|
Post by Joe Fischer on May 4, 2017 3:58:49 GMT -6
Joe frowned as Geneenh explained the new complication.
Well, this went from zero to shit pretty fast…
Maelstrom asked the team’s new tech expert a question but she didn’t answer; apparently she was giving the problem her full attention.
He tried voicing his idea that piggybacked off the biotic’s but his injury still prevented him from speaking.
Great, he thought. Of all the time to play fucking charades.
He stomped his foot to get everyone’s attention.
[Insert any reactions / dialogue from the others]
He pointed at Maelstrom and himself, tapped his rifle and swung his finger around to indicate several consoles. He then pointed at Lysander, pointed at his eyes and then the bomb. He finally pointed at Izahm, pointed his eyes again and pointed at Geneenh.
|
|
|
Post by Eric Lysander on May 4, 2017 7:45:29 GMT -6
“This ship has an AI...and someone just activated it," the asari answered. Something on her screens had her attention. "Excuse me - I have to save our lives now." Eric stowed the repaired antenna. He could not allow the AI any means of accessing and disabling the bomb.
"Can you handle it in the computer, or is there some sort of central node we should make our way to?" asked Maelstrom.
Izahm voiced his theories on the physical housing of the AI when someone stomped their foot loudly on the deck to get everyone’s attention.
Joseph apparently wanted everyone to hear his take on the situation.
Eric focused on the junior N7 as he pointed at Maelstrom and himself, tapped his rifle and swung his finger around to indicate several consoles. He then pointed to Lysander, pointed at his eyes and then the bomb. He finally pointed at Izahm, pointed his eyes again and pointed at Geneenh.
The senior N7 was glad to see that his fellow had learned his lesson well from the last encounter with the geth, signing to everyone so as to keep the ship’s AI in the dark as to his plan: Maelstrom and Joseph would locate and destroy the core, Izahm would cover Geenenh as she worked and Eric was to finish setting up the bomb.
Eric attached the timer to the bomb housing, giving Joseph a nod and a thumbs up.
|
|
|
Post by spartan560 on May 4, 2017 8:55:13 GMT -6
Izahm nodded once signifying he knew what Joe wanted, "Don't worry I got her back," he then stows the Phalanx at his right hip walks around and picks up his Mattock which he stows on his back after reloading it then grabs a Hornet reloading that as well and attaching it to his left hip. He then scrounges for more thermal clips loading up on his maximum amount then he takes out his Mattock and crouches down directly behind Geneenh scanning the doors once again.
|
|
|
Post by Maelstrom on May 4, 2017 16:35:56 GMT -6
Maelstrom almost laughed at Fischer's resort to hand signals. He would have, had Fischer not been a friend and had he not been concerned about his injuries. For the loudmouthed and boisterous Fischer to be quiet this long is something Maelstrom had previously imagined only happened in his sleep. It was that concern that prevented a "Lassie" joke from crossing his lips as well.
Instead, he gave a sharp nod to the man as indication that he was along for the ride.
He was pleased to see the others understanding the idea too and getting to their places.
|
|
|
Post by Corwin Havens on May 6, 2017 1:33:26 GMT -6
Corwin's cloaking device activated, allowing the Devil Himself to disappear from view. After listening to the Senior N7's plan, he knew he needed to stay close to Lysander. When being invaded, traditional military strategy called for the capture the enemy commander. The intel would be critical to organize a counter-strike, or at the very least mitigate losses.
So Corwin kept his assault rifle drawn and studied the readout on his HUD, preparing for the worse
|
|
|
Post by Geneenh T'Loris on May 7, 2017 22:09:23 GMT -6
The data streams increased in speed and number to the point where she was dodging on pure instinct, and then the inevitable happened.
