Exactly. And he'd rather they didn't find Earth as he has a fondness for his home planet. 
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[LP CYOA] Epic
- Thread starter treave
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So, one day you're just chilling along, wondering if you should get your connection back to your friendly Master, then suddenly you remember that the Masters were somehow founded by Diogenes "YOU ARE HE IS I AM DIOGENES CAMNA" Camna. You are sure the memory of this knowledge had not been in your mind a moment ago. It's like you've always known this fact... but that can't be right...
Now you don't know what you'll find when you reopen the link from your end.
Now you don't know what you'll find when you reopen the link from your end.
- Joined
- Jul 6, 2008
- Messages
- 11,370
CF Anhur
Dear Hoshikawa,
Your hypothesis regarding the employment of highly mobile general purpose CFs seems sound, but do bear in mind that these are to be piloted by humans. There is a limit to what flesh and blood can handle. As a proof-of-concept, I have asked the engineers to retrofit Prototype 3 with your recommendations. You may see how well it works out against the more balanced prototype in the coming mock battle.
As for the eye lasers, I am sure you are aware of the prevailing design dogma that has been carried over from the second generation of CFs. Within a CF, a pilot may utilize its sensors to obtain far more information than he would otherwise. However, a human's ability to process information is limited and they perform better if they are not overloaded with data. For that reason, the slave system was expanded to include head movements. By mimicking a human head and eye movement, a CF is able to gather visual information through its eye cameras on what the pilot himself would focus at, and display other information gathered through its sensors in the form of read-outs and auditory stimuli. This was deemed to be the most natural and effective way for a pilot to make sense of all the information gathered by the CF. It might sound counter-intuitive, but limiting the amount of data fed to the user actually increased combat efficiency by 60% amongst the majority of CF pilots.
Alright, back to the eye lasers.
There's no space for those in the head, which is filled with sensory equipment. Now stop wasting my time. At least you're not asking about drills this time.
Regards,
The Chief.
I'm not sure when I wrote this particular report, but I did send in a lot of papers at once a few weeks back. It looks like Prototype 3 has been transformed into a high-mobility testbed machine. I'm quite eager to check it out. Once the Empress and her entourage take their seats, the mock battle would begin.
“Do you know who's going to be piloting the prototypes?” I ask Tabitha.
“Some jocks from the 16th Egyptian Crocodiles. They're said to be the best pilots the Empire has to offer. There's three of them, one for each prototype.” she replies, taking back her tablet now that I'm done with it.
“We'll see what they can do, then. The ISC considers these to be third generation, right?”
“If you're referring to the prototypes, yeah. The Higashi are hoping they'll turn the tide of the war, since the only mechs they can deploy are barely first-gen equivalents. Shanghaied construction suits wouldn't be able to match a Vizala, let alone a Vizala II.”
“Leaping an entire generation... I wonder just how much they spent on this project.” Designing a cutting-edge CF from scratch is definitely not cheap. There have been more setbacks than there were breakthroughs, and it's practically a miracle that they'd even gotten to the mock battle stage today.
“Who knows?” shrugs Tabitha. “By the way, I think someone's calling you.” She's right. My phone's ringing. I answer it.
“Chatting up girls again? You really never change.” I can feel Kyrie's sharp smile over the phone. How did she know? I look around hurriedly, but she's nowhere to be seen.
“Shouldn't you be paying attention to the Empress?”
“You know I can't stand being alone with her for too long. That's why I wanted you here today.”
“She can't stand looking at me even more. Didn't you hear her just now? I'm sure those rumours of her wanting to kill me are true. What on earth possessed you to think this was a good idea?” I groaned.
“Hm. Well,” sniffed Kyrie. “If you are around, she'd be irritated.”
“That's it? You... you witch.” I think the comparison is pretty apt.
“It's too bad that you're a dog of the witch,” she gloats. “Now, I think it's about time for the show to start. You know all about these CFs, right?”
“Well, probably not all-”
“You should know enough. I'll have you explain them to mother.”
“What? Why me? I'm sure the chief of engineering is around and willing. He's far more qualified to do this.”
Tabitha raises her voice, interrupting us. “The Chief's in the toilet... has been since the morning. He says he's too nervous about today, and it's giving him bowel issues.”
“There you have it. It'll be a good chance to show her what you're made of. Get over to the stands quickly, I saved you a good seat.”
After Kyrie hangs up, I sigh. Tabitha pats me on the back before going off to do her work. I make my way to the stands where the VIPs would be sitting.
***
I never manage to get there. Forty five seconds later, I am flung away by an explosion, one of many. Two minutes later, I get up from a pile of rubble, my body aching all over. I taste blood in my mouth. The first thing I realize is that there is a huge mass lying near me. As my eyesight swims back into focus, I see it more clearly. A combat frame. It must be about fifteen meters tall. The CF is in a sitting position, with its back against the hangar wall. I must have been blown into the hangar containing it – this is one of the prototypes. For the first time, I get a look at a CF up close.
It has been painted in gaudy red, blue and green for the mock battle. The colours are not very enticing. The design language is definitely different from that of the Indus, who build their CFs ornately like the statues of their gods, or the UNS, who have adopted a boxy, utilitarian design. The collaboration of the ISC and the Higashi is a blend of curves and sharp edges, a streamlined design that appears to have been highly inspired by fighter jets. The head bore a binocular layout for its cameras, and it appears that they had added a mouthplate for what I can only guess to be aesthetic purposes.
As I step closer to it, my feet hit something... someone. Well, he was someone. He is now dead, very clearly so. A large metal pipe had broken off the wall and impaled him straight through the heart. I shiver. That could have been me. He is wearing a skin-tight, gray flight-suit – I recognize it as the carbon nanotube pilot outfit that has been designed for use with the prototypes. They were supposed to help ease interface with the slave system and increase resistance to G-forces. It looks like they're not much help against piercing damage, unfortunately. The dead man must be one of the test pilots.
“...anyone... there...” The crackling, intermittent voice comes from the fallen CF. I clamber up towards it, my muscles complaining as I do so. The chest of the frame is wide open, showing the empty pilot's seat within. The machine appears to be functioning. I read its designation: XF-25-3 'Anhur'. This is Prototype 3. What a coincidence.
“Come in. Report. Is there anyone there? Russ?” The crackling subsides and the clarity of the voice increases. It's a man's voice, young and brash.
