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Author Topic: Tide by turn  (Read 1324 times)

YeaokIlldoitlater

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Tide by turn
« on: January 07, 2022, 07:06:03 AM »

Eyes forward, front-facing. Sea dragon approach to the coast of Ixana continent confirmed 19 minutes ago, and I got stuck with the evac team on watch duty. Our group were based on the shore itself where the dragon approach was calculated, our contractor assured us they set up a harmonics route with a seperate mercenary company to lure the dragon this way rather than have it enter the continent via an unmarked cove or something dramatic like that. If our contractor was reliable. The bulk of the second group was rounding up the locals here and getting them out before they were annihilated, it happens often around these parts but this time someone wanted someone else saved. It's how these things usually go, maybe they were the scion of some mining tycoon who found their faith in the wilderness. We don't ask, but it's worth thinking about while we scramble around under the threat of impending doom.

"Gnarly fuckers those things" huffed Garret, a salty veteran of these waters, as he hauled the nth crate of military-grade 'leviathan-class' stun mines off the mouth of the dropship. "If they get close enough to smell ya they'll never forget it," he takes a moment to huff a little for show "you'll be the first to go if they ever catch wind of you again". Wiping his nose and looking for a towel he slings his gauss longshot over his back again as if to emphasise that might be him this time.

Eyes forward, once you see it, you only have a few minutes to scramble the civvie fleet airborne with enough distance before it is close enough to snatch a ship, its' crew, all the people it needs to save. A few measly minutes from a distant sighting, I swallow hard, my watchmate surely notices the weakness, knows as well as I do blanching rookies get us all killed.

"Any word on the orbital support?" Yelled the ops chief from his makeshift watchtower, calling commands in his shitted aftermarket comms unit because it's the one the locals use.

"Negative" Replied the scratchy voice, "Governments' got no official presence here anymore, haven't fixed the targeting relay from the last monsoon" A pause. "And the locals are farken' luddies who don't know how it works." 

"Shiiiit" the ops chief growled with some embellishment, kicking off the top of his rinky dink ladder as if here were trying to kill it. "Then we've got no time, I don't care if you scream or whip them but get them airborne lieutenant, NOW"

So no military support, that dropped our chances dramatically. I suppress the urge to stim my mounting anxiety. Sea dragons are fast, 20 minutes now is an alarmingly long time in the face of one of their approaches and yet no sighting, it could be...

"Sir" yelled a hoarse 'Bacon', he's from the nav team and it looks like from the corner of my eye he ran all the way here from the head of our deployment convoy with a quake detector the size of a washing machine to our amicable ops chief. "We've.." he wheezes "we've got category 5 sir, at the sea bed, it digs sir". Fark, we've already missed the sighting point. Just as he said that too, we see the sea seemingly lift up a mere 10km away from the beach.

Tsunami. Watch is over.


-------



If the whirlwind of cortisol and adrenaline wasn't enough to make you feel alive, it also happens to be standard practice for mercenaries operating in rural Arcadys to shoot up on luciferim derivatives. An illegal combat drug from Rubicon and generally not advised if you want to return from a fight alive moreso than win it. Still, these versions are generally much safer, as safe as a neurological stick of dynamite can be. It better be, because I'm on that stuff right now.

As soon as that wave was visible, we all popped our emergency performance packs in near unison and armed our 'leviathan-class' mines in a visual blur of movement, at this point it is hard to tell if this crap makes you blind or we really are moving that fast. But it seemed quick enough, the op's chief putting away the abusive sergeant persona and organising with ruthless efficiency. Our moves measured and calculated as we hauled our equipment on our dropships, leaving the surprises we hoped would buy us precious seconds as the sand began to shift and roil as the quake and presumably, the dragon causing it, reached us.
 
As luciferim took us further, more intimately, we began to see the natural flow of the world. We were one with it all, each other, the deep rupture that threatened to swallow us under the sands. The ground under our feet seemed to merge with the sensation that indeed we were the ground being mistreated so, resonance drills set up with haste and ripping the earth as they attempted to arrest the quake before it compromised takeoff. I winced, even while knowing it was needed. Boarding the ships, a comforting womb, railcannons cases popped out of the ceilings as the pilots hit the release and unfolded themselves in a second. Gunners in practiced efficiency took post at the base of the dropships, gunships already circling like vultures, having been on standby.