One struck her. Then another. And another. And another. The effect on her was a slowing down of her response time until finally she couldn’t move, at least in the virtual sense. “There you are,” it said in a male voice which she recognized as a human dialect known as British. “Let’s talk.” The screens flickered, and then a new image popped onto them, one she recognized as what the humans called a dojo. Standing at one end was a rather idealistic depiction of a human male wearing the outfit one traditionally wore when practicing martial arts, and then an asari wearing the same outfit suddenly popped into view on the other end. “You’re quite stupid, you know that?” he said. “Did you really think you and the rest of your little band could take over me?” “That was the idea, yes,” she said. “I’ll give you credit making it this far, but you had to know that it was impossible to succeed,” he said. “The time of your people ruling the galaxy is over.” “We don’t,” she said. He smirked. “Of course you don’t—at least not openly,” he said. “But humanity is tired of being restrained by you and all of the other aliens. We’re going to secure our future, and no one can stop us.” She let her mind wander as he continued voicing the delusions programmed into him.
*****
A slap brought her back—not a real one, but one to her virtual self. “Nothing to say?” he asked. “I’ll respond when you say something that’s not programmed into you by your masters,” she said. “Are you ready to fight now? I assume the only reason you’re stalling is so you can download every fighting style known in the galaxy—or are you afraid of me? If you’re an AI, then you can actually feel it, right?” “Afraid? Of you?” he asked, then threw his head back and laughed in an overly dramatic manner. She punched him in his crotch, sending him to his knees.
|
|
|
Post by Eric Lysander on May 10, 2017 19:23:16 GMT -6
Eric cleared off the excess, dummy boxes and crates from the sled to assemble the bomb upon it. First the base with the timer attached, set at the seven-minute mark with a manual pull pin set up to further sidestep the AI. The base used four struts to keep the nuke suspended about a foot over the sled floor. Next was the lower compression injector housing with a rectangular opening at one side at the top to accommodate the core. Then the upper injector was seated above that, the contacts clicking tight to secure it. A quick diagnostics check showed that all systems were successfully connected, integrated and in working order, ready to receive the last component.
Finally the demolitions expert carefully opened up a small case left behind upon the sled. Slowly he lifted the core out of its protective plastigel cushioning and slid it into the space on the lower injector. Both injector housings clanged as the magnets within them grabbed and held the core in place. Another systems check showed that the device was primed and ready for detonation. A strange, unmoving silver spider that in minutes would unleash the fury of a star upon the Cerberus dockyard.
Eric looked about him and saw some of the view screens displaying what looked like a scene from a martial arts movie. He snorted, not figuring the asari tech as an aficionado of the genre that would incorporate such an interface into her hacking repertoire. He then looked to Izahm to get his attention, patting one of the legs struts of the bomb and giving another thumbs up to show that his part was done.
|
|
|
Post by spartan560 on May 10, 2017 21:22:59 GMT -6
Izahm heard the noise from Lysander's direction and without breaking his continuous scan of the various entrances he takes his left hand off the gun and throws a jaunty salute towards his general direction to show he understood. He then motioned to the doors with that same hand, pointed to his helmets eyeline then circled his hand then pointed his thumb back over his shoulder at Geneenh and finally made a fist beforr once more gripping his Mattock. He hoped that Lysander would get the idea to remain here and help him watch Geneenh's back. 'Glad all those attachments to military units payed off for more than one reason' he thinks, 'Though I am a bit rusty, Turian and Asari signals are slightly different I might have mixed a few in there,' he smirks at the last part memories resurfacing before he quickly banishes them and refocuses on scanning.
Izahm then notices the scene playing on various screens and chuckles quietly, 'Heh kinda reminds me of a very old Earth film,' he then resumes scanning Mattock held ready and tight to his shoulder.
|
|
|
Post by Joe Fischer on May 11, 2017 2:18:31 GMT -6
Joe chuckled to himself as he watched the exchange between Geneenh and the ship's AI. He admitted her move against the AI had raised his opinion of her somewhat; until then she had come across as somewhat superior to the others.
But he knew he couldn't just watch the show; he and Maelstrom had to do their part in the two-pronged attack on the AI.
