms, however when it had heard of Sally’s plight the Blinker had decided the time had come. Using its immense processing power of both of its halves it had mined enough SIGEC to pay numerous recovery contractors to find its halves and put it back together if somewhat strenuously. It had once enjoyed watching Sally’s kids show, and while it had lost its purpose once more it now had a goal to defend. The last ship was also much like the Blinker, however the distinctive blue of the Union of Worlds denoted the presence of none other than Suma Antropogenica, having been almost scrapped and abandoned at the start of the 2nd Ancerious war it had been recovered, and repaired to its full glory but not in time for the wars end. Now Sally’s contact in the Union had offered her aid, the vessel pulling up alongside the dock and extending its umbilical connection.
When the doors open the two captains stepped out to smile. Or rather, one of them did. The other didn’t have a head.
“Most humble guests I welcome you aboard our most honoured starship, I am Captain Nyrz, and this is my co-captain Johnson. I extend all of my possible emotions to honouring you aboard the holy Suma Antropogenica, I hope your brief stay will be as good a-“
“What he means to say is Hello, welcome aboard I hope you enjoy yourself” Johnson smirked, looking to Sally. In all of the time since the ships inception Nyrz had never changed and somehow Johnson had dealt with him still, both captains had been angry at the brief decommissioning of their pride and joy, and had quit both EPA and the Union afterwards to ply the various bars and restaurants of Lost Star, that was until the Union had offered to accept both of them and the original crew back to save their vessel. They had accepted, and Johnson had endured an epic 7 day nonstop thank you speech delivered by Nyrz to Union HICOM, who had been far too nice to say no that was enough at any point.
“It’s been a long time Johnson my boy, I am glad to see you. And an honour to meet you too Nyrz, I have heard a lot about you. I suppose we should get a move on, come on you lot” She gestured for them to board as they walked alongside the two captains. Nyrz already leaping into a tirade of semi poem that discussed their actions within the bounds of the Syntagma, Sally listening closely to the headless man while Johnson merely rolled his eyes glad to finally have an assignment. Despite it all, Nyrz had never lost his faith or his zealous nature, Johnson had admired him for that.
The vehicles were stored in the main loading bay, which was surprisingly cramped for a ship of this size before they were led up to the bridge. The ship was Union for sure, but tapestries, paintings and elements of a more exotic culture lay on corridors, rooms and more, the EPA crew being heavily augmented given that at the time of the joint project the organisation had more been a military arm of the Axioms than a standalone cult before the time of the twins and Sibling Eater. But if that change was surprising, the bridge was even more so. A huge open space centred around what appeared to be a massive banquet table laden with food the bridge crew worked at their stations while turning to eat from the ever replenishing food brought in by other crewmen. Nyrz and Johnson gestured for the groups to sit around the table, for it had more than enough room for them and to enjoy the view from the huge holographic almost 360 display of the outside, getting a good look at both the Forge Father and Carpalis. It was quite a change compared to any standard Union vessel, Nyrz and Johnson took their seats next to each other.
“Helm plot us a course”
“And may the endless light of the Son of Man shine from deep inside us, lighting out way through the infinitely fractal universe. Prepare wormhole drive for its immediate use and bring us away from the revered station. I would be most honoured if you also prepared weapon systems” Nyrz commanded.
“After all, we’ll have some company”
As the Hastraxian group also packed onto their transport, Falthas could see from these vessels that they were special even though he knew nothing of their legend. "Well, I can see why Sally said the orbital battle wasn't going to be a problem. Doesn't look like Palm can match up to these." This was followed by the Hastraxian force taking their invited seating, with Auralea still somewhat fascinated by now both the Skia and the ships.
The group tucked into the various offerings with much thanks, observing the views keenly. The Forge Father was certainly something to behold and far grander than any warship of their own nation provided for its crews, a banquet like this being unheard of aboard any of their own naval vessels. But it didn't provide any doubts that this vessel was still perfectly capable.
"Thank you very much for the hospitality, we'd like very much if the enemy were treat to the inverse. Or anything worse than the inverse will do, suitable vengeance either way." Despite the food, many of the Hastraxians were still ready for battle in mind, knowing full well that this was only a brief rest and many neglected to remove combat gear in favour of readiness, as they had been trained to do. The outward sense of being at ease very much masked their internal stress and battle readiness, as they eagerly awaited for the holo display to light up with contacts and the battle to begin.
Eric had so wanted to tell Sally his name, but things had proceeded so quickly after he first spoke to her that he hadn't had the opportunity to get another word in. Instead, with the group being pushed so quickly to get on with the operation, he had quickly fetched a dubiously compact railgun whose upper element's polished surface flashed in the sunlight, clean of any manufacturing marks. His gaze looked through the window and at the sight of the final ship, something deep in his mind clicked and he could do nothing but helplessly stare in awe for what felt like a century before one of his subordinates pushed him on the soldier, only temporarily snapping him out of his daze, where he proceeded to follow into that same ship he had seemed so unnaturally enamored with.
Walking through, his heard felt as if it had been fractured by some greater goal while he avidly examined every surface, banner, and crewman he walked past within the time he had available to him. Some echoing, loving scream was telling him this was a <i>very</i> special craft. But that banshee was silenced upon the appearance of the banquet - he could feel his heart-rate drop, his pupils constricting to a normal size. He returned to his prior state of deliberate consciousness, his sly smile returning as he loosened his grip on the slink around his shoulders and made his way to a seat nearby what food he would care to eat before combat - notably, lots of bread.
Syko helped himself to the food, putting all manners of meats, breads and vegetables on his plate before returning to the table and sitting down. From one of his vests' pockets, a white napkin was fished out and he tied it around his neck, after which he then folded a table cloth and neatly placed it on his lap. Gracefully picking up a fork and a knife, the maniac of Rubikon II - the one who bombed the hospital that he awoke in, the one who gunned down mafias and police alike, the one who hijacked a pirate ship and set it on a collision course into the systems' star, melting everyone for the fun of it, was now displaying table manners. Nose high in the air, chin up and posture straightened, he dined like an aristocratic lord, if said aristocratic lord wore a stolen military vest and had an orange mohawk for hair.
"Hmmm yes, very delicious, a fine ship begets such fine food, Captain Headless and Captain Johnson," Syko padded his mouth with the napkin, speaking with an exaggerated posh accent.
The Artificia had stared in wonder at the ships Sally had somehow rallied to her cause. The dreadnought was more like the type of ship they were used to, large and imposing but of much more conventional construction. The comparatively gangly blue vessel they were approaching drew more a look of curious wonder, but both of them knew the shape of a Cardinal, Yuhna straying off in Carpalis' direction before Mihra grabbed her by the collar, keeping the orange hardlight woman close.
"When this is over, Yuhna, provided you aren't too much of a problem you can ask nicely to go say hi to the floaty death gun. Alright?"
"We aren't in a rush, are we?"
"Not the point."
The Artificia had looked over the banquet table, their eyes remaining oddly away from most of it. The more solid a food, the more an Artificia struggled with it, after all. Still, Yuhna acquired some soup while Mihra was content with a drink.
"Well." the red Artificia muttered. "Don't we feel a touch out of place?" she huffed, smirking.
Everything felt a little out of place, to be frank. And that was why she was smiling.
Nisov had heard of Krug in his time in the armed forces, many men had. He'd also heard of the incident, one of many that had occurred, but one particularly tragic in his opinion. He'd nodded to the man in agreement to back him up, and had ordered his men to do the same. So long as they used their weapons properly and watched each other's backs, an armored spearpoint they'd be.
For many of the Restevians present in the team, being in close proximity to so many EPA as they were led up from stowing the BMP to the bridge was something of an uncomfortable experience to say the least of things, with how fearsome against EPA the fighting in the war had been. But that aside, nobody was shooting at them, nobody was praising the Syntagma whilst preparing to attack or anything like that... so they could relax. For now, at least. Seating themselves at the table, gathering what food appealed to the trooper's tastes before they settled in. What a motley crew they had here, maniacs, mercenaries, Artificia fighters, it was like no operation in the War that Nisov could recall having been on. But the talk was polite, the food was good, and so long as they weren't getting shot at he was determined to at least enjoy some luxury before they got down to the nasty business of war.
“Oh it is our honour to have such an assortment of enlightened guests, the Syntagma states that-“
“Your welcome, it’s the tradition of this ship to always have the best that can be provided to any who are aboard. Your all no exception, any friend of Sally is a friend of ours” Johnson interrupted Nyrz who politely bowed, it was extremely common for that to happen.
The Haephestus had entered Slipspace soon after the helm command, however the Antropogenica and Carpalis merely floated in space. All that could be determined by their FTL methods was the low whine and ever building feeling of energy within the ship, it was like some static electricity which could be tangibly felt in the air but wasn’t quite there.
“Please dig in, we shall very well be treating your foes to the inverse of our hospitality, do not worry yourselves with the prospect of battle just yet” Nyrz gestured to the food as another round of platters were brought in, this time consisting of numerous vegetable dishes of exotic plants only found on select worlds and cooked up into local primitive delicacies. Sally herself moving to sit down as Grug was kind enough to pull a chair out for her to sit on.