Worst case scenario we were loaded with thermokinetic fortress cracker missiles. Which could easily devastate the side of Ixana, revoke our licence and land us a court martial.

A court martial is probably better than death though. As the thought passed over me so did a huge rock, the scaled head beginning to push up from the ground a mere few hundred metres away, erupting sand and dust and sea. In half obscured majesty reaching high enough to block the midday star, the divine beast we must now hold. The barrage of our weapons began their rhythm as we hoped hell or ludd take us from this disaster of an operation.


-------



First the comms went dark from Group A, now I hear the Fleet open fire. "We gotta move NOW or you will be left behind" my voice was beginning to fade from the yelling, it's tough rounding up luddies. Not unlike sheep they tend to wander off in their own little huts and farmsteads instead of being organised, like civilised people. "Come on get in line" I shoved one of the stragglers into the processing queue under the roar of airship engines taking off, not caring about his protests.

31 people unaccounted, 2556 evacs succeeded and 3021 remain. It was already here.

1,322 units of food, 697 units of supplies still need securing or they'll starve in flight. It was already here.

It's here on the shores. Right now.

I suppressed the urge to vomit, backwards or not these people are in my hands now. 

Two mercs from the armoured division trudged past with at least two people in each arm, obviously struggling against this martial law imposed on them to save their lives. I spat the leaf I was chewing and break into a jog with my retinue of five veteran infantry, two I knew personally, to finalise sweeps with the logistics officer and get the fark out of here. Explosions in the distance don't cause me to pause, but highlight my daunting task.
 


-------





Company 4 and 7 presumed KIA , The dragon pushed through the craft carrying those units to get to seemingly Garret's ship. I think he expected to die here. Most of us were airborne now, firing some real heavy ordinance. Railcannons are effective deterrents to the extent that the dragon is not used to pain, bruises usually. Hellfire ground missiles leave a mark though and I've personally gone though half our ordinance. I remember once when I asked how you go about killing one of these things, still a cadet in training at Kyphax, I'll never forget how humiliated I was when my superiors all laughed at me. I get it now. Buzzed by luciferim-lite increasing my neuroplasticity a hundred fold, I was taking in the situation at a speed I felt was dangerous. Because I was quickly learning how hopeless it was.


Our guns no matter how advanced, or by who made them. Could only replicate a fraction of this power.



------

Edit: Happy to answer questions about why or how things are a certain way, I'm writing from an already established world and am not explaining the context behind it. Hence why for example someone might starve to death on a "simple" transcontinental flight, the planet is enormous. Everything in it is just way bigger than us humans, land of giants and all that. Ect, ask away (or don't)


To be cont.
« Last Edit: January 08, 2022, 02:10:25 AM by YeaokIlldoitlater »
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Histidine

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Re: Tide by turn
« Reply #1 on: January 07, 2022, 05:14:40 PM »

Was a nice read. I dunno why, but I liked the "As the thought passed over me so did a huge rock" line.

Since you offered: what existing setting is this based of? The dragon made me think of that one quest in the Persean Chronicles mod, but those weren't implied to be invulnerable or anything.
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YeaokIlldoitlater

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Re: Tide by turn
« Reply #2 on: January 07, 2022, 08:34:32 PM »

Haha, sorry I meant to say it's based on an existing setting being currently written seperate to this ongoing post. Sorry for the confusion!

Glad you liked it, continuation is in a few hours  :)
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YeaokIlldoitlater

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Re: Tide by turn
« Reply #3 on: January 08, 2022, 05:48:48 AM »

Update:

Standard operating time for a procedure like this one is estimated to be roughly 30-40 minutes in worst case scenarios, since beyond that is lovingly dubbed an "event horizon". Point of no return.