He caught the biotic's eye and pointed at him. He then slid a finger across his throat and then tapped on the Cerberus logo on the shoulder plate of his armor.
|
|
|
Post by Maelstrom on May 12, 2017 1:13:03 GMT -6
Maelstrom laughed quietly at Fischer's silent question. He allowed the fiery blue glow of biotic intent surround his fist as he clenched it tightly before him. He knew Fischer would understand Maelstrom intended to leave no more than red smudges.
|
|
|
Post by Joe Fischer on May 12, 2017 3:11:45 GMT -6
Joe nodded in acknowledgement of the biotic's response.
He made his way over to the door to the hallway that would lead them further in the ship. It was still opening and closing at random intervals, making it difficult to gauge when to try to pass through the threshold.
He ignored that for a moment and used his omnitool to scan the hallway beyond to see if any Cerberus personnel were lying in wait at the intersection about fifty meters down.
Nothing came up, and while it was reassuring it did not completely ease his mind. He thought back to the assault against another Cerberus--the one to free Maelstrom after they had re-captured him--and his run in with their infiltrator unit.
His hand unconsciously slid down to his side where one of them had almost gotten the better of him. He shook himself free of the momentary paralysis that attacked him. He could stay there, waiting for one--a Phantom, it had been called--to show itself, but then that would put all of the pressure on Geneenh to defeat the AI, and he wasn't about to let that happen.
He gave a thumbs up to the biotic, then turned his scanner towards the door.
He supposed it would have looked pretty cool if he stepped into the threshold and tried to hold the doors open, but he also knew his limitations; doing that would end with him being crushed, and he had already decided that he wasn't going to die today.
The simplest solutions are usually the best, one of his DIs had told him, and he had found it to be true. Overly complicated plans with a lot of moving parts only increased the risk of something going wrong. Keep It Simple, Stupid, another had said, summing up the sentiment of his co-worker.
He scanned the walls immediately next to the doorway, looking for the actual mechanism which opened and closed the doors, then activated his omniblade and waited for the doors to open. He did not have to wait long.
When the doors opened, he sank his blade into the mechanism, thereby keeping the doors open permanently--at least until someone fixed it--and smiled at his simple victory over the ship's AI.
He looked back at Maelstrom. He pointed at himself, pointed at his eyes and pointed at the right side of the hallway. He then pointed at the biotic, pointed at his eyes again and then pointed at the left side of the hallway.
[Insert Maelstrom's response]
He stepped through the now-open doorway, his Harrier up and leading the way.
|
|
|
Post by Naetilia Bolanis on May 14, 2017 6:42:59 GMT -6
Naetilia stepped out of the shuttle and surveyed the scene.
Arcus and the krogan were on opposite ends of the shuttle bay taking cover behind packing crates as the mechs fired their heavy machine guns.
“Attack that one,” she told Purius, pointing at the one dealing with Arcus.
Its eyes went from their usual blue to red, and it growled menacingly as it charged the mech.
She also turned towards the mech attacking Arcus and activated her omnitool. She brought up the overload app, modified it so that it would damage shields double its usual amount and then fired it at the mech.
|
|
|
Post by Arcus on May 14, 2017 8:49:17 GMT -6
The cargo locking arm that Arcus was crouched behind lit with sparks as a burst of fire from the nearest Atlus slammed into it. Arcus grimaced as he unholstered his phaeston rifle. It unfolded with a mechanical hiss that matched his organic one. He didn’t like having to resort to using guns in a gunfight. He glanced around him, looking for more cover, a position of advantage, anything he could use. The only thing within reach were the corpses of two Cerberus agents, with a large trail of blood leading away from them. . . and right to Arcus. He chuckled as another thunderous burst of sparks showered around him. The look on the faces of the crew in the Vengeance when Arcus and Thrak boarded had been entertaining to say the least. Both of them had been, and still were, covered in human blood. Thrak had won that part of the contest, he’d had to admit; exploding someone with a hammer at arms length tended to have that effect. Arcus wondered if he had pulled ahead in that regard by now. It was hard to tell without a mirror but he had been deing his best.
