Post by heathen on Jul 10, 2016 22:38:39 GMT
As he slammed Huginn down on the landing pad, Heathen watched other 9th Legion ship making their way in. They looked shit, Pythons with their hulls caving in. Cobras barely making it in as their thrusters sputtered and spurted, giving up. Unstrapping himself, he got up, and strode up the steps and out the back. “Get the engineers working kid; you know what they need to do……” Heathen paused before stepping through to the back, just behind Muninn, taking a moment to think about his next words. “You did well today, we wouldn’t of made it out if it wasn’t for you.” Before Muninn could reply, he stepped through the door and out the ship.
Heathen was met with a view of a tug Hauler pulling an Anaconda through the mail slot, the beast having had its belly ripped out. Half the crew dead. Walking round the pad inspecting his own scrape with danger, he saw his shield boosters were blown out and a couple of thrusters were knackered. He got off lightly. “All officers please report to the command room, all officers please report to command.” The voice boomed across the docks, no one missed that announcement.
Turning to his protégé, Heathen gave him a quick look over. “All engineers know what to do?” Muninn looked at him, tired and dirty. “Yes boss.” Heathen nodded, and started walking off. “I want you to be with me for this meeting, and then you can go to the barracks, clean off and sleep.”
As they stepped through the hall ways of the military sector of Leopold, Heathen knew their losses were heavy and panic of the aftermath was rife. Intelligence officers were rushed around, tablets in hand, speaking in hushed tones. Turning the corner he saw the open door to the command room, more commanders sitting and standing in there, all looking struck and, some, looking dead in the eye.
Taking his place standing behind his squadron leader, Heathen gestured for Muninn to stand next to him, it was irregular for engineers to be in this room, but in this circumstance, no one cared. As the door was closed, Heathen let his eyes wander the room, many seats were empty. This was partly due to leaders being away on recon missions, but a majority of the seats were combat positions, this wasn’t good.
The room didn’t need hushing as one of the operations officers stepped through the door at the back. Lieutenant-Commander Kane, a likable face in the Legion, and trusted to tell you how it is, he preferred to be called Ronnie. However I wouldn’t suggest it in this instance. “Okay guys, I don’t need to state the obvious, someone fucked up intel side.” Ronnie typed in a code and the screen behind him pulled up a map of Malaikudi and surrounding systems. “The fighter squadron that was in that system to bait us, then they closed the trap with heavy Gunships and Corvettes. The attack was staged from Timocan where recon reported a Farragut class ship…….” There was a murmur in the room, something was off.
Ronnie coughed, looking uncomfortable. “Our intelligence suggests that a defected rear-admiral, Damascus, was on board the ship, telling the Federal navy how to best trap us. As soon as the attack was over, it jumped away….” There was uproar, squadron leaders stood up and flight leaders strode over to the table, a couple of knives planted firmly in the solid wood meeting table. How dare one of our own betray us? Ronnie yelled for order, not finished what he was saying. “There will be a task-force to deal with this traitor, but…….” Heathen felt the heat build-up inside of him, this is too far.
Striding round the room, Heathen started speaking slowly. “If we were to know of such a traitor, and knew about such a class of ship in our AO.” His voice started to strain. “Then we could have fixed and destroyed said ship, instead of flying into a mass-lock trap. CAUSING MY MEN TO DIE FOR THE WORTH OF A FEW DAMNED MOTHER-FUCKING EAGLES!!! I LOST HALF MY FUCKING FLIGHT BECAUSE NO ONE CAN KEEP TRACK OF A PRICK WHISPERING SWEET THINGS IN DIRTY FEDERAL EARS!!!” By this point Heathen was in Ronnie’s face, spitting with rage. He stopped where he was, watching his seniors face as he panted away.
Ronnie wiped his face, then breathed in and slowly replied to this fit. “I understand your anger Flight Leader, but I’d like to remind you where you are and who you’re talking to.” Heathen paused for a second, then stepped back and saluted. “I apologise, sir.” Then proceeded to take his place by Muninn again, still breathing heavily.
Ronnie looked over then back down at his tablet. “In fact Heathen, I’m transferring you across to 1st Lancers to be their Flight Leader, I’ll be briefing you after we’re done here, does this agree with you?” Heathen nodded, waiting for Ronnie to address other commanders before he leant in to Muninn. “Take the stash of credits from Huginn, I know you know where it is, go down to the bar and get a bottle of Cubeo Gold. I’ll meet you down there when I’m done."