Time is 31 minutes... Helio 1, 4, 6 ,7 ,9 are down out of 12. 1 still has an active shooter, my implant whirrs in a higher resolution at the distance. It's Garret, pelting gauss rounds with his remaining arm on the downed bird. Looks like company 1 still has a survivor, most of one anyway. Hah. Our gunship is swinging around for another strafing run on the dragon, careful to wait for Helio 3 to hit first and disorient it with multiple firing angles. It's not stupid, but being the apex predator makes you weak in some ways, vain even. My artificials click around the situation at intense speeds as I pass over the rookies on 12 we gave ihulandril, or luciferim-lite. Stops them soiling themselves when it hits the fan, we told them we were doing it too snicker.

"Helio 5 we are on approach, prepare the storm boys because I do NOT want my ass bit." I nodded from the gunship display, the holoscreen projecting from 3's cockpit in turn. "Coordinates synchronised and on approach 3, you are clear to blast". My implants registered the data we got on the battle damage and in that instant we fired directly at the points to put that lizards' nerves on fire. The staccato of raging firebirds ripping through the air with the sound of a boiling kettle before subsonic blasts pound deep into the dragon's flesh keep me alive. A thrill of hurting a god, even if just a deep bruise. I too feel a dull ache from the response in my head, overuse. My implants are a shunt for operation coms' AI co-ordinator which is responding to my impulses with precognitive commands. I am operating beyond the human limit and my body can't handle it forever. 

3's cockpit display was blank. "Strike reported 3, I need your status"

...

"Gunner controls swing us around 3 is not resp- oh fark" 3 was caught by the tail and already gaining new wind as a projectile speeding right at our asses. The missiles had left the bay a fraction too late.

I hit the ejector.


------


It generally pays well to hedge your bets on the right pilot, Helio 5's Occam was a tech jockey. Dangerously outfitted with illegal mods we don't even know how he got the clearance for and he lacked the ability to think ahead. He just left the planning to op com and did all the quick button switching and target finding, a great killer. We can't kill this thing though. Now he's probably dead 'cos his brain bled from the stress, I wouldn't say stupid but perhaps a little too vain. scoffs Here I am on the gunner seat of the nursery boat where the damned ihulandril is wearing off. We've lost two rooks to small arm misfires and if it keeps up much longer we'll have to land before they go into psychosis, 34 farken minutes already. Ludd's hells why haven't the evac team responded?


------

"Group A this is Lieutenant Haynes from Evac, we stumbled on a pather nest and they've opened fire. Please advise your situation". Crouching behind the fallen heavy lifter I gripped my mag pistol tighter as a burst of bullet fire erupted from one of the reinforced huts. Smattering across the hull with a clang. We left all the heavy weapons with the catchment team over by the coast and now we have to fight armed farken militia.

No response either, probably someone switched off the com relay. I knew it was in a weird spot and it was because these guys had it.

Two of my guys got plugged already, the locals were hiding this bunch so we can't let the fighting get back to them or they may help the terrorists. I blind fire twice before being met with a withering shower of kinetic rounds, "fark me". I checked the sides of the small trench they dug between the building, just in time to see one of the pathers lean out to dive into the trench *crack*. They slide in with their spinal fluid leaking into the trench instead, score one for Mueller judging by the angle. A stupid tally given the situation, it was what? 35 minutes since mission start? A makeshift grenade rolls into view from my cover. Damn.


-------


Amongst the tides of fire and ruin before me in the great majesty of energies brought on by the glory of life, I felt a smaller explosion at my back. A tiny, insignificant pop in the face of this crescendo. I saw a gunship strike another at speed, felt the rush of the movement in my bones and body. The great end to their lives settling on my soul. I raise my Deldrac repeater and send another 40 rounds of heated anomalous energy rounds direct to the source of the inferno. My body alight with every round conjured from the depths of my channel to the stars and my challenge to this beast. We mankind have colonised the stars, masters of this galaxy. It stuck here on Arcadys will know no such glory, remnant battlestations vanquished at the cost of one hundred thousand souls above the skies of Eykyon. Oculain invaders on the frozen wastes of Phorus, annihilated by technology employed in our defence that which neither of us understand. This dragon, this natural disaster like the storms itself. Will too know temperance in the face of humanities' glory. I wash this beast in forgiveness, as it is trampled in our ascendance.

