Thread 1[https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6211827/]
0615 THOMPSON Standard Time, 20 MAR 2549.

Team: SPARTAN-III Headhunters VACIVE (A151 Faolan/ B327 Maris)

Classification //EYES-ONLY// ONI-DIRECTIVE M-98

At the rim of the THOMPSON system lies a destitute cloud of refugee ships, clustered around the lopsided bulk of ALLUTION. A hub of insurrectionist power thought responsible for an outbreak of attacks on UEG holdings within a 50-60 lightyear radius.

The presence of URF and other insurrectionist leaders have been confirmed via signals interception. Team VACIVE has been ordered to conduct Hunter-Killer operations within ALLUTION, while conducting site exploitation as a secondary objective. Venezian representatives are also believed to be within the AO, and VACIVE has been given orders to capture any ‘neutral’ individuals alive. An ONI Section 1 team has deployed to an adhoc orbital shipyard to infiltrate the local network in order to deploy a Data Scavenger, meant to wipe all accessible NAV centers-with the intent to restrict any movement from the system to allow time for a larger UNSC Response, and prevent Covenant Forces still in system from learning UEG colony locations in case of discovery.

Primary Objectives:
FIND and ELIMINATE Insurrectionist Leadership with ALLUTION.
DESTROY Supply Depots and other materials that would facilitate attacks on UEG holdings.
CAPTURE Venezian representatives. If infeasible, gather data relating to their presence.
SECURE any pertinent intelligence.
UPHOLD the Cole Protocol

Secondary Objectives:
PLACE charges in order to disable the installations secondary power generation within the BLAKEWELL.
VERIFY survivors from the UNSC BLAKEWELL
WIPE the data centers with the BLAKEWELL.

Complicating Factors:
Insurrectionist and PMC elements so far exhibit low profile security with a seemingly inconsistent presence. Unpredictable.
Cryogenic pods containing the crew of the BLAKEWELL could be compromised by the destruction of the
BLAKEWELLS primary reactor. Power loss may trigger unintended flash revival.

By 0615, infiltration of the captured frigate BLAKEWELL had been achieved. Team VACIVE had completed the interrogation of an insurrectionist technician, and had just separated to achieve immediate objectives within an acceptable timeframe…

>>6239230 (OP)
You crouched near the corner of the corridor, helmet angled just past the walling as you scanned the decks. Maris stood just behind and over you, her posture invisible under her panels in the red gloom. The technicians body was far behind, toolbox and helmet positioned around him to paint the picture of a fatigued and overworked maintenance man.
“We’ll split.” Your voice came in low as you pulled back from the corner, bringing up mental maps of standard Paris frigates from across the fleet. “You wipe the data core. I’ll go reactor.”

“Comms will break up unless we switch over to high-power.”

“I know. Can’t switch, in case they have any snoopers. We’re going to be faster this way. We’re already off mission; we need to finish here and get into ALLUTION before
Sacks comes into play. We’ll have 3 points in case things go sour-the cryobays, here, and where we left our TPACKs.”

Her knee tapped against your back as she knelt next to you. Systems communicated, ensuring you both were routed and referenced to identical coordinates.
“The cryobays?” she asked. “Sure that tech wasn’t just lying?”

“He might’ve. We still need to check. A quick cut through, shouldn’t add any time..”

“We can’t get out of here with 200 freezer burned squids, Foal.”

You both checked your HUD as a slow pulse appeared-and subsequently faded from the motion tracker.

“If there’re survivors, we’ll need to report it. In case we burn this place, we can at least verify whether the majority of the crew were loyal or caught in a mutiny.”

Silence.

“Keep things fast. If we come away clear, head to RP1. Either of us not there, head here. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Her IFF indicator slid back, and you didn’t turn to watch her go-there’d be nothing to see.

You stayed crouched for a few more seconds, quickly going over the plan. Checking the charges, noticing-almost surprised-that Maris had slipped in her own.

The lower decks were clear. Scrap, spilled ration packs and grating floated where the gravity plating flickered.

The soles of your armor barely made a sound as you passed the yawning mouths of maintenance workshops and engineering spaces, doors ajar or jammed open. Each was dark, beyond the failing emergency lighting. Somewhere filled with trash, others utterly stripped of materials. Mess looting, or mechanical triage, you couldn’t discern.

Twice you paused, eyes latched onto contacts your motion tracker. Twice it faded away, with no sight or sound. Ghosts, you thought.

At the final corner before the reactor chamber, you stopped again. Now, the contacts were definite-6 signatures. Quiet footsteps, quieter voices. Not three techs.

>>6239232
You leaned out, just enough to see into the room. It was squat, wide, lit by deep overheads emitting bright white light-the first you’ve seen aboard the Blackwell so far. Three technicians in brown and grey jumpsuits sat and moved around various terminals. But you were more interested in the three others-men in light ballistic armor. Well maintained, matte gray with no identifying markers. Rifles were slung or set against consoles, but they weren’t BORED-one leaning against the guardrail near the reactors primary access hatch, seemingly looking at the technicians with real curiosity. Another paced back and forth with rhythm, jaw slowly working as he moved from one end of the room to the other.

You dropped back and took a breath. Your heartrate was flat, movements smooth as you checked your SMG. You weren't shaken. But the plan had to change.

A full breach could work-quickly gunning down all of them wouldn’t be a significant difficulty. But if any of them got a message out-or FAILED to respond to one-things could start to unravel. One body is easy enough to hide. Six full of bullets and leaking across the decking was not.

You sent a message.

“Reactor room occupied. 6. 3 armed.”

There was no reply-you didn’t exactly expect one, but it cleared up that line of approach.

>Engage. Gun up, sweep your M7S left to right. They wouldn’t be able to fire a shot, ideally. But the bodies... The technician said there weren’t normal shifts-but apparently the Reactor crew somehow increase by a quarter between him moving out and you getting here. What if more were coming in? [Begins combat encounter.]

>Try to find another way through. Sneak through a duct, somehow cut the lights-you didn’t need to place the charges directly on the reactor body to disrupt the power. (Roll three 2d10. DCs of 11,14,17 result in varying degrees of success.)

>Call it off. This was ultimately secondary compared to your primary objectives-head to RP1 and wait for Maris to rendezvous.

>Write In

>>6239235
>Engage. Gun up, sweep your M7S left to right. They wouldn’t be able to fire a shot, ideally. But the bodies... The technician said there weren’t normal shifts-but apparently the Reactor crew somehow increase by a quarter between him moving out and you getting here. What if more were coming in? [Begins combat encounter.]

Nah. Make sure the reactor is properly destroyed, don't half-ass it and blow something that can be repaired relatively easily (cables, etc). As stealthy as a Spartan can be, I also don't think sneaking through the ductwork will be particularly quiet. Someone going for the radio is just one more person who's fingers aren't on their triggers. With luck, there will be no radio callouts, any nearby patrols can be taken out, and the bodies won't be discovered because the reactor explosion will cover it up. I also didn't consider that stealth was always likely to be short term if we go for the survivors, assuming we wake them up, even if the reactor explosions are taken as a freak accident. It is really just a matter if we break stealth before or after the cryobay.

Still, looking forward, the Blakewell crew making their own exit (we aren't escorting them, that's for sure) will likely cause sufficient chaos for us to slip through the heaviest resistance anyways. Stealth is relative.

