starlogs | Oros mission start

[ This isn't the worst thing that could happen. Not the best, but not the worst. At least it's something to do instead of rotting away sitting on another damn ship eating his way through the food court and ruining the punching bags in the training room like they're his own personal property. Field work is what he's best at, even with all the baggage floating around in the back of his mind.

It could almost remind him of a time that seems like ages ago, even if it wasn't. Not for him. Carolina at the helm and he and Wash on damage control. There's other people here, too, but he doesn't know their skillsets. As far as Maine is concerned, they're all green as shit rookies. Which he'd scoffed to Wash during the briefing. No offense meant, really, but after years working with top of the line soldiers, this seems like a mission destined to fail. But, maybe they're going to surprise him.

Not that he wants to, but he brings the implant chip with him, though hasn't put it in yet. Only one person here can understand the non-verbal communication he's relegated to, one other gets the gist. Since he knows the importance if comms on the battlefield, he's attempting to make the effort. Even if he doesn't have much to say.

He's wearing his own armor, stark white and a globe-like helmet that gleams yellow in the light. Because he prefers the heavy work rather than tending to things, he helps lug shit around or moves heavy things in order to make a contained and protected camp. Often he hangs back, not wanting to be crowded or crowd in return. Once night falls, he stalks around the perimeter to keep watch because what the fuck is sleep??

While he's not a completely unfriendly sort, he doesn't have patience for idle conversation if it doesn't serve a purpose, especially on a mission. He's more than happy to help test fighting skills or get at any weaponry that someone might not want or doesn't know how to use, though. ]

[ Wash doesn't mean to be judgmental, and for the most part he isn't because everybody's a rookie at some point, but he's been trained by the best to be the best and it's a little awkward trying to convince himself that they're going to be an effective fighting unit. Visions of the Reds and Blues fucking everything up and being a chaotic mess dance in his head: at least he's got experience trying to wrangle people who aren't born for war.

It's with a nostalgic sense of familiarity that he embarks on this mission with Maine and Carolina. It reminds him a little of when he thought the Project was a boon to humanity, a force for good to counteract the war with the Covenant. He knows better now, and because of that knowledge, he doesn't go into this blind. There may be something else going on here. And frankly, if there is, he doesn't give a shit. Politics don't interest him. He just wants to keep his people alive.

Wash finds Maine that night at camp, joining him in his vigil. Sleep's nice when he can get it, but he's used to running on fumes. The UNSC taught him that skill before PF ever got its hands on him. ]

Hey. [ Knocking an elbow against Maine's arm, Wash settles in beside him. His HUD provides a steady readout of the terrain ahead and he's got his motion trackers on. They won't be snuck up on. ] Weird, isn't it? [ Behind the visor, Wash smiles a little too sharply. Maine can probably hear it in his voice. ] Think the rookies'll make it?

[ He knows Wash is there before he even knocks against him. Not from the motion trackers on his HUD, but he just knows. That comes with having been in really tough shit together. That comes from trust. That Maine has that again is... something. He remembers he and Wash working as a unit when they were all calling him the Meta. Some things just never die, apparently.

Maine makes a noise of acknowledgement, but not much else. He glances behind them toward the camp where people are in various states of milling about or sleeping ( or pretending to... ) and just internally sighs. While he might be used to carrying the weight of a team, he doesn't really feel all that charitably toward any of them. Besides Wash and Carolina. He'll do what he needs to do to keep them alive, but everything else...

Well, it kind of doesn't matter to him. If it comes down to it, he's positive the three of them can get in that base and get out without anyone else helping along the way. Not like they haven't done it before. Maybe that obnoxious woman in the pink, too. Need someone to pick the locks.

His attention shifts to Wash and though the look he's giving can't be seen, he knows that Wash knows. Still, he shakes his head before facing back out from the camp again. Someone's probably going to die on this trip. After a few passing silent moments Maine makes a low, rumbly noise; Can you believe these shitty weapons? ]

[ If someone dies, it isn't going to be Maine. Wash has already decided that and God help the galaxy that tries to take him away again. He's lost him too many times. It won't happen again. Anyone else, Wash will do his damnedest to save, but if a choice has to be made, it's going to come out in Maine's favor.

