Whiskey Business Member
STATUS: "You don't gotta take out a mortgage on an Ivory Tower to recognize stupidity when you see it!" -Howard T Duck 9 yrs ago- Last Seen: 5 yrs ago
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- Whiskey Business 11 yrs ago
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9 yrs ago
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"You don't gotta take out a mortgage on an Ivory Tower to recognize stupidity when you see it!" -Howard T Duck
9 yrs ago
Creed is such a great movie! That's one down. Now impatiently waiting for The Revenant and Star Wars: The Force Awakens!
9 yrs ago
Back after a long hiatus ;)
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Got mine posted. Bit lengthy.
04:01 Hours
23 August, 2550
Marine Operations Staging Area
Golovkin observed the overhead layout surrounding the rendezvous point, taking note of the covenant forces patrolling the area. Small squads ranging from 3-6 covies took perimeter around city hall, and Golovkin immediately noticed that the southeast side was left unguarded. It was an ideal drop zone to get into flanking position, but the coast was too narrow for a SOEIV insertion. A slight miscalculation could veer him straight into the river of solitude. That’s not to say that inland was any safer. Skyscrapers of varying heights and structural integrity grouped around the rally point like an uneven picket fence. When it came to orbital deployment, Golovkin viewed buildings as two things: safety nets or baseball bats. They can either stabilize your drop and provide a nice tactical vantage point, or redirect your course toward an even nastier trajectory, creating an impact that could send you across the city in pieces. That’s hoping the covenant ship, or any anti-aircraft artillery on the ground for that matter, doesn’t blow them out of the sky first.
The tension was undeniably thick between Commander Aldridge and Master Sergeant Gunner Jameson, who disapproved of the ONI operative’s taciturn behavior from the get-go. The same sentiment could be expressed by everyone else in Ghost Detachment, who was just as much in the dark as Gunny. Robert had served under lesser officers in the past who kept their mouths shut and blindly followed orders. Since his reassignment into Ghost, Robert quickly learned that Jameson was not of that sort. Gunny had the stones to stand his ground where other superior officers otherwise tucked tail. He took that extra step for his men, and after the fallout with the last operation, Jameson became extra vigilant.
Robert glossed over the mission specifics reluctantly unveiled by Commander Aldridge. The complexities of artificial intelligence were way over his head, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what would happen if one of them defected to the other side. Robert didn’t believe something like that was even possible. He assumed that they were entirely docile, and the thought of them functioning as self-aware individuals gave him the creeps. It was bad enough that they were fighting an alien race armed with advanced weaponry; the last thing they needed was one of their own added onto their covenant inventory.
“They just had to name it Loki…” He said aloud.
04:22 Hours
23 August, 2550
Drop Bay of the UNSC Wayward Wanderer
Following dismissal, Sergeant Robert “Ready” Golovkin forced open the entranceway door into the hangar bay and motioned toward his drop pod. He double-checked the layout uploaded onto his personal data lace, synching all information to his HUD. He jostled open the entry hatch of his SOEIV and placed the M739 Automatic Rifle and its drum magazines in the equipment racks. After those were secure, he then placed the satchel charges in one of the smaller compartments. The rest would stay on his person. After securing his equipment, Ready drew out the M90 from his backside and placed it on his lap as he strapped himself into the crash seat. He raised his gloved hand and tapped the sanghelli skull on his shoulder pad with his knuckle, then pulled the entry hatch down and waited for the inevitable plunge toward Omega Titanus III.
“Bridge to Drop Bay, Thirty Second count begins now!” came Ramsey’s warning.
Robert whistled along with the ODST anthem that boomed through the comm speakers until he heard the mechanical stress of the bay doors opening. He focused on the fizziling sound of the entire hangar bay depressurizing, until the deafening silence of space muted everything and anything around him. Within this momentary stasis in time, memories of holding his infant son flashed before him. The warmth of his little body tickling the hairs on his forearm. Cradling him gently until his cries dull to a whimper. The first kiss placed on his soft forehead. He took a deep breath and returned to the present.
“Feet first into hell, Marines! Oooh-rah!”