Rolled 1, 9, 1, 7, 6, 8 = 32 (6d10)

>Try to find another way through. Sneak through a duct, somehow cut the lights-you didn’t need to place the charges directly on the reactor body to disrupt the power. (Roll three 2d10. DCs of 11,14,17 result in varying degrees of success.)

Must we always go loud? Let's see if we can't be the scalpel before we try being the hammer.

Let's cut the lights, plant the charges, and get out. Stealth isn't an option, as clunky as we are, but we would do good to make sure we fit the charges deep in some cracks where they won't be noticed before we make our exit.

>>6239286
Damn, I didn't pass fuckall.

>>6239283
>Engage. Gun up, sweep your M7S left to right. They wouldn’t be able to fire a shot, ideally. But the bodies... The technician said there weren’t normal shifts-but apparently the Reactor crew somehow increase by a quarter between him moving out and you getting here. What if more were coming in? [Begins combat encounter.]


>>6239286
You realize YOU don't roll all of those dice yourself, right? Three anons roll 2d10 each, and they do it once the vote has been decided

Rolled 4, 10 = 14 (2d10)

>>6239235
>Try to find another way through. Sneak through a duct, somehow cut the lights-you didn’t need to place the charges directly on the reactor body to disrupt the power. (Roll three 2d10. DCs of 11,14,17 result in varying degrees of success.)

Rolled 2, 6 = 8 (2d10)

>>6239286
rerolling for this option, my bad!

>>6239235
>Engage. Gun up, sweep your M7S left to right. They wouldn’t be able to fire a shot, ideally. But the bodies... The technician said there weren’t normal shifts-but apparently the Reactor crew somehow increase by a quarter between him moving out and you getting here. What if more were coming in? [Begins combat encounter.]

>>6239283
>>6239286
>>6239439
>>6239459
>>6239760
Combat encounter wins.

I want to lift the 4 stage system lifted from Deniable Assets Quest, in which you the players are given a tactical assessment(already done) which'll detail the situation-enemy layout, lighting, cover, so on. Then you'll give me a plan of action. This is fairly granular-a single player could suggest a singular action or a chain of actions. If one player puts forth a chain and another adds on an action(Like if a player mentions they want to throw a bolt to act as distraction before entering the room), I'll add it. Then each player will roll 3d10. The first roll will relate to the first action, and so on. Failing a roll, even critically, will NEVER outright kill you. But a series of failures can result in injury or death. After that's all said and done, I'll write the results of the attack. If any enemies remain, we loop back to the Tactical assessment and go from there.

There is no limit to the amount of actions taken in a beat, but the more successive actions taken, the harder it is to actually succeed-to emulate the enemy reacting to your actions and departing from the initial state you launched your attack from.

There are a few other mechanics from both the DAQ Combat rules and things I'd like to add like specific suppression rules and stealth modifiers, but it's complicated enough as is-I just want to see how it rolls out in a simpler form.

So yeah.

>What is your plan of action?

>>6239806
I propose the first thing.

>Cut the lights.

Better chances when the enemy can't see.

>>6239809
I’ll support this. Cut the lights, see how they react. Not out of the question they could have NVG but our armor should cover the gaps

>>6239806
I would say initiate by destroying the lights, since they can't see us, to disorientate them, but them being 'deep overheads' makes me second guess that. A waste of time, getting them all.

>Shoot the guards first, the one who isn't the pacer or leaner first since he apparently isn't moving, the leaner next, then the mover. If any of them duck into cover switch off them to cut down the technicians or to shoot a non-incapacitated guard.

Why no banger or frag? I simply think we'll need them more later. If the access hatch leaner jumps into the reactor, that's fine. Radio shouldn't get through the shielding, and we can keep him pinned in there while we deal with the others. I would specify hit the guys with slung rifles first over the ones out of hand, but that complicates things too much. A lot of looking and assessing before shooting. No, better to just be simple shoot the threats first, if they bunker up then switch targets.

>>6239809
>>6239828
>>6239929
Not finalizing the vote, just creating an example.

Based on these choices, you'd have to make

>Shoot out the lights
>Shoot the Stationary guard.
>Shoot the Leaning guard
>Shoot the Pacing guard
>Cut down the Technicians

The system doesn't really work well with 'if they do x then do y' commands, since the action list would bloat up.

This would be a valid plan of action, though keep in mind that you wouldn't be moving from your position at the entryway. You'd probably gain a +2 rolls if you succeeded at destroying the lights, but each subsequent roll would likely increase by 1 each 'tick'-Shooting the stationary guard would be a DC of 10, then 12, then 14, then 18 or somethin' like that. Keep in mind, this is only if you succeeded at each roll. Depending on how low under the DC you roll dictates the level of failure, which can impact subsequent rolls.

It sounds a little complicated but it's simple once you get into it.

>>6239934
>>Shoot the Pacing guard

>>6239934
8 hours later, the sentence was "You'd have to make 5 separate 3d10 rolls" if the plan was finalized.

Which it is now. Please make 5 individual 3d10 rolls : )

Rolled 4, 10, 9 = 23 (3d10)

>>6240030
Watch THIS

Rolled 5, 3, 6 = 14 (3d10)

>>6240030
alright, let's see what we get

Rolled 1, 7, 7 = 15 (3d10)

>>6240030
Behold my power

Rolled 4, 10, 3 = 17 (3d10)

>>6240030

Rolled 5, 2, 2 = 9 (3d10)

>>6240030
tripple 10's incoming

>>6240033
>>6240044
>>6240072
>>6240145
>>6240162
2 successes, 2 minor failures, one total failure in that order.

Writing.

>>6240220
You raised the M7S and pulled the trigger, two quick burst lancing out-12 rounds slamming into the overheads. The lights blinked out in a shower of sparks and shattering polyglass. Shadows stretched across the walls and in the span of a heartbeat, the room was plunged into a sort of half-darkness.

Down-sights settled on the soft spot where the neck met the torso. The third burst chewed into his throat and jaw before he even raised his head, body crumbling without so much as a strained gasp.

The next target was still casual, weight still on a single leg and against the railing as he turned. Off balance. Your burst caught him just under the armor, across his guts, the impact viscerally causing him to jolt back and around-half hurling himself, half falling behind a bank of piping. Hurt, maybe fatally. Not down.

You pivoted, finally locking onto the pacing guard. Your burst spat at him just as realized what was happening, rounds striking his upper chest and pauldron as he dove for the deck. You knew the 5mm rounds didn’t have the energy to punch through his hard plate, deflecting away. Before you could stitch him with another burst, he scrambled behind a set of fuel status monitors-his rifle clacking down, in the open. Left behind.

The dangerous ones were surprisingly on the ball. But preoccupied. Now for the techs.

You were rushing. You knew you were rushing as you swung across fast, holding down the trigger-catching one in the face just before he dropped out view. Another flinched down behind empty terminal casings, hands reaching out to catch his dead compatriot just before he vanished from sight.

The third completely ducked under the rounds, stumbling, falling backwards as he scrambled towards the far end of the room. Where an access corridor was sure to be.

Your EWS suite picked up no transmissions. No shouting over comms, no general alarms. Just the sound of a pistol racking in the dark.

6 seconds after the shooting started, the red emergency strips lit across the bulkheads.

Tactical Assessment:
Lights are out. Emergency lights are online. Enemies will have a -2 for all actions.
One guard dead, another wounded, possibly badly-but potentially still conscious, a threat. The third is up, seemingly unwounded and in cover, but without his main weapon. Two techs are in cover, one of them dead, and the last trying to flee from the room. 18 rounds remain in your weapon.