“Oh thank you my boy, look they have Bootheel carrot cake! I haven’t seen that in over two decades, come all try its rather exquisite” She grabbed a knife and started cutting slices even as the crewman placed the large cake onto the table, its brown and orange coloured sponge was laced with icing and more “One for everyone I think!” Sally grinned, dishing out a slice to each and every person present.
“Now I think a toas-“
There was a weird form of dislocation, like stepping through a doorway. Then the windows lit up with a bright flash. Turning to see what was outside, the Antropogenica and the Carpalis had charged then activated their wormhole drives, flashing them into reality at the location above the orbit of Sally’s factory planet. The bright explosion which now lit the banquet was the remains of a Neo Almaz cruiser which had just taken a full hit from the Forge Fathers super heavy relativistic railguns and was now mostly atomised scrap.
“Do not worry my guests, continue your meal, we will ensure you are safe to drop” Nyrz clicked his fingers as humming and whining was heard. Another two smaller vessels, both destroyers which seemed to have been Triarch bought disappeared into bright light as the vessel they were on unleashed its Pion accelerators, soon joined by the Carpalis wiping anti orbital missile barrages from the void using its Scalar arrays. The assembled fleet which was defending the planet seemed in total disarray even as Sally continued to liberally serve out Bootheel Carrot Cake to everyone.
Such a legendary engagement would be one for the annals of any history books and within moments the almost 40 ship strong fleet which Palm Rashidya had contracted in the short time available to defend this world was either burning, in total chaos or reduced to atoms. The three vessels working their magic in the upper bounds of the planets orbit.
“You all better eat up quick they will be done soon then its drop time, and you can’t go to war on an empty stomachs. Sally’s direct orders” The old women smiled.
It wasn’t long before the orbital war was over, none of the ships had taken any serious fire, the weapons available to them having made total work of what was arrayed against them. Not even Palms anti orbital ground networks had provided a challenge when the Forge Father destroyed its biological emplacements, and Carpalis had casually knocked out key defence nodes deep underground with its Pion batteries. Despite the ships in orbit being easy prey, the Intel was clear, Palm had managed to get in forces of its own, and likely had many planetside alongside its own immunological defences.
“You will encounter quite the fight down there” Johnson commented “But don’t worry we will have you covered, come this way. Let’s get you set up to drop” The Joint Captain led the party away from the banquet bridge, numerous people taking what tid bits of food they could including Grug who had hidden a piece of the cake for Sally. They travelled back through ornamental corridors to the drop bays, a cramped region which contained both pods and large cargo landers.
“Suit up, prepare yourselves and when your all ready to go we will get you all down there. Good luck” Johnson smiled. Sally thanking him and giving him a kiss on the cheek before turning to those assembled.
“Alright lads, mount up then let’s go fuck this bastard up” The old lady roared.
Falthas grinned slightly. "I was going to say it might be a little overconfident continuing with a banquet in the middle of a battle but the evidence from the windows is showing the confidence is well founded." He started eating his carrot cake, as Vorkon next to him gave him a nudge.
"Now those are the kind of direct orders I can get behind, Lieutenant. Take a page out of Sally's book and bring all of us cake next time we deploy." Vorkon said it half-jokingly. He knew full well this was a luxury. A temporary one at that.
"You mean you guys don't normally have cake before you deploy." Chimed Auralea, shortly before laughing at her own joke slightly.
The whole group of Hastraxian-born enjoyed the food, especially the cake with compliments to the chef. But now it was time to focus on the coming fight as everyone left for the drop bays.
The Corporals and Vorkon climbed into the AEV, engine roaring to life to meet Sally's proclamation shortly as they checked it was good to go, followed by Vorkon giving a thumbs up to Falthas as he readied the 25mm and checked its gravity rails were cleared for operation as soon as they hit the ground. Falthas, Auralea and the pair of other Sergeants, Evol and Breer, donned helmets, sealed up and cocked weapons. Falthas confirmed his group were ready to drop when given the green light. "Save some of Palm's goons for us."
Carrotcake had always been such a strange concept to Eric, much like mayonnaise cake or rum cake - He never was much of a cook, and couldn't quite grasp the fact that despite being a vegetable, carrots - being sweet - belonged in confectioneries as much as they belonged beside beef and onions in a stew. The bootheel variety in front of him was to the layman's carrotcake like how one would compare truffles to normal mushrooms, he imagined; while the former was usually predisposed to be dense and mealy due to its vegetable base, the slice on his plate was spongy and impossibly sweet, more like the rich cakes served to similarly-rich nobles... while managing to avoid overpowering his palette.
Something in his brain told him to be thankful for the cake in front of him, helping him focus on something other than the live art display unfurling on the other side of the window. He wiped up a dollop of the icing with his finger as he was ushered through to the drop bays, enveloping his focus into the sweet cream even as he walked through and by the somewhat more militarized elements of the ship he was so enamored with not minutes ago... too fixated on the flavor to sound his own battlecry, even as his mercenary allies returned Sally's call.
Gearing up was the most exciting part of the mission for Syko. The adrenaline of what was to come, the heart racing blood pumping teeth gritting pre-combat anxiety was addictive. It did not help that the explosions in space further made him extra excited.
As everyone suited up and prepared to drop, Syko went to his personal space fighter that he used to travel throughout the galaxy - calling it a space fighter was a bit of a stretch considering the thing was actually a civilian bucket strapped with some laser guns but he did not mind, its spacious cargo capacity for a two-man space fighter allowed him to store all his guns and gadgets. It also did not hurt that he practically got the thing for free...when he snatched the keys (and a thumb) from some random pirate before he sent their entire ship into the sun.
He opened up the cargo compartment, guns were neatly placed in racks and crates of ammunition, gadgets, grenades and more were cleanly arranged, organised and stacked. Two sawed-off shotguns were placed on the magnetic docks on his back, extra ammo for Becky and Stacy, six grenades and two bowie knives for close combat. Boron-silicon carbide hardplates for protection, one at the front and another at the back. Extra water and survival rations in the utility pouches. Seeing as he was about to fight in some organic fleshy pit, he swapped out his goggles for a gas mask just in case. His face was still visible behind the gas mask's wide visors, he was grinning in anticipation. He could not wait to get into battle.
Yuhna had been...a touch distracted with all the food and drink in front of her, only going for the softer foods and emptying a glass at speeds that risked sending a human into a coughing fit, only glancing upwards when any particularly large--or otherwise explosive--guns went off. Mihra, on the other hand, was absentmindedly sucking on a straw, watching the battle outside with an almost unwavering fixation, only snapping her eyes away when the call came to ruin someone's day. Well. More than it already had been.
"Yuhna." she turned to the other Artificia. No response. "Yuhna. No time for cake." she pressed. No response as the orange woman bit down on...something, Mihra didn't actually know what that was.
"Yuhna." she insisted, giving her a slight shove. Finally, she turned to look at her. "We gotta go." she sighed, Yuhna nodding and shoving the last of the...it looked like some kind of fish...into her mouth, standing up and making a gesture of thanks towards the assorted cooks.
Arming up took considerably less time for the two than the assorted others, especially in Yuhna's case, the orange woman shoving a pair of large, revolver-like handguns into their holsters, a rifle onto her back, and then swinging a belt of ammo pouches around herself. Evidently, she wasn't concerned otherwise. Mihra took considerably longer, loading and checking assorted firearms and explosives, and strapping in a solid amount of ammunition and at least two knives.
As for their transportation, rather than any large or small armoured vehicle, Mihra had evidently opted for a motorbike. One admittedly mounted with a pair of twin-linked machine guns on the front, but a motorbike nonetheless, Mihra clambering onto the seat with Yuhna behind her. Lastly, as though a call to indicate they were armed and ready to go, the red Artificia grinned, and let out a growling roar from the vehicle's engine.
"Ready when you all are." she chuckled.
The different clones of Viktor Krug all took a few moments to rig their APC in preparation for its drop; the crew secured their vehicle to a re-entry pallet to which were attached multiple packs of landing boosters and backup parachutes. They made sure that everything was efficiently packed inside the vehicle and all sensitive components were stowed. In order to ensure that the vehicle would have a good weight distribution during that risky few minutes of the drop, Grug would have to be pretty close to its center of gravity and hence board first.
"We're ready, sealing up for drop" Krug informed via the radio an intercomms as the APC slowly closed up its thick metal door with a hydraulic whistle.
"Lady Sally, Grug honored." Grug said, now having encased himself in an enormous, fearsome carapace of armor made from various components of Capitol shock trooper and marine armor. He put on his mask and respirator, sealing himself off from the elements. "If Grug die, Grug go to heaven to wait for Sally."
“Oh no your too much of a gentlemen to die, don’t you worry my boy we will all see the end of this” Sally replied, being helped up into the APC by Grug, coming to sit down next to him in his custom seat array within the vehicle. Sally then seemed to change as an advanced Micrites suit began to form around her body, creating a tight form fitting armour and she ruffled through her small rucksack pulling out shrink wrapped cake, some sweets, various knitting kits and half-finished pieces of work, her purse and finally two small firearms, both looked organic in nature with some sort of pinkish tinge. They were quiet alien but she smiled as the old women packed everything back in, the countdown to launch timer ringing in her now enclosed helmet and to everyone on the ship.
“Ooh this is exciting, see you down there everyone!” She chirped over the intercom.