I drop myself onto the seat and switch on the intercom. This should help me get a better idea of what is going on.
“Someone's here,” I reply. “What's going on?”
“Who are you? Identify yourself.”
It must be a military man. I do as he says, giving my name and identification number.
“What is a civilian like you doing here? Leave the CF now.” he barks.
“The pilot is dead.” I tell him.
I can hear whispers coming from the other end of the commline.
“That does not mean you are allowed in military hardware. Evacuate the area now.” I am no longer listening to him, however. There had been a big hole blown into the hangar's wall when I got up. There was now something standing in front of that hole. It was big, squat and boxy, like an upright tank given arms and legs. I recognize the design; a UNS 'Xolotl'. Though it appears to look like a brick wall, it doesn't move like one – the thing is deceptively nimble.
"How did it get in here?" I wonder. But there's no time for idle thoughts.
A blocky hand moves up, pointing the barrel of a 60 mm machine gun at me.
The person on the line is still shouting at me to evacuate. Yeah, right. If I get out right now I'll be blown to bits. I hit the button to close the cockpit. The Xolotl fires as I do so, but its aim is off. The bullets tear the wall on my right to pieces. The pilot of the Xolotl compensates for the recoil almost immediately. I feel the CF I am in shake as it is hit in the right arm. There's no time to waste – I grab the floating levers on both sides of the cockpit. The slave system engages, tracking the movements of my arms and head.
“Do not pilot the frame. This is a felony. Power down and get out of the frame.”
Ignoring the voice, I step on the pedals of the pilot seat. Anhur gets up, executing the macro command to rise. The movement is ponderous; the sensitivity is set too low. I have to exert myself just to try moving out of the line of fire. Luckily, even though Prototype 3 is designated as a high-mobility unit, it still carried enough armour to survive a 60 mm peashooter. I can't just sit here all day taking hits, though. Already the damage warnings are flashing – the armour is breaking away. I struggle to move another step; Anhur's arms are already cracking from attempting to block the shots.
“Civilian, what are you doing? I repeat, get out of the frame.” That guy's still at it.
It's impossible for me to operate the mech if the sensitivity is so low.
It looks like I don't have a choice. My ability won't be of much help right now, but I have something else I can do. The slave system has probably been calibrated for the test pilot, a man with bigger mass and body strength than I have, and probably someone used to exerting himself bravely in combat. I operate differently. I need a highly sensitive system that can respond to my subtlest gestures. It's a good thing that they outsourced part of the CF's OS to me. I have Yua find an exploit quickly and reset the system.
“Do not engage in combat. I repeat, do not engage in combat!” The voice was beginning to shout. I wonder just who he is.
Within three seconds the controls loosen, but those precious seconds are enough for the Xolotl to bear down on me, swinging a large mace designed to crush CF bodies. Those precious seconds are also enough for the slave system to calibrate its settings to my needs, and now that I can move the CF freely...
I kick the thrusters into overdrive to evade the Xolotl.
A tremendous force slams me back against the seat instantly, as I smash through the hangar's roof and soar into the air. Apparently the Chief's interpretation of high-mobility is to strap on more propulsion jets than any one could possibly need. This thing is horribly fast. If I continue on this course I'll crash against the colony wall. Gritting my teeth, I slam down on the pedals and kick them outwards. The verniers on Anhur's feet flare, moving them out and up. This turns the CF upside down in a weird feet-first somersault – the propulsion units on the back are now firing in the opposite direction, halting my flight in mid-air. I cut the power to the thrusters and begin falling to the ground, pulled down by the 1/3rds normal gravity. I can see the Xolotl marching out from the wrecked hangar. It grabs the long, large tube sticking out vertically from its back and pulls it into an angle. Again, there's a barrel aiming at me – that's a 280 mm rocket launcher.
If that thing hits me I'm screwed, no matter how much armour I have.
***
A. My mobility will ensure that the rockets miss their mark. I dash towards the Xolotl to close into melee range, where I can use my mono-molecular daggers.
B. I should be able to take out the enemy before it fires. I equip the particle beam rifle and shoot at the Xolotl first.
C. The best use of mobility is to run! I flee from the Xolotl. I'm not a trained pilot, I have no business getting into fights.
Dear Hoshikawa,
Your hypothesis regarding the employment of highly mobile general purpose CFs seems sound, but do bear in mind that these are to be piloted by humans. There is a limit to what flesh and blood can handle. As a proof-of-concept, I have asked the engineers to retrofit Prototype 3 with your recommendations. You may see how well it works out against the more balanced prototype in the coming mock battle.
As for the eye lasers, I am sure you are aware of the prevailing design dogma that has been carried over from the second generation of CFs. Within a CF, a pilot may utilize its sensors to obtain far more information than he would otherwise. However, a human's ability to process information is limited and they perform better if they are not overloaded with data. For that reason, the slave system was expanded to include head movements. By mimicking a human head and eye movement, a CF is able to gather visual information through its eye cameras on what the pilot himself would focus at, and display other information gathered through its sensors in the form of read-outs and auditory stimuli. This was deemed to be the most natural and effective way for a pilot to make sense of all the information gathered by the CF. It might sound counter-intuitive, but limiting the amount of data fed to the user actually increased combat efficiency by 60% amongst the majority of CF pilots.
Alright, back to the eye lasers.
There's no space for those in the head, which is filled with sensory equipment. Now stop wasting my time. At least you're not asking about drills this time.
Regards,
The Chief.
I'm not sure when I wrote this particular report, but I did send in a lot of papers at once a few weeks back. It looks like Prototype 3 has been transformed into a high-mobility testbed machine. I'm quite eager to check it out. Once the Empress and her entourage take their seats, the mock battle would begin.
“Do you know who's going to be piloting the prototypes?” I ask Tabitha.
“Some jocks from the 16th Egyptian Crocodiles. They're said to be the best pilots the Empire has to offer. There's three of them, one for each prototype.” she replies, taking back her tablet now that I'm done with it.
“We'll see what they can do, then. The ISC considers these to be third generation, right?”
“If you're referring to the prototypes, yeah. The Higashi are hoping they'll turn the tide of the war, since the only mechs they can deploy are barely first-gen equivalents. Shanghaied construction suits wouldn't be able to match a Vizala, let alone a Vizala II.”
“Leaping an entire generation... I wonder just how much they spent on this project.” Designing a cutting-edge CF from scratch is definitely not cheap. There have been more setbacks than there were breakthroughs, and it's practically a miracle that they'd even gotten to the mock battle stage today.