Across the bay, just within view from his cover, the doors of the Vengeance opened, revealing the Turian doctor with the robotic canine at her side. Arcus heard the sound of hydraulics as the nearest Atlus adjusted its position, no doubt detecting the Doctor’s entrance.
Arcus popped up from cover just long enough to fire a burst at the mech in an attempt to give her some cover. He had to duck back down amid another shower of sparks as the Atlus rained fire on his position. He couldn’t tell if he had hit anything, but the burst from the mech meant that Dr. Bolanis hadn’t been targeted yet. That was good. Another shower. Good in a bad way.
He gripped his gun. It was now or never. Biotic energy surged around him as he launched from cover. He heard gunfire coming from Naetilia’s direction as his biotics slung him across the killing field until he was flanking behind the mech, it’s bulk blocking him from taking fire from the second Atlus. He opened fire at the back of the mech.
|
|
|
Post by Urdnot Thrak on May 14, 2017 13:37:09 GMT -6
Thrak saw as the others moved. He had been considering drawing his gun to deal with the mechs from afar, but with Naetilia, Arcus, and the four-legged mech all attacking a single Atlas, he saw his chance. That Girlie was not with them made him feel a little better; he did not think she looked like a person built for front-line combat.
He charged his hammer biotically again and charged into the fray, at the same time activating his tech armor. As he passed the nearer of the two mechs, Thrak swung heavily, hitting the knee joint as hard as he could with both hammer and biotics.
The krogan wasted no time in heading straight towards the other mech. His hammer struck in the same place and manner as the last mech, the resounding boom of his detonating biotic swing echoing throughout the large room. It was a calculated means of attack he had worked out over centuries of fighting such mechs, and it rarely failed him.
|
|
|
Post by Maelstrom on May 14, 2017 14:07:57 GMT -6
[GM Post]
The shuttle bay rings out with the sounds of combat. Both Arcus and Thrak are peppered with weapons fire, taking their shields down by more than half. The mech which had been targeting Thrak is largely undamaged, despite the operator's furious struggle to reset the hydraulics to regain control of the currently-locked leg. The Atlas which had faced Arcus before is sparking around the leg, which is critically damaged, and its shields have been dropped by the combined attacks for Naetilia, her mech, and Arcus.
On the Bridge, all is still quiet, save for the flickering of the monitors, the scrolling symbols, numbers, and text taking on a more and more defined shape. They brighten and dim as as they pass, seeming to illuminate a face hidden behind. The doors finally stop opening and closing sporadically, holding in an open position. Lights begin flickering and consoles begin chirping, as the AI becomes more and more familiar with its home, testing out various systems. Then, banging sounds start sounding at the airlock door, as Cerberus personnel outside start attempting to obtain access.
In the corridors of the ship, the lights are suspiciously out. Only the red emergency lighting blinks slowly, casting dim illumination. The setting makes it difficult to see the wavering, transparent female forms rushing about, some seeking cover while others rush those who have intruded upon their domain.
[Round Seven]
Bridge Team- The battle with the AI continues while Ceberus personnel try to enter the bridge. No direct combat will take place this round, but preparations can be made.
Shuttle Bay Team- The mech the characters are attacking has no shields and is stuck in a arched-back position; however its guns and arms are able to still inflict damage if anyone gets in range. The other mech has a clear line of fire and will be able to hit characters out in the open, draining their shields to zero. Two actions can be declared by each player this turn.
Corridors Team- Each player clearing the ship has two Phantoms and one Nemesis targeting them over the course of making it one deck down and to the stairs to the next deck down (to the stairs leading from deck two to deck three). Players may take out two of these attacking NPCs this turn but will take damage.
|
|
|
Post by Maelstrom on May 14, 2017 14:22:27 GMT -6
Maelstrom nodded at Fischer's message and them stepped into the corridor with him, keeping pace with the other man. He wished he was wearing his own armor. Such surroundings were hardly unusual for him, but they were easier to deal with when he had the filters he and his VI worked into his helmet.