The countdown was for all involved, the Antropogenica had moved into the atmosphere, putting itself at risk but in such circumstances more than supported. The few missile launches which were attempted by Neo Almaz ground forces thinking they could get some lucky hits were sorely disappointed when ruby red lasers descended from the heavens to vaporise the launch positions nestled deep inside the living, pulsing form of Palm. It seemed the Forge Father was on constant station to provide them drop cover.
“Drop in 5!” Came the call, across the large open space the various drop pods and other arrays were lowered into position, in one sat Sally and the APC attached to the drop pallet, in another sat the AU on a drop cycle, the Hastrax had their own section and so on. The whine of the accelerators built quickly to fever pitch before the countdown came.
“4”
“3”
“2”
“I haven’t done this in years” Sally sniggered.
“1”
“Launch!”
The whine of the launchers discharged within an instant, propelling the various vehicles and individuals into the upper atmosphere at speed. Almost immediately the bright flaring plasma of re-entry obscured everything around them, rocking and heating the various pods. Once the fires had died down however the whoosh of the atmosphere became more familiar, the pods and pallets breaking off to allow for a proper unobscured drop. The sight was amazing, the strange living tendril and blob landscape of Palm beneath them splayed out like a tapestry all built up around huge spires and complexes which used to be the factory. More anti air batteries tried to open up on them, but colossal columns of white and red light fell from the heavens to silence them. But that was not all, screaming past on the way down several squadrons of Firestorms and Defenders had also launched to cover the deploying members hitting concentrated positions and drawing fire so that the drop assault would not be the sole focus of Palms endeavours, Sally whooping as she watched them descend down to rain fire onto the thing which had ruined her career.
The whole drop was over quickly, much to Sally’s dismay as retro thrusters and parachutes opened, guiding the pods and vehicles into position. They descended through a gap in several huge pulsing tubes and into the dark below, eventually hitting the ground to deploy and open up. The area was a shaft not 300m across, the light of the sky still visible from up above obscured by the huge living veins and ruins of the old factory walls. It was dark down here, extremely humid and hot with everything being damp and stinking. The floor was sturdy but covered in an inch of water mixed with all kinds of weird fetid fluids. Sally exited the APC helped down by Grug as she stretched slightly.
“Alright gang we are here, objectives to the south of this position. Through those tunnels” She pointed to several pitch black tunnel openings “I can’t say I agree with the decoration of the place” She retorted.
“Hello children! Its been so long, and I have deeply missed you all”
The caring words of the short and very old lady echoed in the old set. Rusted, worn and dilapidated props and backgrounds lay behind her as she began her broadcast. To many it was absolutely iconic, this was the place where Ancerious favourite children’s show had been filled ‘Tasty Adventures’ before it had unfortunately been cancelled following the ACGOs disbandment due to Palm Rashidas monetary expansions. The old lady sat on her stool, a small wooden thing which she used to perch on for countless years and make children smile across the galaxy. She missed it dearly, she wished so desperately to go back to that time, so much so that she was now here.
“I know by now many of you are no longer children, but I like to think of you all as my children still. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of all your smiling happy faces and the good times we had with not just each other, but all the Tasty Adventure gang. For those who don’t know me, I am Sally McChoc, I used to run the most scrumptious chocolate factory in the galaxy but alas no more.” She looked genuinely sad as the cameras and support staff kept the video rolling, the various people behind them made up of the mercenary forces who had been hired and were now here to get a full briefing. But they had arrived to find Sally conducting this media operation instead.
“I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to stop making what I and you loved, but I was bought out you see, all of us at Tasty Adventures were. We couldn’t compete with the evil tumorous likes of Palm Rashida. It’s not evil like Old Man Webley bless his soul, its evil because it cares not about you, or your happiness, it merely provides in order to grow itself. It took over my factory and virtually all food substance production across the whole galaxy, if you’re eating something right now chances are it was created deep in the bowls of that creature. I am here to ask for your help you see children, I want to ask for your help in aiding me in getting my factory back. To rise up against this uncaring beast and to oversee a people who enjoy in producing your delicious foods again, safely and ethically.” She had tears in her eyes.
“I have missed you all so dearly, and it pains me to ask you to put yourselves at risk. But at last I am taking the first steps, I am going to retake my factory by any means and I won’t let this continue anymore. For all of the Tasty Adventure gang’s sake, and for your sake too I will see that Palm Rashida is forced to re-evaluate itself. Those who stand beside me I will thank you eternally, those who do not I understand and I still love you all. Until next time children, this is Sally signing off”
The cameras went black and the crew made the sign that the broadcast was over. Sally sighed somewhat before attempting to get up, the frail old black women being helped to her feet by two individuals, one of which was perhaps the most surprising. A huge Skia, which stayed by her side and while not speaking intently watched the women and looked out for her. El’Gigante its name was, and it had featured on Tasty Adventures too as Sally’s friend. How the Skia had ever become her friend let alone a children’s TV icon was beyond the knowledge of everyone and was subject to much speculation, but the twisting black serpent seemed intent on keeping her safe and protected.
“I’m fine I’m fine don’t worry” She muttered to her aides before walking over slowly with her ornate walking stick to the teams of mercenary representatives awaiting her, and she smiled.
“Welcome, welcome, don’t worry about the media team they will be out of here quickly. Thank you for coming, as your aware from the contract you are each being paid half now half on completion. Your mission is to help retake my chocolate factory from that fucking tumorous mass of shit that calls itself Palm Rashida. I need that factory intact and as far as I’m aware it is, the creatures just grown on top of and all around it, the factory is huge as many of you know it covers the entire planet. Long story short it’s going to be a tough haul, but I know what you’re thinking, ‘why bother Sally its gone and your time in the limelight is over’” She chuckled to herself and turned to El’Gigante.
“Well because I’m tired of grieving. I bought smiles and happiness to children across this galaxy with my friends because we cared, because we made high standard foods and because we wanted this place to be a second chance for us all. It can be again. Its time I took that leap. Here…” She reached her shaking hand into her knitted jumpers pocket but fumbled for a moment before the Skia stopped her, reaching in one of its huge claws it carefully and kindly picked a small vial from the pocket. It was filled with a red transparent liquid and she took hold of it with a smile.
“Thank you dear. The creature is such an immense size that it has countless redundancies, but its heart is like ours. It’s gigantic but it pumps to all of its mass over the planet, if we can get this substance in then it will kill the entire entity and decompose its corpse rapidly for me and my men to remove it and start getting the factory back in order. Be careful with it and don’t spill any of yourselves, it will kill you nearly instantly and we don’t want that children. Do you have any questions?” Sally asked, the women’s large spectacles staring up at the assembled soldiers.
Among the gathered mercenaries were a pair of Artificia. One, clad in much heavier armour in black and orange, leaning on the almost twin-barrelled hefty mass of a Unanimity shotgun, the weapon large enough it was just as viable as a club as it was a firearm, with a couple of others, all with a similar disregard for compactness or lightweight construction mounted on her armour, a contrast with the soft featured red visage of the woman known as Mihra. She had watched Sally's broadcast with a passive interest; her people had arrived too late to be aware of the context, but she could tell there was a lot behind it.
Leaning out from behind the armoured lightbulb, her long-haired companion of a strong orange colour was far less heavily equipped, dressed in an unmarked AUN officer's uniform, with a pistol on each hip and a folding rifle on her back. She was named Yuhna, though she sternly insisted on being called Captain Yuhna, and she had watched, and listened to Sally, with an almost childish glimmer in her eyes; while Mihra had expressed some interest, it was Yuhna who had energetically convinced Mihra to accept it. 'Convinced' mostly being 'aggressively shook and begged into submission'.
Yuhna's eyes were fixed on the red vial, such an externally energetic and cuddly demeanour entirely unfazed by the idea of poisoning a massive living thing that fed untold numbers of people, while a contemplative look crossed Mihra's face, putting a hand to her chin.
"Hmm..." she rumbled, before looking back up at Sally. "Do we know where this heart is? And how to get to it?"
Another group was a collection of Velnatharians and Velnatharii from the Order of Hastrax, being front and centred by a trio of troopers in combat gear with their head protection held to their sides and combat rifles slung to their backs fitted with an assortment of underslung attachments. The first of these bore a gold insignia on the left shoulder, in comparison to the whites of the others, indicating that he was in fact the group leader, introducing himself as Lieutenant Falthas before proceeding with his questions: "So then, without meaning to drop the formalities entirely, my first question is what information you have on the target in terms of terrain, defences, possible routes of approach?" He paused for a moment, giving the older woman time to process the question, before indicating the vial... "...and my second is who's responsible for carrying the deadly cargo?"
In the meantime the remainder of the trio at the front being two Velnatharii bearing Sergeant's insignia on their left shoulders turned to give a hand to the Velnatharius standing immediately behind them in taking off her much heavier and bulkier power armour headpiece, who bore the same insignia as the helping pair on her left shoulder, but had a far larger collection of direct-send ordnanace dispensing tools stowed on her back. This particular Sergeant went by the name of Auralea and was notably distinguised by her right shoulder insignia being rather more eloquent and formed even if it had no meaning to those outside the group. Having finished the lending of hands the two Sergeants Evol and Breer quickly snapped back around to facing their front rather than wishing to appear rude by having their backs turned, and Auralea was paying attention now with the headgear off, looking at the large black creature next to the expedition's 'sponsor' with curiousity even while she listened to the briefing conversations. Being able to multitask was a skill she had picked up quickly.