The G-Force from the launch was like a punch to the stomach that made Robert's innards feel like they were being pulled into the floor. Jettisoned out from under the Wayward Wanderer, Robert and his squad mates missile into the blackness of space toward Omega Titanus III. The second jolt felt like a kick to the nuts, slamming him back violently, but also signaling that atmospheric reentry had begun. Robert clenched tight and maintained his breathing pattern. He kept his focus on the activity happening through the small viewport in front of him. A red glow had permeated through the void as flecks of the outer ceramic skin of the pod sparked white hot specks. While it looked to be chipping away at a quickened pace, the outer skin absorbed all of the heat from reentry, preventing Golovkin from getting cooked alive. So far so good.
At 20,000 feet the ceramic skin was completely absorbed by the heat, and the lead foiling underneath it held the armored sections of the pod together. The twilight was replaced by violent storm clouds that veined intense spears of lightning. The first comm since deployment was from Private First Class Truman. It would also be his last. Most of it was garbled, likely due to the electrical interference from the storm. All Robert could make out was, “I’m go--- dow-! M----y! Oh God…”
Just as Robert was about to mutter an expletive, the upper exterior panels of his pod separated to become a drag-type chute that slowed the descent, exponentially. However, a loose rattling noise came from one of the panels, followed by a violent screech of bending metal. He could feel the drag downward beginning to alter course, arcing wildly and on the verge of sputtering out of control. Robert shoved his M90 in a small gap between the crash seat and the wall, then assumed immediate control of the rocket brakes from the pod’s computer. He expanded the layout of Solace city on his HUD and looked for the nearest building and took a deep breath.
“Safety net or baseball bat.” Robert gently nudged the steering thrusters to stabilize the pod, then waited until a massive skyscraper came skirting toward his viewport. He clenched the controls as tight as he could, setting off the rocket brakes just seconds before impact. "Safety net. Come on, safety net!"
04:30 Hours
23 August, 2550
Surface of Solace Colony
Robert gradually woke from his dreary state. His body was aching, but nothing felt broken. He felt something poking the back of his neck, and when he went to check what it was, he felt the nozzle of his M90 pressed up against the side of his head. That would've sucked. The ODST had successfully managed to break the fall of his rapidly descending pod by veering through the side of a building. Gathering himself, he looked out at the viewport and squinted. All he saw was a skyline view of the city. Where the hell... Robert carefully unlatched the locking mechanism of the exit hatch and slowly pulled the door open. High winds filled the small chamber of the pod, and he looked down to what he estimated to be at least a 50 foot drop. The only thing keeping him and his pod from falling, were two support beams from the building’s infrastructure.
“Well, shit.”
Gunny Jameson yelled into his mic helm for a status report. Scoping his surroundings with his VISR, Robert saw that he was less than a klick away from the Gunny. He pinged his location and carefully collected his equipment, careful not to jolt the pod loose from the support beams and end up a pancake on the street down below.
“Yeah, that’ll be enough falling for today.” Robert delicately slipped off of the pod, and climbed down through an open clearing onto the floor below. He gave one last look up at his battered SOEIV. It reminded Robert of a nest barely held together by two dainty tree branches.
“Safety net.” He nodded.
M90 drawn and fully loaded, he cocked it back and headed for the stairwell. Repolarizing his visor, Golovkin initiated the night vision spectrum and quickly descended through twenty-four floors in complete darkness.
23 August, 2550
Marine Operations Staging Area
Golovkin observed the overhead layout surrounding the rendezvous point, taking note of the covenant forces patrolling the area. Small squads ranging from 3-6 covies took perimeter around city hall, and Golovkin immediately noticed that the southeast side was left unguarded. It was an ideal drop zone to get into flanking position, but the coast was too narrow for a SOEIV insertion. A slight miscalculation could veer him straight into the river of solitude. That’s not to say that inland was any safer. Skyscrapers of varying heights and structural integrity grouped around the rally point like an uneven picket fence. When it came to orbital deployment, Golovkin viewed buildings as two things: safety nets or baseball bats. They can either stabilize your drop and provide a nice tactical vantage point, or redirect your course toward an even nastier trajectory, creating an impact that could send you across the city in pieces. That’s hoping the covenant ship, or any anti-aircraft artillery on the ground for that matter, doesn’t blow them out of the sky first.