And Wash has made his peace with that.

But he's trying to approach the mission with optimism. That isn't easy. He hasn't had much in the way of optimism for a long fucking time. But lately, a teeny tiny bit of it has been creeping back into him. Carolina and Maine are here. Alive. It's possible things might be different this time around. ]

No. [ Frowning, Wash looks toward their nearest teammate and the weapon in question. The quartermasters in the UNSC would be mortified to outfit the troops with this shit. ] You'd think they'd arm us better if they're dropping us into hostile territory. I had better guns during the war and equipment was getting scarce in my end of the quadrant.

[ One thing he does miss is crazy weaponry at his hands. If not from the UNSC but the arsenal from the Covenant. He misses his brute shot. These weapons just feel so... so primative. Not the he means to be a weapon snob, but really. These are horrible and they should feel bad. How could a alleged battleship not be better stocked? It makes Maine wonder if something is going on and not only are they walking in blind here, but... Something. This might turn into a really bad disaster.

Really bad.

Idleness itches under Maine's skin and he needs to move. He tips his head toward the east side, the intention it's time to walk the perimeter. He starts, knowing Wash will follow.

What do you think?

Because now that they're down here and have gotten a view and feel for the planet, he wants to know Wash's thoughts on it. Maybe offer something to the team leads if necessary. ]

[ Recognizing the meaning of the gesture, Wash sets off, matching his stride to Maine's. He eyes the terrain as he walks, wary and ill at ease.

There's nothing out there, but that doesn't mean it's empty. They've been told that it isn't. There's a reason for that. ]

I think we're unprepared. I think there's probably more to what's going on than we're being told and I'd like to what that is and why it's being withheld. [ Maybe that's post-Freelancer paranoia, but he doubts it. ] I think we can handle it. [ We being the Freelancers. ] But I don't think it's going to be an easy op.

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rumbling - 2017-01-19 00:35 (UTC) - Expand

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[ It's getting late and, technically, Re-L ought to be in bed. But there's a curiosity in her, and a restlessness, that hasn't quite sorted itself out just yet, and so the woman finds herself standing in the dark, a pistol tucked in her belt, just sort of.. staring at the stars above them. Stars still made her feel a bit like a small child - after all, she'd never seen them before arriving here, where ever this was, and the fact that she could see them now still hadn't stopped bringing a childish amount of joy to sit down in her stomach.

Her questions about the point of this mission factored in too, but - well, none of those would be answered until this was done and over with, she was fairly sure.

She notices the sound of movement before anything else - chin lowering from her gaze to the sky before turning to see who it is - another one of those soldier types wearing a helmet and armor, right - ]

It's been all quiet here, so far.

[ Though he's not the most social creature, he knows he needs to get to know these people. If only a little to see where their strengths and weaknesses are, just so he knows where to compensate when things get bad.

Because they're going to. They always do.

Still, it's not really easy to just sit and have a chat with people. He's making a go at it because it seems like something he should be doing to reclaim his life, but. Old habits.

Maine sighs to himself and feels the urge to be a jerk rising, in that he should just use the text function on the comms to speak, but. He relents for now. Reaching into one of the small packs on his armor, he retrieves something and lifts it to the back of his head. There's a soft metal on metal sound then an even softer click before he lowers his hands. After a moment or two, a low voice sounds from somewhere in the vicinity of another pack, the tone even but still with a slightly digital edge. ]

Don't get used to it. Never stays this calm.

[ That's interesting to learn - of course, were this situation different Re-L might've launched in to a bunch of questions regarding that pack and the things associated, but in the moment it doesn't seem like pertinent timing. She's still trying to get used to this whole 'living planet' thing, and quizzing people before they were about to go on what may be a rough mission didn't seem too intelligent of a decision.

Instead, she'll make a mental note and then turn back to her stargazing with one of those little, sage nods. ]

No, of course not. But I've been taught to breathe a little when I get the chance.