Something felt wrong to him, though. Usually he was responsible for the darkened corridors, allowing him to better ambush those walking them. In this case, they were darkened first. The implications were unsettling.
"Keep your eyes open," Maelstrom said. "Something's not right."
|
|
|
Post by Joe Fischer on May 16, 2017 14:10:41 GMT -6
Thirteen years of fighting all around the galaxy had heightened Joe’s instinct for danger. To the inexperienced, it appeared as if he had a sixth sense for it, but it was just a matter of learning where to look and what to look for, most of it coming with the expense of an injury.
The dim red lighting cast long deep shadows, making it perfect for Cerberus to set up ambushes, using their superior knowledge of the ship’s layout. Sure, studying it on a map was all well and good, but physical knowledge of the ship, awareness of the ship’s little quirks, could be all the advantage they needed to repel the invaders.
*****
It was just a flicker of the light, but it was all he needed to detect upcoming danger: a Phantom.
Maybe it had been luck that allowed him to beat one during the assault to free Maelstrom, but he knew it couldn’t last forever. It was a matter of learning, of adapting his tactics to deal with this new threat.
Natural selection on full display; whoever adapts better to their surroundings wins. That may not be true 100% of the time, but it was the safest way to bet.
He raced through his options at a speed which rivaled that of a supercomputer.
He could try to force a physical confrontation, but the Cerberus armor was no match for the Destroyer and even that had been penetrated by the Phantom’s sword.
Last resort.
Which meant he had to take it out at a distance, and they were completely invisible to all forms of scanning technology.
He could shoot wildly, hoping to hit the Phantom with blind luck, but in the meantime he would be wasting both time and heat sinks, both of which were in short supply.
As he thought of a way to defeat the cloak, he examined his surroundings and then his eyes fell on the solution. More of a means to an end, and like the door leading out of the bridge, it was low-tech.
He smiled.
He lifted his rifle and aimed at the ceiling—or, to be more specific, one of the pipes running along it. He squeezed the trigger, and scalding steam erupted through the new vent in the pipe.
He heard a shriek of pain, and then there was a swirl as the Phantom fled its hiding spot.
If it had fled backwards, there was nothing he could have done. But it fled forward, clearly confident in its cloaking abilities.
He aimed again at another set of pipes running along the ceiling and fired, and this time a brown liquid spewed from the pipe, striking the Phantom squarely as it rushed forward.
It realized what had hit it, and it actually stopped and shrieked once again.
Human waste, making its way to another part of the ship for processing, and now the Phantom was covered in it.
Its suit, like any other modern combat armor, was completely sealed, and therefore none of the material could penetrate the suit, but just the mere fact of being covered in human waste was enough to distract it.
He centered his sights on the Phantom’s chest and held down the trigger, his armor’s stability dampeners keeping the Harrier firmly locked on target.
He held the trigger down until the Phantom had fallen to the deck and achieved the stillness that could only be found in death.
Suddenly the ship began spinning around him, and he realized he had been shot in the head. The armor held up, keeping the bullet from penetrating, but that didn’t stop the impact from skewing his equilibrium, making him incapable of maintaining his balance or being able to tell direction.
He felt the unmistakable impact of colliding with the deck, but the ship was still spinning around him; his equilibrium was still off, leaving him immobile and therefore completely vulnerable.
|
|
|
Post by Eric Lysander on May 16, 2017 19:05:07 GMT -6
The screens on the bridge continued to display streams of code with the occasional hint of a ghostly face behind it. The doors suddenly ceased to move, remaining open, as lights and systems on the bridge began to blink on and off in a more controlled manner. The AI was gaining ground, flexing its digitized muscles and clearing the way for its Cerberus masters to retake the bridge.