The tension was undeniably thick between Commander Aldridge and Master Sergeant Gunner Jameson, who disapproved of the ONI operative’s taciturn behavior from the get-go. The same sentiment could be expressed by everyone else in Ghost Detachment, who was just as much in the dark as Gunny. Robert had served under lesser officers in the past who kept their mouths shut and blindly followed orders. Since his reassignment into Ghost, Robert quickly learned that Jameson was not of that sort. Gunny had the stones to stand his ground where other superior officers otherwise tucked tail. He took that extra step for his men, and after the fallout with the last operation, Jameson became extra vigilant.
Robert glossed over the mission specifics reluctantly unveiled by Commander Aldridge. The complexities of artificial intelligence were way over his head, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what would happen if one of them defected to the other side. Robert didn’t believe something like that was even possible. He assumed that they were entirely docile, and the thought of them functioning as self-aware individuals gave him the creeps. It was bad enough that they were fighting an alien race armed with advanced weaponry; the last thing they needed was one of their own added onto their covenant inventory.
“They just had to name it Loki…” He said aloud.
04:22 Hours
23 August, 2550
Drop Bay of the UNSC Wayward Wanderer
Following dismissal, Sergeant Robert “Ready” Golovkin forced open the entranceway door into the hangar bay and motioned toward his drop pod. He double-checked the layout uploaded onto his personal data lace, synching all information to his HUD. He jostled open the entry hatch of his SOEIV and placed the M739 Automatic Rifle and its drum magazines in the equipment racks. After those were secure, he then placed the satchel charges in one of the smaller compartments. The rest would stay on his person. After securing his equipment, Ready drew out the M90 from his backside and placed it on his lap as he strapped himself into the crash seat. He raised his gloved hand and tapped the sanghelli skull on his shoulder pad with his knuckle, then pulled the entry hatch down and waited for the inevitable plunge toward Omega Titanus III.
“Bridge to Drop Bay, Thirty Second count begins now!” came Ramsey’s warning.
Robert whistled along with the ODST anthem that boomed through the comm speakers until he heard the mechanical stress of the bay doors opening. He focused on the fizziling sound of the entire hangar bay depressurizing, until the deafening silence of space muted everything and anything around him. Within this momentary stasis in time, memories of holding his infant son flashed before him. The warmth of his little body tickling the hairs on his forearm. Cradling him gently until his cries dull to a whimper. The first kiss placed on his soft forehead. He took a deep breath and returned to the present.
“Feet first into hell, Marines! Oooh-rah!”
The G-Force from the launch was like a punch to the stomach that made Robert's innards feel like they were being pulled into the floor. Jettisoned out from under the Wayward Wanderer, Robert and his squad mates missile into the blackness of space toward Omega Titanus III. The second jolt felt like a kick to the nuts, slamming him back violently, but also signaling that atmospheric reentry had begun. Robert clenched tight and maintained his breathing pattern. He kept his focus on the activity happening through the small viewport in front of him. A red glow had permeated through the void as flecks of the outer ceramic skin of the pod sparked white hot specks. While it looked to be chipping away at a quickened pace, the outer skin absorbed all of the heat from reentry, preventing Golovkin from getting cooked alive. So far so good.
At 20,000 feet the ceramic skin was completely absorbed by the heat, and the lead foiling underneath it held the armored sections of the pod together. The twilight was replaced by violent storm clouds that veined intense spears of lightning. The first comm since deployment was from Private First Class Truman. It would also be his last. Most of it was garbled, likely due to the electrical interference from the storm. All Robert could make out was, “I’m go--- dow-! M----y! Oh God…”
Just as Robert was about to mutter an expletive, the upper exterior panels of his pod separated to become a drag-type chute that slowed the descent, exponentially. However, a loose rattling noise came from one of the panels, followed by a violent screech of bending metal. He could feel the drag downward beginning to alter course, arcing wildly and on the verge of sputtering out of control. Robert shoved his M90 in a small gap between the crash seat and the wall, then assumed immediate control of the rocket brakes from the pod’s computer. He expanded the layout of Solace city on his HUD and looked for the nearest building and took a deep breath.
“Safety net or baseball bat.” Robert gently nudged the steering thrusters to stabilize the pod, then waited until a massive skyscraper came skirting toward his viewport. He clenched the controls as tight as he could, setting off the rocket brakes just seconds before impact. "Safety net. Come on, safety net!"
