|
|
Post by zerodash0 on Jan 8, 2010 23:45:18 GMT -5
Derek sat in the busted-up Public-class ship, lent to him and fellow test pilot Michael Kreuz to transport their broken mobile suits. The damaged yellow ship drifted along it's course to Texas Colony, the blue and red test units lashed on where missiles usually reside.
"They could've at least gave us something without holes in it." He thought to himself, looking out the cracked forward view-screen as Texas Colony came into view.
"Hey Kreuz, check it out man."
|
|
|
|
Post by nirvash on Jan 9, 2010 1:18:23 GMT -5
Kreuz stayed in his seat, trying to find a comfortable way to lean against the uncomfortable "padding", and kept his eyes on the book in his hands. It looked like it was either a sniper's handbook, a political document on Old Calendar British/Irish relations, or a gun catalog. Maybe a dossier on his Mobile Suit's current rifle, like an owner's manual, but the diagrams certainly didn't look like the weapon Carter had been on the receiving end of a few days ago. Citing his general indifference towards politics other than the ones that were trying to kill him, it was likely one of the others, proving once again that snipers were obsessive, neurotic bastards. Or not. Honestly, the man probably could've been a psychopath if he didn't have such a respectable upbringing.
"I've seen plenty of colonies."
|
|
|
|
Post by zerodash0 on Jan 9, 2010 9:48:28 GMT -5
Derek glanced over at his companion, helmeted nose stuck in some book about guns. His attempt at finding a witty way to say 'suit yourself' was interrupted by a transmission from the colony.
"This is Texas Col'ny to the yaller high-stepper, come back."
"Yaller high-stepper?" Derek asked himself... "Well, this ship is yellow, and does have unusually long... legs. He must mean us."
"Uh, this is Public Unit 302, am I talking to Texas Colony space control?" Derek asked, awaiting the decidedly.... Texan reply.
"Yahsir, don't I sound 'fficial enough fer ya?" The voice replied, suddenly dropping the accent entirely to continue. "Ahem! This is Texas Colony control tower, Public 302, you are cleared to land." Then picking the trucker-esque voice back up to finish. "How's that?"
"Uh... Roger that Texas, radio malfunction on my end, but I read you now." Derek said, limping the Public on it's last engine toward the opening hangar door.
"Good, you park that high-stepper on over at secshun two-fiver now, y'hear? We'll get some grease-monkeys down there and patch ya right up." The operator said, lighting the guide beacons and directing the way to section 25.
|
|
|
|
Post by zerodash0 on Jan 11, 2010 19:44:34 GMT -5
"Space, the final frontier... And who better to tame this wild new yonder than the descendants of those who tamed the last 'new world'." Commander Montgomery Sutherland spoke in a very refined gentlemanly tone, with a hint of an old western flair. His look fit his accent perfectly, his white goatee and mustache perfectly trimmed, and his equally ivory hair slicked back in a dignified manner. This style was worn over the face of a true soldier, a face which had weathered battlefields untold, eyes which had seen the hardest of times. "Yes it seems that when Texas was abandoned, most people thought it would just become a derelict. But Texans on earth saw their namesake as a challenge, and made their way in droves to this beaten old colony. I don't know if you've been to Texas, but much of it's land is the same as this place. Arid, sparsely populated, only a hardy breed can thrive there. These are the kind of people bringing Texas colony back from the brink." He finished, turning to the man he was sharing his fine bourbon with, "But enough of my ramblings, I'm sure you didn't travel all the way here to hear me spout off about how proud I am of my people's work on this colony. What can I do for you Josephus?" Captain Reed took a long sip of the bourbon, slightly hesitant to reply. "I don't usually like to do this... but I'm here to ask a favor Monty." He said seriously, "There's a certain ship in the spaceport... ye know the one." "You mean the Salamis?" Sutherland asked, punching up the information on a ship named Buster Ichi Go on his computer. "What about it?" "I want ye to pull a string 'er two with the ribbon-chests, see if ye can get me on it." Reed said, cringing at the feeling that he would owe a debt to someone. Sutherland stroked his goatee as he thought, then finally spoke again. "It's about time you called in a favor old friend, but what the devil do you want with a battleship?" "Well, ye know we took that big zeek boat the other day?" Reed began, pausing to take another drink of the bourbon, "We lost ev'ry blamed ship we sent out