Merry Fucking Christmas
December 24, 3071
Sheratan
Dropship - The Plasma Rider
Bright blue eyes gone dark with thought gazed sightless out of one of the viewing ports of the ship. A cup of cooled coffee at her elbow, noteputer set to audio reception propped in front of her, Lonnie contemplated the battle her lance had recently finished.
"Well, I survived my first real combat engagement. Can't say that I'm overly impressed with my performance, but at least I didn't totally fuck up. Not that one more fuck up wouldn't be unwarranted with the start of this op."
"Let's see, first the unit got scattered to hell and back, we didn't drop into our projected LZ. Engaged a couple of Wobbie Level II's, Richardson for some ungodly reason decided to jump into a pack of mechs and BA on his lonesome without dropping his BA crew first. Thankfully they survived, even if the suits didn't. Richardson got his mech shot up, but somehow kept it functional. Jain did well even if she lost control of her mech while it was running on some pavement. Thankfully she didn't get too badly hurt, just a few bumps and scraps."
She took a sip from her cup not noticing the wretched taste of cold coffe.
"Victor and I were pretty much left in the dust by Richardson and Jain. We tried to get there in time, but really weren't able to engage as well as either of us would have liked since our main weapons were blocked by our passengers until we could find a good drop point for them so they wouldn't get killed instantly. "
"We got some nice salvage as ransom as the forces withdrew once we got our act together. Found out we're fighting WoB trained Mercs which makes sense since they seemed to lack the cohesion and touch of fantacism seen in Blakist forces."
She scrubbed at her face, "God, what a clusterfuck, we're barely in contact with half our force, including our main command. We don't seem to have really reliable intel, I know the higher ups are trying to conceal that, but that's something you can't entirely hide. There's rumors about Blakist irregulars that might have screwy enhancements. Christ on a crutch, what a way to start off an op. Here's hoping that we're able to pull off the rest of our objectives."
Another sip of coffee. "So, at least we're with Delta SOG on the Plasma Rider and had a chance for shower, rest and grub while the brass figure out what the next target will be. According to Sgt. Murphy of the BA there's the possibility of a one mech and BA squad raid to be conducted on one of their communication facilities. Despite being the leader of not only Bravo Lance, but the entire SOG, Richardson is the best choice for that mission if it's someone from Bravo. But barring that, Jain would be next since her mech is a bit faster and has energy weapons only. We'll see though."
"And truth to tell, when I heard that the Pale Horse Orphans were badly shot up, my heart sank over a certain blond haired man whose blue eyes cause me such trouble. God I can be so stupid sometimes. At least I'm not letting it distract me from my work. And after hearing what Kasperov's lance did, I'm reminded even more that he's so far out of my league it's not even funny. Stupid woman, to let herself get so involved into the makings of an idiot holodrama."
She drank the last of her coffee down to it's cold bitter dregs. "Enough garbage, time to go back to work."
Sheratan
Dropship - The Plasma Rider
Bright blue eyes gone dark with thought gazed sightless out of one of the viewing ports of the ship. A cup of cooled coffee at her elbow, noteputer set to audio reception propped in front of her, Lonnie contemplated the battle her lance had recently finished.
"Well, I survived my first real combat engagement. Can't say that I'm overly impressed with my performance, but at least I didn't totally fuck up. Not that one more fuck up wouldn't be unwarranted with the start of this op."
"Let's see, first the unit got scattered to hell and back, we didn't drop into our projected LZ. Engaged a couple of Wobbie Level II's, Richardson for some ungodly reason decided to jump into a pack of mechs and BA on his lonesome without dropping his BA crew first. Thankfully they survived, even if the suits didn't. Richardson got his mech shot up, but somehow kept it functional. Jain did well even if she lost control of her mech while it was running on some pavement. Thankfully she didn't get too badly hurt, just a few bumps and scraps."
She took a sip from her cup not noticing the wretched taste of cold coffe.
"Victor and I were pretty much left in the dust by Richardson and Jain. We tried to get there in time, but really weren't able to engage as well as either of us would have liked since our main weapons were blocked by our passengers until we could find a good drop point for them so they wouldn't get killed instantly. "
"We got some nice salvage as ransom as the forces withdrew once we got our act together. Found out we're fighting WoB trained Mercs which makes sense since they seemed to lack the cohesion and touch of fantacism seen in Blakist forces."
She scrubbed at her face, "God, what a clusterfuck, we're barely in contact with half our force, including our main command. We don't seem to have really reliable intel, I know the higher ups are trying to conceal that, but that's something you can't entirely hide. There's rumors about Blakist irregulars that might have screwy enhancements. Christ on a crutch, what a way to start off an op. Here's hoping that we're able to pull off the rest of our objectives."
Another sip of coffee. "So, at least we're with Delta SOG on the Plasma Rider and had a chance for shower, rest and grub while the brass figure out what the next target will be. According to Sgt. Murphy of the BA there's the possibility of a one mech and BA squad raid to be conducted on one of their communication facilities. Despite being the leader of not only Bravo Lance, but the entire SOG, Richardson is the best choice for that mission if it's someone from Bravo. But barring that, Jain would be next since her mech is a bit faster and has energy weapons only. We'll see though."
"And truth to tell, when I heard that the Pale Horse Orphans were badly shot up, my heart sank over a certain blond haired man whose blue eyes cause me such trouble. God I can be so stupid sometimes. At least I'm not letting it distract me from my work. And after hearing what Kasperov's lance did, I'm reminded even more that he's so far out of my league it's not even funny. Stupid woman, to let herself get so involved into the makings of an idiot holodrama."
She drank the last of her coffee down to it's cold bitter dregs. "Enough garbage, time to go back to work."
posted by Reika at 9:31 PM
1 Comments:
You have too much time on your hands...
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