04:30 Hours
23 August, 2550
Surface of Solace Colony
Robert gradually woke from his dreary state. His body was aching, but nothing felt broken. He felt something poking the back of his neck, and when he went to check what it was, he felt the nozzle of his M90 pressed up against the side of his head. That would've sucked. The ODST had successfully managed to break the fall of his rapidly descending pod by veering through the side of a building. Gathering himself, he looked out at the viewport and squinted. All he saw was a skyline view of the city. Where the hell... Robert carefully unlatched the locking mechanism of the exit hatch and slowly pulled the door open. High winds filled the small chamber of the pod, and he looked down to what he estimated to be at least a 50 foot drop. The only thing keeping him and his pod from falling, were two support beams from the building’s infrastructure.
“Well, shit.”
Gunny Jameson yelled into his mic helm for a status report. Scoping his surroundings with his VISR, Robert saw that he was less than a klick away from the Gunny. He pinged his location and carefully collected his equipment, careful not to jolt the pod loose from the support beams and end up a pancake on the street down below.
“Yeah, that’ll be enough falling for today.” Robert delicately slipped off of the pod, and climbed down through an open clearing onto the floor below. He gave one last look up at his battered SOEIV. It reminded Robert of a nest barely held together by two dainty tree branches.
“Safety net.” He nodded.
M90 drawn and fully loaded, he cocked it back and headed for the stairwell. Repolarizing his visor, Golovkin initiated the night vision spectrum and quickly descended through twenty-four floors in complete darkness.
Well folks, the long wait is over...IC is up!
ULSS Research & Deployment Station
Location: Undisclosed C10 Quadrant
From every corner of the Zyphil galaxy, the crew of the ULSS Zotharis slowly converges toward one designated point on the star map. Deep within an undisclosed location of the C10 quadrant is a massive research outpost called the Truth Shield. With the exception of a few capital class ships that occasionally run maneuvers in the sector, its solitary existence has seen little-to-no traffic in its ports. It floats aimlessly in space, accompanied only by an azure nebula ruminating in the distance.
You, and the rest of the Zotharis crew, are transferred to the launch site via ULSS Black Dove Flagship, the largest capital class space vessel in the federation. Escorted by four Battlecruisers, the Black Dove safely arrives at the Truth Shield, four day cycles before everyone else.
The Zotharis crew quickly gets acclimated with the ship, which arrived a day cycle before by a special naval team lead by Captain Ruedra. For the next several cycles, you run special scenarios, go over procedural checklists, and perform necessary launch preparations before the ULSS Zotharis is given the green light. On the last day of ship prep, the Exploronaut groups and shift duties are announced in the Conference Hall of the Zotharis. Captain Ruedra formally assigns the teams herself.
“Those qualified to be Exploronauts will function within a smaller unit. These units are broken down into four groups: Alpha, Beta, Charlie, and Delta. Those assigned to any one of these teams will have synced shift and off duty hours with every other member in your group.” Among those four groups, Operations Officer B15, Medical Officer B07, Navigations Officer B19, and Executive Chef C17 were assigned into Delta. The Kruharan Captain goes on to make a rousing speech about comradery as pioneers and professionals, instilling a sense of community and purpose. She acknowledges your commitment to the program, noting the two years of intense training endured to get to where you are now. “We are of different species, but soon, we will rally into uncharted space, united as one…”
For a planetary week’s cycle, the Truth Shield’s four warp gates work nonstop to accommodate hundreds of space vessels trickling in from slipspace. This vast array of ships are mainly composed of government officials, family, friends, and media personnel, many of whom have traveled far and wide to bid you farewell. The next several day cycles include countless media interviews with each and every crewmember, followed by a commemoration ceremony that involves the ULSS primary delegates, and most of the secondary officials representing each cluster of the galaxy.
A month’s worth of preparation and PR has finally come to an end. By special order from Captain Ruedra herself, you are given 48 hours of recreational free time before your journey into the outer reaches of the galaxy begins.
Some choose to spend their last moments with loved ones, while others look to kill time running amuck on board the Truth Shield, or the Zotharis…
After a 24 hour day cycle has passed, Operations Officer Nadan Taushir takes it upon himself to forward a message to everyone on Delta team.
Location: Undisclosed C10 Quadrant
From every corner of the Zyphil galaxy, the crew of the ULSS Zotharis slowly converges toward one designated point on the star map. Deep within an undisclosed location of the C10 quadrant is a massive research outpost called the Truth Shield. With the exception of a few capital class ships that occasionally run maneuvers in the sector, its solitary existence has seen little-to-no traffic in its ports. It floats aimlessly in space, accompanied only by an azure nebula ruminating in the distance.
