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Somewhere on the Eastern Front...

"CIWS coverage down to 30%!" "Those frigates are coming around!"

The Combat Information Center of the Prince of Hiigara-class battlecruiser High Road was filled with smoke and ominous red lights. Officers and enlisted crowded the small space, calling out desperate staus reports.

"Engineering is reporting plasma leaks in engines 5, 6 and 7." "Fires reported forward of frame 10."

Jak?Phi Sura cursed, then, "Any more brilliant suggestions from the Admiral?"

"No response from the flag bridge, sir. That last volley..."

Jefet'ne Garou looked to his Captain.

"XO," Sura addressed him without looking up from the main holotank, "Are there any remaining personnel available to fight the fires?"

"I'll split some off from the teams in Engineering -"

An Ensign cut him off, "The frigates have come around, and those Shamshirs just came out of the dust cloud." The Hadat paused before klaxons started going off, "Vampire, vampire, vampire! Missiles inbound aft! The CIWS-!"

He never heard the end of the Ensign's report, for the ship shuddered, there was a flash of light, and Garou was thrown headfirst into the holotank and darkness.

Someone was shaking him.

Commander Garou opened his eyes to a blur of red, his head spinning.

"Get the hell up, Garou," he recognised the voice of the Captain.

A helping hand got him to his feet as he wiped the blood off of his face.

"We're dead in the water, boarding ships are inbound... I've given the order to abandon ship," Captain Sura told him.

Garou took a look around the CIC - or what was left of it. Several officers were laying lifeless under a module that had fallen, and yet more were pinned, limp, against the far wall by a holotank that had come loose. He looked back to his Captain.

"Should I get to the armory, sir?"

"No. Do you remember the Linebacker we took into the hangar?" Sura asked him.

A Linebacker electronics warfare frigate, the Sutekh, and its corvette escorts on a routine mapping mission had come under attack about a day ago, starting this whole debacle. The High Road had responded, finding only wreckage and the Sutekh drifting in space, disabled. It did not look like there had been much of a fight at all. They had disembarked the High Road's fighters and corvettes and made a few hasty modifications in order to fit the Sutekh in their hangar. Field repairs had almost been completed on the Sutekh when the Vagyr task force sprung the trap. The sheer numbers in the first wave of Vagyr bombers had overwhelmed the High Road's CIWS system while they tore the Road's defenses apart. They were simply unable to deal with the guided-missile frigates that appeared behind them and proceeded to launch on the High Road's engines and flag bridge.

"The Sutekh, yes, sir," Commander Garou responded.

"Take it and whomever you can find, and get the hell out of here."

"And yourself, Jak?Phi?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"A Captain goes down with his ship, XO. You know that. And in any case, someone has to buy you some time," The Captain grinned lopsidedly.

Jefet'ne Garou nodded solemnly, "Jak'Phi. You do honour to the Kiith - you will be rememberd."

"As will you, Jefet'ne - I have no doubt. Now, go!"

Garou exited the CIC, climbing through the carnage, and made his way through wrecked passageways and buckling bulkheads towards the hangar, hoping to find some survivors to help him aboard the Sutekh.


I only really have one major 'rule' I like to stick to:

1) No 'godplaying' - this means you do not take control of or make actions for another person's character without their clear permission, and you do not take control of the plot. Obviously, use common sense in these situations. I do have a bit of a plot thought out (very flexible, obviously, because the players determine what happens Pfft)

So, anyone else alive on this ship? ;P Or, perhaps, maybe a surviving corvette/fighter from the High Road?
Edited by biochrome on 12-11-2008 20:00
oh kewl. i was wondering if anyone was gonna do another fic. now i can wait a little while, till i hopefully have less work to do, before i start another.
Ford, I don't mean to alarm you, but there are an infinite number of monkey's outside and they want us to go over their screenplay for Hamlet.
((This is a RP, not a fic Pfft))
Ah...sorry. thought that last part was your sig. my bad.
Ford, I don't mean to alarm you, but there are an infinite number of monkey's outside and they want us to go over their screenplay for Hamlet.
I'll think about it. Just got a crazy idea...not in writin mood at the moment though.
"With all this power at its disposal,there is no question that the Beast Mothership is currently the most dangerous vessel in the Galaxy.It is not just a starship. It is a plague come for us all."-Somtaaw Fleet Intelligence.
"We are the Borg
(( one else is going to RP with me? D: ))
never done it before, not entirely sure how it works. am i just supposed to write what a character is doing?

Ford, I don't mean to alarm you, but there are an infinite number of monkey's outside and they want us to go over their screenplay for Hamlet.
A brilliant white light pierced the darkness while a sickening ringing flooded her ears. Another jolt, and the accompanying sensual assault, and suddenly she was thrust back to the realm of conscious thought.