Beyond the quartet quite obviously equipped to be running around guns blazing was another group, in much lighter gear and with only some relatively compact PDWs for weapons. They bore a twin gear insignia on their right shoulder apiece and only the front man was a Velnatharii out of the lot. He stood observantly with a Staff Sergeant insignia on his left shoulder, knowing his duty as the second in command was to know the plan in as much detail as possible as the commander themself in case something went wrong. This was of course why he had patched into Falthas' helmet video feeds so he could get a good view even from the back, while a Corporal stood next to him with a notepad somewhat nervously making a lot of notes. The Staff Sergeant who identified as Vorkon side-eyed the nervous Corporal somewhat; before leaning over and whispering to him. "That many notes isn't going to be any good for quick reference in the field, kid. Trim it down and write down only what you need, it'll do you better." He then returned back to his previous position before whispering again, this time to his superior's earpiece for the questions Vorkon wanted raising with minimal interruption.
The Lieutenant was finishing off a few formalities before putting in a last pair of questions: "...and I'd also like to know how things stand regarding optimal weapons dispositions and vehicular access to the area specifically if that isn't too much to ask. Other than that I'm sure it'll be a pleasure working with you and getting some children their entertainment programming back" There was of course a notable change in his voice from the formal toned operator to a much more cheery and genuine person in the last point, obviously Falthas was taking this far more to heart than his usual 'day-job'.
A trio of a similar number of species stood to the side. Nominally a private military conglomerate, their weapons and kit - primarily of AGA-bloc manufacture, in particular Carnaithian - told the scrutinous everything they needed to know while their custom-marked nature maintained disconnect. The man in front was a human, speckled with custom cybernetics and clad in a thick black cascading poncho that was obviously lighter than it appeared. The others were a couple of unaligned species, unremarkable in notability and their kit, only accompanying the human for the sake of escort and information dispersal - very deliberately not clogging the area with unnecessary attendees.
Conversely to his jagged and rough appearance, the man bore a wide-eyed expression and turned to each speaker as they brought up points. His visage implied that despite his occupation he must have been one of those fans so long ago, giddily approaching this meeting as a subchapter to the wider operation. He wasn't so giddy as to interrupt the tactical discussion, but it was evident he very much wanted to - instead, he remained wordless as the Artificians and the Hastrax covered the necessary data points for the briefing. He was just as content to simply stand to the side and listen in - at least until there was a follow-up question to be asked.
"Grug learned that not everything is sunny and pretty forever... sometimes life just changes and Grug remains the same..."
The colossal boot hit the ground with a thud and the APC's suspension rocked when its biggest and heaviest passenger made it out surrounded by personal assistants and worried journalists. It was an old, worn-out combat boot with a Capitol imprint that had long faded. Crude construction, synthetic leather, nothing like the ergonomic and lightweight boots that the Capitol Army regulars had worn during the Second Ancerious War. Boots like that had been made by second-rate factories in backwater worlds because their wearers were never expected to complain about them due to how simply-minded they were.
The wearer of this boot had never complained about it. Not because it was comfortable, he was well aware it wasn't, but because it reminded him of who he was and of times past. It reminded him of all those others like himself who did not live to see the end of the war, who had marched bare-footed and kept up with Empress Inara's fearsome mecanized divisions. They were cherished boots and the discomfort that they caused to his feet was a more welcome feeling than the comfort of any other footwear.
"When Grug came home and Manny told Grug that Tasty Adventures was over, Grug cried. But then Grug understood. Things change. Sally McChoc's Chocolate Factory Tasty Adventures wouldn't be in the TV anymore." The gentle giant spoke as he placed one hand on top of the APC. "Palm Rashidiya bought the sweets factory. But then Grug learned Palm Rashidiya fed many children across the galaxy. Grug thought.... Palm doesn't have a fun TV show but they make a lot of food. Sally McChoc won't be in the TV anymore but Palm will be able to make even more sweets for children with the chocolate factory. Palm will make more people happy. So Grug accepted. Things change around Grug but Grug remains the same."
After him, nine other passengers stepped out of the Restevian BTR-688 armored personnel carrier. All nine were identical down to the cellular structure, merciless and methodical killers wielding integrally-silenced assault rifles whose uniforms were marked by shoulder patches that bore a single unadorned word: ANALOG. With their crimson berets and their urban camouflage, they all lined up in front of the entrance to the APC right after the giant stepped out to salute. This wasn't out of procedure, ANALOG's mercenaries had little loyalty to anything beyond their own improvement, this was out of genuine respect. Grug nodded at them then turned around back to the APC and placed his heavy hands on a package lying right behind the vehicle's turret.
"Grug accepted." The gigantic Capitol brute said as he softly unpacked the bundle of cloth, revealing the worn brutalistic forms of an AW1-era VM-1 heavy machinegun. Every sinle part of the weapon showed glimpses of its age. But beneath the scratched paint and blunted metal, the weapon was evidently well taken care of, oiled and fitted with new custom-milled parts. Human soldiers required a tripod or a pintle mount to fire this gun, Grug did not. "Grug accepted... but then Grug heard that Palm Rashidiya was not using Sally McChoc's factory to make sweets anymore. Grug heard that Sally McChoc's factory was being used to make biofuel. And none of the children would have their sweets anymore. Then Grug realized that Grug couldn't just accept."
He took the powerful gun in his hands for the first time in what had seem like an eternity. Every single microscopic feature of the VM-1 felt familiar to Grug's palms, it was like putting on a beloved cozy sweater found at the bottom of a forgotten drawer. By reflex he threw the belt of 15mm API ammunition over his shoulder, like he'd done back then, except this time the last couple rounds dinged against the silvery urn inside which Manny's memory was held, clipped to the giant's belt.
"This time Grug must kill."
The ARK Journalist holding the microphone to Grug's face couldn't help but sniff and waver between sobs. Her eyes bloodshot, tears streaming down her eyes, she understood why the galaxy's Karolinska-winning literatus had heard the call of battle once again. She could not and would not do anything to deter the legendary children's book author from heeding the call of the galaxy's nan. But now she could at least hope that his sudden departure with a group of mercenaries would be understood. She could go on to tell his story to the press and the galaxy's intelligentsia would all spare a minute of silence for the simple- but concise-minded genius author who had brought inspiration to so many children. None of them even tried to stop Grug, they knew that the luminary behind "grug like flower" saw in Sally McChoc a kindred soul.
When he arrived and listened to the briefing, flanked by his troop of elite mercenaries, Grug himself was the one who had to hold back the tears and shift nervously to hide how his whole body was trembling at the sight of what might as well have been divinity. When she was done, the 9 foot giant simply bent the knee and cried.
“We do indeed child, initial recon done by the Cherenkov Guild has mapped out and done deep surface scans, we have found and located the heart. Such nice people here, a few of them helped me out free of charge, said they loved my show. Oh sorry yes for how we get there, direct drop is impossible I’m afraid, the whole areas a bobby mass of tumours and we wouldn’t be able to get through it from above even if we bombard it as I’ve been told. Instead we land to the east and make our way in through some of the lower levels to access it” She smiled to Yuhna. She then turned to Falthas.
“Well who carries the cargo is up to you, just make sure it’s safe. As for details on what we are up against well… “ She shrugged then winced at the pain “I’m not entirely sure, Palm itself has some biological defences, and no doubt after that broadcast it will hire mercenaries quickly, so whoever responds in time. Terrain wise expect cramped, moist and living terrain and we will be travelling underground prepare yourselves and make sure your all environmentally sealed it can get mighty fine icky down there kids. As for weapons…”
Sally paused, after all weapons and warfare were not to be expected of an old women who owned a chocolate factory.
“Bring rapid fire large calibre firearms I’m guessing anywhere from .50 upwards or energy in nature, demolition charges are also needed, likely a selection of light anti-tank weapons and some light artillery such as mortars to top it all off. Vehicle access will likely be limited” She then grinned and pulled out some chocolate “Care for some?” Just as Sally had offered the large APC had pulled up, revealing the brute of a man and his entourage. Sally clapped her hands together in delight.
“Oh my Grug! I am so surprised and yet so happy you could join us!” She hobbled over with her walking stick, El’Gigante staying close as she embraced the huge inhuman who knelt down to hug her gently as well. Sally had surprisingly once had a rare group of children which had come from Capitol to one of her shows, a rare occurrence in the Garren era by screw up of the draw Grug had been one of those chosen despite his supposed defects. He had loved meeting Sally in person and she had encouraged him to use his creativity to become what he was born to be, she had been elated when Grug had won his literary award that year.
“Thank you for coming, and congratulations for your success I knew you could do it!”
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at the grown big man over there Stacy, he's crying," Syko quietly snickered as he stood at the back in a corner, oiling the weapon parts of a 5.7mm machine pistol. He made sure to whisper, as much as the Panopticon had reduced him from a respectable soldier to a maniac on Rubikon II, he was still smart enough not to anger the Brute with an autocannon.
//Ooooh be gentle with the oil Master! Yesshhh thats the spot!// Stacy cooed as her bolt carrier was being rubbed with a piece of oily cloth.