there. Captin's these days... got no heart fer it if ye ask me! All those young'ns dead, and fer what? Cause some fool didn't run his ship right? It's just unfergivable." He finished, the outburst even startling himself a little. "Sound like you need another." Sutherland calmly replied. "I'll see what I can do about that ship, but you'd best keep quiet about all this, or they'll stick you on a slow Columbus back to Luna II." ~ Back at the space dock, Carter and Kreuz disembarked from the battered Public, dozens of technicians floating past them as they took their small amount of baggage and headed for the spaceport exit. Derek overheard small bits of conversations as he floated by, most of the voices had a similar accent to the strange operator. In the background he could distinctly hear one loud mechanic. "Get them Mobile Suits to the machine shop now! Start unboltin' that high-stepper's engines and leave the rest fer later!" The way he said mobile suits sounded more like 'mobbul soots', but he certainly seemed in charge of things. As they stepped outside the spaceport, a harsh wind greeted them, blowing dust in their faces and tossing a tumbleweed along. Before they could even think about wondering where they were supposed to go from there, a rugged jeep-like elecar skidded to a halt in front of them. "Sorry I'm late!" The driver shouted in that same accent, "Gotta clean these 'lectric motors out real good else they stop workin' halfway to where you wanna be." Carter and Kreuz looked at each other confused, as the driver spoke up to explain. "Hop in, I'll take ya over to that base yonder so ya can talk to the bossman, y'hear?" |
|
|
|
Post by nirvash on Jan 11, 2010 22:44:50 GMT -5
Other than the dust, tumbleweeds, absurd rock formations, and the occasional sighting of a horse-drawn wagon, Texas was indeed like any other colony. The bizarre horizon, ethereal islands of land hidden behind the blue sky and waves of clouds, and the subconscious suspicion that the ground beneath your feet was not what it was trying to appear to be were all there, supplemented by something not unlike the experience of getting your "sea legs" after boarding a rocking boat. The heat, now that the colony was repaired and transformed into a stabilized military outpost, was gradually being brought under control, but the inhospitably dry air and ground remained arid even after generously timed rainstorms sank into the soil.
The heat.
The heat was the most memorable feature of the colony. It was a friendly, familiar heat, friendly and familiar in the sense that it wanted to touch you, to encompass you, and pervaded throughout your whole body, no inch of your flesh was left unassaulted. It was like the heat was trying to greet an old friend; "Hey buddy, how the fuck are you doing? Fuck you." And then it rapes and murders the old friend, drags the body into his car, gets some old oil barrels and some lye, finds a nice secluded spot in the forest (the hottest forest you can find, but not quite rainforest, he needs a place to dig), and gets rid of the corpse. That is what the heat at Texas Colony was approximately like.
Michael Kreuz was in the back seat of the elecar, having relegated front seat priveleges to Carter, his senior in terms of age and service time, though not in record. His tan uniform shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, undershirt exposed to the glaring sunlight, and he cursed his tendency to wear black clothes. He tried to make himself comfortable, but the sweat that was beginning to saturate his clothes stuck the fabrics to his skin. He wasn't used to this kind of heat, or any extreme temperature, really.
In retrospect, the ride was a lot shorter than it had at first seemed; they reached divisional headquarters less than five minutes after leaving the spaceport.
I don't think I like it here.
|
|
|
|
Post by zerodash0 on Jan 28, 2010 21:34:15 GMT -5
Kreuz and Carter walked into the divisional headquarters, bumping into Captain Reed as he was leaving.
"Am I gettin' senile or are ye boys follerin' me? I coulda sworn I sent ye both out to the front lines just a few days back." Reed said in shock. He wanted to ask what they were doing there, but he had other things to attend to.
"I gotta run boys, but ye best take a look in the hangar sometime, I'm not scootin around in that old cargo boat!" He shouted gleefully, almost running the the waiting Lakota.
"Did he get a new ship? All I saw in the hangar was that Salamis.... couldn't be that." Derek thought, about to ask Kreuz for his opinion when the building's intercom interrupted him.
"Seaman Derek Carter, you have an incoming message from Side 7. Please report to the communications office to receive it."