You, and the rest of the Zotharis crew, are transferred to the launch site via ULSS Black Dove Flagship, the largest capital class space vessel in the federation. Escorted by four Battlecruisers, the Black Dove safely arrives at the Truth Shield, four day cycles before everyone else.
The Zotharis crew quickly gets acclimated with the ship, which arrived a day cycle before by a special naval team lead by Captain Ruedra. For the next several cycles, you run special scenarios, go over procedural checklists, and perform necessary launch preparations before the ULSS Zotharis is given the green light. On the last day of ship prep, the Exploronaut groups and shift duties are announced in the Conference Hall of the Zotharis. Captain Ruedra formally assigns the teams herself.
“Those qualified to be Exploronauts will function within a smaller unit. These units are broken down into four groups: Alpha, Beta, Charlie, and Delta. Those assigned to any one of these teams will have synced shift and off duty hours with every other member in your group.” Among those four groups, Operations Officer B15, Medical Officer B07, Navigations Officer B19, and Executive Chef C17 were assigned into Delta. The Kruharan Captain goes on to make a rousing speech about comradery as pioneers and professionals, instilling a sense of community and purpose. She acknowledges your commitment to the program, noting the two years of intense training endured to get to where you are now. “We are of different species, but soon, we will rally into uncharted space, united as one…”
For a planetary week’s cycle, the Truth Shield’s four warp gates work nonstop to accommodate hundreds of space vessels trickling in from slipspace. This vast array of ships are mainly composed of government officials, family, friends, and media personnel, many of whom have traveled far and wide to bid you farewell. The next several day cycles include countless media interviews with each and every crewmember, followed by a commemoration ceremony that involves the ULSS primary delegates, and most of the secondary officials representing each cluster of the galaxy.
A month’s worth of preparation and PR has finally come to an end. By special order from Captain Ruedra herself, you are given 48 hours of recreational free time before your journey into the outer reaches of the galaxy begins.
Some choose to spend their last moments with loved ones, while others look to kill time running amuck on board the Truth Shield, or the Zotharis…
After a 24 hour day cycle has passed, Operations Officer Nadan Taushir takes it upon himself to forward a message to everyone on Delta team.
Message from B15D00 said
Greetings Delta,
I am personally extending an invitation to each of you to come join me in the Rutgun Drinkwell on the Truth Shield. I apologize for the last minute proposal, and understand if you have other matters to attend to. However, if you find yourself without obligation, I will be there at 1700. The alcoholic beverages, as humans figuratively say, are on me.
Operations Officer B15
Nadan Taushir
!!
Soery. Been meaning to get a post up but been busy this 4th of July weekend. I'll try and have something up tomorrow afternoon, PST.
Sorry folks. 4th of July weekend has got my hands tied. I'll look to have the IC completed Sunday morning PST.
Well, you're entitled to your opinion Woof. I've heard people say that about every sport lol.
@Queen I don't care if they'll be rebranded as the San Francisco Warriors, I'm going to keep calling them GSW. But, I definitely need to fly back to the bay and watch one more game at the Roaracle before they relocate :-(
@Queen I don't care if they'll be rebranded as the San Francisco Warriors, I'm going to keep calling them GSW. But, I definitely need to fly back to the bay and watch one more game at the Roaracle before they relocate :-(
QueenOfTheBee said
They could've waited until the NBA season was officially over, but they just sent him off just like that. That was anticlimactic ._.Hopefully with Bogut healthy, the Warriors can come back at full strength and dominate everyone!
WE BELIEVE!!!
Aannnd back on topic, I'll try and get my post up by tonight.
Nice! Which show are you currently watching? I barely remember Generations as a kid, and that was because my bro and sis always watched it. It was the only show they both could agree to watch without fighting over the remote, well that and Fresh Prince & Family Matters lol.
QueenOfTheBee said
Steve Kerr looks really promising, but I miss Mark Jackson :(We can do it. We'll win the Finals and get that cup!
I know... it was a crappy way to send off MJax, and taking us to game 7 against the Clippers, Bogut-less, is a feat onto itself, but I think the foundation FO is building for our team is going to make us even more deadly! We'll be like pokemon evolved from Nellie Ball, and MJax isos.
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