//Master how long will you keep indulging the slut? I'm the one that needs the carbon off my bolt!// Becky lashed out as she remained in Syko's right holster.
//Master has no need for prudes like you bitch!// Stacy growled back.
"Girls, girls theres no need to fight. I have enough oil and cloth for the two of my babies," Syko whispered as he took out the other machine pistol from his right holster, 'Becky' and laid it on the table next to 'Stacy'. 'Becky' and 'Stacy' were machine pistols of identical model and were like twin sisters, bickering over their owner's attention. Except the fact that they weren't actually twin sisters and were not real talking guns; everything in the 'conversation' was merely a figment of Syko's increasingly deranged imagination which gave his guns names and fictional personalities that put him as the center of their being. To the others in the room close enough to Syko, they would have simply seen him murmuring to his own guns like some kind of schizophrenic pervert.(edited)
-----------------------
As Sally McChoc replied to the questions and offered her congratulations to Grug, Syko partially listened to everything she and everyone else said as he remained busied preparing his tools of the trade. He only managed to absorb the part where they might fight Palm's biological forms and other mercenaries and the weapons needed for the job- the rest seemed irrelevant to him. He was only here for two things; the sweet sweet cash and murdering people. If completing this job meant that Sally paid him good cash and he gets the kill things there was no other questions that need to be asked. As a hitman, he didn't exactly have much in the way of heavy weaponry; he only had two machine pistols, two shotguns and some grenades. But he did not worry, for he had a special talent. As he took a good look at the heavy firepower the rest of the mercenaries brought with them with squads of soldiers and APCs, with a wave of his hand the bolt carrier he had been oiling lifted off the table and floated into the machine pistol's frame, elegantly sliding into place as the rest of the gun's parts were also subsequently telekinetically pieced together to fully assemble the machine pistol labelled 'Stacy'.
Falthas took a chunk of the offered chocolate - enough for his assembled men and women but not so much as to be greedy or deny the others the chance to have some - and gratefully thanked Sally. He handed out chunks to his troops and tasted some himself while she continued to talk to other groups, and greet the large new 'celebrity' arrival, even if he didn't know who it was himself.
The Lieutenant, after taking a moment for the old lady to finish talking to the others so that it was his 'turn', spoke up again. "Am I to see that as each group carrying some and me picking the carrier within mine, or me and the others coming to some sort of agreement for a single sample of... that?" Falthas paused momentarily again. "And are we talking kinetic 50's and upwards or .50 railguns and upwards here?" Falthas stopped to eat some more chocolate. "Environmentally sealed is standard practise and I think we have demolitions covered" He noted, indicating first to the large HIWS-type weapon on Auralea's back and secondly to their AEV in the back where the other vehicles were, the vehicle being loaded up with most obviously a dozer blade and some sort of demolitions cannon.
Sergeant Auralea, besides a moment where Falthas had needed to indicate to the weapons on her back, was still fixated with El'Gigante who was very strange to her even while she listened and ate her chocolate, while her immediate compatriots also enjoyed the food after passing some back to the crewmen in their rear sector. Vorkon kept his chocolate for later, while again speaking to Falthas through his earpiece: If she means 12.7 mil railguns our PDWs and battle rifles aren't going to cut it, Sir. With your permission we'll rearrange our weapons after this briefing if that's the case. The Corporals to Vorkon's sides, one still a little nervous, were still nibbling at their chocolate before the Staff Sergeant refocussed them onto the briefing.
Yuhna virtually began vibrating as the chocolate was offered, that combined with her own hardlight nature resulting in an audible hum emanating throughout the room. Mihra politely declined any chocolate, but Yuhna looked like a gleeful child, bouncing slightly on the spot and wording many rapid thanks. How and why Mihra had befriended such an overenergetic Artificia, and why she had chosen to bring her, was unclear. Or perhaps it was less that she had chosen and more that she had been unable to stop Yuhna from coming along.
"Mihraaaa! I wanna go do the thing!"
"You seem awfully enthusiastic about shooting people and poisoning what might be the largest organism in existance, Yu. How do I know I haven't brought along a psychopath?"
"I wanna help the old lady! If meatbags get in the way, that's their fault!"
"Yeah, yeah. Most people aren't so gleeful about popping skulls."
"I'm thinking about the ends, Mihr, not the means."
"Well. That's all I've got to ask. How soon're we to deploy?" Mihra asked, arms crossed, as Yuhna nibbled on her chocolate.
Up to this point, the group of Restevians in a mishmash of gear near their BMP had largely stayed quiet, observing and taking notes on the nature of the mission and what they needed to do. There were about seven of them all told, veteran soldiers of the War, a man in power armor and few troopers wearing surplus gear that nevertheless moved with the air of people determined to get the job done. They were of course ready for this, the livelihoods of a lot of people back home were harmed by this thing, and besides the fact, while each trooper had their own reasons, they were still here, and still armed for bear to get the job done.
"We're ready to deploy as soon as the word's given, comrades." Lieutenant Nisov said, both hands resting on the stock of his slung AK like it was the pommel of a sword. While the personal weapons of a few weren't fifty calibers, they absolutely had the power of fifty calibers... and the weapons the others had would do just as well. A few LAWs and explosives were stashed in the BMP, the vehicle itself had it's own weapons, and PA trooper, Vanya, had brought a weapon just as large as Grug's in the form of a VK rotary. When the chocolate was offered a few of the troopers took some, and the lieutenant spoke again.
"I'll have my medic carry our cargo, and if needed, we'll take point with comrade Grug's boys."
The human in the poncho gently and elegantly acquired one of the offered morsels, spinning back to his men and dispersing pieces as he broke the bar into individual servings before taking a bite into his own piece. He listened to the nearby Hastrax personnel mutter about themselves about the kit suggestions and placed a hand under his jaw, surveying his own mens' weapons. OICWs would certainly fare well, especially considering the ETC propellant packed behind the kinetic element. He shrugged, may as well.
"Louis, pal, head back to staging and let everyone know to pack as many of the FIST weapons as possible. Replace sidearms with high-impact PDWs and short-shotties. Thanks!," He brushed off the officer - spinning once more, this time towards Sally's, though he couldn't help but chuckle at the Hastrax fire support vehicle's presence. "Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt what must be a heartwarming moment for you, but -" He stuttered, grinning ear to ear - "I am <i>so</i> excited to be working with you, though I always grew up hoping it could be under a more innocent context," He smiled up at Grug, quietly recollecting himself.
"Seeing as Palm is biological... does it have the ability to re-route entryways? It's a fairly common feature among more security-oriented megaorganisms, and of course the factory only has so many accessible paths in the first place, but... I'm sorry, I say that too much- I don't want to get stuck in a room unable to keep moving. I hardly wish to become personally acquainted with its defensive systems for an extended period."
The chocolate was incredibly tasty, it was a gooey soft mix of caramels, milk chocolate and fudge. It seemed to satisfy whoever eat it, genuine Sally’s chocolate was hard to come by these days with the factory being out of business for so long. But Sally herself had kept the recipe and legacy alive by creating small batches in her private kitchen.
“We only have one vial I’m afraid children, so someone’s going to have to take good care of it. I couldn’t get anymore, it took a great deal of my personal funds just to get that amount, its highly illegal you see, or well Palm made it illegal by lobbying most of the galaxy into making it so. Also kinetics, just be sure to suit up in NBC gear I’m sure Palm will have some nasty bugs for us as we go deeper” She smiled. Watching the people enjoy her home cooked chocolate. The large Skia turning its head to stare directly at sergeant Auralea who was in turn staring at El’Gigante.
Sally turned to the man and grinned “Oh I am so glad, I do apologise it is under such circumstances but I really hope that if this venture succeeds then I can meet far more people again under better circumstances, and bring light again to children’s lives. As for the rerouting, I’m almost sure of it now that you mention it. If we carry enough demolitions and manage to keep the vehicles with us we should be able to barge through, besides we have this fine strapping fellow here to help as well” She smiled up at Grug “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name child?”
“Oh and we will be dropping as soon as everyone’s ready, don’t worry about any orbital battles I’ve got that all covered from some old friends. Those of you who are ready feel free to mount up, anyone who doesn’t have transport can ride with me it won’t be a long way to the factory and once we are there we will swoop in like angels and make the drop” She beamed clearly excited at the prospect.
Falthas nodded. "Perhaps some sort of marker on whomever carries the vial, highly visible to us but indistinguishable to palm - if that is even possible - would help us ensure the cargo makes its way there." Falthas then quietly whispered to Vorkon over comms: We should be fine with our weapons then, make sure to pack heavier secondary attachments as insurance. Pack some heavier stuff for AEV crew though, not sure PDWs will cut it. The Lieutenant then returned to addressing Sally, "I think the nastiest bug was it's take-over in the first place, from a certain point of view. That aside, I'll have my troops start loading up for drop. I myself will stay here to coordinate with the other leading elements if they have more to say."
