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News Scrolly Thingy

" If you could touch the alien sand and hear the cries of strange birds, and watch them wheel in another sky, would that satisfy you?"
The First Doctor

"You'll find there's so much else to think about. To remember. Our lives are different to anybody else's. That's the exciting thing, that nobody in the universe can do what we're doing."
The Second Doctor

"So be careful how you tell that story, will you? Don't glamourise it. Don't make war sound like an exciting and thrilling game."
The Third Doctor

"If the square on the hypotenuse equals the sum of the square on the other two sides, why is it a mouse when it spins? Never did know the answer to that one."
Th Fourth Doctor

" Of course, you and I both know that at the end of a millennium they'd still be tapping out gibberish."
The Fifth Doctor

" Oh, I thought you were my mirror image Until I realised I wasn't the one holding a gun."
The Sixth Doctor

"Yes, that's right, you're going. You've been gone for ages. You're already gone. You're still here. You've just arrived. I haven't even met you yet. It all depends on who you are and how you look at it. Strange business, time.n."
The Seventh Doctor

"Grace, I came back to life before your eyes. I held back death. Look, I can't make your dream come true forever, but I can make it come true today!"
The Eighth Doctor

"You just want to drag the stars down and stick them underground, underneath tons of sand and dirt, and label them! You're about as far from the stars as you can get!... And you took her down with you."
The Ninth Doctor

"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but, actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly... timey-wimey... stuff."
The Tenth Doctor

" Amy Pond, there's something you better understand about me 'cause it's important and one day your life may depend on it: I am definitely a mad man with a box."
The Eleventh Doctor

"Kidneys! I've got new kidneys! I don't like the colour."
The Twelfth Doctor

"No. Great men are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame. Whatever the cost."
The War Doctor

Year Seven and Still Flyin'! Thank You, Everyone!


Pages: (3) 1 2 [3]  ( Go to first unread post )

 Paradise Valley, Study in Violet
Marshal J. Kord
Posted: Nov 29 2008, 01:48 PM


Rim Marshal


Group: NPC
Posts: 25
Member No.: 561
Joined: 13-March 08



"Dr. Ke Su has been murdered. Investigations underway. What is your status?"


"I'm fine. Heading back to camp now. I set up by the big rock, you'll see my pack. Be there in a few."

Kord raised his head, eyes seeking through the gloom, his flashlight darting towards the boulder, barely flashing over the shadow of the pack, mere shapes of brown fabric against grey stone. One eye cast skyward, guaging the depth of the coming night and the weather might bring as he half-listened to Tsai's response, his foot scratting through the dust and rubble.

No remains. No crate. No gorram any...

"Head back now." Tsai Jian-Lin answered crisply. "There's a problem back on The Ranjit."

He found himself half-smiling in approval. The lieutenant had earned her stripes, hadn't she? She wasn't a ma and pa paid for her promotions kinda gal. "I don't think tryin' to hike out of here tonight is a good plan. If we don't lose the trail in the dark, there's a good chance we'll end up hypothermic before we get back to Paradise. Murder victim is dead. We're still breathin'."

The small chuckle building in his throat fell silent as a fnal scrap of wreckage kicked away under his nudging toe, exposing something he'd missed before. Dropping into a flat-heeled squat, one leather gloved palm hovered over the ground as his other raised his flashlight to shine through his fingers, measuring the width and size of the bootprint- or rather half-heel-print- in the rocky soil. And the sweep marks that covered the rest of the print.

It didn't take a second look to know that none of the women wore a size 13 mens combat boot. And he knew that Silvera hadn't explored this side. Instantly alert, instantly aware, he glanced through the trees. A combat boot meant it wasn't some stray hunter from Paradise settlement. Someone was here. And they were trying to hide it.

A quick glance around and he grabbed the arm of the person closest, the talkative 2nd Lieutenant, flashing his fingers over his lips in a 'hush' sign as he let his flashlight play over the bootprint. Raising his voice so that the others could hear him, he kept his tone steady as he clicked on his own com. "I don't see anything over here. We should meet back up at the Corporal's boulder."