“Who knows?” shrugs Tabitha. “By the way, I think someone's calling you.” She's right. My phone's ringing. I answer it.
“Chatting up girls again? You really never change.” I can feel Kyrie's sharp smile over the phone. How did she know? I look around hurriedly, but she's nowhere to be seen.
“Shouldn't you be paying attention to the Empress?”
“You know I can't stand being alone with her for too long. That's why I wanted you here today.”
“She can't stand looking at me even more. Didn't you hear her just now? I'm sure those rumours of her wanting to kill me are true. What on earth possessed you to think this was a good idea?” I groaned.
“Hm. Well,” sniffed Kyrie. “If you are around, she'd be irritated.”
“That's it? You... you witch.” I think the comparison is pretty apt.
“It's too bad that you're a dog of the witch,” she gloats. “Now, I think it's about time for the show to start. You know all about these CFs, right?”
“Well, probably not all-”
“You should know enough. I'll have you explain them to mother.”
“What? Why me? I'm sure the chief of engineering is around and willing. He's far more qualified to do this.”
Tabitha raises her voice, interrupting us. “The Chief's in the toilet... has been since the morning. He says he's too nervous about today, and it's giving him bowel issues.”
“There you have it. It'll be a good chance to show her what you're made of. Get over to the stands quickly, I saved you a good seat.”
After Kyrie hangs up, I sigh. Tabitha pats me on the back before going off to do her work. I make my way to the stands where the VIPs would be sitting.
***
I never manage to get there. Forty five seconds later, I am flung away by an explosion, one of many. Two minutes later, I get up from a pile of rubble, my body aching all over. I taste blood in my mouth. The first thing I realize is that there is a huge mass lying near me. As my eyesight swims back into focus, I see it more clearly. A combat frame. It must be about fifteen meters tall. The CF is in a sitting position, with its back against the hangar wall. I must have been blown into the hangar containing it – this is one of the prototypes. For the first time, I get a look at a CF up close.
It has been painted in gaudy red, blue and green for the mock battle. The colours are not very enticing. The design language is definitely different from that of the Indus, who build their CFs ornately like the statues of their gods, or the UNS, who have adopted a boxy, utilitarian design. The collaboration of the ISC and the Higashi is a blend of curves and sharp edges, a streamlined design that appears to have been highly inspired by fighter jets. The head bore a binocular layout for its cameras, and it appears that they had added a mouthplate for what I can only guess to be aesthetic purposes.
As I step closer to it, my feet hit something... someone. Well, he was someone. He is now dead, very clearly so. A large metal pipe had broken off the wall and impaled him straight through the heart. I shiver. That could have been me. He is wearing a skin-tight, gray flight-suit – I recognize it as the carbon nanotube pilot outfit that has been designed for use with the prototypes. They were supposed to help ease interface with the slave system and increase resistance to G-forces. It looks like they're not much help against piercing damage, unfortunately. The dead man must be one of the test pilots.
“...anyone... there...” The crackling, intermittent voice comes from the fallen CF. I clamber up towards it, my muscles complaining as I do so. The chest of the frame is wide open, showing the empty pilot's seat within. The machine appears to be functioning. I read its designation: XF-25-3 'Anhur'. This is Prototype 3. What a coincidence.
“Come in. Report. Is there anyone there? Russ?” The crackling subsides and the clarity of the voice increases. It's a man's voice, young and brash.
I drop myself onto the seat and switch on the intercom. This should help me get a better idea of what is going on.
“Someone's here,” I reply. “What's going on?”
“Who are you? Identify yourself.”
It must be a military man. I do as he says, giving my name and identification number.
“What is a civilian like you doing here? Leave the CF now.” he barks.
“The pilot is dead.” I tell him.
I can hear whispers coming from the other end of the commline.
“That does not mean you are allowed in military hardware. Evacuate the area now.” I am no longer listening to him, however. There had been a big hole blown into the hangar's wall when I got up. There was now something standing in front of that hole. It was big, squat and boxy, like an upright tank given arms and legs. I recognize the design; a UNS 'Xolotl'. Though it appears to look like a brick wall, it doesn't move like one – the thing is deceptively nimble.
"How did it get in here?" I wonder. But there's no time for idle thoughts.
A blocky hand moves up, pointing the barrel of a 60 mm machine gun at me.
The person on the line is still shouting at me to evacuate. Yeah, right. If I get out right now I'll be blown to bits. I hit the button to close the cockpit. The Xolotl fires as I do so, but its aim is off. The bullets tear the wall on my right to pieces. The pilot of the Xolotl compensates for the recoil almost immediately. I feel the CF I am in shake as it is hit in the right arm. There's no time to waste – I grab the floating levers on both sides of the cockpit. The slave system engages, tracking the movements of my arms and head.
“Do not pilot the frame. This is a felony. Power down and get out of the frame.”
Ignoring the voice, I step on the pedals of the pilot seat. Anhur gets up, executing the macro command to rise. The movement is ponderous; the sensitivity is set too low. I have to exert myself just to try moving out of the line of fire. Luckily, even though Prototype 3 is designated as a high-mobility unit, it still carried enough armour to survive a 60 mm peashooter. I can't just sit here all day taking hits, though. Already the damage warnings are flashing – the armour is breaking away. I struggle to move another step; Anhur's arms are already cracking from attempting to block the shots.
“Civilian, what are you doing? I repeat, get out of the frame.” That guy's still at it.
It's impossible for me to operate the mech if the sensitivity is so low.
It looks like I don't have a choice. My ability won't be of much help right now, but I have something else I can do. The slave system has probably been calibrated for the test pilot, a man with bigger mass and body strength than I have, and probably someone used to exerting himself bravely in combat. I operate differently. I need a highly sensitive system that can respond to my subtlest gestures. It's a good thing that they outsourced part of the CF's OS to me. I have Yua find an exploit quickly and reset the system.
“Do not engage in combat. I repeat, do not engage in combat!” The voice was beginning to shout. I wonder just who he is.
Within three seconds the controls loosen, but those precious seconds are enough for the Xolotl to bear down on me, swinging a large mace designed to crush CF bodies. Those precious seconds are also enough for the slave system to calibrate its settings to my needs, and now that I can move the CF freely...
I kick the thrusters into overdrive to evade the Xolotl.