>What is your plan of action?

>>6240239

>What is your plan of action?

Bum rush third unwounded guard in cover without melee weapon.

Terminate via extreme physical force (Fist through skull)

>>6240239
You'd expect better results from a Spartan, especially ambushing a bunch of stinking innies at close range. But we are a drooling maladjusted SIII, shouldn't expect much from them. Joking aside, I wonder what the numbers to beat were.

Bumrushing the guy in cover could be a good idea. Id suggest throwing a frag but somehow we're still 'quiet' so maybe that'd be a bad call

>>6240239
>Move to get a bead on the fleeing tech after we cave in the guard's skull.
>Shoot him.
>Displace again, our muzzle flash will give us away. The pistol rack may actually have come from the other tech. The guy we interrogated mentioned.
>Shoot the last tech
>Take cover and assess the wounded guard's next move.

Don't want too go too many ticks in one 'turn'.

>>6240779
I'm down to clown with this plan of action, +1

>>6240244
>>6240571
>>6240779
>>6240899
>Rush the third guard, engaging him physically at close range
>Pivot and get an angle on the fleeing Techie.[Firing and movement combined]
>Displace from there, moving laterally around to get the flank on the final technician.[Firing and movement combined]
>Take cover and assess the spot where the wounded guard dropped from view.

Locked in. Execute, execute, execute. 4 individual 3d10 rolls, please.

Rolled 7, 7, 4 = 18 (3d10)

>>6240987

Rolled 3, 9, 5 = 17 (3d10)

Rolled 2, 4, 6 = 12 (3d10)

>>6240987

Rolled 4, 2, 8 = 14 (3d10)

>>6240987

>>6240989
>>6241000
>>6241079
>>6241130
2 successes, 1 minor failure, 1 success. Writing.

>>6241571
Breaking from cover fast, the transition into motion was quiet apart from the brittle crunch of polyglass underfoot. The space between you and the final uninjured guard was wide open, but you cleared it in seconds, slipping low in between two terminals, armor shifting and adjusting to better match the broken lighting. The guard hadn’t moved much, one hand raising a radio to his ear, the other hovering over a holstered sidearm. You surged across those last few meters, and he never even registered that you were there. You hit him full force-one armored fist driven by the momentum of your sprint crashing into the side of his head. Bone gave way with a concussive snap, his skull twisting violently as it broke, and his body slid nearly a full meter without so much as a twitch.
Before he even stopped painting a bloody smear on the deck, you pivoted, body angling to stay your momentum. The fleeing tech was already at an access hatch, halfway through the process of throwing the locks when bullets tore through his upper spine. Dropped.
Moving again, eyes locked on the last technician who leveled a handgun right at where the guard HAD been. He let off two shots fueled by nothing but panic, the reports echoing almost impossibly loud. You squeezed the trigger mid-stride, foot just catching the lip of a loose grate cover, driving your shots high and stitching them across his ribs. He screamed and tried to crumple back before your following burst rippled a hole through his heart.
[COMBAT ENCOUNTER COMPLETE]
You let out a soft breath-more habit than stress. Attention shifted to where the wounded guard had fallen. He was drenched in easily penetrable shadow, the blood pulsing out of his torso easily visible. The man was conscious, hand desperately pressed against his wounds as his head craned, scanning the room. His rifle was stretched across his lap, his free hand struggling to support it.
Searching for you.

>Interrogate him. These guards weren’t Innies-way too fast on their feet, almost composed in the face of that fight. Had to be related to the PMC. Try to disarm and derive some intel from him.

>Execute. As far as you knew, you were compromised-no time for questions. Plant your charges and beat feat for RP1 before you had to deal with anyone else.

>Write In

>>6241604
>Execute. As far as you knew, you were compromised-no time for questions. Plant your charges and beat feat for RP1 before you had to deal with anyone else.

>>6241604
>>Execute. As far as you knew, you were compromised-no time for questions. Plant your charges and beat feat for RP1 before you had to deal with anyone else.
Very good chance he radioed his friends

>>6241604
>Execute. As far as you knew, you were compromised-no time for questions. Plant your charges and beat feat for RP1 before you had to deal with anyone else.

We had motion tracker contacts. Could be patrols, could be floating debris. While catching a PMC guy alive is a good opportunity, speed is of the essence. At the very least, running into the PMC early alleviates my fears of the appearance of proto-Janissaries, at least large numbers of them.

OP's internet went out. He will be back tomorrow afternoon.

>>6241611
>>6241617
>>6241817
Locked in, writing.

>>6242815
On second thought, it'll probably come tomorrow. Lot bigger than I predicted it'd be.

>>6242907
A quick, clean burst silenced his ragged breathing. You scanned for movement, hands moving on muscle memory, ejecting the empty magazine and sliding it into your rig. Leave no trace-besides bullet holes and bodies. A new magazine locked into place with a solid click, two full mags remaining, one in the gun.

Blood increasingly slicked the deck as you moved towards the main reactor body. Something was hissing some inert gas or coolant out into the room, mixing with cloying stink of burning plastic. Behind you, someone choked out the last second of their life, lungs fluttering as they let out a gurgled breath through a shredded sternum.

The IEC-Inertial Electrostatic Containment-unit was humming faintly against the main reactor housing. The main bulk of it was below your feet, working to initiate the nuclear fusion process, but here was where it interfaced directly into the reactor. The first C10 charge when there, seated right under the IEC coupler, pointed down into the body of the unit. Not angled to tear through containment outright, but enough to trigger every automated SCRAM safeguard on the ship and freeze the core. You didn’t want a meltdown, or a WILDCAT destab. You moved around the reactor body, searching for a less apparent place to place the charge. Reaching low, ripping off a panel, you found the spot-behind thick conduits of bundled cabling was a tangled knot of ceramically coated piping feeding Deuterium and He-3 into the reactor. You keyed in the detonation code, tight band, high freq. A momentary pause and you plugged in the anti-tamper deterrent. Touch it without the override and it’ll cook the line and eviscerate everyone in the room.

You rose. Took in the room-six bodies leaking blood sluicing towards the floor grates, red mixing with oil and coolant. Not subtle.

A transmission crackled in your ear, short and illegible. Couldn’t be anyone besides Maris, transmitting in the blind.

When your boots crossed the threshold, fist punching the door controls shut, 3 minutes had passed since entry. Not bad, but those shots were less than ideal.

Your eyes flicked from your motion tracker to your EWS readout. Still nothing, but your skin was crawling.

Another burst of static. Your pace quickened, moving through the secondary corridors that looped through the lower levels of the frigate, thankfully free of blocked passages, in the direction of the cryochambers. Nearing the junction, voices echoed conversation. Then a short exclamation that made you stop, and a sharp interruption that made you step up.

>>6243503
An IFF ping on your HUD flared. Maris.

Rounding the corner, you found her. Her camouflage panels were flickering in way that rendered her half visible as she dragged two bodies into the cryobays by their collars, dressed in maintenance overalls. One was twitching, and the other was utterly slack. The door hissed open to accept her, and you stepped through behind her without a word.

“Bit loud.” You said, helping her pull the bodies deeper into the room, keeping an ear up for activity within.

Her visor-flickering in and out of visibility-stared at you. “He saw me. Jolt from the server racks at the data centers scrambled something. Took some more feedback throwing one into a wall. Lit up a conduit.”