But even as he spoke, he circled his hand in the air, gesturing Broadwick one direction, and Silvera in the other, giving them room to move to the treeline. Sliding his service pistol from it's holster, he strode towards the boulder, Tsai moving with him, her inquisitive glance quickly turning to understanding as she released her own weapon.

"Keep her talking." He whispered to Tsai. They needed her to make sound, to give them her location. "We'll sweep, meet back here in five."

As Tsai's voice continued behind him, he clicked off his com and moved towards the tree-line, letting Broadwick and Silvera lead the way.

OOC: Silvera, Broadwick, your ball game. Objective: Rescue the hostage. Try not to get the hostage dead.
Tsai godmodded at Admin discretion.
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Lt. Silvera
Posted: Nov 30 2008, 01:56 AM


Ranjit Tactical Officer


Group: Members
Posts: 56
Member No.: 668
Joined: 16-June 08



Damien cocked his shotgun, checking the round in the chamber. Satisfied, he ducked down low, moving quietly through the treeline. Nothing was standing out to him. Then again....he didn't exactly know what the hell he was looking for in the first place.

Wait...

Over there...two figures...Charlie...and someone else...

Someone with a gun, and not a nice looking one at that.

Damien sunk even lower, moving around behind the man, remaining in the tree line as he sneaked behind the man's back, keeping the gun trained on him, ready to fire. The lieutenant moved out of cover, moving close and readying the gun with a satisfying "ch-CHUNK"


"Now...you best be dropping your weapon there pal, and moving to the side nice and slowly...You see, you have mistakenly drawn on my pilot, and while not the sanest thing to ever get behind the controls, I am rather attached to her seeing as I can't fly myself worth shit."

He stayed a little back, close enough that the shotgun would still be effective..but far enough back that the man couldn't spin around and disarm him.

"Now...I'd start explaining myself if I was you..."
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Lt. Spartan
Posted: Jan 4 2009, 01:10 AM


Independent Forces


Group: NPC
Posts: 10
Member No.: 526
Joined: 6-February 08



Alerted by the clack of the priming weapon, Spartan didn't hesitate, but grabbed Choo Choo's wrist, locking her arm against her body as he spun her around. Jerking her slighter body off balance, his forearm snapped under her throat, holding her with her back to his chest, his gun to her head, he glared through the dim light at the shotgun packing soldier.

"And I'd be backing off unless you want your pretty pilot's brains splattered all over, ya purplebelly pig-rutter."




OOC: GodModding of Choo Choo done with Jeth's full permission. Sorry hon, I still think you're cute. ;)
Dave? Your move. I figger you can handle this on your own, but feel free to GM Kord as necessary. :)
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Dianne Broadwick
Posted: Jan 5 2009, 09:52 PM


Crew Member


Group: Members
Posts: 47
Member No.: 556
Joined: 11-March 08



Dianne moved through the woods, her issue sidearm at the ready, its muzzle leading the way through the dark foliage that seemed to press in like woods do in any story in which woods are involved, it's night, and it's not a happy tale. She hadn't had an occasion to draw the weapon like this since leaving training. The principle of the thing shouldn't be all that different from other gunnery, but it was. Your sidearm wouldn't stay on a fixed position programmed into a computer and waiting for you to issue it commands. It would be so much easier if it did. There wouldn't be the matter of controlling one's arm muscles and trigger finger from tensing and trembling. An enemy ship's weapons could end your life just as quickly, but somehow, out in the Black, the enemy guns seemed more remote, less personally aimed at you than, say . . . the gun to Raine's head up ahead of her.

At least she had her issue sidearm. So many others seemed to prefer some personal affectation, like Dinah's absurd storybook piratey thing, or Dr. Biggs' tiny little revolver, which looked like something a worried father might give his daughter for self-defense, worried, apparently, that she would be attacked by small rodents of modest ferocity. The standard issue Alliance sidearm was the one that had been selected by weapons experts after having passed exhaustive testing for power, accuracy and reliability. If one had to be facing a hostage situation . . . if the hostage just had to be her . . .

