The blue-green world of Mirchusko rotated tirelessly, performing it's endless celestial dance; it's own little part in the intricate and expansive ballet around the brilliant yellow star at the core of the system. As its' rotations took it from day into night, the light of the far-off, distant orb caught the gleam of an artificial structure. A string of red beacons, hinting at hidden shapes in the darkness, were revealed to mark the course of a silvery-grey ribbon that threaded down to the surface of the world below, lost in clouds. The top of the heavenly pillar extended far, far out and above and at it's crown, a mass of metal, plastic and asteroid rock rotated with the same casual, steady pace as the world it was threaded to by the umbilical of artifical engineering that seemed so perilously thin.
Nestled in the protective embrace of the counterweight station, a sleek yet businesslike starship, coloured in muted tones of dark purple-black and military tan was making ready to leave the embrace of the friendly home port, deep within the territory of the Leage of Unified Races, and journey out to the frontiers of explored and colonized space. Strange things were afoot, and it had fallen to Defence Command, the Leagues' military arm, to investigate reports of hostile activities and missing people.
Aboard the sleek pocket battleship, the commanding officer of the Heart of Valour's newest fighter squadron, the 122nd Expedtionary Aerospace Squadron, aka 'Wylde Fyre', fretted and fussed.
The battle-carrier was due to leave within the hour. She had arrived four days ago and spent time attending situational and strategic briefings, going through procedure drills, training, and administration work, both aboard the ship and on the Counterweight Station in it's military district. The fighters themselves had arrive 72 hours ago aboard a chartered freighter, half-dissassembled for travel and were currently being reassembled, and full maintenance checked by the engineering teams. The squadron's quarters were all in order and all checked out too.
The only problem was she didn't have any pilots.
The white-furred female Isorlai paced back and forth on all fours in the soon-to-be lounge attached to the soon-to-be squadron's quarters.
Her claws clicked against the deck plating lightly and she rolled her shoulders as she paced nervously. Her white-furred, slender yet strong appearance was counter-pointed strikingly by her bright blue eyes, and by those with an eye for her species, she was considered quite attractive. Though, right now, anyone looking in on the squadron commander would have likely ducked right out again, given the evidently nervous energy she was displaying.
"Less than an hour?" She muttered to herself. Her voice was cultured, educated, but musical and firm. "Where could they be, what's taking so-"
The speakers discreetly built into the room chimed and her ears perked up as the voice of the ship's AI, Crystal, spoke up.
"Colonel Bellioch, the shuttle arriving at Bay 2 is carrying the rest of your squadron members... which I'm sure you'll be pleased about".
The Isorlai gave a whooshing sigh of relief, sagging on her front legs almost to the ground, before she picked herself up, She frowned briefly at the speakers. "Who programmed you with sarcasm?" she muttered, before shaking her head and her expression changing to one of excitment as she began trotting on the spot. "All right," she said, her excitement creeping into her voice. "Command face, on. Let's go and meet the squadron," she said to herself firmly, holding herself up straight, and more formally... before spinning on the spot and dashing out of the room at high speed.
***
Several floors above, the shuttle, one of several across from the small flotilla of chartered civilian ships that had ferried the remaining crew and supplies for the battle-carrier, approached the mouth of the carriers' bay. Lines of flashing holographic markings designated approach lanes to the currently open and depressurised bay. Blinking lights guided the Starhawk transport in, and under a smooth hand, it touched down.
Inside the sleek vessel, the various personnel chattered in enthusiastic excitement about making it to the ship. A voice from the cockpit cut through as it told them to stand by for disembarking, as the lights by the doors pulsed, indicating the outside environment of the bay was re-pressurizing. As soon as it blinked green, the doors swung open like a clamshell, the bottom half extending steps and a hand-rail to allow the passengers to climb down.
The bay itself was abuzz with activity. Personnel were stowing, loading, unloading and moving things all over. Exoskeletons moved around, utility and deck vehicles whined past, and raised voices competed with announcements from the overhead speakers by Crystal's warm, steady tones for any number of things - including regular time updates on the schedule for departure.
On the floor of the bay, and a little away from where the shuttle had landed, Erien skidded and dodged around a knot of engineering crew guiding a Mule exoskeleton in lowering a crate onto the back of a utility vehicle. They dodged aside, yelling after the bounding Isorlai and she threw a 'sorry!' back over one shoulder, before lowering her speed to a more acceptable trot, smoothing her fur and thick mane of hair with one paw-hand as she saw the shuttle and the personnel disembarking. She forced a tight lid onto her excitement and tried to get her flustered self back into some kind of presentable form as she came to the area at the base of the shuttles' ramp, leaning back up onto her hind legs to stand bipedally as she scanned for the faces she knew from the personnel files. They ought to be here somewhere, among the throng disembarking. She wondered how their trip would have been. Would they have talked? Had their been any delays? Had they been briefed? So much to ask, and so much to organise; a little sliver of nervousness wiggled its' way out of her composure and her tail twitched at the tip, ears drooped briefly, before she shook herself and looked up for some sign of her new squadron arriving, hoping her Isorlai-standard uniform and its' rank insignia would pick her out to them.