[ A hard-learned lesson when it came to Vincent and Pino's sides, for sure - just ask either of them if they ever showed up. Her hands fold behind her back, starkly pale against her dark clothing. ]

Besides, out here there are apparently a few million chances to see new stars - and our shit captains back on the eluvio didn't give enough ammo for target practice to be an intelligent decision.

[ Which, hell, if you were nineteen and had never seen stars before in your life, all of it is pretty damn exciting, even just before a mission that would probably kick your ass. ]

[ Maybe if the situation was different, Maine would be more amenable to responding to those questions. Maybe. Probably not, but it is worth a shot, at any rate. It's kind of a touchy subject.

He makes a noise that's somewhere between a grunt and a snort that could quite possibly be a laugh. She's not wrong; the people in charge of this mission clearly don't know what the fuck they're doing. Maine won't complain about it when they get back—he never does—but he'll make sure he's armed better next time. Carolina's more the dressing down type. Someone's going to hear it from someone when they get back, that's all Maine knows. ]

No. Don't think they're prepared at all, considering the briefing.

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[Kay-tu is basically just here to lift heavy things. If he wants to.]

[Look, he’s here to keep an eye on Cassian, and maybe do some work. He’s not on the good side of anyone else. Though Sam is at least all right, as are a few others, he supposes. Still, he doesn’t like taking orders, even if Cassian said he should.]

[Which is to say he'd been helping set up camp, but only when needed. Otherwise he’s on the outskirts of it at the moment, his antenna at his back scanning the area around them, searching for movement, life forms and other problems. He had a head count of everyone in camp and where they were, and his readings had fair range.]

[In his metal hands he held the laser gun, pointed down and pointless at the moment. His body had a backpack settled low on it, out of movement range but held weapons and things secure enough that if he or someone else needed them they were at hand.]

[For the most part he was on guard. He would be the entire time if needed. He had no need for sleep, and he didn’t need to ‘recharge’ for a very long time.]

[At least he was in a good mood. They gave him a blaster. Or, well, not a blaster, but same kind of weapon. Sure. they trusted him enough to hold weapons. It was a good step.]

[You can try to sneak up on him, but there is a 99.9 percent chance that he already knows you are approaching him, if you do.]

[ Cassian is well-aware that Kay is A: here primarily to watch his ass, thanks, and B: unimpressed with just about everything happening here plus C: can sense him coming from a mile away and you know what? All of those things are comforting. Familiar. Especially in a place full of angry plants and limited water supplies and strangers thrown together on a team that he notices is not led or manned by a single crewperson from the ship.

Suspicious? Oh hell yes.

And maybe that suspicion is why Cassian doesn't gravitate towards the others, keeping quiet and to himself. Maybe it's the feeling that he doesn't quite match up with what the people in the exosuits were hoping for, whomever they are, wherever they're from.

Maybe it's guilt that he's out here with a mind and heart divided, because the people he cares for the most are back on the Eluvio. Maybe it's stress that a mind divided is something he has to deal with, now.

Either way, Kay is the one he seeks out. ]

What do you think?

[ A casual sitrep. ]

[Kay is very well suited for this kind of job. He needs no rest or sleep and can keep a look out better than human eyes. And as long as people leave him alone to do his job, he's generally good enough in doing it. he is, however, mostly here because of Cassian.]

[As the other came up beside him, Kay didn't bother to look over to him. Instead his photoreceptors kept a look out, scanning the planet before them, the camp to his back at the moment.]

[The question was expected, but he did take a moment to compile his data. There was a lot to say, but he spoke it in a low tone for just the two of them.]

I find the mission parameters to be vague and unconvincing. They have deployed a team of eleven people, new from different universes, planets, systems that have never worked with each other before, and told them to find an object.

Here, have some rocket launchers and grenades because there are hostiles. Wear your helmet always, because the Carbon dioxide levels are lethal. The days are hot, the plants are out to kill organics, the wild life are just as poisonous.

[he glanced back to the camp, then down to Cassian.]