A tremendous force slams me back against the seat instantly, as I smash through the hangar's roof and soar into the air. Apparently the Chief's interpretation of high-mobility is to strap on more propulsion jets than any one could possibly need. This thing is horribly fast. If I continue on this course I'll crash against the colony wall. Gritting my teeth, I slam down on the pedals and kick them outwards. The verniers on Anhur's feet flare, moving them out and up. This turns the CF upside down in a weird feet-first somersault – the propulsion units on the back are now firing in the opposite direction, halting my flight in mid-air. I cut the power to the thrusters and begin falling to the ground, pulled down by the 1/3rds normal gravity. I can see the Xolotl marching out from the wrecked hangar. It grabs the long, large tube sticking out vertically from its back and pulls it into an angle. Again, there's a barrel aiming at me – that's a 280 mm rocket launcher.
If that thing hits me I'm screwed, no matter how much armour I have.
***
A. My mobility will ensure that the rockets miss their mark. I dash towards the Xolotl to close into melee range, where I can use my mono-molecular daggers.
B. I should be able to take out the enemy before it fires. I equip the particle beam rifle and shoot at the Xolotl first.
C. The best use of mobility is to run! I flee from the Xolotl. I'm not a trained pilot, I have no business getting into fights.
B.
Edit: One question. Will our mecha be able to execute multiple simultaneous defensive deep strikes?
Edit: One question. Will our mecha be able to execute multiple simultaneous defensive deep strikes?
The CF reacts to Senya's movements. Senya has as far as I'm aware never been trained in the use of ranged weaponry, aside from improvised tentacle-based weapons. He has however been drilled by close combat specialists.
Therefore, it seems to me his best bet is to try and melee that fucker.
A
Therefore, it seems to me his best bet is to try and melee that fucker.
A
ScubaV
Prophet
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- Feb 20, 2011
- Messages
- 1,022
Makes sense to me. A
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- Dec 29, 2011
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- 2,835
On second thoughts, I agree aleam iacis. We can do ranged using our awesome powers anyway.
B
Stygian Lurker
Liturgist
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- 577
bAndwagon
aleam iacis
Liturgist
- Joined
- Nov 4, 2012
- Messages
- 115
Even though melee always wins votes and will probably win here,
B. Ranged is smarter and we can't deal with G forces well(which we have to deal with if we accelerate towards the enemy plus more for dodging), and our ability is of no use. Let's just use our high reflexes(to dodge the missiles), brains, and Yua abusing the targeting systems.
B. Ranged is smarter and we can't deal with G forces well(which we have to deal with if we accelerate towards the enemy plus more for dodging), and our ability is of no use. Let's just use our high reflexes(to dodge the missiles), brains, and Yua abusing the targeting systems.
Zwist
Learned
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- Jun 6, 2012
- Messages
- 236
C. Because hitting something head on is the brutes choice. (and running away surely paves the way for our personal legend!)
a cut of domestic sheep prime
Guest
Let's see if picking C (ie, the have our cake and eat it too option) will spectacularly screw us over after all...
A
A
Baltika9
Arcane
- Joined
- Jun 27, 2012
- Messages
- 9,611
How much does Senya know about his parents (origins, history of the family, jobs, associates, etc...) and his own origin (did he ever have reason to believe or suspect he isn't their child)?
Also, I'm assuming that the Master Shulgi had contact with and turned him into a good guy
)
In before Shulgi actually fell in love with her and that's why he became a good guy. "The Power of Love," feh.
Also, I'm assuming that the Master Shulgi had contact with and turned him into a good guy
was more of a "Mother Earth/Good Queen" character, am I correct in this assumption? (and after hearing of Ean's exploits and deeds, not to mention how much of a MAN he is, is coming here to personally "persuade"/wed him, one way or another; which is funny, because I somehow suspect that Ean is now "Father Earth," "wedded" to Mother Science
)In before Shulgi actually fell in love with her and that's why he became a good guy. "The Power of Love," feh.
- Joined
- Jul 6, 2008
- Messages
- 11,370
BAndwagon victory.
***
First Kill
The Xolotl fires its rocket launcher. The explosive payload flies towards me in a straight line, trailing smoke and fire. I try to align my verniers for evasive maneuvers, racking my mind to remember what I know about the combat frame's controls. With a roar, Anhur's thrusters come to life, pushing it away from the incoming rocket – it misses its target and explodes against the far colony wall. They clearly have no concern over damage to Neo Heliopolis.
“Civilian, cease and desist!” The voice was still at it. I flick off the commline – it's distracting.
“Master, watch your speed!” warns Yua.
“I know, dammit!”
Again, I fail to control the throttle well, and go too fast. This really wasn't what I had in mind when I suggested mobility. I'm going to crash into something if this keeps up, perhaps even vomit blood from all the havoc the G-forces are wreaking on my body. As I plummet towards the ground, the Xolotl runs towards me with an ungainly gait, bouncing up in the air due to the low gravity. I engage the auto-balancing system, allowing Anhur to flip around and land feet first. Even so, the momentum carries it skidding backwards and the frame stumbles, the auto-balancing system attempting to keep it upright as it backpedals. The Xolotl reaches me, its mace ready to crush my cockpit.
“Yua, I'll have the daggers!” I decide to have Yua work on picking out what macro commands I need; there's simply too many macros for me to figure out which one to select in the middle of combat. Anhur was meant to be piloted by trained aces from the ISC who have spent hundreds of hours in simulation training, not some civilian who only had a bit part in its design. Executing the macro to equip close combat weapons, Anhur pulls the mono-molecular daggers out from the storage compartments in its armguards. The heavy mace begins its deadly swing.
I have an idea on how to evade it, but unfortunately piloting a CF requires a combination of understanding the movements executed by the macro commands and mastering the slave system. I cannot pilot Anhur as if it is an extension of my own body... not yet, at least. The ability to get a CF to do exactly as its pilot wills is one of the hardest learning curves to overcome.
I try executing one of the moves Butterfield taught me to disarm an opponent. It doesn't work very well. Anhur's feet get tied up by my arm movements and falls to the ground in a very undignified manner. By a stroke of luck, this puts me out of harm's way, so I can't complain too much. The mace crashes into the ground right besides me, creating a small crater as bits of rock and asphalt fly up. My CF automatically recovers and gets back on its feet – one of the most important functions for rookie pilots, as climbing up from a prone position is an extremely difficult maneuver to make. Just as I get up, I am flung violently to the sides by a tremendous blow. The pilot of the Xolotl managed to reach me before the automatic recovery was complete and nail me with his mace.