Ten yards . . . nine . . . eight . . . she knew her height, the weight, diameter and velocity of her sidearm's bullet, where it needed to hit to strike the hostage taker and not the hostage. She could do a good job of calculating the angle of attack . . . if only the gun would hold steady. If only it was fixed in a mount, and not reliant on her hands. If only the situation were different.

Pig rutter?

What an odd vulgarity. Clearly the man disliked the Alliance, probably because he lived a life of crime, but why accuse Silvera of bestiality? Of all the issues the Independents had raised against Unification, "Your military officers practice sexual acts with barnyard swine" had never been one of them.

In any case . . .

She drew a deep breath, her heart pounding.

Five yards.

"You're flanked." she said. "Surounded, in point of fact. You should be careful, and not do anything stupid, because you are in a position to do a stupid thing, and that wouldn't be wise. Because it never is. Stupid things. You should put aside the gun."

Dianne Broadwick had forged ahead in life in a highly focused way, deep, but narrow. There were numerous aspects of life she was entirely inexperienced in. The reason why seeing Charlie "Choo Choo" Raine threatened at gunpoint affected her precisely the way it did wasn't something she could have explained to anyone. Not even to herself.

She wasn't a machine. She had feelings.

She just didn't understand a lot of them.
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Choo Choo
Posted: Jan 6 2009, 11:25 PM


Bless me


Group: Members
Posts: 34
Member No.: 676
Joined: 26-June 08



She'd let out a small yelp as her captor pulled her in to use her as his very own meatshield against Silvera's weapon. Perhaps she had been scared before, and she would later congratulate herself on her level of composure so far, but now the threat had reached a new level of danger.

Before he had just been an image; a dark figure ordering her around in the growing night. Despite her fear and his ominous appearance, his assurances of her safety had, in fact, kept her from outright panic. She'd followed in a half-trance, not really believing what was happening. Now that he held her, his physical touch made it suddenly become more real. He wasn't just a spectre leading her through the woods, he was now truly a physical threat to her life.

She'd seen the hostage situation a bazillion times on the Cortex and heard it almost as many from inebriated vets in dockside pubs. Often the hostage was someone of import to the story, one of the heroes. If that was the case, they generally pulled some fancy martial arts move to incapacitate the attacker, however Charlie had never really been an ace in that department, preferring the pepper spray and taser approaches to taking out larger men.

When the hostage was a woman, she seemed to always go for the groin shot, or stomp on his toes then go for the groin shot, or bite his hand, step on his toes, and then go for the groin. None of those appeared to be a viable option at the moment (her sandals probably didn't stand much of a chance against his boots anyway), so Charlie was at the mercy of her crewmates. It was a scenario where Choo would often witness (or in case of the vets, hear about through the stench of whiskey soaked breath) the rescuers putting a well placed round between the hostage-taker's eyes.

Silvera's shotgun had no business being accurate, and Dianne didn't exactly look confident in her sniping abilities. That left the one, more memorable movie moment in the young co-pilot's head where the rescuer shot the hostage, then proceeded to take out the bad guy.

"Don't shoot the hostage," she pleaded, not just to her captor but to everyone in earshot.
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Lt. Spartan
Posted: Jan 14 2009, 03:00 PM


Independent Forces


Group: NPC
Posts: 10
Member No.: 526
Joined: 6-February 08



"You're flanked."

Spartan's eyes arrowed to the newcomer then fletched back to Silvera, but that was his only demonstration of surprise. A near lilt tracked over his tones, "That kinda puts a damper on my evening."

"Surounded, in point of fact. You should be careful, and not do anything stupid, because you are in a position to do a stupid thing, and that wouldn't be wise. Because it never is. Stupid things. You should put aside the gun."

"Only stupid I see is this armful of nutjob." Spartan gave ChooChoo a little shake as he grinned, teeth gleaming white in the dark of the forest, "She's cute, but I don't think she's too bright."

"Don't shoot the hostage,"

"May be brighter than I thought..." A low nod, and a certainty in his tones, he gave her a slight squeeze, "No one's shooting, sister."