Nestled in the protective embrace of the counterweight station, a sleek yet businesslike starship, coloured in muted tones of dark purple-black and military tan was making ready to leave the embrace of the friendly home port, deep within the territory of the Leage of Unified Races, and journey out to the frontiers of explored and colonized space. Strange things were afoot, and it had fallen to Defence Command, the Leagues' military arm, to investigate reports of hostile activities and missing people.
Aboard the sleek pocket battleship, the commanding officer of the Heart of Valour's newest fighter squadron, the 122nd Expedtionary Aerospace Squadron, aka 'Wylde Fyre', fretted and fussed.
The battle-carrier was due to leave within the hour. She had arrived four days ago and spent time attending situational and strategic briefings, going through procedure drills, training, and administration work, both aboard the ship and on the Counterweight Station in it's military district. The fighters themselves had arrive 72 hours ago aboard a chartered freighter, half-dissassembled for travel and were currently being reassembled, and full maintenance checked by the engineering teams. The squadron's quarters were all in order and all checked out too.
The only problem was she didn't have any pilots.
The white-furred female Isorlai paced back and forth on all fours in the soon-to-be lounge attached to the soon-to-be squadron's quarters.
Her claws clicked against the deck plating lightly and she rolled her shoulders as she paced nervously. Her white-furred, slender yet strong appearance was counter-pointed strikingly by her bright blue eyes, and by those with an eye for her species, she was considered quite attractive. Though, right now, anyone looking in on the squadron commander would have likely ducked right out again, given the evidently nervous energy she was displaying.
"Less than an hour?" She muttered to herself. Her voice was cultured, educated, but musical and firm. "Where could they be, what's taking so-"
The speakers discreetly built into the room chimed and her ears perked up as the voice of the ship's AI, Crystal, spoke up.
"Colonel Bellioch, the shuttle arriving at Bay 2 is carrying the rest of your squadron members... which I'm sure you'll be pleased about".
The Isorlai gave a whooshing sigh of relief, sagging on her front legs almost to the ground, before she picked herself up, She frowned briefly at the speakers. "Who programmed you with sarcasm?" she muttered, before shaking her head and her expression changing to one of excitment as she began trotting on the spot. "All right," she said, her excitement creeping into her voice. "Command face, on. Let's go and meet the squadron," she said to herself firmly, holding herself up straight, and more formally... before spinning on the spot and dashing out of the room at high speed.
***
Several floors above, the shuttle, one of several across from the small flotilla of chartered civilian ships that had ferried the remaining crew and supplies for the battle-carrier, approached the mouth of the carriers' bay. Lines of flashing holographic markings designated approach lanes to the currently open and depressurised bay. Blinking lights guided the Starhawk transport in, and under a smooth hand, it touched down.
Inside the sleek vessel, the various personnel chattered in enthusiastic excitement about making it to the ship. A voice from the cockpit cut through as it told them to stand by for disembarking, as the lights by the doors pulsed, indicating the outside environment of the bay was re-pressurizing. As soon as it blinked green, the doors swung open like a clamshell, the bottom half extending steps and a hand-rail to allow the passengers to climb down.
The bay itself was abuzz with activity. Personnel were stowing, loading, unloading and moving things all over. Exoskeletons moved around, utility and deck vehicles whined past, and raised voices competed with announcements from the overhead speakers by Crystal's warm, steady tones for any number of things - including regular time updates on the schedule for departure.
On the floor of the bay, and a little away from where the shuttle had landed, Erien skidded and dodged around a knot of engineering crew guiding a Mule exoskeleton in lowering a crate onto the back of a utility vehicle. They dodged aside, yelling after the bounding Isorlai and she threw a 'sorry!' back over one shoulder, before lowering her speed to a more acceptable trot, smoothing her fur and thick mane of hair with one paw-hand as she saw the shuttle and the personnel disembarking. She forced a tight lid onto her excitement and tried to get her flustered self back into some kind of presentable form as she came to the area at the base of the shuttles' ramp, leaning back up onto her hind legs to stand bipedally as she scanned for the faces she knew from the personnel files. They ought to be here somewhere, among the throng disembarking. She wondered how their trip would have been. Would they have talked? Had their been any delays? Had they been briefed? So much to ask, and so much to organise; a little sliver of nervousness wiggled its' way out of her composure and her tail twitched at the tip, ears drooped briefly, before she shook herself and looked up for some sign of her new squadron arriving, hoping her Isorlai-standard uniform and its' rank insignia would pick her out to them.