“Master, the right arm is barely functioning.” says Yua worriedly as Anhur crashes into the ground. One of its daggers hits the ground point down, sticking into the tarmac. Great. Again, my CF attempts to execute the automatic recovery maneuver. This time I can see the Xolotl raising that blasted mace high above its head, ready to crush Anhur once and for all.
“Yua, can we cancel the auto-balance?”
“Forcing my way through, Master – done.” It takes only a millisecond. Anhur begins to fall back to the ground as the auto-balancing system is shut off, but that's just what I want. I slam the thrusters into full. Anhur accelerates forward at a low angle to the ground, slamming into the Xolotl right shoulder first. I bring its left arm forward and jam the mono-molecular dagger into the Xolotl's side, grabbing onto the Xolotl with the damaged right. As Anhur picks up speed, its propulsion units sending it thundering across the colony, I'm pushed flat back into the seat. Without a proper pilot suit it's painful to fly at these speeds. I bring the UNS frame with me as I smash through several buildings. Moving my arm is hard – at high speeds I'm meeting plenty of resistance, but I manage to carve up the Xolotl anyway with the dagger I had pushed into it. I twist my wrist. The knife's edge slices upwards vertically.
“Master, be careful!” shouts Yua suddenly. I realize, just in time, that I'm perilously close to cutting into the miniature fusion reactor that powers the Xolotl. It probably wouldn't malfunction in a particularly volatile way if I don't hit it directly with explosives or particle weaponry, but I'm not taking the chance. I'm practically hugging the Xolotl after all; that's far too close for comfort. I pull my arm back. Anhur responds similarly, and the dagger passes through the cockpit of the enemy CF. Anhur's right arm finally gives way, the robotic fingers losing their grip on the Xolotl, and it crashes to the ground below me, rolling backwards. I skid to a stop myself, cutting down Anhur's thrusters. I'm feeling a bit queasy, like my internal organs have just been thrown into a blender.
The Xolotl isn't moving at all. I can see smears of red on my dagger. Well, being hit by a knife this big would be lethal for any human. I take a breather, wondering where Kyrie and the others are... and the CF's sensors warn me of multiple target locks on my frame. I crane my head to find the other enemies – Anhur's head turns with me, its cameras picking up three more Xolotls heading my way. I should've known it wouldn't be so easy; a lone UNS combat frame straying into the colony all the way out here is impossible.
Three enemies. I'm lucky I didn't use my ability too soon. I could barely control Anhur well enough to fight one Xolotl, let alone three. If I activate it now, I might be able to come out ahead... or I could abandon Anhur and flee. Either way, I would have to decide quickly.
Before I could make my decision, though, the Xolotls stop in their tracks. A second later, they retreat, making powered jumps across the colony. My sensors register an approaching warship from behind, hovering inside the colony's massive cylinder. I recognize the identification: the Kaguya-hime, the Higashi-designed battleship. It is part of the Higashi-ISC CF project, conceptualized as a frontline vessel that would serve as a specialized carrier for combat frames with armaments designed to support a mech assault.
The Kaguya-hime is hailing me. They are not amused at my antics.
***
The punch hurts. I'm knocked to the ground, falling on my behind.
“Do you think you're a hero?” The man who punched me is the captain of the Kaguya-hime, a man who looks like a grizzled veteran. Somehow, he reminds me of Shulgi and Butterfield. Captain Grimrock – I still can't believe he's actually called that; one of these days I should check if that's actually his real name – has an enormous, bushy beard covering a craggy face. His fists are as hard as his looks, and his demeanour absolutely rocky.
“Captain, let me handle this, since it pertains to CF piloting.” Another man interrupted the captain's punishment – his dark hair and tanned skin, together with his pilot outfit and insignia, means he is probably one of the test pilots. He is the man that I had heard nagging me over the comms. The pilot turns to me, his coal-black eyes blazing with contempt. “Civilian Hoshikawa, you disobeyed my direct orders and engaged in combat with the enemy, causing inestimable damage to the colony and to the precious prototype CF. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“The enemy would have destroyed Prototype 3 if I was not there.” I reply. That was the truth. If I had fled, the Xolotl would have been able to dismantle the prototype with ease. As it turns out, they had succeeded in destroying the other prototypes while they were unpiloted – Prototype 3 is the only one left.
“As the leader of the 16th Egyptian Crocodiles, I am the highest ranking pilot here, meaning that I have tactical authority over all CF in combat. The fact remains that you disobeyed my orders, civilian.”
Well, if I'm a civilian, I'm not really obliged to follow orders from him, do I? The ISC is still not in a state of war. I don't point it out, though... from looking at the test pilot leader, he wouldn't appreciate it if I did.
“He's a civilian, Naim. He's not obliged to follow your orders.” Kyrie spoke up. She had been watching the spectacle quietly from the sidelines all this while.
“This is military business, Kyrie. Please do not interfere.” said Naim politely but firmly. Did he just address the Princess of the Shinar by her given name? He must not be some regular jock.
“Senya saved Prototype 3 from certain destruction. I think that more than balances out his obstinate, ill-advised, risky and thoughtless behaviour.”
I thank Kyrie inwardly for speaking up for me, but I'm not sure she described me in a very positive light. Naim doesn't seem sure what to say, though he is staring at her. He is about to say something, but shakes his head.
“I don't believe the rumours are true, Kyrie, but you're not making things easier. So it's like that?”
“That's no concern of yours.” she retorts, a bit too quickly. Her face seems slightly flushed.
“The next person to start some relationship drama on my ship gets to be tied to the bow. I don't give a damn who you are, but I won't be having any of this.” booms the captain suddenly. “Lieutenant Naim, shut up. Princess, I appreciate your loyalty to your subordinate, but the fact remains he disobeyed a military officer in a battle.” Then, he turns to me.
“I asked you a question just now. Do you think you're some sort of hero?”
***
A. I think so.
B. I don't think so.
***
I keep my thoughts to myself. I once read that the proper answer in this case, regardless of my personal feelings, would be “No, sir.” I say that. Captain Grimrock laughs. “The standard reply, huh? Where did you get that from?”
“The Enlisted Man's Primer on How to Survive Interacting with Officers and Other Unexpected Hazards. Sir.” I reply without blinking. Captain Grimrock's eyes gleam. It appears that he's familiar with the book. He gives a nod of approval.