The viewscreen flickered to life, an image of Dr. Fredrickson looking slightly confused and talking to someone off-camera.
"I don't see why we can't simply use the laser channel, we have line of sight with Texas Colony, oh well... Lets get on with it-what? We're already recording?" He said, quickly straightening up a bit and trying to look serious. Before he spoke again however, his expression returned to a strange grin.
"Good news Mr. Carter! The Luna II headquarters has just informed me that they're sending you a new mobile suit! Now I know you must be asking yourself 'What do I need a new mobile suit for? I already have Dr. Fredrickson's doomsday device-I mean Guncannon.' But don't worry about that, I've found the perfect pilot for it. I'll forward you a message from the pilot who has been sent with the mobile suit to meet you aboard the Gwazine."
A few seconds of silence, and then, "Is that it then? Which button ends recording is it thi--" and the screen went blank. Derek waited a moment, before thinking aloud.
"Hey, I thought he was sending me a message from the other-" "HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" He was interrupted as the screen popped back on with the face of Samantha Wolfcastle grinning from ear to ear and way to close to the camera. She giggled a little before stepping back and snapping to attention.
"Seaman Recruit Samantha Wolfcastle reporting sir!" She said loudly and with a very militaristic tone. She held the salute and stiff pose for all of three seconds before giggling and moving a little closer to the camera.
"That's how I'm supposed to say it right? Anyway, they told me to let you know that you'll receive reinforcements in the form of one Light Armor GM piloted by me. I hear you use a heavy-duty fire support unit, so we should make a great team! It'll be just like in Omegaroids where Kyo joins forces with Toji!" She stopped suddenly at that last word, and a knock could be heard at the door. She moved offscreen, and a few muffled words later, returned to finish.
"Looks like it's time to transmit this message to Dr. Fredrickson so he can send it through to you, later!" She said, waving as the screen went to black. All Derek could do was stare at the blank screen confused.
|
|
|
|
Post by nirvash on Feb 1, 2010 20:53:41 GMT -5
Okay, maybe following Carter to the communications room had been a bad idea. A very bad, wrong, ungood, doubleplusungood, discomforting idea. Kreuz suddenly felt like there was a large bomb somewhere near him, and even if he knew where it was, there was no running away from it. Of course, the bomb hadn't actually arrived yet, but the thought that the real fights were only just beginning, and he had to worry about where that bomb was aiming its g- where it was going to explode as well as where Zeon mobile weapons were from now on wouldn't be low on his list of stressors. If he ever bothered to write them out.
"...She's... supposed to be your... partner? That's... we... how?"
He was at a loss for words, and as a man of few words, that narrowed down his choices even further than usual. He sighed deeply and put his face in a hand. And then he remembered something else about what the girl had said: Omegaroids. Motherfucking Omegaroids, man!
He tilted his head up and rubbed his chin, muttering to himself. "...It is just like that episode..."
|
|
|
|
Post by zerodash0 on Feb 1, 2010 21:22:58 GMT -5
"Just who is this girl anyway?" Derek wondered aloud. An awkward moment passed before both men recalled their appointment with Commander Sutherland. They made haste to his office, where he waited patiently, not scolding them for being late.
"Gentlemen, I hate to say this as you've just arrived," He began in his smooth tone, "but I'm afraid you'll be shipping out again in the morning." Derek started to protest but was quickly silenced with a gesture.
"Admiral Heimann has ordered all test units to return to Side 7. Details of the assignment are laid out here." He said, handing each pilot a manila envelope stamped 'top secret' and 'PROJECT PHANTOM.' He paced the floor a time or two, then spoke again.
"Do not open those envelopes until you are aboard the Buster Ni Go and away from the colony. They contain information I'm not even allowed to know about. The two men nodded in agreement, and Sutherland relaxed a little.
"Now that that's out of the way... I apologize that your stay has been cut short. To make it up to you, we're holding a sort of get together for those heading back to the fight. If you can make it, I guarantee you'll have one of the finest nights Texas has to offer." He said, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and quietly dismissing the Kreuz and Carter.
|
|
|
|
Post by nirvash on Feb 1, 2010 22:39:28 GMT -5
There were a lot of people. It didn't seem like the amount of people that could fit into the base, but like ants out of an anthill, they had poured in, and like ants out of an anthill, they had sniffed out some food, and again like ants out of an anthill, they lined up to the industrial sized grills and slammed cuts of beef seemingly as thick as the sniper rounds Kreuz had just ensured were supplied for his suit.
