Entries tagged with michael blanc

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Lirath - Space Battle

Run by: Tetra
NPCS: Everyone

The battlefield in the space above Lirath was a tumultuous mess. being both inviting targets for barrage in and of themselves, and also forcing the GIA ships to stay in close to protect them instead of allowing for more maneuvering room. The ice ring around Lirath had been blasted apart, resulting in giant chunks of ice drifting through fire- and sight-lines, providing opportunities for both cover and ambush as well as destruction for the dog-fighting ships weaving in and out of their treacherous paths. The wreckage of GIA and Ohm ships made movement through the battlefield downright hazardous -- who knew if there were still live weapons aboard any of them, just waiting to be tripped by an unwary pilot? The gravitational forces of the nearby planet Kehoe were an unwelcome addition to an already chaotic battlefield, making navigation difficult.

Ohm shrikes strafed the bare handful of GIA capital ships present, causing soundless explosions in the vacuum of space and killing who-knew-how-many allies of Transmigration 9's crew in the process.The GIA fighters seemed barely able to dent the massive Ohm Leviathans that brooded over the planet like bloated, predatory spiders, and those that were still flying were massively damaged, hulls scorched by plasma fire, some barely held together with parts of them vented into space. In some places there were things that looked like clouds of specks-- groups of dead GIA crewman, lost to the void.

Before long, new Ohm bioforms would enter the fray, ones created to compensate for the ship's mecha.

In this scattered and scorched battleground, Starfighter Command would have to fight Ohm ships side by side with the exhausted forces of the GIA, braving massive chunks of ice, wreckage, and of course, the seemingly never-ending forces of the Ohm.

And the tide of battle was already turned against them.

[ooc: wait for subthreads to be set up before posting.

Subthreads open:
First Wave and Second Wave, both open!]

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Burden of Rank [OPEN]

Being in command meant having to make the hard decisions.

Trudy knew that, but having to dishonorably discharge a talented pilot like Allenby still crawled under the collar and itched. Her shoulders took on a distinct slump as she walked through the hallways of the ship, mouth set in a hard line, going over the confrontation in her head. Could she have done anything differently?

Probably not. Allenby had been hell-bent on what she was doing and no amount of logic was going to dissuade her from flying down to the planet with just her Gundam and a small crew. Trudy was satisfied that she'd manage to stop her from getting herself and others killed... but the incident was a black mark on Starfighter Command and her ability to control her pilots.

These were the times that she hated her job.

Her boots hit the grass of Hydroponics and she made a beeline for the beer tree. She probably would have had better company at the Drunken Dragon, but company wasn't what she was after. Not right now, not after what had just gone down in the hangar.

Knowing this ship though, company would find her whether she wanted it or not.

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He's a Gambling Man - [OPEN]

Jr. had no particular destination in mind before he entered the city. He figured when he got there he would decide whether or not he was more in the mood for a stop by the Drunken Dragon or the Tea House - there were sure to be people in either one of them. Little did the red-head know, however, that he was in for quite a big surprise as he made his way through. He remembered hearing about how these other structures showed up in the city. Seemingly out of nowhere, as if the places were simply cut away from their own universes. Just like his mecha, the E.S. Asher had simply been there, waiting for him in the hangar. Weapons like that he could understand, but why would the ship take buildings? Temples and parks?

A flash of blue caught his eye, and he turned to a building he hadn't noticed before. Or maybe he had noticed it, but it had simply been empty and easily dismissible. It certainly didn't look that way now, and for a moment Jr. just ... stared. Completely baffled by the small, but familiar blue sign next to the entrance. In a bright cyan color read the words "GAME ROOM." Just like...

Just like on the Durandal... There was a moment-- a short, short moment when he figured year right, this place can't be here. But just as quickly, he remembered how many other places showed up out of nowhere. Jr. walked up to the entrance - it felt like such a long time since he saw that sign - it was a strange, bittersweet feeling. Of all the places to show up... And then he opened the door to step inside, and it felt just like home again. This was one of his favorite places to pass the time on his foundation's enormous red (and appropriately named) flagship.