He raised his voice, "Isn't that right, people?"

Holding his stance, he glanced over the pair already in view and another glimpse dashed to the crackle of sound through the trees. The third flank. He was boxed in. "Listen, I know what you people want. And it's the same thing I want. It's not here. Sorry, could have saved you the search by speakin' up sooner, I'm supposin'."

"So what'd'ya say I give back your civvie here. You all enjoy your little campfire. And I'll be skedaddlin' back the way I came. You want to play it elsewise, you'll find I have plenty of ambition for staying off Krane..." Spartan sighed, his smile fading, but the virile light in his eyes brightening, "See... The 666th taught me something. A soldier died fightin' for the cause keeps havin' worth even after he's gone. They call it a martyr. Folk know I'm here. What I'm doing. And I'll take as many of you..." his pistol stayed against Choo Choo's head, determined ice in his still features as he finished with firm intent, "...With me on my way down as I can."
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Dianne Broadwick
Posted: Jan 14 2009, 06:41 PM


Crew Member


Group: Members
Posts: 47
Member No.: 556
Joined: 11-March 08



Dianne stared at the man with the gun, trying not to imagine what would happen if it went off. It was never a good thing when someone was held at gunpoint, and it wasn't made better if the gun holder stopped making any sense.

"Aren't you just here to scavenge something from a wreck?" she said. "I don't think scavenging has soldiers, or that one can be martyred for it, even if he's told everyone he knows he's going out to do it ahead of time. I'm pretty certain one needs a war for that, and . . . there isn't one. I mean, there was one, but it ended. I'm really quite certain it did. With my gunnery scores, I would have been sent to a combat ship if there was a war on, and there's the whole Unification Day thing, so . . . no, there's no war . . . and if you do soldiery things during peacetime, I think it would be called piracy. And pirates, I don't think, technically have martyrs. They just have live ones, with loot, and dead ones with no loot who don't tell tales. Besides, you seem to be alone, and soldiers don't go out alone. That's kind of the point of joining an army, is that you have an army with you. If you're at war, but there isn't one."

They were out on the rim, but communications weren't that bad. If there was another war on, she would have hoped someone on her side would have heard of it, and would have pointed it out to her before she made herself look foolish in front of the enemy.
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Lt. Spartan
Posted: Jan 24 2009, 08:24 AM


Independent Forces


Group: NPC
Posts: 10
Member No.: 526
Joined: 6-February 08




".... And pirates, I don't think, technically have martyrs. They just have live ones, with loot, and dead ones with no loot who don't tell tales. Besides, you seem to be alone, and soldiers don't go out alone. That's kind of the point of joining an army, is that you have an army with you. If you're at war, but there isn't one."

"Jeezuss christ, lady..." Spartan spat the words out. "You purple-bellies are all the ruttin' same. You still think you won this war! But you can't even keep track of the deadliest combat weapon created since the war."

We're rising again, sister. And this time..."
Spartan's eyes glittered with unholy light, "This time, the entire Universe is gonna know the truth about your precious Unification."

Gently, he loosed his grip on Choo Choo, murmuring softly in her ear, "When I let go, you drop down to the ground, cover your eyes, and stay there..."

Only a few options remained open, most of which were likely to see him dead. The best was, as always, Spartan's personal weapon of choice.

And once again, this was seriously gonna suck.

Lt. Spartan of the Independent warship The Hammurabi slowly released his hostage, using the shelter of her back to hide his movement as he snatched the flash grenade from his belt and threw it to the forest floor five feet in front of him.

White light and booming percussion filled the air, and he tried to cover his eyes against the flash as he backed towards the sheltering forest, firing high in random directions- hoping to drive them back and buy his escape.