This first deck was empty-notably, each of the cryobays were yawning open. Two of them were sealed shut with new occupants, vitals zeroed out.

Moving deeper into the chamber, you passed row after row of vacant units. The first two levels were empty and impeccably clean. That changed at level 3.

The deck had some light splatters of blood, here and there. More was against the glass of the cryopods themselves, dark against the frost. You leaned towards one, scrapping the frost away with a hand to see a man inside with a bandage stretching across his bare chest. Maris brought your attention to another, bruises blooming nastily under the frost, the swell of a swollen jaw. And another, tourniquet tied above the knee, dried blood flaking against her jumpsuit. Not all of them were so damaged, but a significant number were.

“Most of the uninjured ones went in a week before” Maris muttered over comms, closely examining a terminal. “Reads standard in-transit storage. The others don’t have notes.”

Mutiny. No one here were higher ranked than a Lieutenant-singular, near the end of a row. Either the majority of the command staff took control of the ship, or they were killed by others-obviously insurrectionist affiliated.

Everything pointed towards these personnel still being loyal to the UNSC. Begged the question-why were they still alive? In the past, most unaligned crew were flatlined in their pods and spaced.

>Leave. You got the information you needed-that a significant portion of the crew, roughly 30%, were on ice and still alive. Evidence points towards a mutiny, plain and simple. Your job was done, time to go. Their lives weren’t your responsibilities.

>Wake up the lieutenant. Alexa Velacruz-Chaves. She bore evidence of a small caliber bullet wound to the flesh of her arm sealed up with flaking biofoam, hands stained in blood. She’d been involved, no doubt. Further information could be derived from her, though you couldn’t wait for a full revival cycle-you had to hope she’d take well to a flash awakening. You could put her back on ice afterwards-or scheme up a way to use all these personnel…

>Write in

>>6243505
>Wake up the lieutenant. Alexa Velacruz-Chaves. She bore evidence of a small caliber bullet wound to the flesh of her arm sealed up with flaking biofoam, hands stained in blood. She’d been involved, no doubt. Further information could be derived from her, though you couldn’t wait for a full revival cycle-you had to hope she’d take well to a flash awakening. You could put her back on ice afterwards-or scheme up a way to use all these personnel…

Find out what is going on, she may offer a clue as to the greater situation here in Allution. If she's loyal, then she and the others deserve a chance at their own freedom, to fight for their own lives. We weren't going to be quiet much longer anyways.

>>6243505
>Wake up the lieutenant. Alexa Velacruz-Chaves. She bore evidence of a small caliber bullet wound to the flesh of her arm sealed up with flaking biofoam, hands stained in blood. She’d been involved, no doubt. Further information could be derived from her, though you couldn’t wait for a full revival cycle-you had to hope she’d take well to a flash awakening. You could put her back on ice afterwards-or scheme up a way to use all these personnel…
There’s an invisible and literal clock running here but we’d not be Spartans if we didn’t try to wring every aspect of info from this mission. I’m just worried it’s gonna take her minutes to fully gain consciousness

>>6243505
>>Wake up the lieutenant. Alexa Velacruz-Chaves. She bore evidence of a small caliber bullet wound to the flesh of her arm sealed up with flaking biofoam, hands stained in blood. She’d been involved, no doubt. Further information could be derived from her, though you couldn’t wait for a full revival cycle-you had to hope she’d take well to a flash awakening. You could put her back on ice afterwards-or scheme up a way to use all these personnel…

Hey, OP here. Sorry for the delay, moved halfway across the country. Updates will continue tonight or tomorrow! With a new trip, since I forgot mine on a PC 3000 miles away. Whoops!

>>6245395
Thanks for keeping us informed! Good luck with the move.

Alright, let's see if this trip works.

Update is inbound.

>>6246581
He is risen!

>>6243713
>>6243822
>>6245102
The seals on the cryopod crackled and spat vapor as the flash thaw ran its course. 2 minutes and 37 seconds later, the lid slung upon, a LT A. VELACRUZ-CHAVES hitting the deck hard. She was trembling, almost violently as her nervous system bor the brunt of the unceremonious awakening. It was followed by the wet sound of retching, that grey green colored mucus standard for cryogenic stasis pulsing out of her mouth.

It was a painful ordeal, and you knelt by her side, steadying her as she expelled more of the slime. Maris stood behind, rifle up and waiting.

Finally, the lieutenants eyes flickered open and gazed up at you-visibly starting at the golden reflection that gazed back.

" A Spartan?" Her voice was a muted rasp, cracking. "Christ..."

"Lieutenant." You grab her firmly by the arms and pulled her into a seating position, taking care not aggravated the growing blisters that had to be forming under her uniform. "Name, duty."

She looked at you, confusion melting behind bloodshot eyes as her faculties slowly came back to her. "Lieutenant. Alexa Chaves. Operations."

Lucid enough. "Can't mince words here. What happened here? Do you know where the Blakewell is currently?"

Alexa blinked hard, trying to focus. Moisture was steaming off of her from the heating coils needed for flash thawing, and the temperatures of the room were noticably getting to her. "Still in the Thompson system, if that fucking bastard hasn't moved us out."

"How did you end up here?"

"S-standard transit. Triaged the damage, got the majority of the crew into cryo." She paused, looked around the room and then up at you. "Just you, huh? Wha-"

"Came across the ship by happenstance" you cut off her line of reasoning, aware of every ticking moment. "Listen, you need to focus. We're still on that Insurrectionist rock. There are very limited forces here. At any moment we can be compromised. I need you to detail anything and everything you know about how the Blakewell arrived here and any pertinent information regarding the installation as a whole. Understand?"

She just stared for a beat before shifting, sitting up that much straighter. When she spoke, it was clearer. "They came to the bridge, fast. Guys down in weapons, deck crew. Some lower enlisted. They pulled guns and tried to make us surrender." She motioned to her arm."Didn't play out. Killed the Captain pretty much immediately...couple of us managed to get out of the bridge but wasn't much we could do."

An alert lit up on your EWS. A message, just one, but encrypted and too short to triangulate a position. Time.

"And how did you arrive here? Back at the Thompson system?"

>>6246663
She shook her head, stiff hair shedding recently reset frost. "Turns out, they somehow fed false data to the nav centers. Our 'random' jump out really just went straight here. When they...when we surrendered, they brought me and a few others back to the bridge to guide her in. With a gun to the back of our heads, of course. I heard something about...fuck, I don't know, repop? Relocation? Something about Venezians and this ship specifically. Like they had this planned out. That doesn't make any sense though, does it?" She rubbed at a gash you hadn't even noticed, just below her hairline. "Tried to listen in for more, or send off message to the other ships still in system but I just earned myself this."

A momentary pause as you considered what she told you. A well planned, in depth seizure by insurrectionist aligned crew. You had failed to check if the Blakewell had been assigned to the systems regional defense or was brought in when the Covenant appeared, but the former was more likely given the data. Planned, potentially, but the ships damage couldn't have been intended. Maybe any jump would've overridden the set coordinates and brought the Blakewell here.

Alexa dragged herself to her feet, leaning against a sloping bulkhead as she did so. "I guess you're not here to take this ship back for us, are you?"

"No." You said it flatly, standing as she did. She was short, shivering like a wet dog. But her eyes had something in them. "But the UNSC will know what happened here."

"Give me something. I'm not going to sit here waiting to die when you pull out."