At that, the rest of the group turned and headed back toward where their vehicle and stores were: loading up ammunition, locking helmets and auxiliaries onto armour, making well-drilled pre-battle checks and making adjustments to weapons under direction of Vorkon, who paid particular attention to the Corporals as they set about loading up the vehicle's 25mm RCWS mount. Sergeant Auralea stayed somewhat behind, continuing to have a 'staring contest' with the Skia, curiously. Of course she knew better than to do so at the expense of preparation, but she was fully laden before the briefing anyway seeing as her heavier armour took far more time to load up. Falthas was also unable to load up directly, so the occasional appearance of one of the others to load him up while he continued to wait for any questions that might be thrown his way.
Grug nodded happily along, shimmying in anticipation and gawking with wonderment at being addressed in such a manner. The people he'd known throughout his life had made quite a point to tell him to never meet his heroes but he'd never understood it, much less now that he had seen Ms. McChoc was even greater in real life than she was in the show.
"Let me go with you!" Grug said, his voice trembling a bit "Grug wants to drop! Mr. Krug can take the vehicle!"
Upon hearing this, the soldiers that had arrived with Grug nodded and went back to the waiting BTR. On their way they took note of the Restevian crew, somewhat sizing them up as they walked along their former compatriots.
The BTR-688 was a large eight-wheeled Restevian personnel carrier not actually used by the Restevian Ground Forces themselves. Mainly used by the MGDF, it was mostly a private venture by one of the industrial factories of Restevia; built abroad and with only the faintest link remaining to the Restevian motherland. The same could have been said of the soldiers that crewed the vehicle.
Twenty years ago that link had been far stronger; it had practically defined the life of Viktor Zavomirovsky Krug. VKR Spetsnaz operator active in the interwar period, he had been considered an outstanding soldier by his superiors. But the good graces that the STAVKA had shown to the promising soldier gradually faded as he climbed up the ranks proved himself a subpar NCO. Unable or unwilling to mature along with his peers, he had retained the idealistic, romantic and manichean view of warfare of a fresh recruit well into his 30s; whereas the rest of his class had come to grips with grim realities like acceptable collateral and geopolitical expediency, Krug still saw his duties through the lens of a patriotic fight between good and evil, light and darkness. His original comrades kept climbing the ranks and gradually transferred to administrative, command and instruction assignments while Krug remained with the infantry, looking progressively more and more out of place with each new wave of recruits.
While psychological evaluators recommended that he be retired or transferred to another assignment, divisional commanders couldn't help but be somewhat in awe at the man who was in his late 30s and still managed to keep up with recruits in their early 20s. It was as if something was giving him strength, a sort of unshakeable conviction that one day the right mission would present itself, an opportunity for him to do what STAVKA knew he would do with absolute efficiency and suicidal determination: defending the innocent and fighting back the forces of evil.
In AME 46, #IMAGO staged a large scale hostage taking in the Tsinskaya Airport T4 passenger terminal.
There had been perhaps not a single day ever since in which Krug did not wonder what had gone wrong and what had made it so that a mission that had seemed tailored to his exact character had been failed in such a painful way. From having spent most of his career in denial of the realities of the ambigious morality of the spetsnaz, Krug had gone to spend his days thinking of nothing else. He had trained too long, every corridor and service access in the terminal were practically replicas of the kind of exercise sites that he had spent years upon years training in while his comrades graduated off to higher-ranking assignments. The only thing more shocking that the feeling that fate had prepared him for that one mission was the fact he'd failed it. It wasn't the first mission that had ended bitterly for the veteran Spetsnaz but it was by far the most impactful. Krug had never stopped trying to find meaning in that tragedy, looking for it obsessively and sensing that a dark and malicious intelligence had been behind it all, personally striking at him. It wasn't #IMAGO, they had merely been the instrument. Krug felt like there had been something else behind that morning, that airport; behind IMAGO and the VKR Spetsnaz and the police and the civilians and the dead children. Finding that accursed thing, whatever it was, and wreaking vengeance upon it had become his reason of being.
By the time the war was over, Viktor Krug was no more and in his place was ANALOG. Thirty thousand clones of the disgraced Restevian soldier armed to the teeth and organized in multiple mechanized divisions, selling their services to the highest bidders. Despite their newfound reputation as a deadly and efficient PMC, establishing ANALOG had costed so much that they were now wholly owned by the Yamanakako Military Corporation. His services were sold far and wide across the galaxy to the vilest of organizations and, in an ironic twist of fate, to #IMAGO itself. But the idealistic part of Krug had long died, cost and morality were now secondary considerations to a hive mind that had become hyper-focused on one single goal: finding out what had broken in him back at Tsinskaya and making sure it would never break again.
"Back us up" Krug addressed Nisov in a monotone, his arms crossed over a matte black silenced assault rifle. "We have one RPG, one grenade launcher and a 12.7mm on the BTR. If terrain is too rough for the vehicles then it's too rough for anything worth firing a rocket at. We'll be going light."
"I'm ready!" Yuhna blurted out almost immediately, netting a sigh and a shake of the head from Mihra, watching her friend excitedly bouncing slightly on the spot.
"Yeah, we're set whenever. We haven't got any AFVs like...a lot of people here decided to bring along, but I have a motorbike." she shrugged, turning to her orange compatriot.
"I get being gung-ho but rein it in, alright? This is likely more delicate than you seem to think, and if we--or you--screw this up, we don't get the other half of the reward and you don't get to see a big ol chocolate factory start back up. Alright?" she muttered.
Yuhna slowed down almost immediately, sternly maintaining eye contact with Mihra.
"...Alright. I'll calm down." she nodded slowly.
"Good." Mihra smiled, turning back to Sally and the other groups.
"As stated, ready whenever."
“Oh don’t worry Grug my boy you can stay right here with me, after all I’m coming along too it’s my factory after all and I’ll be damned if I let you youngsters go in and do all the work for me” She smiled “Come on lets go, I think that’s our ride arriving” She grinned, the station they were on began to vibrate, a low level hum which permeated all material. It was like being in close proximity to gravity engines…
Sally in her jolly mood led the group including the vehicles and her own staff who had packed everything away towards one of the larger cargo airlock sections. It was heavily run down, just like this entire orbiter but it still functioned, the vehicles having easy access through the large openings. As they made their way onto the huge cargo hangar and looked out into the void it became apparent that it was not just any ride they had awaiting, but several, and quite legendary ones at that. Sally had not been lying, any orbital war would be over quickly.
Three vessels waited in the vacuum ready to dock with the station, one was the huge form of a Hephaestus class dreadnought, produced by Triarch Industries and named ‘Forge Father’ it was captained by the quite famous Amitt, someone who had attempted to fight the Ghosts of the Tradex, and actually won. The second was by far the largest of the three vessels, although it looked like more of a construction site than any true warships. The unmistakable shape of an Axiomatic Blinker lay cloaked in countless scaffolding and assorted structural supports especially around its mid-section, the famous Blinker Carpalis who had held the line at Aedleshaven against the allied attack and had been split in half in the battle. Presumed dead it had merely jumped away, both its halves left to drift in different sectors, it had been content to merely ponder its existence in the time of its unfortunate exile free from the concerns of the Blinker fleet and the now cyber civil war of the Axioms, however when it had heard of Sally’s plight the Blinker had decided the time had come. Using its immense processing power of both of its halves it had mined enough SIGEC to pay numerous recovery contractors to find its halves and put it back together if somewhat strenuously. It had once enjoyed watching Sally’s kids show, and while it had lost its purpose once more it now had a goal to defend. The last ship was also much like the Blinker, however the distinctive blue of the Union of Worlds denoted the presence of none other than Suma Antropogenica, having been almost scrapped and abandoned at the start of the 2nd Ancerious war it had been recovered, and repaired to its full glory but not in time for the wars end. Now Sally’s contact in the Union had offered her aid, the vessel pulling up alongside the dock and extending its umbilical connection.
When the doors open the two captains stepped out to smile. Or rather, one of them did. The other didn’t have a head.
“Most humble guests I welcome you aboard our most honoured starship, I am Captain Nyrz, and this is my co-captain Johnson. I extend all of my possible emotions to honouring you aboard the holy Suma Antropogenica, I hope your brief stay will be as good a-“
“What he means to say is Hello, welcome aboard I hope you enjoy yourself” Johnson smirked, looking to Sally. In all of the time since the ships inception Nyrz had never changed and somehow Johnson had dealt with him still, both captains had been angry at the brief decommissioning of their pride and joy, and had quit both EPA and the Union afterwards to ply the various bars and restaurants of Lost Star, that was until the Union had offered to accept both of them and the original crew back to save their vessel. They had accepted, and Johnson had endured an epic 7 day nonstop thank you speech delivered by Nyrz to Union HICOM, who had been far too nice to say no that was enough at any point.
“It’s been a long time Johnson my boy, I am glad to see you. And an honour to meet you too Nyrz, I have heard a lot about you. I suppose we should get a move on, come on you lot” She gestured for them to board as they walked alongside the two captains. Nyrz already leaping into a tirade of semi poem that discussed their actions within the bounds of the Syntagma, Sally listening closely to the headless man while Johnson merely rolled his eyes glad to finally have an assignment. Despite it all, Nyrz had never lost his faith or his zealous nature, Johnson had admired him for that.