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Gita K. Okara
Posted: Jan 26 2009, 01:55 PM


'Coat


Group: OC
Posts: 27
Member No.: 891
Joined: 21-January 09



Alliance Fleet Orbital #4481 (unofficial designation Last Chance) in orbit near Triumph (exact location classified)

Floating in space somewhere in the vicinity of Triumph, Alliance Fleet Orbital #4481, aka Last Chance, looked more like a can of soda with odd attachments than a space station. The cylindrical station was covered on the outside with antennae, dishes, solar collectors and transmitters of all shapes and sizes. In 'height' the station was approximately thirty meters tall and in diameter it was close to twenty meters. The only windows, radiating warm light from within, were located close to the middle of the cylinder, although they were barely visible beneath the forest of aerials crowding the portholes.

At either end of the cylinder were units that looked like hat boxes, but were in reality airlock couplings for ships and shuttles and doubled as lifeboats with limited manoeuvring capabilities. With just six decks, the station was fairly small compared to those further Coreward, but with a crew of only three, space was hardly an issue, especially with the seven bunks that made up the crew quarters deck. Alliance is nothing, if not redundant. Even the stations reactor room at the 'bottom deck' held two reactors and on the outside were large solar collectors in case both reactors should become non-operational. The remaining four decks held respectively the command centre on deck one, a large common room with galley and a gym area on deck three, a well-stocked med bay on deck four and on the fifth deck was a storage room, which also double as an armoury, stocked with far too many weapons for the three-man crew.


Command Centre Deck 1

Lieutenant Junior Grade Gita Kaur Okara sat in the command centre on Last Chance, listening to the communication of the crew of the Alliance scout that had recently come into the listening post's sphere of operations. She didn't normally listen in on Alliance traffic, but the name of the ship had caught her attention and she'd tuned into their frequencies, while she looked up the ship's history and crew manifest.

Around her, the instruments in the large command centre beeped and bleeped and buzzed and pinged. Screens scrolled lines of code and others showed the space around Last Chance out to a distance of about half a million kilometres, little icons representing ships, other orbitals, planets, moons and other rocks. Green meant identified objects, red were unidentified and they were all ordered in order of importance and priority according to an algorithm written by Gita herself. But she wasn't watching those screens, she was busy redirecting a surveillance satellite to a geostationary orbit above the area where the Ranjit's away team had landed. Technically, she didn't have the authorisation to do so, but Britta trusted her and she had long since gotten the commander's blanket authority to use the available instruments as she saw fit.

And right now, she saw fit to get an eye in the sky on the Alliance personnel on the ground. Her fingers worked furiously on the keyboard as she finetuned the satellite's position, realigning it to zoom in on Paradise Valley and the crashed ship lying barely visible from the sky among the trees. With the normal cameras. However, the satellite she had commandeered for use had other modes of operation and she switched to the radar imaging device instead and was rewarded a nice view of the wreckage in the canyon below.

All that done, she sent a quick message to Britta, requesting the Commander's presence on the command deck, then opened a channel to the Ranjit's away team to send a WAVE to the officer in charge.


QUOTE
SUBJECT: Eyes in the Sky
TO: LT Tsai Jian-Lin
FROM: LTJG Okara, Alliance Fleet Orbital #4481

Text only, encryption level Alpha

*Message begins*

Overheard communications between yourself and I.A.V. Ranjit and have taken action to position a satellite in orbit above your coordinates. Keeping an eye on the situation on the ground as well as in-coming and out-going traffic, both physical and in the form of communications.

Afraid we cannot offer any assistance aside from information, however we will keep you informed on any unusual occurrences.

Signed,
Lieutenant Junior Grade Gita K. Okara

*Message ends*


Having sent the WAVE to the ground crew, Gita copied it and sent it to the Captain of the Ranjit, then sat back to watch the screens, biting her lower lip as she waited for Britta, wondering how she was going to explain moving a satellite and offering aid to the Alliance crew without getting permission first.


<< OOC: If I'm messing up a plot progress with this, let me know and I'll gladly make changes to this post. >>
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Choo Choo
Posted: Feb 2 2009, 01:29 AM


Bless me


Group: Members
Posts: 34
Member No.: 676
Joined: 26-June 08



"When I let go, you drop down to the ground, cover your eyes, and stay there..."

She should have listened to what he said.

Simple instructions, really. She'd been following them ever since this whole hostage thing began, why couldn't she had gone along with these?