>Advise her on the sidearms the two technicians on deck 1 should have. Make it clear that your mission requires stealth-if she can wake who she trusts and somehow gather more firearms, than do so. But the ship IS rigged to shut down-violently.

>Shove her back in the freezer. Morals aside, it just not feasible to keep her awake. You've gotten what you needed.

>Write in.

I apologize for the litany of grammatical errors and stilted passages. Currently phone posting.

>>6246664
>>Advise her on the sidearms the two technicians on deck 1 should have. Make it clear that your mission requires stealth-if she can wake who she trusts and somehow gather more firearms, than do so. But the ship IS rigged to shut down-violently.

>>6246664
>Advise her on the sidearms the two technicians on deck 1 should have. Make it clear that your mission requires stealth-if she can wake who she trusts and somehow gather more firearms, than do so. But the ship IS rigged to shut down-violently.

>>6246664
>Advise her on the sidearms the two technicians on deck 1 should have. Make it clear that your mission requires stealth-if she can wake who she trusts and somehow gather more firearms, than do so. But the ship IS rigged to shut down-violently.

The other option is a real dick move, like its funny how much of one it is

>>6247215
It's something I could imagine ONI Spartans doing. It is quite the dick move. Not without it's merits though.

Update locked. In. Won't start writing for awhile yet. Definitely coming in later...today?

>>6247230
Oh yeah, it a hundred percent fits the usual attitude of the IIIs, but its still funny.

>>6246765
>>6246796
>>6247215
"Deck one." You point towards the ladder leading above. "Two techs are in pods going through the automated put-down. They're dead. Might have weapons. In the reactor chamber, there are several dead as well, with rifles and body armor."

She nodded, her eyes flickering from the ladders, to you, to the pods. You preempted her. "Wake who you think you can trust. But the ship is rigged."

"Rigged?" It hissed out of her.

"Reactor is linked into the installations power supply. Blowing it will give some advantage."

"B-but the crew I ca-"

"Yes." The implication was clear-crew she can't wake in time or were immobile would be at risk. It was a pitiless call, but the mission came first. "Expect the charges to go at any moment, so act accordingly. If there are still pelicans on the flight deck or lifeboats on the upper levels, that could be your exit. There should be less than 10 other insurgents aboard."

You gave her a moment to process what you just said, mulling over protocol. You couldn't outright tell her about the Prowler above, but-"It's possible that Naval assets will recover you."

"Possible is b-better than nothing." A wall locker rattled opened as Alexa flipped the latch, the white and red container of a medpack flopping out. "Thanks for not just walking away, if..."

You were already walking away.

Coolant mist spilled out into the passage as you and Maris exited the cryobay. Wall indicators pointed towards a logistal channel that extended down the spine of the ship, and you moved that way.

"She's alert. Adapted quick, too." Maris paused as the passage opened up into the channel directly. "She might even live."

A data packet pinged your systems and you accepted, a small readout of logs and a general schematic of the area around the Frigate laid out before your eyes. She must've pulled it from the data core.

"In transit, I passed by pressure seals that lead out from a docking platform amidship. Took a quick through exterior cameras and spotted an umbilical leading out to some blast doors. Couldn't exactly make out the end point."

"Any personnel?"

"None. Unless the innies keep only partial logs, it's barely used-only activity noted was the arrival of a few reactor techs an hour ago. Who we encountered. Resistance should be minimal."

If the umbilical was being watched, which one should expect, there was a severe possibility of at least partial detection. But it'd be safe to assume that an entry point so near to the Blakewell could be a central location, especially considering the ships networking into the local power infrastructure. No idea what was on the opposite side of that door, however.

"Alternatives?"

She paused and another packet hit your systems. A snapshot of a view through a viewport-no, the bridge. Towards the end of the ravine you first viewed the Blakewell from-and a massive cargo elevator.

>>6247530
"Not much data on this one, but it leads straight into the terrain. Presumably into a lower level."

And another EVA jaunt would be required. The way to crucial areas and your HVTs could be lengthened. But it'd be stealthier.

"Foal." Maris spoke clearly, sliding imperceptibly closer. "I recommend a straight shot in. Through the umbilical. We're behind."

You nodded sharply, decisively.

>Go for the umbilical. Simplest movement directly into Allution. And detection wasn't necessarily guaranteed, but tripping the seals would undoubtedly flash on a computer. The possibility of investigation was high, and with the trail of bodies-and recently awakened UNSC personnel...

>Go for the cargo elevator. There's still a chance to slip inside quietly. Every moment further in which you weren't detected outright, was another that afforded Alexa more time-and the Innies more time to discover your activity while Vacive is out of position.


Also, important note. From here on out, you guys can choose to detonate the charges at any time you'd like-as long as it gets one or two +1s.

>>6247532
>Go for the umbilical. Simplest movement directly into Allution. And detection wasn't necessarily guaranteed, but tripping the seals would undoubtedly flash on a computer. The possibility of investigation was high, and with the trail of bodies-and recently awakened UNSC personnel...

I concur. Alexa's survival is on her. We're going to be detected anyways, through the explosion or through Alexa or because of the SMU/SPF. We don't have the correct loadout for EVA, and it is a longer trip and more exposed. Furthermore, both entrances contain unknowns beyond. The cargo area may very well hold the enemy's heavy equipment, or be sufficiently cavernous enough to render Maris's kit suboptimal.

>>6247532
>>Go for the umbilical. Simplest movement directly into Allution. And detection wasn't necessarily guaranteed, but tripping the seals would undoubtedly flash on a computer. The possibility of investigation was high, and with the trail of bodies-and recently awakened UNSC personnel...

>>6247560
>>6247570
Update inbound.

>>6247560
>>6247570
You reached the umbilical in near silence. Motion trackers now auspiciously inactive. The dull glow of the ever-present emergency lights painted the pressure seals red.

You automatically held position as Maris went through standard checks, doctrine when potentially moving through compromised areas. Her armor shifted subtly, visually notable, and she held up a gauntlet-light plates adjusting imperfectly and out of sync.

"Still getting errors," She muttered, slowly flexing her wrist. "Low level shimmers."

"Compromised?"

"Maybe." Her voice has a note of irritation. "Never had this issue on the Mark I plates."

You didn't reply, quickly finishing up your own checks, seals whole, rifle charged. Then you keyed the seals.

The door bulged-pressure equalizing?-and opened with a slight hiss. You moved in together.

The umbilical was a long, internally ribbed tunnel, walls made up of off white kevlar-mylar sheets. It was noticably designed for industrial use instead of commercial, and the handholds lining all of the walls were rubbed down to the bare, browning metal. No gravity plates and not noticeable cameras.

Maris launched herself forward on a rib, you following close behind, drifting in precise movements. Hand over hand over hand, you crossed the length of the umbilical in mere moments.

On the far side, steel blast doors with scratched out UNSC markings, warning paint all around, illuminated by brightly flickering amber lights. Standby lights.

Maris stopped near the manual release, her glitching gauntlet held against the latch.

You rolled your shoulders, leveled your SMG, and sent the go light.

Two figures stood there, mid conversation. Civilian posture. They turned to the door as it opened, not in alarm. Staring at a seemingly empty space.

Boots landing with practiced silence, you flowed left, muzzle tracking the pair as you strafed into the room.

Maris mirrored your movement opposite. For the barest second you thought you saw one of their eyes flicker towards her hands, but there was no reaction.