The vehicles were stored in the main loading bay, which was surprisingly cramped for a ship of this size before they were led up to the bridge. The ship was Union for sure, but tapestries, paintings and elements of a more exotic culture lay on corridors, rooms and more, the EPA crew being heavily augmented given that at the time of the joint project the organisation had more been a military arm of the Axioms than a standalone cult before the time of the twins and Sibling Eater. But if that change was surprising, the bridge was even more so. A huge open space centred around what appeared to be a massive banquet table laden with food the bridge crew worked at their stations while turning to eat from the ever replenishing food brought in by other crewmen. Nyrz and Johnson gestured for the groups to sit around the table, for it had more than enough room for them and to enjoy the view from the huge holographic almost 360 display of the outside, getting a good look at both the Forge Father and Carpalis. It was quite a change compared to any standard Union vessel, Nyrz and Johnson took their seats next to each other.
“Helm plot us a course”
“And may the endless light of the Son of Man shine from deep inside us, lighting out way through the infinitely fractal universe. Prepare wormhole drive for its immediate use and bring us away from the revered station. I would be most honoured if you also prepared weapon systems” Nyrz commanded.
“After all, we’ll have some company”
As the Hastraxian group also packed onto their transport, Falthas could see from these vessels that they were special even though he knew nothing of their legend. "Well, I can see why Sally said the orbital battle wasn't going to be a problem. Doesn't look like Palm can match up to these." This was followed by the Hastraxian force taking their invited seating, with Auralea still somewhat fascinated by now both the Skia and the ships.
The group tucked into the various offerings with much thanks, observing the views keenly. The Forge Father was certainly something to behold and far grander than any warship of their own nation provided for its crews, a banquet like this being unheard of aboard any of their own naval vessels. But it didn't provide any doubts that this vessel was still perfectly capable.
"Thank you very much for the hospitality, we'd like very much if the enemy were treat to the inverse. Or anything worse than the inverse will do, suitable vengeance either way." Despite the food, many of the Hastraxians were still ready for battle in mind, knowing full well that this was only a brief rest and many neglected to remove combat gear in favour of readiness, as they had been trained to do. The outward sense of being at ease very much masked their internal stress and battle readiness, as they eagerly awaited for the holo display to light up with contacts and the battle to begin.
Eric had so wanted to tell Sally his name, but things had proceeded so quickly after he first spoke to her that he hadn't had the opportunity to get another word in. Instead, with the group being pushed so quickly to get on with the operation, he had quickly fetched a dubiously compact railgun whose upper element's polished surface flashed in the sunlight, clean of any manufacturing marks. His gaze looked through the window and at the sight of the final ship, something deep in his mind clicked and he could do nothing but helplessly stare in awe for what felt like a century before one of his subordinates pushed him on the soldier, only temporarily snapping him out of his daze, where he proceeded to follow into that same ship he had seemed so unnaturally enamored with.
Walking through, his heard felt as if it had been fractured by some greater goal while he avidly examined every surface, banner, and crewman he walked past within the time he had available to him. Some echoing, loving scream was telling him this was a <i>very</i> special craft. But that banshee was silenced upon the appearance of the banquet - he could feel his heart-rate drop, his pupils constricting to a normal size. He returned to his prior state of deliberate consciousness, his sly smile returning as he loosened his grip on the slink around his shoulders and made his way to a seat nearby what food he would care to eat before combat - notably, lots of bread.
Syko helped himself to the food, putting all manners of meats, breads and vegetables on his plate before returning to the table and sitting down. From one of his vests' pockets, a white napkin was fished out and he tied it around his neck, after which he then folded a table cloth and neatly placed it on his lap. Gracefully picking up a fork and a knife, the maniac of Rubikon II - the one who bombed the hospital that he awoke in, the one who gunned down mafias and police alike, the one who hijacked a pirate ship and set it on a collision course into the systems' star, melting everyone for the fun of it, was now displaying table manners. Nose high in the air, chin up and posture straightened, he dined like an aristocratic lord, if said aristocratic lord wore a stolen military vest and had an orange mohawk for hair.
"Hmmm yes, very delicious, a fine ship begets such fine food, Captain Headless and Captain Johnson," Syko padded his mouth with the napkin, speaking with an exaggerated posh accent.
The Artificia had stared in wonder at the ships Sally had somehow rallied to her cause. The dreadnought was more like the type of ship they were used to, large and imposing but of much more conventional construction. The comparatively gangly blue vessel they were approaching drew more a look of curious wonder, but both of them knew the shape of a Cardinal, Yuhna straying off in Carpalis' direction before Mihra grabbed her by the collar, keeping the orange hardlight woman close.
"When this is over, Yuhna, provided you aren't too much of a problem you can ask nicely to go say hi to the floaty death gun. Alright?"
"We aren't in a rush, are we?"
"Not the point."
The Artificia had looked over the banquet table, their eyes remaining oddly away from most of it. The more solid a food, the more an Artificia struggled with it, after all. Still, Yuhna acquired some soup while Mihra was content with a drink.
"Well." the red Artificia muttered. "Don't we feel a touch out of place?" she huffed, smirking.
Everything felt a little out of place, to be frank. And that was why she was smiling.
Nisov had heard of Krug in his time in the armed forces, many men had. He'd also heard of the incident, one of many that had occurred, but one particularly tragic in his opinion. He'd nodded to the man in agreement to back him up, and had ordered his men to do the same. So long as they used their weapons properly and watched each other's backs, an armored spearpoint they'd be.
For many of the Restevians present in the team, being in close proximity to so many EPA as they were led up from stowing the BMP to the bridge was something of an uncomfortable experience to say the least of things, with how fearsome against EPA the fighting in the war had been. But that aside, nobody was shooting at them, nobody was praising the Syntagma whilst preparing to attack or anything like that... so they could relax. For now, at least. Seating themselves at the table, gathering what food appealed to the trooper's tastes before they settled in. What a motley crew they had here, maniacs, mercenaries, Artificia fighters, it was like no operation in the War that Nisov could recall having been on. But the talk was polite, the food was good, and so long as they weren't getting shot at he was determined to at least enjoy some luxury before they got down to the nasty business of war.
“Oh it is our honour to have such an assortment of enlightened guests, the Syntagma states that-“
“Your welcome, it’s the tradition of this ship to always have the best that can be provided to any who are aboard. Your all no exception, any friend of Sally is a friend of ours” Johnson interrupted Nyrz who politely bowed, it was extremely common for that to happen.
The Haephestus had entered Slipspace soon after the helm command, however the Antropogenica and Carpalis merely floated in space. All that could be determined by their FTL methods was the low whine and ever building feeling of energy within the ship, it was like some static electricity which could be tangibly felt in the air but wasn’t quite there.
“Please dig in, we shall very well be treating your foes to the inverse of our hospitality, do not worry yourselves with the prospect of battle just yet” Nyrz gestured to the food as another round of platters were brought in, this time consisting of numerous vegetable dishes of exotic plants only found on select worlds and cooked up into local primitive delicacies. Sally herself moving to sit down as Grug was kind enough to pull a chair out for her to sit on.
“Oh thank you my boy, look they have Bootheel carrot cake! I haven’t seen that in over two decades, come all try its rather exquisite” She grabbed a knife and started cutting slices even as the crewman placed the large cake onto the table, its brown and orange coloured sponge was laced with icing and more “One for everyone I think!” Sally grinned, dishing out a slice to each and every person present.
“Now I think a toas-“
There was a weird form of dislocation, like stepping through a doorway. Then the windows lit up with a bright flash. Turning to see what was outside, the Antropogenica and the Carpalis had charged then activated their wormhole drives, flashing them into reality at the location above the orbit of Sally’s factory planet. The bright explosion which now lit the banquet was the remains of a Neo Almaz cruiser which had just taken a full hit from the Forge Fathers super heavy relativistic railguns and was now mostly atomised scrap.
“Do not worry my guests, continue your meal, we will ensure you are safe to drop” Nyrz clicked his fingers as humming and whining was heard. Another two smaller vessels, both destroyers which seemed to have been Triarch bought disappeared into bright light as the vessel they were on unleashed its Pion accelerators, soon joined by the Carpalis wiping anti orbital missile barrages from the void using its Scalar arrays. The assembled fleet which was defending the planet seemed in total disarray even as Sally continued to liberally serve out Bootheel Carrot Cake to everyone.
Such a legendary engagement would be one for the annals of any history books and within moments the almost 40 ship strong fleet which Palm Rashidya had contracted in the short time available to defend this world was either burning, in total chaos or reduced to atoms. The three vessels working their magic in the upper bounds of the planets orbit.
“You all better eat up quick they will be done soon then its drop time, and you can’t go to war on an empty stomachs. Sally’s direct orders” The old women smiled.
It wasn’t long before the orbital war was over, none of the ships had taken any serious fire, the weapons available to them having made total work of what was arrayed against them. Not even Palms anti orbital ground networks had provided a challenge when the Forge Father destroyed its biological emplacements, and Carpalis had casually knocked out key defence nodes deep underground with its Pion batteries. Despite the ships in orbit being easy prey, the Intel was clear, Palm had managed to get in forces of its own, and likely had many planetside alongside its own immunological defences.
“You will encounter quite the fight down there” Johnson commented “But don’t worry we will have you covered, come this way. Let’s get you set up to drop” The Joint Captain led the party away from the banquet bridge, numerous people taking what tid bits of food they could including Grug who had hidden a piece of the cake for Sally. They travelled back through ornamental corridors to the drop bays, a cramped region which contained both pods and large cargo landers.