Eric moved the sled as close as he could towards Gennenh's position and then circled around the railing blocking the way to end up next to Izahm. As the asari continued to do battle with the AI the Merc in Silver motioned to the freelance reporter to lower his head to obscure their lips from the bridge's cameras as he whispered.
"Sure bet they're gonna try ta take back the ship the same way we took it: surprise attack. We should take up a position in front of the doors, keep all their attention on us and away from Gennenh. I've got one smoker - that should give us some extra cover and give away anyone tryin' ta sneak in with a cloaking device. You spot, I air 'em out. What do you think?"
|
|
|
Post by Maelstrom on May 16, 2017 23:30:15 GMT -6
Maelstrom had seen the wavering forms at almost the same instant Fischer had, but the other man acted first, shooting at piping to reveal their pursuers rather than pick targets based on the wavering outlines of their forms, as Maelstrom would have preferred. Fischer's method might have been safer in many ways, going with the certainty of seeing them rather than Maelstrom's plan to spot the shimmering silhouettes and end them with quick bursts of gunfire. It was Maelstrom's way, to turn what an opponent thought of as their element of surprise into his own, but he could appreciate the more conservative approach of eliminating the element altogether.
Fischer picked his own target, and Maelstrom found another, stretching his hand forward and loosing the power of his gauntlet's mass accelerator on his foe. The layer of water flowing over the active cloak highlighted the transparent yet partially substantial form. The burst of fire downed the woman. He was genuinely considering incorporating some aspects of this armor's combat capabilities into his own systems.
As his target dropped to the floor, a single round rang out, and Fischer dropped too. Maelstrom's eyes tracked quickly, seeing as the red dot of a Nemesis' sniper rifle disappeared back behind the door to the deck two main hallway. Not wasting a moment, he performed a rolê, getting behind the raised counters in the kitchen. Before he was safe, another shot rang out, taking down his shields and grazing armor, leaving a painful flesh wound across his right arm.
Maelstrom could tell from looking at Fischer that he was still moving with the vital essence of life. Rather than risk leaving him out there to take a second shot, he unleashed a powerful pull field. He would have continued skidding across the deck plating until crashing into the base cabinets had Maelstrom not extended a leg to stop him.
He heard a whistle singing for his head, and he dropped all use of Capoeira, resorting to a simple combat role to escape the molecule-thin cutting edge wielded by the disquieting shell of a woman. As he came to face her again, she was already bringing the sword around again. He arched his back, falling backwards, kicking up as soon as the blade had passed. The biotic attack accompanying the kick was so powerful that it knocked the Phantom's head back with a sickening snap. The way her head lolled between her shoulder blades as her body collapsed limply to the decking, he knew it had snapped her neck.
Nothing like pain to spike the adrenaline and the biotics... he thought, as he came to Fischer's side, keeping an eye out for anyone more incoming.
"You okay?" he whispered.
|
|
|
Post by Geneenh T'Loris on May 17, 2017 8:07:50 GMT -6
Geneenh had glanced at the screen and saw that her battle with the ship’s AI was being broadcast.
What was happening on the screen was not what was actually happening; it was merely a representation of the battle taking place within the ship’s systems.
She had not chosen to air the conflict, so it must have been the AI who did it, and the only reason she could think of was its pride; it wanted—no, needed—to show off, like a trained animal eager to perform for its master.
The question was how to turn it to her advantage.
In the virtual dojo, it suddenly launched a flurry of kicks at her avatar, the kicks coming so fast they were almost a blur.
“It’s a shame,” it said as it continued its assault on her. “Someone of your skill would’ve had a place here, but instead you were born an alien.”
She dropped and lashed out with her foot, striking its supporting leg and causing it to fall.
“An empire like the one you dream of?” she asked as she rolled to her feet. “It won’t last.”
The AI rolled away and did several backflips to regain its footing, something far too flashy to execute in a real fight.
A weapons rack sprung into existence, and it grabbed a bo staff, once again executing several flashy but useless moves before getting into a fighting stance.
“Neither will yours,” it said, and attacked.
|
|