The walls were a light and happy blue, the area itself rather techy and futuristic-looking. Lined along one wall were a few slot machines, and up a small staircase to the right was an oh so familiar rounded poker table. In another corner stood what appeared to be a game. The screen flashing "A.G.W.S. Battle," Jr. recognized it as the 3D versus mecha game he remembered from home. Pretty fun, he thought, and a good way for anybody bored to pass the time if they weren't much into the luck and gambling side of things. Every once in a while a small flicker of light could be seen in the air, like that of a firefly. Environmental Bugs - tiny little nanomachines whose job it was to keep the room in shape.

Jr. walked over to sit in one of the chairs set around the poker table. It felt a little lonely in the silence without any of the troops walking around - so many of them loved coming in here to pass the time with him. And without the 100-Series, who he had taught and had been teaching how to play, they were getting so much better at it, too. He reached down to grab his omnicomm, fingers tapping away as he typed out a quick message. A place like this deserved to feel lively, just like he was used to it being.

[] OOC: Here's a reference post. o/ []

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Space Invaders!

After everyone and all of their ships were properly loaded the Quarter had launched successfully. The journey from Stacy to the Trojan Asteroid field trailing NiSaris took several hours, but they managed to approach the field with the people of the nearby world being none the wiser.

The problem was that the NiSarians weren't the only ones watching the skies.

As the Quarter approached and entered the asteroid field, all was quiet. But it was only going to be a matter of moments before that would change.

((ooc: See this post for instructions, but otherwise, have at it, and have fun.))

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Fitting Room [Semi-Open]

Trudy had asked Michael how many EX-Gear suits the Skulls had available for use in the X-Wings and VFs, for system interlink as well as ejection safety. While it certainly wasn't an infinite number, it was more than enough to outfit a squadron and a half. He wasn't sure how you'd go about connecting the machinery to the X-Wings that weren't built for it, but hey, that wasn't his job to figure out. He just needed to make sure people were fitted for them, and understood how they worked.

"It's not the most fashionable outfit in the world, but you'll want an EX-Gear for two reasons," he explained to the figure in front of him - having set up a temporary "fitting room" in the hangar bay. "One, it's more efficient at reading your body's movements than a normal flight stick would be, which means precision control and quicker reaction times when you need it most."

"Two, if that doesn't help you, it's got a fully contained zero-G and vacuum survivability system for when you need to eject, plus a propulsion pack to get you back to base. You won't be going at Fold-warp speeds, but it has enough thrust to get you back home."

"Care to strap yourself in and give it a test?"

(ooc: Open to any in Starfighter Command who aren't flying a Mobile Suit. For reference: In the middle, 1, 2)

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Do you have what it takes? [OPEN]

PT finished at 0700, and the pilots and new recruits got a half hour to cool off before they got into the cockpits of their assorted craft. In the two hours since 0500 they ran several miles, did push-ups, sit-ups and pull-ups, and then a hundred jumping jacks to get the blood pumping. "You don't even want to think about how much force you put on your body when you're piloting," Trudy said at the start of the exercises. "Pilots need to be in peak condition to handle it."

Those who were used to doing the training five days out of the week would be out of breath but not exhausted. Anyone new, however, might have a little trouble getting their wind back.

"All right everyone, gather around. We have a few new recruits today, so we're not going to be running the Zokez scenario. I know you're all heartbroken." She kept a straight face, but that was a definite joke. She was sick of running the Zokez scenario. "We'll be doing some standard training exercises - maneuverability and gunning practice."

The track and exercise equipment melted away, and in its place the hangar of the Macross Quarter materialized with all its fighters and mobile suits. "Outside is a standard sim course. I'm going to have the recruits run it first to see how they handle and then the squadrons will go out as a unit. Recruits, let's put you in birds."