"I thought you said you fixed the autocycle, Rafiq?" Said the taller, bald one with a significant midsection.

Rafiq mumbled something apologetic but you weren't paying attention. A hatch was half ajar and you were ghosting through it. Beyond it, a makeshift logistical area, roughly hewn stone lit by temporary work lights and coated with various crates and bundles of scrap- equipment poached from the Blakewell.

You flattened against a wall and scanned the room, sending the greenlight once it was clear it was clear. Maris was already behind you.

Encounter roll. Three individual 3d10 please!

You guys got insanely lucky walking in, rolled 3d10 for both those chumps with a DC of 7 and they both failed ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Rolled 10, 6, 7 = 23 (3d10)

>>6248152
Fuck, I forgot to ask the tech about the nukes onboard the Blakewell. Oh well. I've been internally prioritizing the innie leaders/capturing the Venezians and upholding the Cole Protocol over destroying war materiel anyways. If there are nukes still onboard the frigate, they can be dealt with via vigorous application of Shiva after the fact anyhow. If the innies moved the nukes (probably into wherever that cargo area leads), then that is best left 'til our exit. We're scrambling to get into position for the kill/capture before the SMU kicks things off anyways.

Rolled 1, 9, 7 = 17 (3d10)

>>6248152

Rolled 7, 5, 2 = 14 (3d10)

>>6248152

>>6248160
>>6248400
>>6248403
54 out of a possible 90. Encounter proceeding...

>>6248766
Down the hallway, where bare walls turned into mesh holding back a wall of crumbing stone, posters begin to plaster the walls. Standard innie propaganda, but one stands out, a large floor to ceiling sheet headed in dark, slanting letters, UNSC WAR CRIMES.

The first entry in stark blood red, read FAR ISLE.

Your EWS spiked as you neared internal relays, shortwave traffic increasing in volume and breadth exponentially with each step. You motioned for Maris to take point as systems tuned to frequencies and filtered out the junk. The whispers of a dozen voice you could only afford to listen to for just a second before shutting it out, jumping from guards shooting the shit, generator sync plans, but then-

"-meeting again?"
"Yeah, same place. URF pricks can't come to a decision. Who knows, today might be the day."
"Aye, one way or another. I don't figure we're getting another shot after today."

The voices were low and urgent. Accented-but not Venezian. Not URF either.

"Do you really thin-"
"No need to ask. Be there."

The conversation cut short just as Maris pinged you. She stood by a wall mounted holographic schematic, the installation revealing itself slow loading gray overlays. Seven layers, stacked directly down from the bottom of the fissure. A quick wave of an uncamouflaged hand scrolled through blown up, detailed screens of each level, revealing clutters of corridors, intersecting halls, blocky expansions and wide, strange spaces. But level Six was what caught your eye.

It was marked V-ZNT, and was totally obsfucated. A grey block. A block the same shape as level Seven-which was simply marked as DEPOT, with appropriate indicators for cargo and personnel elevators. V-ZNT didn't have anything of the sort.

You took a mental and actual picture of the display and just as you moved to scan the other decks again, it flickered. HARD. A loud hum rolled through the walls.

Then the lights went out.

Your eyes instantly went to the standby indicators for the charges, but they both read active. The lights returned a heartbeat later, flickering to life down the halls.

The display did not. No interface meant nothing to key into.

Ok, not a major detriment. You called up what you could remember of the levels.

Most weren't marked, or were merely (seemingly) set for habitation. 3 were outliers.

>>6248811
>Level 2-INFRA. The hallway sprawl had implied central routing stations, water, gas or electrical, and the labels on the map confirmed it. It was the most formulaic out of the levels. Essential, pre built before whatever rush had thrown the entire thing out of step.

>Level 5-JUNC 9. Long bays marked as barracks and mess halls. Armories. A key area and certainly where you'd expect to find important targets and war materials but it was spread out, the largest of the levels bar the DEPOT. You could use your EWS to key you towards hotspots but if there was a meeting of important individuals, it'd be easy to miss.

>LEVEL 6-V-ZNT. You couldn't figure what the designation meant if anything, but the black map peaked your interest sharply. If it was a purposefully wiped map, it could be a command and control level which would hold this meeting, or potentially a secondary DEPOT with arms hidden from the rank and fill rebel or...nothing.

The time is 0645. 30 minutes until the SMU is in play.

>>6248813
>>Level 5-JUNC 9. Long bays marked as barracks and mess halls. Armories. A key area and certainly where you'd expect to find important targets and war materials but it was spread out, the largest of the levels bar the DEPOT. You could use your EWS to key you towards hotspots but if there was a meeting of important individuals, it'd be easy to miss.

I would say V-ZNT is the obvious place to go, and it is, but it depends on what we want to do. Heading to level 2 doesn't seem like the best use of our time unless we intend to further strike the power infrastructure to enable our entrance. Or unless we want to spread the nerve gas throughout the station, but I don't think our one grenade is enough for that. Striking the power may also make getting through doors or using elevators difficult, even if it hinders the ability of the innies to see us or deliberately defend against us.

Level 5 is promising, but may take awhile, and it will certainly mean the end to our stealth. I did say that destroying war materiel was best left 'til we make our way out, but that is only true if we don't have captives in tow. If we intend to take captives, then destroying armouries ought to be done before we go for the leadership.

There is also matter of what our plan is. Do we want to disable power, to hinder escape by leadership? Do we want to cause an alert, to deliberately make our targets move to specific locations to hole up, where we can find all of them? Are we leaving the destruction of war materiel to the prowler, with its nukes? Do we need heavier armaments, in which case a stop by the armouries may be in order? Food for thought.

I have no idea know our interceptor callers could be. Other innies, SU or PO were mentioned before? Infiltrators of some kind?

>>6248813
>Level 2-INFRA. The hallway sprawl had implied central routing stations, water, gas or electrical, and the labels on the map confirmed it. It was the most formulaic out of the levels. Essential, pre built before whatever rush had thrown the entire thing out of step.

My provisional plan is just to progress linearly downwards, causing infrastructural damage to sow chaos, killing targets of opportunity, destroying war materiel, gathering intel, and restocking ammo as we progress. I don't think we can make it comfortably to level 6 in 30 minutes. All hitting that time means, is that the enemy is alerted to hostile action. By then we'll have given Alexa as much time as we can reasonably give her, and it'll be time to blow the reactor and any charges we plant on level 2 anyways. Going too low may also hinder our ability to blow the charges, so taking our time before the SMU comes into play to shape the next phase of our infiltration and set things up may be wise, delay anything loud until right up to that time. This way at least we won't be trapped on the 2nd lowest level without having cleared parts of the higher levels.

>>6248852
>I don't think we can make it comfortably to level 6 in 30 minutes. All hitting that time means, is that the enemy is alerted to hostile action.

Not necessarily. The SMU may or may not be detected when they slip into WoundWart-to be frank I'm going to be flipping a coin for it. There's a chance things go without a hitch-for a bit. That's the intent at least, as mentioned in the briefing oh so long ago.

Sacks is sort of meant to act as a secondary 'timer', alongside the bodies left on the Blakewell and Alexa. Every X number of posts I roll for someone or something lighting up an alarm. Currently the SMU is really the only metric you can for sure track at this point-after they hit their time...things get a bit sketchy. Stealth is your element and I'm toying with pushing you guys in the direction of achieving as much as possible before things get kinetic, which I guess is already being done organically. But you also can't sneak around forever and combat is going to HOPEFULLY be something that is very threatening and frightening. We'll see!