I do not like it. Of the eleven of us, you and I have worked together. The three with matching suits have worked together. The others are unknown factors. There are no representative of the facility we are gathered at. It's as if we are the expendable ones.

Not to mention the distance they have left us on our own to cover. Would it not have been easier to deliver us closer to the location and better equipped with modes of transportation and a strike crew?

It's as if we don't have all the information.

[He shut up for a moment.]

We are expendable, and we definitely don't have all the information. Nor do I think we're going to get our hands on it anytime soon. I doubt we'll even be told the entire story of what we're trying to get here or why.

Plus there are mines. [ Cassian hates mines with a passion bordering on rage. Mines ruin a landscape, ruin the soil, last longer than most wars and harm civilians and soldiers indiscriminately. Also the mines in question? Tend to send fragments of who knows what into the air. ]

I'll have to figure out sleeping. [ Because he doubts he'll be left alone to sleep or not sleep as he likes, and his nightmares have been made a bit easier by having the others in reach when he wakes. Now, on a strange planet without them, he's not sure how his psyche is gonna handle it. ]

There's no point to telling us what it is we are getting. We're the soldiers they can use with out loss of their own. [Pessimism runs between the two of them. It's what binds them together as friends, huh. Though right now the mission did feel a bit lacking in information and reason.]

I hate mines. [He said simply. He was willing to bet he gets mine sweeper duties as well. He wants to find at least one so he can scan it and check it out, to locate them easier.]

[He looked over to Cassian though, at the comment about sleeping. He knows the other has problems. Nightmares. He knows he's not the best for comfort. Not like the others could be, but... in a softer tone.] It may not be much, but I will be around, Cassian. I have your back.

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[ Re-L just can't help herself. The first time since she's spotted Kay-tu it was an irrepressible need to figure out what exact he could or couldn't do - after all, she'd had her own version of droids back in her home world, and to find out what set him apart would let her know what point other worlds were at.

However - there were mission related things to be completed, her own weapons to be checked to make sure this wasn't an elaborate slaughter field or something of the sort, and making sure that they were going to be as comfortable as they could be for the night to take care of. So, faithfully, she'll move materials and do what is needed for the moment, wanting to be sure she at least had her own affairs arranged and taken care of before settling in to idle conversations or running herself through the mission plan yet again to make sure she has it down.

Once these things are done, though - she's marching right up to Kay-tu, curiosity finally about to be at least slightly satiated - ]

So, I'm curious, how far can you see and track from this point?

[He's helped with his part through and has moved to take up watch, looking out and scanning, watching. So as someone comes up to him to ask questions again, he had already figured out who it would be. The female again. Their last conversation wasn't a bad one at least.]

Farther than a standard organic being. [Not at all a good answer, Kay.] I have a fair radius of range enough to give everyone time to grab a weapon and be on the ready. [STILL not a good answer, kay.]

How exact of any answer. [ Ah, Re-L, being sarcastic may not be the best step, here, but she can't help herself. Eventually she falls in to pace with most robot-bodied beings as though they were Iggy, and the natural sarcasm just slips through.

She takes a moment to look over their surroundings again, so different from what she was used to in her own home world, but not necessarily in a bad way. The heat, for one, was kind of nice.

The sun? Kind of too bright. She's squinting a little at even the falling light now that they've unloaded. ]

That could still be useful, though, depending on what these aliens may already have heading our way if they've had any indication that we're coming for this 'Relic.' Now we just have to hope these bullets are strong enough to work, I suppose.

<>small>[He likes you, Re-L, he really does. But he's terrible at giving full answers to anyone but Cassian, and even then he is terrible at it, because he doesn't care to bother.]

I calculate that the probability of them already knowing we are here for this relic is high. I decided to calculate at a curve however, because there are so many unknown factors, that it is easier to simulate the drastic ends of the scale. Thinking that they already know and preparing for the worst will be, in the end, better for us. If it becomes too easy? Good.

