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.

[ Digging back in his memories—the ones he tried to keep safe and protected from Sigma—he can remember Wash being optimistic. He remembers when he was much more relaxed. He remembers so much. He can't fucking stand how things have changed and how much Freelancer has fucked them all up. Maine looks at Wash out of the corner of his eye, already filling in the lines of his face instead of his helmet.

They were all different people in the beginning.

Maine doesn't say anything right away, instead just keeps walking and staring straight in front of them. This is like the calm before the storm. Things are going to be fucked up soon, he can just feel it. Without even realizing it until he's consciously thinking about it, Maine is grinding his teeth together to the point he's getting an ache in his jaw. He has no right to say it, no right to think it, but things have already begun to change between them here. So, it winds up coming out anyway in a low, rolling grumble.

Don't do anything stupid.

Which just really means: Promise you'll stay safe. ]

[ Now there's a sentiment he's heard before. The sound has changed, become a growl instead of words, but the tone's one that Wash has heard so many times. It makes him laugh, a short, breathless kind of huff that's both rueful and amused.

It takes him back to days that were strangely more carefree, even though they happened amidst a war against extinction. Funny thing, that. Once, he'd never been able to imagine anything more fucked up than aliens trying to wipe humanity out. ]

Yeah. I'll do my best.

[ It's slightly sarcastic, but there's a note of something else in there too. Because Wash can read the layers of Maine's meaning and he knows there's more to what he's telling him than that. Casually, like it's nothing more than a consequence of stepping around a large rock, Wash's elbow knocks into Maine's.

You too, that contact means. We come back together or not at all. ]

[ This could harken back to the days of old. The night before leaving on a mission when they're all twisted up with anticipation that sleep doesn't really come and there is the nervous energy that keeps them moving. He remembers it, remembers that feeling of the unknown. It's strange how that's a bit of a comfort.

He glances over at Wash when he feels his elbow connect, but doesn't say anything yet. Maine isn't worried. Not about this. He doesn't think about dying. He doesn't think about much of anything that he should be thinking about. He's only thinking about things he shouldn't be. Good and bad. He doesn't give ground to the space to form between them again and instead stops and stops Wash from going further. Just for a moment.

A hand cups around the back of Wash's head as Maine leans down to meet him. His visor knocks lightly against Wash's helmet and he stays like that for only a few passing seconds in a shadow of old camaraderie. He doesn't say anything and pulls away quick enough. They'll be fine. Maine drops that hand to Wash's back and guides him in a turn to head back toward the camp. Even though he said nothing, he knows that Wash likely already knows that Maine will make sure Wash and Carolina make it back. He's not too concerned about himself.

They'll be fine. It'll all be fine. ]

[ 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.

[ This whole mess is dually noted on Re-L's part as well - if she ever signs up for one of these missions again, she'll be sure to try and smuggle some of her own weaponry with her.. or just to keep these in her dorm room should the need for extra weapons ever arrive. She can't help herself anymore - suspicion of new places is a second skin, and now that they'd shown that they couldn't even organize a mission well enough to send them with more than enough ammunition for one where they would need it?

Let's just say she'll probably be another that wouldn't let things go. ]

No, you think so? [ And there, a little sarcasm out of her, brows going up and blue eyes going a little wider before giving a little roll. ]

I've gotten better briefings from an autoreiv with half the information on a case than I got when we're descending on an alien planet to steal some sort of national relic. Ridiculous.

- I'd be more pissed off if there wasn't anything to see, though, I will admit that much.

[ They are woefully underprepared and Maine is never going to forgive anyone for giving them so little fire-power. But, they'll all deal with that in kind later.

From behind his visor he watches her silently for a few passing moments before he tips his head to look up at the sky. It looks like mostly any other sky, just not known constellations scattered across the darkness. Same sky, different quadrant of space. He looks out over the landscape that he can see and it's just nothing. Eventually, he turns back to Re-L. ]

What's there to see?

[ Forgive her, Maine - she's a bit like a kid in a candy store at this moment. She wants to look at the sky and see actual plants that weren't brought back from seeds in greenhouses just because they could - and different varieties, too. Maybe it was stupid, but, hey, a girl could only dream up what a normal place looked like before nuclear war.

She points upwards, first, as he asks what there is to see. ]

Stars, for one. I'd never seen a star until I came aboard the Eluvio past the fake light projections in Romdeau's dome. The scenery isn't incredibly different.. other than things actually do live out here.

[ It's difficult for him to understand how someone hasn't seen stars in their entire life. He's spent the majority of his knowing what space is or travelling in space, that it just seems... strange.

It's probably best she can't see the look on his face under his helmet. ]

They're just stars.

[ Sorry. He doesn't think there's anything special about them. ]

But, whatever flies your flag.

[ He's not judging. Much. ]

Say that after you've lived in a dome, and then a nuclear wasteland for nineteen years.. [ She'd heard many people say it - 'they're just stars' - but it's infinitely more interesting when you've never had the chance to observe them with the naked eye, or outside of a book or program in your life.

It's much more interesting, for one. ]

I've only ever seen photo and video.. but the real thing is immensely different.

Oros mission start

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