((OOC: This log is for anyone who signed up to fly a mobile suit, a VF or an X-wing and is not already in Starfighter Command. The flight sim is like something you'd see out of the training missions on Star Fox - fly through the rings, shoot the enemies, avoid the obstacles it throws at you like sheets of scrap and asteroids. EDIT: Subthreads for the squadrons are now up!))

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Negotiations [Closed to Celestial Being]

Michael sat on the side of his sniper perch, constructed on the sidewalks of one of the main boulevards in the City. Normally this was his firing range, but now he was here for a meeting - with one of the most troublesome groups on the ship. As much as Setsuna and his comrades were pains in Starfighter Command's neck, they needed every last body they could get for the mission ahead.

He'd chosen this spot since it was out of the way, where people were unlikely to intrude if the discussion got heated. All there was left to do was wait.

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Vacation's over [Closed]

Not long after the crew left XaXing, the ship had received a communication from the GIA, directed for Leon. In it was a new set of orders, ones that weren't part of Stacy's mission list, it seemed. After reviewing the orders, Leon put them into Stacy, which prompted an abrupt change of course.

While they were given more time than Stacy's usual routine of giving them their orders five minutes before dumping them off the ship, they still didn't have a lot of time to prepare, forcing Leon to call a meeting of some of his senior staff.

He was waiting for them in the briefing room that was just off the main bridge, a hologram of the world they were now headed to displayed over the conference table.

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Run [Open]

Asuka could never quite remember how or when she'd gotten into the habit of a daily run. She remembered training with someone on the ship - but their face and name were always just out of reach, on the tip of her tongue. That was frustrating, so she tried not to think on it. Of course, then she'd signed up for Rogue Squadron and they'd had to do that whole boot camp thing and by now, it was just a part of her daily routine. Get up, go out, sims, running. It kept her in shape and it kept her from going stir-crazy. Even the sensoriums got stifling and too fake after a while.

So she ran. The amount of available clothing had dropped, of course, so she was just in her plant suit - which was freaky as hell, but it was that or run in the nude and that wasn't about to happen. This helped her think, anyway. Just the slap of her feet on the pavement, the relative silence of the city - it was a bit eerie at times, but she preferred being alone like this.

Occasionally she would summon up memories and faces from home - Misato, Shinji, Wonder Girl. She would wonder if they were in the pods - and then she'd dismiss the idea. They weren't here. It didn't matter. She was fine on her own and she didn't care about them anyway. Today's run was coming to an end, anyway. She turned onto another street, accelerating slightly.

Just a few blocks more.

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The Flagship [OPEN]

Wash rarely went anywhere but the bridge of the Quarter - the whole thing felt creepily like an Alliance ship and the bridge was a smaller space, easier to deal with after Serenity's tight places.

Not that it was much better on the bridge. Wash sometimes felt like he was in a vast fishbowl, standing out on the end of the bridge. It was built in the thrust, three sides surrounded by air and railings. Luckily the consoles were high enough that no-one was likely to get vertigo.

Wash went straight to his station, running his hand over the console. Even in a ship this high-tech they knew that the pilot had to feel her to fly.

"She's not my first love but she's well enough," he said.

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Exhaustion [Open]

The first thing that Asuka had done was open a comm post to see how long it had been. Then she'd learned she'd been gone for months. Precious, valuable months spent running mazes (she couldn't exactly remember it all - it was a blur, like a dream). She was probably left behind by now! So, the third thing she'd done was gone straight to the Sensoriums and started flying. She'd done combat scenarios, cold starts, everything that she'd learned before, she'd done over and over again, trying to improve her reaction times, trying to master the controls.

There was no way in Hell she was going to be the worst pilot in the squadron. She was going to be the best. Which was why she'd just gone for a day or so without sleep and was more then a little bit exhausted.

And still flying a simulated X-Wing.

You couldn't fault her dedication.