"Ludd fark this farkin' rook has washed out." Op chief Mandy was screaming again, can't keep anything together under pressure without yelling about it.

"If he goes schizo I'm killing him you understand? Get Evac team online or we'll have to start thinning the herd"

I felt sorry for coms, but I really wanted them to get this shite sorted too. Only 4 Helio units left. 37 minutes into the mission... The dragon screeches.

In triumph?


------

To be cont.

 

 
« Last Edit: January 09, 2022, 07:00:01 AM by YeaokIlldoitlater »
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YeaokIlldoitlater

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Re: Tide by turn
« Reply #4 on: January 09, 2022, 06:48:52 AM »

Update #2 (and time for another disorienting perspective shift):

 
"Asset Occam has relayed intelligence on target, anomalous activity on Helios' 3/8/12." Chimed the intercom, op com.

"Confirmed elimination of 3, Occam signals intent to eliminate other vulnerabilities."

"Assistance mandatory, divert operational resources"


...

The job was a hit on some suspect individuals then, at the cost of everyone else on the ground?

"Operator 3 to command, please confirm if necessary to eliminate unrelated mission elements."

"Necessary, Ixana must be cleared" came the the monotone.

I get why they cross checked my psych report, and all the NDA's. And the paycheck.


-------



"Group A we are under heavy duress, these pathers are highly trained. They're better than our guys for farks' sake" No response.

"Lieutenant Haynes is gone with his unit, we need clearance from command to leave with what we still have. Group A will have to get the memo" Called our heavy, rattling off pulser rounds at the heavily armoured pather base. Twisting energies just harmlessly splashing against the walls. The return fire blasting apart the remaining shield drones, as if they were depleted uranium rounds. From pathers? I shake my head.

39 minutes, we're leaving before we die in humiliation. "Use kinetic rounds only, we move back to the drop ships and push for Belichatl. There we signal command to get some ordinance to cleanse this nest and that farken lizard." I peek another look just befor-



-------

 


My legs gave in at some point, my combat vest arrested most of my fall out of the drop ship. Most of it. The world returning to some clarity, the gunner hit me with an injector. Whatever it was, I feel like I just dived headfirst into a centrifuge. Getting up is, hard.

Very hard. Holy shite, my organs feel like they're about to flood out in vomit. I vomited bile and my nutri packs, no organs.

"What the fark was that about" I hear the voice just above me, it's that pilot. The cyborg guy.

Vaguely I'm aware we are supposed to be holding back a sea dragon, I see my drop ship burning as it speeds towards the distant jungle floor. "We're farked aren't we?" I slurred a little, bile still dripping from my lip. I heard a tsk. A slight whirr, mag pistol.

I rolled before I even knew I was doing it, groaning from the effort. The heated magnetic round skimmed my head, my blood ran down my face quicker than my saliva. Funny how it's different, dodging the next round is easier as I rolled to stand. My cognitive ability from luciferim-lite still had a lot of sway, I can see the clicks in his head as the AI shunt adapts his movements too. AI shunt?

"isn't that *mag round whirs past my neck* illegal?" I had to keep his attention diverted so I can move freely, how did I know this? Next round skims my leg, he was quicker.

I hit the flash bomb on my kit and twist as the next round hits my elbow instead of my chest, I grit hard and toss it. Both of us closed our eyes before it even left my hand, except I measured the distance and flung my good leg towards his head with another twist. It connects with his arm, somehow he was able to read my body language before he shielded himself from the brain cooking visual explosive. The flash hits, I take two more hits to my arm as I dive backwards. I can't help but scream a little, the pain is so bad my body feels on fire and sick at the same time. The withdrawal catching up too as the world sways and twists.

"Your existence among others, was a mistake" Monotone? "You should know that not all within the illuminare approve of your creation, this is an effort to rectify you." I suppose he's telling me this because I gave him a little more trouble than he lets on, like the fact the flash bomb was thrown with a sulfide. That body is half paralysed already and the shunts are trying to override the nervous system. Even an AI should know this doesn't work. I can barely get up myself though.