The air was full of the wonderful aroma of sizzling meat and the sounds of a party: some drunk shouting, clinking dishes, the murmur associated with loud crowds, and, surprisingly enough, some kind of music. The musicians or speakers were nowhere in sight, and as a tumbleweed blew past, Kreuz decided to not get too concerned about the details.
"Well, lookie here!" A hand fell onto both Kreuz and Carter's shoulders, and a man in a well-worn 10-gallon hat leaned in between the pilots. "Looks like you dogies could use a siesta! But first, I think you need to tuck into some grub. Name's Marshall. I'm with the Military Police here on Texas."
After handshakes, Kreuz got a good look at Officer Marshall, and the man was the embodiment of the Texas spirit. A poncho covered his torso, and at the bottom of his blue jeans were spurred boots.
"Now that we've made our introductions, let's make like some outlaws and rustle up some cattle! In Texas, you gotta provide for yourself, because ain't no one else gonna take care of you. 'Cept, of course, your food and shelter's taken care of if you're in the military. But out on the range, you only got yourself and your wits. But enough about that, I smell steaks sizzling with our names on them!"
|
|
|
|
Post by zerodash0 on Feb 15, 2010 21:25:12 GMT -5
The evening was winding down, and at last Kreuz, Carter, Reed, Marshall and Sutherland were all sitting at an outdoor table not far from the grills. Enormous steaks sat on their plates, with various side dishes of mashed potatoes, chili, fillets of fried catfish, and the like surrounding them. The smell of the fire still searing away at food for the soldiers played gleefully on the cool breeze. "Well, this is a rare event. Officers, enlisted-men, and civilians all putting the war on hold for a moment and just enjoying a fine meal." Sutherland said, catching the attention of a young lieutenant who taking his turn as waiter. "Young lad, bring us something out of my private collection.... one from the twentieth perhaps?" "Oh that won't be necessary sir." Derek interrupted, "I think I have just the thing here." Much to everyone's surprise, he reached into the bag he'd been carrying with him, and produced not one, but three fifths of whiskey. "Merquise Royale?" Reed uttered, stunned. His shocked look quickly curved into a grin as he continued, "I knew there's a reason I liked ye boy!" "I found 'em in that ship we captured. I figured one for the Captain, one for the Commander, and one for tonight." Carter explained, sliding a bottle to each officer, and handing the last to their waiter, who had brought glasses and ice. Once their glasses were filled, Sutherland stood and made a very official pose. "A toast! To the men who fight and die, may we one day know why. But let us not cry, so long as there's whiskey and rye." He spoke with dignity, as the five men lightly tapped their glasses together and drank to the strange toast from a Texan of space. ~ The next morning, soldiers awoke to the bustle of warships preparing to return to active duty. Carter and Kreuz secured their mobile suits on the hangar of the Salamis-Kai Buster Ni Go. Captain Reed stepped into the bridge of the Buster Ichi Go surprisingly straight-backed and in full uniform. He took his seat as a familiar face stepped up to report the ship's status. "Good morning captain, all systems have cleared preliminary checks, crew and cargo is aboard, Buster Ichi Go ready for launch." Sadie Astal said pleasantly, the more modern accommodations of the Salamis Revised making her job much less stressful. "Sir, Buster Ni Go confirms ready for launch, requesting clearance now." In the control tower of Texas Colony's hangar facility, commander Sutherland listened to the radio chatter as various ships requested clearance to enter or leave. Finally the request came in from Buster Ichi Go, Sutherland waved the comm officer aside and answered. "This is Texas Colony to Buster Ichi Go, put me through to Captain Reed please." Sutherland asked, waiting a moment before Reed's face appeared on the screen. "Kind of ye to see me off Monty." Reed chuckled as he spoke at the screen. "Don't worry ole-timer, I'll keep the boys from gettin in too much trouble." "I'll wager they keep you in line old friend. Buster Ichi Go cleared for launch, good hunting." "Aye sir. God and the sea willin, we'll share a bottle of whiskey again when the war's done." |
|