In retrospect, which was the primary 'spect' that Choo Choo dealt with, she would come to realize that not listening to her captor's commands put her in virtually the same position anyway, even if it did come with the crippling pain.

When she was born, her mother swore that the first thing Charlie Raine did when leaving the womb and opening her tiny eyes to the world of the living was offer the most adorable sneeze to ever grace a hospital pregnancy ward. Two tiny 'chews' to announce her arrival to the 'verse.

The sneeze that Spartan's flashbang elicited was on precisely the opposite end of this spectrum of cuteness. If the tiny newborn sneezes had been announcing her arrival in the 'verse, one could easily have mistaken the blood curdling scream followed by an evacuation of all occupants of her nasal cavity as her exit.

Not once, but two times.

The second one came after the first had already used up all of the oxygen in her lungs. For one painfully long second she fought to inhale while the sneeze worked against her. Her body convulsed as she final won over, inhaling with such force that she sounded like the howling vacuum of space devouring the oxygen from a breached airlock.

It was a sneeze to end all sneezes.

With buckling legs she fell to her knees and doubled over with the force. Her entire world seemed to funnel through her nostrils and she thought for a brief moment her brain might blast out of her ears. While the thought of her photic sneeze reflex spraying gray matter onto the forest floor had its comic appeal, the taste of blood in the back of her throat said otherwise.

When it was done her ears were screaming obscenities at her in the form of high frequency squeels. That may have been part of the flashbang's effect, or perhaps her eardrums had actually imploded on themselves from the sneeze. Either way, Choo Choo had no desire to get up.

She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes tightly, still seeing nothing but a great whiteness and feeling the sting of salty tears.

Her voice was hoarse and she felt like she had swallowed a cup of nails, but she did manage two words.

"Bless me..."
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Dianne Broadwick
Posted: Feb 3 2009, 09:02 PM


Crew Member


Group: Members
Posts: 47
Member No.: 556
Joined: 11-March 08



Maybe it wasn't Alliance communications that had dropped the ball, but Browncoat communications.

Could there be Browncoat units out there, hiding in woods and such, who hadn't gotten the Ollie Ollie In Free? It seemed unlikely, but the Independents might not be expected to work together efficiently, being so independent and all, and the alternatives seemed to be that he had travelled forward in time, they had travelled back in time, or he was just delusional, which, come to think of it, was really the most likely, if not the most interesting option.

In any case, the war was over, and he seemed to have at least enough presence of mind to release his hostage.

If she gave a thought to the hand he had hidden behind "Choo Choo", not an appropriate name to call her, this being the military, but one that stuck in one's head like an inappropriate but catchy tune, it was that he likely intended to shove her violently forward as he ran, hoping to throw their response off balance. The gun hand was the dangerous one, and that hand had her attention when the explosion want off.

Shots rang out as she reeled from the blast, sounding like distant popping. Dazzled by the light, she raised her own gun above the level of any friendlies that might still be in front of her, not that she was certain she was facing the same direction she had started with, but none of them had been in the trees, and fired several shots. The enemy shots could be the delusional Browncoat's fleeing supressive fire, or other enemies who had crept in unseen during the exchage. It wasn't Lt. Silvera, because he had a shotgun, so it was enemy fire, and even if she couldn't see or hit them she could still make them hesitate or seek cover before they realized the shots weren't aimed at anything except maybe some other moon if the bullet could travel that far. Perhaps it might buy enough time for her to recover from the blast.
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IAV Ranjit
Posted: Feb 27 2009, 02:37 PM


Alliance Scout


Group: NPC
Posts: 49
Member No.: 546
Joined: 6-March 08



QUOTE

SUBJECT: Eyes in the Sky
TO: LT Tsai Jian-Lin
FROM: LTJG Okara, Alliance Fleet Orbital #4481

Text only, encryption level Alpha

*Message begins*

Overheard communications between yourself and I.A.V. Ranjit and have taken action to position a satellite in orbit above your coordinates. Keeping an eye on the situation on the ground as well as in-coming and out-going traffic, both physical and in the form of communications.