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Off to work

||Attention, Attention,|| Stacy's voice rang out suddenly throughout the ship. ||Will the following personnel please report to the Obs Deck:||

||Michael Blanc,||
||Kazami Shiro,|
||Andrew Davis,||
||Aibghalien Marsai,||
||Spiderman--616 universe,||
||Julian Keller,||
||Nanashi,||
||Katara,||
||Lash,||
||Wags-Tail-Alot,||
||Phillip,||
||and Vita.||

||Attention, Attention...|| The message repeats over and over, until all of the people she was calling reported to the Obs Deck.

Once they get there, they're greeted with an unusual sight. The mouth in the huge statue on the wall opens, revealing a screen. On it, the dossier for the mission flickers into display, understandable to every person there. Smaller copies of the dossier appear in holographic form in front of everyone.

The planet's stats, right next to a rotating picture of it, a dusty brown orb with orange clouds overhead:
( Read more... )

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Training Flight [Semi-Closed]

Trudy wasn't much of a programmer, but she thought she'd finally gotten the Sensoriums to understand what she wanted. The simulations of Zokez II had been modified to have all their pilots removed from the sim. Now it was just swarms and swarms of Ohm.

But the arriving pilots wouldn't know that right away - one of the things they trained on the least was actually getting into your ship and getting out the hangar door, and now that they had the carrier, that was even more vital.

So when the pilots arrived in the Sensoriums, they would find themselves not in Stacy's hangar, but in the hangar bay of the Macross Quarter. The fighters and gundams were arrayed throughout the hangar in neat ranks, all ready to go.

Trudy herself stood in her eyesore of a flight suit, her helmet tucked against her hip, waiting to greet people as they came in. She had some new faces to meet, after all.

But before anyone could get too comfortable, the wailing tones of Stacy's red alert sounded through the Sensoriums. [[Attention crew]] came Stacy's voice, [[We are under attack. Repeat, the Ohm are attacking.]]

"Get to your fighters! Rogue Two to the bridge - Wash, take us out!"

((OOC: Anyone currently in Starfighter Command or interested in joining is free to participate and hop in a cockpit. Shuttle pilots and crew will be manning their shuttles. The command staff and the council are welcome to observe the exercise but Trudy would prefer no civilian observers. Have fun! Shoot the Ohm with yer lazors, pew pew!))

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Panacea (Operation Shoot 'Em in the Chest and Lower Extremities) [OPEN]

Bleary-eyed toil brought results, and there was a cure for ROM-199A. Now the problem came with administering it.

Down in the city, the makeshift strike team wielded modified tranquilizer rifles and each of them had 12 cure rounds to use. The infected needed to be struck solidly in order for the cure to be injected-- they were instructed to aim for the chest, though a shot in the arm or leg that hit and stuck would work as well.

It's like paintball, except with deadly pathogens!

Meanwhile, up in Quarantine, those who didn't feel comfortable with shooting their crewmates in the ~~face~~ chest and lower extremities were charged with curing those who had already been subdued and contained.

That was more like tag than paintball, except with deadly pathogens, of course.

(ooc: If you signed up here or here, fire away. If you want to participate but didn't sign up, fire away. If you're infected, tag in to your victim of choice and tear those jerks apart before they shoot you in the ~~face~~ chest and lower extremities! THROW-DOWN! Remember, give the newbs and less plot-fortunate first shot. HAVE FUN.)

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[unsick party @ my carrier ship]

With the little house she’d been fixing in the City quarantined, Sheryl had made it her business to become intimately acquainted with the Quarter, and had happily discovered that it had a serviceable mess kitchen and crew bunks in the dustier parts of its bowels. A few hours in Hydroponics later, she’d assembled the materials for a serviceable break from ship-goo dinners, and now a respectable soup was finishing up on the oversized burners.

She let her hair down and sent off a brief omnicomm message and started pushing the worst of the dust off the little lounge’s tables before anyone from off Frontier could arrive.

[[ Dated to after podpop and during contagion plot, open to all. ]]

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One shot, one... [Open]

Somewhere in the City, there is an impromptu target range set up at the edge of a park - targets draped over various types of available furniture and boxes. Otherwise, however? It looks completely deserted - there isn't a soul in sight.