“Suit up, prepare yourselves and when your all ready to go we will get you all down there. Good luck” Johnson smiled. Sally thanking him and giving him a kiss on the cheek before turning to those assembled.
“Alright lads, mount up then let’s go fuck this bastard up” The old lady roared.
Falthas grinned slightly. "I was going to say it might be a little overconfident continuing with a banquet in the middle of a battle but the evidence from the windows is showing the confidence is well founded." He started eating his carrot cake, as Vorkon next to him gave him a nudge.
"Now those are the kind of direct orders I can get behind, Lieutenant. Take a page out of Sally's book and bring all of us cake next time we deploy." Vorkon said it half-jokingly. He knew full well this was a luxury. A temporary one at that.
"You mean you guys don't normally have cake before you deploy." Chimed Auralea, shortly before laughing at her own joke slightly.
The whole group of Hastraxian-born enjoyed the food, especially the cake with compliments to the chef. But now it was time to focus on the coming fight as everyone left for the drop bays.
The Corporals and Vorkon climbed into the AEV, engine roaring to life to meet Sally's proclamation shortly as they checked it was good to go, followed by Vorkon giving a thumbs up to Falthas as he readied the 25mm and checked its gravity rails were cleared for operation as soon as they hit the ground. Falthas, Auralea and the pair of other Sergeants, Evol and Breer, donned helmets, sealed up and cocked weapons. Falthas confirmed his group were ready to drop when given the green light. "Save some of Palm's goons for us."
Carrotcake had always been such a strange concept to Eric, much like mayonnaise cake or rum cake - He never was much of a cook, and couldn't quite grasp the fact that despite being a vegetable, carrots - being sweet - belonged in confectioneries as much as they belonged beside beef and onions in a stew. The bootheel variety in front of him was to the layman's carrotcake like how one would compare truffles to normal mushrooms, he imagined; while the former was usually predisposed to be dense and mealy due to its vegetable base, the slice on his plate was spongy and impossibly sweet, more like the rich cakes served to similarly-rich nobles... while managing to avoid overpowering his palette.
Something in his brain told him to be thankful for the cake in front of him, helping him focus on something other than the live art display unfurling on the other side of the window. He wiped up a dollop of the icing with his finger as he was ushered through to the drop bays, enveloping his focus into the sweet cream even as he walked through and by the somewhat more militarized elements of the ship he was so enamored with not minutes ago... too fixated on the flavor to sound his own battlecry, even as his mercenary allies returned Sally's call.
Gearing up was the most exciting part of the mission for Syko. The adrenaline of what was to come, the heart racing blood pumping teeth gritting pre-combat anxiety was addictive. It did not help that the explosions in space further made him extra excited.
As everyone suited up and prepared to drop, Syko went to his personal space fighter that he used to travel throughout the galaxy - calling it a space fighter was a bit of a stretch considering the thing was actually a civilian bucket strapped with some laser guns but he did not mind, its spacious cargo capacity for a two-man space fighter allowed him to store all his guns and gadgets. It also did not hurt that he practically got the thing for free...when he snatched the keys (and a thumb) from some random pirate before he sent their entire ship into the sun.
He opened up the cargo compartment, guns were neatly placed in racks and crates of ammunition, gadgets, grenades and more were cleanly arranged, organised and stacked. Two sawed-off shotguns were placed on the magnetic docks on his back, extra ammo for Becky and Stacy, six grenades and two bowie knives for close combat. Boron-silicon carbide hardplates for protection, one at the front and another at the back. Extra water and survival rations in the utility pouches. Seeing as he was about to fight in some organic fleshy pit, he swapped out his goggles for a gas mask just in case. His face was still visible behind the gas mask's wide visors, he was grinning in anticipation. He could not wait to get into battle.
Yuhna had been...a touch distracted with all the food and drink in front of her, only going for the softer foods and emptying a glass at speeds that risked sending a human into a coughing fit, only glancing upwards when any particularly large--or otherwise explosive--guns went off. Mihra, on the other hand, was absentmindedly sucking on a straw, watching the battle outside with an almost unwavering fixation, only snapping her eyes away when the call came to ruin someone's day. Well. More than it already had been.
"Yuhna." she turned to the other Artificia. No response. "Yuhna. No time for cake." she pressed. No response as the orange woman bit down on...something, Mihra didn't actually know what that was.
"Yuhna." she insisted, giving her a slight shove. Finally, she turned to look at her. "We gotta go." she sighed, Yuhna nodding and shoving the last of the...it looked like some kind of fish...into her mouth, standing up and making a gesture of thanks towards the assorted cooks.
Arming up took considerably less time for the two than the assorted others, especially in Yuhna's case, the orange woman shoving a pair of large, revolver-like handguns into their holsters, a rifle onto her back, and then swinging a belt of ammo pouches around herself. Evidently, she wasn't concerned otherwise. Mihra took considerably longer, loading and checking assorted firearms and explosives, and strapping in a solid amount of ammunition and at least two knives.
As for their transportation, rather than any large or small armoured vehicle, Mihra had evidently opted for a motorbike. One admittedly mounted with a pair of twin-linked machine guns on the front, but a motorbike nonetheless, Mihra clambering onto the seat with Yuhna behind her. Lastly, as though a call to indicate they were armed and ready to go, the red Artificia grinned, and let out a growling roar from the vehicle's engine.
"Ready when you all are." she chuckled.
The different clones of Viktor Krug all took a few moments to rig their APC in preparation for its drop; the crew secured their vehicle to a re-entry pallet to which were attached multiple packs of landing boosters and backup parachutes. They made sure that everything was efficiently packed inside the vehicle and all sensitive components were stowed. In order to ensure that the vehicle would have a good weight distribution during that risky few minutes of the drop, Grug would have to be pretty close to its center of gravity and hence board first.
"We're ready, sealing up for drop" Krug informed via the radio an intercomms as the APC slowly closed up its thick metal door with a hydraulic whistle.
"Lady Sally, Grug honored." Grug said, now having encased himself in an enormous, fearsome carapace of armor made from various components of Capitol shock trooper and marine armor. He put on his mask and respirator, sealing himself off from the elements. "If Grug die, Grug go to heaven to wait for Sally."
“Oh no your too much of a gentlemen to die, don’t you worry my boy we will all see the end of this” Sally replied, being helped up into the APC by Grug, coming to sit down next to him in his custom seat array within the vehicle. Sally then seemed to change as an advanced Micrites suit began to form around her body, creating a tight form fitting armour and she ruffled through her small rucksack pulling out shrink wrapped cake, some sweets, various knitting kits and half-finished pieces of work, her purse and finally two small firearms, both looked organic in nature with some sort of pinkish tinge. They were quiet alien but she smiled as the old women packed everything back in, the countdown to launch timer ringing in her now enclosed helmet and to everyone on the ship.
“Ooh this is exciting, see you down there everyone!” She chirped over the intercom.
The countdown was for all involved, the Antropogenica had moved into the atmosphere, putting itself at risk but in such circumstances more than supported. The few missile launches which were attempted by Neo Almaz ground forces thinking they could get some lucky hits were sorely disappointed when ruby red lasers descended from the heavens to vaporise the launch positions nestled deep inside the living, pulsing form of Palm. It seemed the Forge Father was on constant station to provide them drop cover.
“Drop in 5!” Came the call, across the large open space the various drop pods and other arrays were lowered into position, in one sat Sally and the APC attached to the drop pallet, in another sat the AU on a drop cycle, the Hastrax had their own section and so on. The whine of the accelerators built quickly to fever pitch before the countdown came.
“4”
“3”
“2”
“I haven’t done this in years” Sally sniggered.
“1”
“Launch!”
The whine of the launchers discharged within an instant, propelling the various vehicles and individuals into the upper atmosphere at speed. Almost immediately the bright flaring plasma of re-entry obscured everything around them, rocking and heating the various pods. Once the fires had died down however the whoosh of the atmosphere became more familiar, the pods and pallets breaking off to allow for a proper unobscured drop. The sight was amazing, the strange living tendril and blob landscape of Palm beneath them splayed out like a tapestry all built up around huge spires and complexes which used to be the factory. More anti air batteries tried to open up on them, but colossal columns of white and red light fell from the heavens to silence them. But that was not all, screaming past on the way down several squadrons of Firestorms and Defenders had also launched to cover the deploying members hitting concentrated positions and drawing fire so that the drop assault would not be the sole focus of Palms endeavours, Sally whooping as she watched them descend down to rain fire onto the thing which had ruined her career.
The whole drop was over quickly, much to Sally’s dismay as retro thrusters and parachutes opened, guiding the pods and vehicles into position. They descended through a gap in several huge pulsing tubes and into the dark below, eventually hitting the ground to deploy and open up. The area was a shaft not 300m across, the light of the sky still visible from up above obscured by the huge living veins and ruins of the old factory walls. It was dark down here, extremely humid and hot with everything being damp and stinking. The floor was sturdy but covered in an inch of water mixed with all kinds of weird fetid fluids. Sally exited the APC helped down by Grug as she stretched slightly.
“Alright gang we are here, objectives to the south of this position. Through those tunnels” She pointed to several pitch black tunnel openings “I can’t say I agree with the decoration of the place” She retorted.