“On the field, results are all that matter, but remember that even the most experienced soldier may be mistaken if he does not have all the information that his commanding officer knows.” He stops. I can tell that he's waiting for a rebuttal, and I give it to him. “Knowing something doesn't make you automatically the best person to interpret it. The commanding officer may get his orders wrong.”
Again, the captain nods. “Therefore, you have to reconcile the orders you are given with your gut instinct. You were probably right to get into the prototype. It worked out well both for you and the machine. But once inside, you disobeyed orders to not engage in combat. That's a mistake, son. There's people at command who know more telling you explicitly not to do something, though it might have sounded stupid to you at the moment. You should have found a way to avoid battle until you could get a better idea about what is going on. You could've done that, couldn't you?”
I nod. I probably could have, with Anhur's high mobility.
“Well, you lucked out, that's all I'm gonna say. Lesson over, kid.” All of a sudden, he swings another fist at me. I'm taken totally by surprise. For the second time, I'm knocked down to the floor. “Make sure you remember that. Now everyone get back to work!” shouts the captain.
As I clamber to my feet, I see Kyrie discussing something with Naim at the corner of the bridge. They definitely know each other from before this. At the same time, I spot the Empress and the Higashi VIPs walking towards the captain. It looks like they survived too.
“Captain, the UNS warship 'Ghostlot' has given us an ultimatum. We are to surrender the Kaguya-hime and the last prototype machine to them.” said the Empress.
“Are we going to do that, Your Majesty?” says the captain calmly. I somehow get the feeling he wouldn't do that even if the Emperor himself commanded it, despite all his talk about following orders.
“Of course not. What we will do is delay negotiations, and then hold out here to await rescue. I've already sent out notice to Moon L3. Though the Neo Shinar Empire is not at war yet, we will be soon, and a dozen warships will be mobilized to rescue us.” remarked the Empress with confidence.
“I'm not sure I like the idea of that,” mutters Captain Grimrock. They continue discussing their options.
I whisper to Yua. “Get me what you can from the colony's cameras and records. I want to know what has been going on.”
“Right on it, Master.”
Apparently we had a nasty case of turncoats. Some of our engineers had been shipping in the Xolotl parts piece by piece in secret; the CF I fought had been assembled here. UNS agents had then snuck into the colony when the time was right. This had been discovered from examination of the Xolotl's wreckage and its logs. Still, I thought the ISC's intelligence and counter-intelligence operations were unsurpassed. Either there were some serious misstep that led to this blunder, or there is someone in the higher ranks with something to gain by allowing it to happen. Given what I know about the board of directors, that doesn't seem too far-fetched either.
The Ghostlot is stationed about thirty kilometres away from the colony at the moment. The three Xolotls had been abandoned at the port, the agents making their getaway on a shuttle towards the UNS warship after a shootout. That's no surprise as Xolotl combat frames are ground-specialists not outfitted for space combat. A warship like the Ghostlot would carry a complement of 5 Centeotls, the space equivalent of a Xolotl, in addition to 2 heavy particle beam turrets, 2 front-facing linear railguns, 6 swivel-mounted anti-fighter machine guns and 2 torpedo launchers as its primary armaments.
I don't have full access to the Kaguya-hime's specifications, but it shouldn't lose in a shootout with the Ghostlot. The problem is with the CF gap – we only have one, the Anhur, against the Ghostlot's five Centeotls. In a pinch, we could probably outfit some of the construction mechs with weaponry, but they would be mere fodder against combat frames. I pore through the map of the colony and the surrounding space. Then, I check the astronomical charts. Aha. That's a stroke of luck there. If we were to launch a surprise attack within the next hour...
***
A. I bring up my plan to the captain. The Kaguya-hime will break through the Ghostlot's blockade and make its way for Earth without waiting for rescue. If the objective is to escape, not to destroy the enemy, there is a chance to succeed. Since the enemy already knows about this colony and the prototypes, it would probably be more prudent to be on the move whenever we can.
B. I keep quiet. Speaking up would mean going against the Empress's plans to stall for time and wait for rescue. It is not my place to think up strategies and tactics; I am just a civilian after all. Besides, attempting to escape is reckless behaviour, and I've had enough of that for now. Blowing a hole in the colony's wall with the Kaguya-hime's guns is probably too much to ask for anyway.
***
First Kill
The Xolotl fires its rocket launcher. The explosive payload flies towards me in a straight line, trailing smoke and fire. I try to align my verniers for evasive maneuvers, racking my mind to remember what I know about the combat frame's controls. With a roar, Anhur's thrusters come to life, pushing it away from the incoming rocket – it misses its target and explodes against the far colony wall. They clearly have no concern over damage to Neo Heliopolis.
“Civilian, cease and desist!” The voice was still at it. I flick off the commline – it's distracting.
“Master, watch your speed!” warns Yua.
“I know, dammit!”
Again, I fail to control the throttle well, and go too fast. This really wasn't what I had in mind when I suggested mobility. I'm going to crash into something if this keeps up, perhaps even vomit blood from all the havoc the G-forces are wreaking on my body. As I plummet towards the ground, the Xolotl runs towards me with an ungainly gait, bouncing up in the air due to the low gravity. I engage the auto-balancing system, allowing Anhur to flip around and land feet first. Even so, the momentum carries it skidding backwards and the frame stumbles, the auto-balancing system attempting to keep it upright as it backpedals. The Xolotl reaches me, its mace ready to crush my cockpit.
“Yua, I'll have the daggers!” I decide to have Yua work on picking out what macro commands I need; there's simply too many macros for me to figure out which one to select in the middle of combat. Anhur was meant to be piloted by trained aces from the ISC who have spent hundreds of hours in simulation training, not some civilian who only had a bit part in its design. Executing the macro to equip close combat weapons, Anhur pulls the mono-molecular daggers out from the storage compartments in its armguards. The heavy mace begins its deadly swing.
I have an idea on how to evade it, but unfortunately piloting a CF requires a combination of understanding the movements executed by the macro commands and mastering the slave system. I cannot pilot Anhur as if it is an extension of my own body... not yet, at least. The ability to get a CF to do exactly as its pilot wills is one of the hardest learning curves to overcome.