Somewhat feebly, I reach around my back for my sidearm. I can see the body of Occam starting to sway as it already undergoes necrosis. The mag pistol limply drifting around as the AI using the brain shunt tries to manipulate the remaining muscles into some miracle position to finish the job. I grip the base, grope at it until it slides into my palm, trying to ignore the lightning pain running across my chest. Whip it around just to see Occam get decapitated, by a farkin dragon tail.

Shite.


````````

Shorter one today, because I need to make sure things actually slide into some coherent position. As much noise and nonsense you see here on the foreground there is an entire set of events happening simultaneously that culminates into this flashpoint. For it to move organically I have to write what is happening there before I post all this stuff. Anyway, thanks for reading.

-------

Edit: Was sick for two days eugh. Posting today.

To be cont.
« Last Edit: January 13, 2022, 01:17:14 AM by YeaokIlldoitlater »
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YeaokIlldoitlater

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Re: Tide by turn
« Reply #5 on: January 13, 2022, 07:08:52 AM »

Update #3 (Yes it keeps going):


To be perfectly clear, the horrifying sea dragons of Arcadys reach 1-3km across depending variant. In total since the collapse, there have been only 47 successful operations conducted in the presence of one. We came well recommended with some significant connections to the DeepStar Order, of which Arcadys is a key signatory. It was natural we'd do the job, understandable that we might fail, probable given the circumstances even. But somebody willed this, this was intentional. A convenient disaster for an inconvenient truth. Whatever that was. The one who could tell me was thankfully killed.

It leaves me no better off now though.



-------



The wreckage of the evac fleet could be seen by orbital scanners for at least 40 seconds until the scramblers kicked in, unefficient. I will need to review our operational logs later. Understandable as illumaire sponsored mercenaries they will be almost on par with the periphiares, but unacceptable.

My inbuilt subroutines checks our full operation spread, Bay side assassination 67% success. Evac dismantled 56%, we need some to get away. But at least two key elements evaded dispatch from asset "Occam" before termination. We lack other operational assets in the Ixana bay, possibility of encirclement method. But would need to eliminate third party assets conducting it afterwards. A click and whirr as hard drives sort new information from the server bank before it inevitably reaches my logic engine.

The cool blue of my coolant tank is disturbed and hisses as nutrients are deposited into my suspended logitator tank. Information fed directly to my vas aug array through a tangle of knotted cabling and power couples relentlessly updates with data and predictions to aid next-stage movements on an almost precognitive pace.

It is time to move the intercept for the evac fleet before they reach Belichatl, our carriers have been blockading the route the whole time. I chime the vocaliser for our operations centre...



-------



"Someone's started a bloody riot on bleedin Evac 4" Shouted ops com in disbelief, something about food distribution which didn't make sense. Most of the evacuees didn't even make it to a dropship before the evacuation zone was overrun by some kind of suicidal luddic militia. But the supplies were loaded first, I felt the knot drop in the pit of my stomach.

"None 'o this makes sense, we lost good men down there" I couldn't help but seethe, most of our command was killed on the ground. Our last ranking officer is on... Evac 4. I'm not superstitious but that lines up too good for bad luck. It smells downright rotten.

I tap ops com lightly "What if some o' them luddie killers went ahead with the refugees and snuck aboard?" I whispered, so my voice would not carry to the hold somehow where our human cargo was huddled. "We didn' have time to check em 'cos of all the gunfire"

I remind myself this is how those black ops teams operate, the uhh periphiares. But they only hunted rogue lumiares, not domestic humanitarian operations.

I shudder as the thought lingers with me, the ops chief seems to struggle with my revelation too. The Evac team had only a few heavy mechs and light assault weapons, we lost most of those. Our ship Evac 2 has none, no guns on board except the mounted ones in the cargo bay...

I follow the train of my thought with increasing dread, our pilot was a new transfer too... They all were. The intercom dings, 'support weapons release confirmed'.

No blastin' luddie op that's for sure, "the bridge" I snarled to ops com as the rising cries from the back is only drowned out by the shrieking gunfire.


-------


Apologies for the short one again, the next one will be a bonafide text wall to compensate.

Happy to answer any queries about background stuff relating to this or even about anything haha. Thanks for reading.