>>6248860
Eh also, to be specific, rolling a detection once isn't an immediate alarm. Drives a 'tension' meter that ends in an alarm after X alerts.

>>6248860
>>6248865
Thanks for the clarification. I suppose that makes trips back and forth deep into the depths more viable. I'll keep my vote the same for now, barring further discussion. My notion of how long we can stay hidden is now revised, but I still think setting up further may be worthwhile.

>>6248813
>>Level 5-JUNC 9. Long bays marked as barracks and mess halls. Armories. A key area and certainly where you'd expect to find important targets and war materials but it was spread out, the largest of the levels bar the DEPOT. You could use your EWS to key you towards hotspots but if there was a meeting of important individuals, it'd be easy to miss.

>>6248813
LEVEL 6-V-ZNT. You couldn't figure what the designation meant if anything, but the black map peaked your interest sharply. If it was a purposefully wiped map, it could be a command and control level which would hold this meeting, or potentially a secondary DEPOT with arms hidden from the rank and fill rebel or...nothing
I’ll take the mystery box

No update today. I'll be keeping the vote open overnight. Update will probably arrive tomorrow morning.

Writing

>>6248852
>>6248999
>>6248851
>>6249064
No point driving right back into another blind spot or driving for more scene setting. No, it's time to go for the known factor-Level 5 was a clear target. It was time to gun for it, and you made that clear to Maris.

The first level was practically skeletal. Cold air, walls coated with drill and cutter laser marks, the few bodies you passed were working diligently on routine maintenance. You kept to the shadows as much as you could, and twice something went crunch underfoot-but to no result.

The elevator was a no-go, the lift platform utterly swarmed with workers, carts and dollys covered in tools and crates heading to deeper levels. Maris moved without so much as a word, and you followed, tracing the line of a ragged air vent before coming to a poorly maintained panel roughly 4 feet tall and 2 wide. It's cover was lose and Maris peeled it away as silently as she could.

A vertical space dropped into darkness, a massive cylindrical pipe-some kind of borehole, potentially? Vent systems clung to the walls, the lukewarm pulse of air flowing through. Gravity was somewhat weaker but still consistent.

Maris drove her fingers into the soft rock and started her way down. You followed. The stone was brittle, your grip somewhat inconsistent, each handhold scratched out spawning a cloud of dust.

Your motion tracker pulsed as you passed through each layer, voices leaking from ventilation grates, inconsistent and indistinct.

The air got warmer as you descended. The telltale smell of humanity confined in a space.

Maris swung into an alcove as the shaft abruptly widened, and you dropped in after her. One of her hands hooked onto your chestplate, maneuvering you carefully into the tight space, armor brushing together with metallic thuds. The ledge wasn't even 8 inches wide, and the edge of it crumble slightly as the two of you settled.

Ahead, the low omnipresent murmur of voices. A lot of voices. Your EWS spiked, a deluge of data falling down you faceplate. Communications, local network nodes, routing systems, door locks-it was a wave of relentless noise.

A dumb AI would be extremely useful right now.

You parsed it, painstakingly. No time to listen, only looking for discrepancies and network labels and positions. Azimuths and distances.

5 minutes. You identified three discrepancies.

>>6249620
>17 degrees of silence. All around were signals, designated by azimuth and distance. But a particular section was a complete blank spot. Could be a lead wall or intentional sheilding, for private rooms? Or some other intent.

>A legitimate command node. At least that's what the built in algorithm noted it as. Just 200 meters off from the blank zone. All traffic in and out was encrypted, tight. The EWS detected three separate layers of encryption. Someone was paranoid-and sending data...where?

>13 food warming units. Clustered together, on the other end of the floor. Data stream had unsecured timestamps-they were turned on 4 minutes ago and were set to stay on for the next 20. Could've been nothing, if you could detect any others-which you couldn't. Might be a deviation from the norm. A scheduled meal for big wigs? Or someone's birthday...

>>6249621
>>A legitimate command node. At least that's what the built in algorithm noted it as. Just 200 meters off from the blank zone. All traffic in and out was encrypted, tight. The EWS detected three separate layers of encryption. Someone was paranoid-and sending data...where?

>>6249621
>17 degrees of silence. All around were signals, designated by azimuth and distance. But a particular section was a complete blank spot. Could be a lead wall or intentional sheilding, for private rooms? Or some other intent.

With skill and luck we'll maintain our stealth and be able to be in time for the birthday party, or deviate towards the command node. But this place is likely isolated, so would make a good first stop.

>>6249621
>>6249624
>>6249625
I completely forgot to mention that you can choose to split up. That's an option that's always on the table.

>>6249621
>17 degrees of silence. All around were signals, designated by azimuth and distance. But a particular section was a complete blank spot. Could be a lead wall or intentional sheilding, for private rooms? Or some other intent.

>>6249624
>>6249625
>>6249641
Locked on 17 degrees of Silence. Writing.

>>6249816
No chatter, no signals, not a single ping. That sort of electromagnetic hole doesn't happen by accident, the only thing that could explain it was potentially a reactors shielding unit or purposeful effort. Either way, it begged for investigation.

The panel here was secured better than the last, but it yielded easily enough with a palm pressed against a corner, the slight creak of yielding and tearing aluminum hidden under the roar of overworked air units. Maris followed you into the space beyond, a crawlspace in the 'ceiling' of the floor, nearly dripping from condensation from thermal control systems and choked with dust.

Though the grates, personnel enjoyed a decent enough breakfast, slumped over metal trays. Some were laughing through mouthfuls of hot food, others silently convening in groups. There was no standard uniform, maintenance jumpsuits, old sun bleached UNSC bdus or, more commonly, just civilian clothing. A few had sidearms on a chest or a hip.

You and Maris pushed across the throng of life for as far as you could, slipping over support girders and smaller vents. But you could only go so far, the overhead descending more and more before you could do little more than scrape by insulation and wet steel.

Near a passage just off a thoroughfare, you waited for a break in the foot traffic before dropping down.

Moving through the midpoint of the Level, the tension seemed to mount. The people here looked at each other differently, eyes not meeting, conversations short and clipped. The iconography changed. Shared habitation was confirmed when you spotted the common symbol for the Peoples Occupation movement.

Possibly Venezian representatives. PO-who were only known to date to operate commonly around Reach. It was a strange place to gather.

When you reached the wedge, the crowd thinned, hallways turning into the standard decking and walls you'd expect from a UNSC installation. Your EWS suddenly stopped reading anything-and Maris' IFF tag vanished from your MT display, though the blip itself remained.

Jammers. It was bewildering-what use would that have here, in an installation totally controlled by the Innies-and even if messages could get out through the layers of rock and ice above...what wouldn't they want transmitted? Nothing come to mind.

Guards stood in pairs or singles, here and there. Still equipped with sidearms, but they were wearing the same armor as the ones you encountered in the Reactor chamber of the Blakewell. They looked professional, well groomed and alert.

There wasn't a lot of space to cover, but suddenly without the stream of information gleaned by your EWS, you were at a loss. There was something here-that so much was obvious. You just had to find it.

>Roll three individual 3d10. Taking the best.

Sorry for the delay! Got struck down by a mind shattering migraine.