I try executing one of the moves Butterfield taught me to disarm an opponent. It doesn't work very well. Anhur's feet get tied up by my arm movements and falls to the ground in a very undignified manner. By a stroke of luck, this puts me out of harm's way, so I can't complain too much. The mace crashes into the ground right besides me, creating a small crater as bits of rock and asphalt fly up. My CF automatically recovers and gets back on its feet – one of the most important functions for rookie pilots, as climbing up from a prone position is an extremely difficult maneuver to make. Just as I get up, I am flung violently to the sides by a tremendous blow. The pilot of the Xolotl managed to reach me before the automatic recovery was complete and nail me with his mace.
“Master, the right arm is barely functioning.” says Yua worriedly as Anhur crashes into the ground. One of its daggers hits the ground point down, sticking into the tarmac. Great. Again, my CF attempts to execute the automatic recovery maneuver. This time I can see the Xolotl raising that blasted mace high above its head, ready to crush Anhur once and for all.
“Yua, can we cancel the auto-balance?”
“Forcing my way through, Master – done.” It takes only a millisecond. Anhur begins to fall back to the ground as the auto-balancing system is shut off, but that's just what I want. I slam the thrusters into full. Anhur accelerates forward at a low angle to the ground, slamming into the Xolotl right shoulder first. I bring its left arm forward and jam the mono-molecular dagger into the Xolotl's side, grabbing onto the Xolotl with the damaged right. As Anhur picks up speed, its propulsion units sending it thundering across the colony, I'm pushed flat back into the seat. Without a proper pilot suit it's painful to fly at these speeds. I bring the UNS frame with me as I smash through several buildings. Moving my arm is hard – at high speeds I'm meeting plenty of resistance, but I manage to carve up the Xolotl anyway with the dagger I had pushed into it. I twist my wrist. The knife's edge slices upwards vertically.
“Master, be careful!” shouts Yua suddenly. I realize, just in time, that I'm perilously close to cutting into the miniature fusion reactor that powers the Xolotl. It probably wouldn't malfunction in a particularly volatile way if I don't hit it directly with explosives or particle weaponry, but I'm not taking the chance. I'm practically hugging the Xolotl after all; that's far too close for comfort. I pull my arm back. Anhur responds similarly, and the dagger passes through the cockpit of the enemy CF. Anhur's right arm finally gives way, the robotic fingers losing their grip on the Xolotl, and it crashes to the ground below me, rolling backwards. I skid to a stop myself, cutting down Anhur's thrusters. I'm feeling a bit queasy, like my internal organs have just been thrown into a blender.
The Xolotl isn't moving at all. I can see smears of red on my dagger. Well, being hit by a knife this big would be lethal for any human. I take a breather, wondering where Kyrie and the others are... and the CF's sensors warn me of multiple target locks on my frame. I crane my head to find the other enemies – Anhur's head turns with me, its cameras picking up three more Xolotls heading my way. I should've known it wouldn't be so easy; a lone UNS combat frame straying into the colony all the way out here is impossible.
Three enemies. I'm lucky I didn't use my ability too soon. I could barely control Anhur well enough to fight one Xolotl, let alone three. If I activate it now, I might be able to come out ahead... or I could abandon Anhur and flee. Either way, I would have to decide quickly.
Before I could make my decision, though, the Xolotls stop in their tracks. A second later, they retreat, making powered jumps across the colony. My sensors register an approaching warship from behind, hovering inside the colony's massive cylinder. I recognize the identification: the Kaguya-hime, the Higashi-designed battleship. It is part of the Higashi-ISC CF project, conceptualized as a frontline vessel that would serve as a specialized carrier for combat frames with armaments designed to support a mech assault.
The Kaguya-hime is hailing me. They are not amused at my antics.
***
The punch hurts. I'm knocked to the ground, falling on my behind.
“Do you think you're a hero?” The man who punched me is the captain of the Kaguya-hime, a man who looks like a grizzled veteran. Somehow, he reminds me of Shulgi and Butterfield. Captain Grimrock – I still can't believe he's actually called that; one of these days I should check if that's actually his real name – has an enormous, bushy beard covering a craggy face. His fists are as hard as his looks, and his demeanour absolutely rocky.
“Captain, let me handle this, since it pertains to CF piloting.” Another man interrupted the captain's punishment – his dark hair and tanned skin, together with his pilot outfit and insignia, means he is probably one of the test pilots. He is the man that I had heard nagging me over the comms. The pilot turns to me, his coal-black eyes blazing with contempt. “Civilian Hoshikawa, you disobeyed my direct orders and engaged in combat with the enemy, causing inestimable damage to the colony and to the precious prototype CF. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“The enemy would have destroyed Prototype 3 if I was not there.” I reply. That was the truth. If I had fled, the Xolotl would have been able to dismantle the prototype with ease. As it turns out, they had succeeded in destroying the other prototypes while they were unpiloted – Prototype 3 is the only one left.
“As the leader of the 16th Egyptian Crocodiles, I am the highest ranking pilot here, meaning that I have tactical authority over all CF in combat. The fact remains that you disobeyed my orders, civilian.”
Well, if I'm a civilian, I'm not really obliged to follow orders from him, do I? The ISC is still not in a state of war. I don't point it out, though... from looking at the test pilot leader, he wouldn't appreciate it if I did.
“He's a civilian, Naim. He's not obliged to follow your orders.” Kyrie spoke up. She had been watching the spectacle quietly from the sidelines all this while.
“This is military business, Kyrie. Please do not interfere.” said Naim politely but firmly. Did he just address the Princess of the Shinar by her given name? He must not be some regular jock.
“Senya saved Prototype 3 from certain destruction. I think that more than balances out his obstinate, ill-advised, risky and thoughtless behaviour.”
I thank Kyrie inwardly for speaking up for me, but I'm not sure she described me in a very positive light. Naim doesn't seem sure what to say, though he is staring at her. He is about to say something, but shakes his head.
“I don't believe the rumours are true, Kyrie, but you're not making things easier. So it's like that?”
“That's no concern of yours.” she retorts, a bit too quickly. Her face seems slightly flushed.
“The next person to start some relationship drama on my ship gets to be tied to the bow. I don't give a damn who you are, but I won't be having any of this.” booms the captain suddenly. “Lieutenant Naim, shut up. Princess, I appreciate your loyalty to your subordinate, but the fact remains he disobeyed a military officer in a battle.” Then, he turns to me.
“I asked you a question just now. Do you think you're some sort of hero?”