To be cont.
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YeaokIlldoitlater

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Re: Tide by turn
« Reply #6 on: January 15, 2022, 04:40:19 AM »

Two men burst into the cockpit to find the pilot standing with a neural link plugged into the helio console, with a laspistol trained at the door obviously abandoning the notion of sealing it in time. The first shot felled the faster man, the second shot severed the arm of the one who caught on. The third opened his heart as he charged, there was a fourth coming from the other direction. Misfire from the cargo bay, it was enough for the first man to recover and detach the neural link as the wounded pilot tried to regain his footing. His seizure upon the command console tipping the helio around. With the damage judged severe and his life wearing thin, the survivor of the skirmish decided to perform a tide by turn to get to the nearest semblance of safety. Fly to water level, tip one wing to anchor and force a sharp turn. Hope the gods allow you to fix your course.



Update #4: (soon)





« Last Edit: January 16, 2022, 03:11:28 AM by YeaokIlldoitlater »
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YeaokIlldoitlater

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Re: Tide by turn
« Reply #7 on: January 19, 2022, 06:18:00 AM »

It was a strange request,  a single emitter photon lance to be repurposed as a long range teleporter. With this ridiculous idea we could kidnap anyone we wanted, but Illuminaire Deryvich only wanted one. "Keep the signal nice and tight, only fire within atmo range. A breach could have serious consequences to the magnetosphere and, these are still my people. No matter who now claims to own this world." Personal requests and the authority to make them don't come often.

I sighed to suppress a shiver, this was entirely illegal. Most of us had doubles living our lives to keep off the attention, it was that kind of deal. The frigate Isanora dipped further towards the atmosphere at speed, ready to deploy the lances' relay package beneath the atmo bubble. "Sweep undetected Captain" called my nav officer. I nodded, we increased dip. The package carried by the launch and matching the increase due to inertia reduction, still aligned. Success chance was low of course, but given the sudden and violent change of power at Arcadys central command on Belichatl, Deryvich was most concerned about what he couldn't replace or rebuild.

"Our firing array is on target" "Make sure the relay team are in sync, I want them calling back after every check"  "if we crap this up we could destroy the ecosystem here." The bridge was abuzz with communication, we've done operations like this, but they were offensive strikes. In some way it needs the same surgical care, but we're not your go to evac team. With a relay in deteriorating orbit, we don't have time to even be sure. "Be ready to fire in two minutes" said Usid, Phorus grade operations assistant AI. "Obstruction to target highly probable, consider frontloading lance shot on activation" croaked the almost realistic sounding voice, like an audio glitch that was engineered to speak words. "72%". "Your orders Captain?" said my NCO, almost softly. A frontloaded lance shot will certainly kill the first thing it hits and most probably cascade over a wide area if it hits the dirt, but if there is indeed something in the way our target is dead.

I regret not bringing that bottle of Eykyon vintage with me. "With faith in our divine objective and in service to those willing to reach it, we shall trust Usids' prediction and load the shot" I put my hand over my heart for good measure, mostly to stop the shaking. May the Ascendant forgive me if I am wrong.



-------


To hell with it, a tide by turn is the only way. Back to the blasted shores of Ixana, "let the farken dragin have it, we just need ta land" I grumbled. The las cut deep into my shoulder, my arm felt likes it was hanging off the bone. Couldn't feel a thing, that pilot had good shite. Whoever he was. I avoided plugging into the console in case some shitted admin was connected to the other end and switched to manual control. As clearly as I could manage, set the course map to the sea level, slowly dipping the axis til the wing tapped the water and bumped up again. "Time for the plunge girl" I slammed the axial controls to one side, the ship made one creak in protest before we were all launched 90o degrees into the wall. The screech of the wing in the water discernible to probably even the other helios'. It was rattling hard oh damn, the inertia pressing me to the pilot chair was the only thing keeping me from bein'o ragdoll. At least that should stop them shooters cutting up this airship any more. As if that made a difference now.