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realimperfect - 2017-01-24 18:01 (UTC) - Expand

[ Making camp, still, strangely, is a totally alien process. Even in their now-wandering life around Earth, she, Vincent, Pino and Kristeeva still had the Rabbit to take shelter in, which meant making camp was never more than putting the cook stove outside if the weather permitted and wasn't too bitterly cold. Still, she knows she has a strong back, and helps to unload anything she can. Re-L Mayer may look reedy and average, but she's much stronger than she appears, and doesn't have any trouble expressing her annoyance if given something light when there's a large piece to be carried. Once everything is set where it needs to be, she may have a little bit of a snack, but, mostly,

Being on a recon mission, after the 'retrieve Vincent Law' mission - was not all that concerning. At least here, to her knowledge, there was very little chance at getting so sick she might need Daedalus as the one to keep her alive. Still, she's quiet, running over their rough mission plan in her mind, making sure that everything was in order in her quarters in case they needed to get out of there quickly.

In the down time before she decides it'd time for bed she decides to inspect the weapons she's been given - making sure that the scopes were proper and the lot. The distinct clack of metal and the inspection of each gun to make sure that.. well, mostly that they weren't trying to get them all slaughter with faulty machinery or something.

The paranoia is strong with this one.

Feel free to bug her at any point in this recon adventure! ]

[ this one in the turquoise armour has been bossing all day and it's obviously not stopping just because people are starting to turn in for the night. it's a little more gentle now, at least until people start trying to avoid sleeping, so carolina even clears her throat as she comes over to join re-l during her weapons inspections. ]

You comfortable with that?

[ The armor had certainly made her curious - more because she isn't sure if it's theirs from their home world or if, somehow, they were classified as some kind of warrior and that's why they'd been given armor of that sort. Not that Re-L would choose it - one, Carolina's is the wrong shade of blue, and two, she can't help but feel as though it may hinder her so far as movement, much like the suit she'd worn on her first time outside of the dome.

She is a night owl by habit, anyways, so staying up a little bit later to check her weapons seemed like a no brainer. Particularly on an alien planet where they would, surely, ensure that she made it back alive and she would have to rely on them for such.

Re-L looks up as she's addressed, glance a little sharp as always before she's turning back to what her hands are doing. ]

It's not all that different to the weapons I'm already used to - other than the scopes and the ability to shoot a little more long range. However - aiming has never been a problem for me. [ She shifts, slightly, her seat position made slightly uncomfortable by the short-barrel shotgun she always carried being strapped to her thigh, and set that aside so that she could lean a little more to that side. ]

I was more concerned with making sure that I hadn't been given a faulty weapon for this mission, so an inspection couldn't have hurt.

Smart. [ she'd checked her own assigned weapons a dozen times, had made sure alpha team did the same before they'd be allowed to leave that hangar back on the eluvio. there's no such thing as too many weapons checks, especially when their suppliers aren't entirely trustworthy.

without waiting for an invitation, carolina makes herself comfortable sitting beside re-l, sitting with one knee bent, her arm resting on it. it's clear that any sort of hindrance her armour may cause, she's learned how to negate it long ago. it's a second skin. ]

Everything still in order?

Unfortunately with the measly amount of ammunition they've thrown us on an alien planet with, there's little room to actually, you know, fire the weapons and completely make sure that my sight alignment is fully correct. I trust my eyes enough, at least, to know I'll be within range to a degree.

[ To say that Re-L trusts just about anything going on with this mission seems to be a bit of an overstatement. She watches, for a moment, as Carolina settles next to her, seemingly even a little wary of other people, to a point. That, though, is more a left over from her home world than anything else.

Her hands busy themselves with reloading each weapon and double checking their mechanical motility one more time - well manicured hands moving over sleek machinery in well-practiced motion. ]

So far. Let's just hope they don't blow apart the first time they're actually fired. I wouldn't trust this place with my life, or anything, that would be a stupid mistake of trust.

[ She pauses, and then turns, offering a pale hand with a rather stiff body language, like it's something rehearsed a thousand times over. ]

Re-L Mayer.

First Night Making Camp

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OTA - Alpha or Beta

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