**************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Muninn was still shaking, the man he always saw walk with such calm and keep a cool head in battle situation, just saw the roaring call of the man’s gods under his tattooed skin. Never has he ever seen someone lose it with a superior to that degree.
After purchasing Heathens favourite whiskey, Muninn pondered what he knew about Heathen, what the other engineers told him about the man. The tall, medium built held many beliefs under the mix of white scars, blue and black ink and he tanned hide. The crews believed that Heathen didn’t fear death, embracing the beliefs of the ancient Old Norse. After being shunned and having nowhere to go, supposedly Heathens clan became nomads, travelling space.
After Heathen became a marine he apparently fought with such verve, efficiency and ferocity that many Imperial born marines didn’t want to serve alongside him, fearing the ideals of a barbarian would get them killed.
When he became a pilot he supposedly calmed down, not willing a glorious death upon himself, rather only waiting patiently for it.
Muninn looked around the bar, shyly glancing at a short blonde girl talking the bar keep, trying not to draw attention to himself.
Looking back at his drink, he pondered his boss again, wondering if he would be able to reach the standards the sure man has set himself, that if being Imperial born would restrict this, or whether it was an asset to him, being born in the home of such prestigious pilots of the Empire.
“Oi kid, staring at pretty ladies is a good way to get ya teeth smashed in.” Heathens rasping voice snapped him of deep thought, causing to blink at his mentor. Heathen sat across him, pouring himself a drink from the bottle of Gold that sat between them. “Ronnie’s put us in a recce squadron, more specifically to hunt down Daz” The casual nickname for the traitor confused Muninn for a second, then it dawned on him, the rear-admiral was Heathens mentor after releasing him from slavery.
Muninn though it best to keep that out of conversation as looking at women wasn’t the only way to get free dental treatment. Heathen took a swig, and then continued with his monologue. “Now, we’ll need to use Huginn to get everywhere but I want the engineers down dock to buff out the Imperial markings, we’re going under the radar for this one.” Muninn nodded, then frowned.
“Boss…. How are we meant to find Damascus when he could literally be anywhere…..” Muninn stopped when he saw the wry grin on Heathens face. Taking another swig and looking left and right, he leant in, scratching his leg, and whispered “I think I know who may know something.”
Heathen was met with a view of a tug Hauler pulling an Anaconda through the mail slot, the beast having had its belly ripped out. Half the crew dead. Walking round the pad inspecting his own scrape with danger, he saw his shield boosters were blown out and a couple of thrusters were knackered. He got off lightly. “All officers please report to the command room, all officers please report to command.” The voice boomed across the docks, no one missed that announcement.
Turning to his protégé, Heathen gave him a quick look over. “All engineers know what to do?” Muninn looked at him, tired and dirty. “Yes boss.” Heathen nodded, and started walking off. “I want you to be with me for this meeting, and then you can go to the barracks, clean off and sleep.”
As they stepped through the hall ways of the military sector of Leopold, Heathen knew their losses were heavy and panic of the aftermath was rife. Intelligence officers were rushed around, tablets in hand, speaking in hushed tones. Turning the corner he saw the open door to the command room, more commanders sitting and standing in there, all looking struck and, some, looking dead in the eye.
Taking his place standing behind his squadron leader, Heathen gestured for Muninn to stand next to him, it was irregular for engineers to be in this room, but in this circumstance, no one cared. As the door was closed, Heathen let his eyes wander the room, many seats were empty. This was partly due to leaders being away on recon missions, but a majority of the seats were combat positions, this wasn’t good.
The room didn’t need hushing as one of the operations officers stepped through the door at the back. Lieutenant-Commander Kane, a likable face in the Legion, and trusted to tell you how it is, he preferred to be called Ronnie. However I wouldn’t suggest it in this instance. “Okay guys, I don’t need to state the obvious, someone fucked up intel side.” Ronnie typed in a code and the screen behind him pulled up a map of Malaikudi and surrounding systems. “The fighter squadron that was in that system to bait us, then they closed the trap with heavy Gunships and Corvettes. The attack was staged from Timocan where recon reported a Farragut class ship…….” There was a murmur in the room, something was off.