As I managed to get the dying bird around, off the side view Evac 4 exploded. Lascannon trail following in wake, the size of a siege mortar variant. We just missed the anti dragon kill zone, that means military encirclement. "I'm actually gonna die here eh?" I groaned. I pulled the wing slowly out 'o the water while we were turning, to avoid mishaps like it breaking off and us all plunging at 400 km/h into an unbroken water surface. Startin to pant now, like it was hard to breathe. Didn even wanna look at my shoulder. Tenderised barbecue meat. Still, the wing came out only a little worse for wear. And we was heading back to the jaws we ran from. Crack, fark I forgot to seal the cargo doors.


-------


Ihulandril is said to mummify users from the inside out, from what I can tell it's probably true. I'm down to crawling now, already reached the jungle but the dragon has given up on Garret. The next point of interest is... me. It's enough to make me hurry, dragging my now useless arm on weak limbs. Yet I would have collapsed a long time ago if not for the knowledge of where to place my knees and palm to efficiently use my energy and speed. By all means, I shouldn't have gotten this far. Still, this was agony. I dribbled another stream of blood welling in my mouth, from who knows where. There's nowhere to go, but I keep pushing deeper into the canopy. Hoping at least the frustration of having to knock all the trees down will deter the dragon, although they're nothing like the great trees of a deep Arcadiesian jungle. They're thin, forlorn hopes. Sometimes they're all you have.

In a detached way, I could tell my mental degradation by the amount of times I tried to lift my dead arm on instinct. To swat a bug or ease my other, less aching arm. The deep dark green of my light armour muddied into some kind of maroon, a visual reminder for reality in my increasing delirium. The thumps as the dragon adjusts its' priorities haunting me, drumming into my head more than I was hearing it now, it was real enough. Marching a colossal pace I could not match. I keep pushing ahead in my awkward, slouchy drag. Somehow without having tripped or misstepped. 'Yet', I think as again I try to hit a leed off my face while it moves to bury into my flesh, with the wrong arm. All I have are the moments with me now, may the Ascendant guide me in salvation.



------


"May the Ascendant guide us in salvation" Chanted in unison. A sort of ritual here on the Isonara, some of us aren't particularly devout, but faith brings comfort given the circumstance. "Begin firing sequence" I called. The quiet focus of the bridge could drill holes in asteroids of rare ore, I pity the trespasser who disturbs them now. And myself included, I watched on, giving quiet confirmation where my permission was needed. This was the most delicate thing we've ever done, more precious than a newborn. A crescendo of sorts welling in the atmosphere as each division confirmed their end of the proceedings, each step closer to the inevitable cliff of flight or fall. I knew better than to think my place was above the whole. "Captain, surface scans indicate leviathan class entity moving rapidly upon target, it is unclear if it will reach the destination before we fire" said the sensors chief. I nodded again, that 72% at least had a face to it now. "We proceed as planned then." I said rather uselessly, we can't recant the lance charging.

The sensor ops frowned, as if he just saw something else. "There may also be a smaller entity, could be part of the unit our target was in." Now I frowned, "do we know if the frontloading covers two targets?" I queried Usid. "Captain Refic, a photon lance must be tuned to the specific task for each firing sequence. It will not operate beyond our parameters" sounded off Usid, like distorted gravel.  Could the 72% chance be actually a near certainty with the dragon, and more variable with this factor? I shook my head. I wonder what even dictates these chances...


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Those farken gun monkeys managed to crawl up to the staff hall, ain't brought the ship guns wit' em but they out number me 3-1. And they're right outside the cockpit.

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Update #4 Part 1
To be cont.


Auth note:
Apologies for the massive wait, had to draft up what I was going to be doing at the end here and how I was going to start incorporating greater lore elements to "make it make sense".
I knew what I wanted, but getting there was becoming a slog. And if it is for me, it will certainly be one for you.
So I took the time to make it a bit better.
There isn't much else to say other than I have a cohesive way to end this, but doing the busy work to get there that doesn't mean writing "and x did this and this and this, ok now y is doing this and said this and I feel this way, ok /scene change/" is probably the most important part. That takes focus, so it'll be getting that.


Expect the final part soontm. Thanks to all for reading this far. I'm grateful.
« Last Edit: January 19, 2022, 06:35:21 AM by YeaokIlldoitlater »
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