Or something. I dunno, that was just me thinking of how to start...I'm rather self-critical, so tell me how the sounds.
"With all this power at its disposal,there is no question that the Beast Mothership is currently the most dangerous vessel in the Galaxy.It is not just a starship. It is a plague come for us all."-Somtaaw Fleet Intelligence.
"We are the Borg
Biochrome, it is excellent start to RP, if i was so talented i would join in, but i have no skills in that department
however i am a good judge of the quality of writing, and i find this to be greatly above average
keep it up and it will be a most interesting read......Clap
There was barely time to get acquainted with the cranky old dog before the Launch Operator jabbed the red button on his console, jamming the clumsy 40 ton hulk of the ancient space fighter down a launch tube barely accomodating its 20 meter wingspan.

Not that wings were a desirable implement of spaceflight, being a large "outboard" mass hindering rotational agility, but this old heavy interceptor's forte was massive forward firepower and a winged design was deemed favourable at that time for its simplicity and ease of refitting.

This was all the merrier for the High Road's handful of antiquated corvette-sized Avenger Mark Vs were able to rearm in a fraction of a time it took to replace the complex modular weapon systems of newer fighters, many of which were mounted at extremely odd angles greatly increasing their turnaround time despite their "practicality" of a compact spaceframe.

Hadat'ne Shara Soban grit her teeth as the electromagnetic catapult shoved Bulldog 66 at 8 'G's clear of the High Road's kilometre-long, million-tonne hulk sending her heavy fighter along with 6 surviving others again into a suicide run against vastly superior Vaygr opposition for the umpteenth time.

"Six-six to six one, I'm status green, forming up," recited Shara cooly, firing her RCS thrusters to parallel her outbound trajectory with that of the flight leader who was already barrelling towards the nearest Vaygr attack group at full burn, nuclear-electric drives and plasma afterburners a striking blue-white glow amid a storm of nuclear detonations as the battlecruiser's defense fields intercepted yet another wave of enemy missiles.

She watched as what was left of the High Road's incredulous counter-battery arsenal put up a literally solid wall of explosives and short range missiles against the hundred or so bomber-launched warheads but even the point-defense of a thousand-kiloton vessel, battle-scarred or not, was not enough as a dozen or so anti-starship missiles sailed past minimum interception range to deliver the final blow to the stricken warship, bathing her battered hull with the unstoppable fury of nuclear fire.
Edited by TelQuessir on 12-11-2008 17:45
Garou Soban forced open a door and found himself in what was once called the hangar. Now it was more like the aftermath of a hurricane - wires, tools, support beams, and hull plating strewn about. An Avenger Mk. V rested with it's nose in the air, leaning on a sagging catwalk and it's engines on the floor of the hangar. The bodies of many pilots, techs, and other crewmembers were strewn about like discarded dolls. Garou was struck dumb by the carnage for a second, until the groaning of the quickly destablizing hull brought everthing back into focus.

To his right was the Sutekh, still in its makeshift berthing with one of its brows still attached. The Jefet'ne hurried over to, and across the brow into the Linebacker frigate.

As he made his way to the bridge, he ran across several of the techs that had been repairing the Sutekh.

"Round up everyone who's still moderately alive and make ready for departure. Anyone too injured to work, get them to the medical bays."

The group of techs nodded and went their seperate ways, to find their comrades and ready the ship.

The Commander stepped into the dimly-lit bridge and looked around. Most of the displays were offline, and the only lighting was from emergency floor lights. He made his way to the commander's console and whispered, "By my standing and without contest, I am assuming command of the HGN Sutekh."

Immediately the bridge came alive, the displays lighting up, and the red battle lighting turning on. Over the ship's 1MC, the Sutekh's AI made an announcement: "HGN Sutekh, 08857-1, Captain Garou Soban."

Garou's own AI chirped and whispered to him, "The ship recognizes you as the CO, sir."

He nodded, and said, "Patch me through to the 1MC of the High Road."

Another chirp alerted him that it had been done, and he spoke:

"All hands, this is the XO. I have assumed command of the Linebacker Sutekh, and we are making ready for departure. If you can make it to the hangar deck and aboard the Sutekh, you are to do so now, under orders of the Captain. Vagyr infiltration frigates are on their way to board the High Road, and the Captain will be scuttling the ship. I say again, the Sutekh will be departing in 5 minutes, at which point the High Road will be scuttled. That is all."

His words echoed through the chaos of the passageways and compartments of the battered battlecruiser as he switched to the frigate's own 1MC.

"All hands, make ready for departure in 5 mikes. Crosscheck all airlocks, start up the main engines, and bring primary systems online."
Edited by biochrome on 13-11-2008 17:30
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