Afraid we cannot offer any assistance aside from information, however we will keep you informed on any unusual occurrences.

Signed,
Lieutenant Junior Grade Gita K. Okara


Tsai scanned the incoming text quickly, taking cover behind the boulder as the shots rang through the forest. Alliance listening posts, keeping their ears on the 'verse. They were a boon in times of need, and a bane the rest of the time. This instance, however...

"Thank you for your assistance, Okara." She replied quickly, forgoing text for the expediency of voice, "We're blind in this canyon. Keep me apprised of any outgoing vessels."

The shooting had died down, the forest gone still as it had the moment they'd arrived. Side-arm in hand, the Lieutenant eased her way around the boulder, rising slowly, "Team? Report in!"



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Marshal J. Kord
Posted: Feb 27 2009, 03:25 PM


Rim Marshal


Group: NPC
Posts: 25
Member No.: 561
Joined: 13-March 08




Kord had hung back as the others engaged. He was getting, he realized wearily, entirely too old for this. Kord's ears were buzzing like a nest of hornets from the flash-bang. Fortunately, the brush between himself and the blast had shielded his eyes, and it was only a few blinks before he could make out the shadows of the trees again.

The perp was running crooked, a hitched pattern to avoid return fire, weaving and darting... straight towards him. Snatching a thick limb of tree from the forest floor, Kord counted the running steps, and then threw with both hands.

A grunt. The soft thud of a body hitting the ground. In minutes, Kord dragged the cuffed kidnapper to his knees.

"GOT HIM!"

"Team? Report in!"

Spartan's mouth was shut, face grimaced, as Kord yanked him upright and forced back towards the others. They'd get nothing form him. The temptation to box him in the back of the head lent impatience to Kord's voice, "Move it, buddy."

"Raine? You a'right? Didn't sneeze out any brain cells didja?"
Cause you ain't got much to spare, he didn't add as he broke into the clearing, shoving Spartan before him, "Anybody hurt?"
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IAV Ranjit
Posted: Mar 9 2009, 02:12 PM


Alliance Scout


Group: NPC
Posts: 49
Member No.: 546
Joined: 6-March 08



ADMIN PLOT PROGRESS:

A restless night of watching guard over the camp, including the silent and stoic Spartan, finds the crew of The Ranjit weary, but, with the exception of pride, unwounded.

The taking of the prisoner has changed the game for the Ranjit Team, and after a long hike back to the village, they fly to AFO 4481. Here, they receive the following dispatch from Admiral David Buchanan of the IAV Dortmunder:

QUOTE

INCOMING WAVE: IAV DORTMUNDER
SECURITY LEVEL: HIGH
PERSONEL CODE: 2584A ADMIRAL DAVID BUCHANAN


(Posted Image)

Were facing a crucial moment in the history of unification. Terrorist cells are building in strength and influence on the Outer Rim. The greatest battles are the ones that never take place. If were to prevent years of strife and fighting, we must act decisively and without delay.

The recovery of the lost delivery is paramount. Im assigning this task directly to Lt. Tsai Jian-Lin and Marshal Kord. With your combined resources and experience, I anticipate nothing less than success. You have the full cooperation of all Alliance Defense departments in your recovery efforts.

You will transfer the prisoner to me here at the IAV Dortmunder at the earliest opportunity for questioning. Until then, all contact with him should be limited.

Lieutenant Broadwick, your promotion has already been approved and notification made to your commanding officer. Congratulations, and I know you will serve above and beyond the call of duty in your new position.

Lieutenant Okara, you are being reassigned to the IAV Ranjit for the duration of their investigation concerning the death of Dr. Jin Ke Su. You will be accompanying the Ranjit crew back to their ship.

Good work, all of you, and keep your eyes and ears open. The outcome of a battle can hinge on the seemingly inconsequential.

*END WAVE*



Within the hour, the teams have departed for their destinations.

AWAY TEAM CONTINUES HERE.
OOC: CHARLIE! WELCOME TO THE RANJIT! Snap! Come home when you can, baby! :)
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