***
A. I think so.
B. I don't think so.
***
I keep my thoughts to myself. I once read that the proper answer in this case, regardless of my personal feelings, would be “No, sir.” I say that. Captain Grimrock laughs. “The standard reply, huh? Where did you get that from?”
“The Enlisted Man's Primer on How to Survive Interacting with Officers and Other Unexpected Hazards. Sir.” I reply without blinking. Captain Grimrock's eyes gleam. It appears that he's familiar with the book. He gives a nod of approval.
“On the field, results are all that matter, but remember that even the most experienced soldier may be mistaken if he does not have all the information that his commanding officer knows.” He stops. I can tell that he's waiting for a rebuttal, and I give it to him. “Knowing something doesn't make you automatically the best person to interpret it. The commanding officer may get his orders wrong.”
Again, the captain nods. “Therefore, you have to reconcile the orders you are given with your gut instinct. You were probably right to get into the prototype. It worked out well both for you and the machine. But once inside, you disobeyed orders to not engage in combat. That's a mistake, son. There's people at command who know more telling you explicitly not to do something, though it might have sounded stupid to you at the moment. You should have found a way to avoid battle until you could get a better idea about what is going on. You could've done that, couldn't you?”
I nod. I probably could have, with Anhur's high mobility.
“Well, you lucked out, that's all I'm gonna say. Lesson over, kid.” All of a sudden, he swings another fist at me. I'm taken totally by surprise. For the second time, I'm knocked down to the floor. “Make sure you remember that. Now everyone get back to work!” shouts the captain.
As I clamber to my feet, I see Kyrie discussing something with Naim at the corner of the bridge. They definitely know each other from before this. At the same time, I spot the Empress and the Higashi VIPs walking towards the captain. It looks like they survived too.
“Captain, the UNS warship 'Ghostlot' has given us an ultimatum. We are to surrender the Kaguya-hime and the last prototype machine to them.” said the Empress.
“Are we going to do that, Your Majesty?” says the captain calmly. I somehow get the feeling he wouldn't do that even if the Emperor himself commanded it, despite all his talk about following orders.
“Of course not. What we will do is delay negotiations, and then hold out here to await rescue. I've already sent out notice to Moon L3. Though the Neo Shinar Empire is not at war yet, we will be soon, and a dozen warships will be mobilized to rescue us.” remarked the Empress with confidence.
“I'm not sure I like the idea of that,” mutters Captain Grimrock. They continue discussing their options.
I whisper to Yua. “Get me what you can from the colony's cameras and records. I want to know what has been going on.”
“Right on it, Master.”
Apparently we had a nasty case of turncoats. Some of our engineers had been shipping in the Xolotl parts piece by piece in secret; the CF I fought had been assembled here. UNS agents had then snuck into the colony when the time was right. This had been discovered from examination of the Xolotl's wreckage and its logs. Still, I thought the ISC's intelligence and counter-intelligence operations were unsurpassed. Either there were some serious misstep that led to this blunder, or there is someone in the higher ranks with something to gain by allowing it to happen. Given what I know about the board of directors, that doesn't seem too far-fetched either.
The Ghostlot is stationed about thirty kilometres away from the colony at the moment. The three Xolotls had been abandoned at the port, the agents making their getaway on a shuttle towards the UNS warship after a shootout. That's no surprise as Xolotl combat frames are ground-specialists not outfitted for space combat. A warship like the Ghostlot would carry a complement of 5 Centeotls, the space equivalent of a Xolotl, in addition to 2 heavy particle beam turrets, 2 front-facing linear railguns, 6 swivel-mounted anti-fighter machine guns and 2 torpedo launchers as its primary armaments.
I don't have full access to the Kaguya-hime's specifications, but it shouldn't lose in a shootout with the Ghostlot. The problem is with the CF gap – we only have one, the Anhur, against the Ghostlot's five Centeotls. In a pinch, we could probably outfit some of the construction mechs with weaponry, but they would be mere fodder against combat frames. I pore through the map of the colony and the surrounding space. Then, I check the astronomical charts. Aha. That's a stroke of luck there. If we were to launch a surprise attack within the next hour...
***
A. I bring up my plan to the captain. The Kaguya-hime will break through the Ghostlot's blockade and make its way for Earth without waiting for rescue. If the objective is to escape, not to destroy the enemy, there is a chance to succeed. Since the enemy already knows about this colony and the prototypes, it would probably be more prudent to be on the move whenever we can.
B. I keep quiet. Speaking up would mean going against the Empress's plans to stall for time and wait for rescue. It is not my place to think up strategies and tactics; I am just a civilian after all. Besides, attempting to escape is reckless behaviour, and I've had enough of that for now. Blowing a hole in the colony's wall with the Kaguya-hime's guns is probably too much to ask for anyway.
Senya lucked out and persevered.
The UNS is demanding the turning over of the combat frame, because it was developed in cooperation with the Higashi. The Shinari empire is teetering at the brink of war, just how long the Empress can delay an attack from the Ghostlot is uncertain, as is our chances to break through. Therefore I'm not quite sure what to vote in the second poll.
[EDIT]With treave's additional info, our plan would be succesful, but do we want to antagonise the Empress further?
As to the first, yeah. Senya's getting full of himself here, and why shouldn't he? He did well.
A
For the second poll though, it seems most in character to me to stay quiet, as he also didn't voice his opinion on whether he's a hero. He's drawn enough attention for one day.
If shit starts hitting the fan even more than already, then's the time to speak up.
For now, the Empress' plan might work.
Tentatively
[EDIT #2] I was flipped.
B
A
The UNS is demanding the turning over of the combat frame, because it was developed in cooperation with the Higashi. The Shinari empire is teetering at the brink of war, just how long the Empress can delay an attack from the Ghostlot is uncertain,
[EDIT]With treave's additional info, our plan would be succesful, but do we want to antagonise the Empress further?
As to the first, yeah. Senya's getting full of himself here, and why shouldn't he? He did well.
A
For the second poll though, it seems most in character to me to stay quiet, as he also didn't voice his opinion on whether he's a hero. He's drawn enough attention for one day.
If shit starts hitting the fan even more than already, then's the time to speak up.
For now, the Empress' plan might work.
Tentatively
[EDIT #2] I was flipped.
A
That's another point. She's pissed enough already; get even more in her hair, and she just might order that hit. 
Overprotective harridan not appreciating a pleb diddling her daughter? 
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