If you're walking past, you may suddenly see an impact on one of the targets - a shot hits home just outside of the bulls-eye, kicking up fluff and dust as it pierces the target. Where's the gunman, though?

Michael exhaled as he released the trigger from his perch on the third floor of one of the abandoned buildings, checking his aim through the sight on his high-powered sniper rifle. He'd almost hit the bulls-eye. But almost wasn't good enough here. Especially not after Sheryl had been taken hostage by that lunatic - if something had happened to her, what would he have told Alto?

The next time anything like that happened again, he'd put a bullet between the guy's eyes before he could even finishing writing his threats on the comm system. He'd make sure of it.

He exhaled another breath as he returned back to his gun, putting his finger on the trigger, and taking careful aim...

...he fired. Hopefully, the eye-catching bullet-riddled targets would make it obvious enough for people not to run into his range.

Current Mood: pleased

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(no subject)

They’d trucked in one of the Valkyrie’s speaker pods and hooked her up. It wasn’t quite home, but it would have to do. She stepped onto a high ledge in a nice central location in the city, and had to admit, her “hack a plantsuit into a bandeau and leggings” outfit wasn’t the worst she’d ever performed in. No one could deny that the stuff clung nicely.

She hummed into the microphone, out of habit rather than nervousness. She already knew what to say, since most of it could have come word for word from The Galactic Fairy Defends Her Homeland. “People of Stacy,” she called, a hand on her hip, “do you want to help protect your friends and loved ones? Do you want to sign up to make a difference? Do you want to push back against the Ohm?” She flashed a confident, daring smile, then pitched herself off the ledge into open air.

Michael caught her a breath above the ground. He was in full EX-Gear, the metallic exoskeleton and extended wings VF-25 pilots wore to connect to their machines. He leveled off, then helped her to her feet. She gave him an exaggerated wink, then watched him tear off into the sky, corkscrewing away with practiced ease. She pulled her eyes away from his stunt flying, then beamed back at the passers-by.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Stacy, you’re in luck, because Skull Squadron is on the prowl for all kinds of staff! So what do you say? Ready to reach for the stars and save the world?”

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Capital Ship Get

Perhaps he wasn't quite as bad as Alto or Ozma, but Michael did have the heart of a pilot - so when he heard that this mysterious hangar bay had ships of all types from a thousand different universes, he had to check it out.

And the description didn't disappoint. He wasn't the gaping type, but boy did he gape at the thousands - no, tens of thousands - of craft all smartly lined up in rows. How big was this place?

There were fighters, some that looked like his trusty VF-25 but others that looked wholly alien, there were bipedal craft that vaguely resembled the Battroid mode, and then there were bestial creations that... well, he'd never seen anything like that before.

But no sooner had he taken a step or two into the room than something happened: A huge section of the far wall began to... he couldn't quite explain it. It seemed like a membrane that was dissolving away to reveal a separate section of the hangar beyond - and the sniper's eyes went wide. Because in that new section was a shape he was entirely familiar with.

At 400 meters long, the bulk of the Macross Quarter dwarfed pretty much all of the other craft in the hangar. But that was impossible - how could the Quarter be here? What the hell had happened back home after he'd ... well, died?

He pulled out the omnicomm he'd been issued and shot a quick message over to Ozma.

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Podpop

[ooc: Newbie Helpers List | Instructions: Post your character with one post establishing them as being podpopped. Tag each other in groups of 2's, 3's, and 4's, to get some interaction to start with. If a thread doesn't already have 2 or 3 people tagged in, tag it with your character's podpop popping near the other people, rather than making a new subthread. If you would like to play out them talking to the AI, please send an email to the mods making the request--we do this only by request. Then move onto the big Newbie Meeting. Once your character has gotten the rundown from the old crew, you may start posting entrance posts and freely tagging.]

||Pod Release Protocols Initating|| Stacy's familiar voice sounds out to all the podmates through the ship.

In the Pod Caverns, there are the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.

There is condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in the pods, as the people inside slide out onto the floors, covered in slime.

--

( There was nothing... )