Ronnie coughed, looking uncomfortable. “Our intelligence suggests that a defected rear-admiral, Damascus, was on board the ship, telling the Federal navy how to best trap us. As soon as the attack was over, it jumped away….” There was uproar, squadron leaders stood up and flight leaders strode over to the table, a couple of knives planted firmly in the solid wood meeting table. How dare one of our own betray us? Ronnie yelled for order, not finished what he was saying. “There will be a task-force to deal with this traitor, but…….” Heathen felt the heat build-up inside of him, this is too far.
Striding round the room, Heathen started speaking slowly. “If we were to know of such a traitor, and knew about such a class of ship in our AO.” His voice started to strain. “Then we could have fixed and destroyed said ship, instead of flying into a mass-lock trap. CAUSING MY MEN TO DIE FOR THE WORTH OF A FEW DAMNED MOTHER-FUCKING EAGLES!!! I LOST HALF MY FUCKING FLIGHT BECAUSE NO ONE CAN KEEP TRACK OF A PRICK WHISPERING SWEET THINGS IN DIRTY FEDERAL EARS!!!” By this point Heathen was in Ronnie’s face, spitting with rage. He stopped where he was, watching his seniors face as he panted away.
Ronnie wiped his face, then breathed in and slowly replied to this fit. “I understand your anger Flight Leader, but I’d like to remind you where you are and who you’re talking to.” Heathen paused for a second, then stepped back and saluted. “I apologise, sir.” Then proceeded to take his place by Muninn again, still breathing heavily.
Ronnie looked over then back down at his tablet. “In fact Heathen, I’m transferring you across to 1st Lancers to be their Flight Leader, I’ll be briefing you after we’re done here, does this agree with you?” Heathen nodded, waiting for Ronnie to address other commanders before he leant in to Muninn. “Take the stash of credits from Huginn, I know you know where it is, go down to the bar and get a bottle of Cubeo Gold. I’ll meet you down there when I’m done."
**************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Muninn was still shaking, the man he always saw walk with such calm and keep a cool head in battle situation, just saw the roaring call of the man’s gods under his tattooed skin. Never has he ever seen someone lose it with a superior to that degree.
After purchasing Heathens favourite whiskey, Muninn pondered what he knew about Heathen, what the other engineers told him about the man. The tall, medium built held many beliefs under the mix of white scars, blue and black ink and he tanned hide. The crews believed that Heathen didn’t fear death, embracing the beliefs of the ancient Old Norse. After being shunned and having nowhere to go, supposedly Heathens clan became nomads, travelling space.
After Heathen became a marine he apparently fought with such verve, efficiency and ferocity that many Imperial born marines didn’t want to serve alongside him, fearing the ideals of a barbarian would get them killed.
When he became a pilot he supposedly calmed down, not willing a glorious death upon himself, rather only waiting patiently for it.
Muninn looked around the bar, shyly glancing at a short blonde girl talking the bar keep, trying not to draw attention to himself.
Looking back at his drink, he pondered his boss again, wondering if he would be able to reach the standards the sure man has set himself, that if being Imperial born would restrict this, or whether it was an asset to him, being born in the home of such prestigious pilots of the Empire.
“Oi kid, staring at pretty ladies is a good way to get ya teeth smashed in.” Heathens rasping voice snapped him of deep thought, causing to blink at his mentor. Heathen sat across him, pouring himself a drink from the bottle of Gold that sat between them. “Ronnie’s put us in a recce squadron, more specifically to hunt down Daz” The casual nickname for the traitor confused Muninn for a second, then it dawned on him, the rear-admiral was Heathens mentor after releasing him from slavery.
Muninn though it best to keep that out of conversation as looking at women wasn’t the only way to get free dental treatment. Heathen took a swig, and then continued with his monologue. “Now, we’ll need to use Huginn to get everywhere but I want the engineers down dock to buff out the Imperial markings, we’re going under the radar for this one.” Muninn nodded, then frowned.
“Boss…. How are we meant to find Damascus when he could literally be anywhere…..” Muninn stopped when he saw the wry grin on Heathens face. Taking another swig and looking left and right, he leant in, scratching his leg, and whispered “I think I know who may know something.”