Rolled 3, 10, 5 = 18 (3d10)

>>6250111

Rolled 2, 4, 9 = 15 (3d10)

>>6250111

Rolled 2, 10, 4 = 16 (3d10)

>>6250111

>>6250114
>>6250129
>>6250153
18 nets you a slight success. Writing.

>>6250183
The corridors here were angular and well lit. You trusted your equipment, but in this light you casted noticeable shadows-enough to draw the attention of anyone alert enough to notice.

Painstakingly, slowly you leap frogged up and down corridors, waiting for that one instant a guard looked away to cross junctions.

The only benefit of this comms blackout was that if anyone did notice, you'd have enough to close the gap and snuff them out before they could shout alarm. And even if they could, something about this area-the air was somehow heavy, every sound felt muted.

Many of the rooms were empty, or filled with data servers. More rooms were inaccessible-including a long bay in the middle of the 'wedge', with two motion blips moving back and forth rythmically. Potentially an armory, storeroom, a gym...again, you just couldn't know.

And nothing definite. Not definite enough to break cover or risk breaking into a room.

Reaching a corner leading into a narrower passage, you tentatively leaned your head around the edge. 3 guards, one sitting behind a desk-a real desk-montioring a bank of screens with two others flanking him, muttering idly amongst themselves. They were guarding a door, so much was clear, a door marked with an alphanumeric tag and a large sign marked CONFERENCE ROOM B3.

You've passed other conference rooms and other desks. No guards there. It was as good a lead as you were gonna get. But an approach head on wasn't feasible, not with all three facing you directly.

You conveyed what you saw to Maris in hand signals, and took a step back, letting her eye the trio herself.

She came back and mimed a small circle in the air.

Loop back.

Painstakingly, you moved back, retracing your steps to approach the room from another angle. Luckily the door was set near a T-junction, and eventually you were laying eyes on it again, instead from a separate angle. The guards were still talking now-louder.

An open door yawned halfway down the corridor. A step inside, Maris half a step behind. The room was bare, unused storage, and the door wasn't open-it was missing. You scanned the wall adjacent to the conference room as Maris stood at the doorway. A slim vent sat just at floor level, and you bent down to listen. The whisper of voices, audible but utterly indecipherable, muffled as if intentionally dampened. You tweaked your helmets receivers, modulating the gain as the voices came in clearer but still low and imperfect. But enough to understand.

>>6250275
"Where's Klagsbrun, by the way?" A gravely voice. Deep, old, and demanding. "We're supposed to finalize loading schedules with him before our meeting with the PO."

"He's still on Control. Refugees are getting more and more restless. More rations, more updates, more everything. Ungrateful bastards." Young. Female. Measured but irritated, accent native to the system. "If he had his way, he'd let them loose. It's what he's been yelling 'bout for the past week."

"I wonder if he's been fraternizing with the POs. He knows a few from his days back on Reach, no?" Drawling, but sharp. Heavily accented. Venezian.

Jackpot.

"When I arrived" he continued, "you promised they'd be compliant enough. They seem awfully particular about their terms, Taubes."

Silence. The sound of ceramic settling on metal.

"They'll comply one way or another." Gravel spoke again. "Frankly, we don't need them, and never did. I was surprised when they turned up with the rest, and they still haven't explained what they were doing on Estuary. But if we sideline them now, they're gonna lash out-they didn't like this plan from the start, and we've got enough to worry about with the refugees themselves without them complicating things."

"It HAS to be today." Said the Venezian. "Every hour we delay, the Covenant may discover us. Our rations are running out, and the units are sitting and waiting below. We can send them out NOW-haven't you already filtered through the ships enough? Any more and they're going to ask questions."

"Sir, I-" Taubes started, but the female interjected. "They don't give a damn about us. You've seen it yourself, haven't you? Not a single Covenant ship over Venezia since you split with the UEG-they've even bypassed your system. They're after UNSC assets, not us."

"Maybe..."Taubes said after a pause. "Maybe, but I don't want to bet lives on it. We have to come to a decision today. Peoples Occupation be damned. Even we have to burn a few, for the many."

The conversation suddenly trailed into static, murmurs losing shape in the sound.

3 voices, one Venezian. Directly involved with some kind of operation here. Strife among the various insurrectionist movements wasn't a rare concept in the slightest, but this sounded a bit tenser than usual.

Time ticked over. 0710. With luck, the SMU was infiltrating WoundWart without a hitch. You realized that any alerts wouldn't be able to break through the jamming, or the layers of rock above.

>>6250276
>Kill the guards and enter the room, subduing and interrogating the HVTs while you still had the chance. If the rest of the Insurrectionist leadership arrive after or while your inside, it'd be simple enough to wipe them out and move out. And if an alert went out, you'd at least have a few of the leaders down and out. Would require three 2d10 for execution.

>Wait. Patiently. For the rest of the members to arrive. For some reason you couldn't pick up anything further from the vent, but you could find a way inside without alerting everyone-potentially by shadowing a new arrival directly inside. But you had no idea how much longer it'd be until the meeting convened. And an alert could motivate them to lock down the room, move out...options that would make things messy.

>Write in.

Sorry if these posts read weirdly or flow strangely. Brain is really slaughtering me

>>6250277
Maybe they are arguing over leaving, and who to leave behind with their limited life support capacity. Or maybe they discovered some forerunner shit that leads to some hidden arcology, wouldn't be the first time.

>Kill the guards and enter the room, subduing and interrogating the HVTs while you still had the chance. If the rest of the Insurrectionist leadership arrive after or while your inside, it'd be simple enough to wipe them out and move out. And if an alert went out, you'd at least have a few of the leaders down and out. Would require three 2d10 for execution.

After we interrogate, I think we should kill the Venezian. I think there's others we can capture, and lugging one around at this early stage is a non-starter. Don't get greedy for the other leader, we'll pick them off in their own hidey holes, in time. The one we'd be leaving alive sounds like a troublemaker anyways, someone who'd add chaos to the mix, maybe start up the blame game, against him or others. A little civil war would be handy.

>>6250277
>Kill the guards and enter the room, subduing and interrogating the HVTs while you still had the chance. If the rest of the Insurrectionist leadership arrive after or while your inside, it'd be simple enough to wipe them out and move out. And if an alert went out, you'd at least have a few of the leaders down and out. Would require three 2d10 for execution.

>>6250286
>>6250287
Going ahead with the seizure. Please roll three individual 2d10

Rolled 9, 1 = 10 (2d10)

>>6250564

Rolled 10, 1 = 11 (2d10)

>>6250564

Rolled 4, 9 = 13 (2d10)

>>6250564
rolling

>>6250636
>>6250639
>>6250644
Wow, that's a close one. Minor success. Writing now.

>>6250708
VACIVE stepped out fast, Maris low and on a knee, you high, guns up. Suppressed bursts tore into the two standing guards, precise surgical. They drop, rounds punching through unarmored necks and jaws, one staggering back and landing bodily against the still sealed door. The one seated barely had time to turn his head before two rounds dig into his Tbox.

Surging down the corridor, you waste no time, reaching to key the door. Then things happened fast.

It slides open unprompted, a tall man in plain civilians staring at empty space with a slightly frustrated expression on his face.

Brown eyes went wide when your hand wrapped around his throat and lifted him up cleanly from the deck, driven inside in less than a step. A flash of recognition in his eyes, hands scrabbling at a waistband. You let your SMG fall, snapping forwards to secure his wrist. Bones cracked under loose flesh, and something black, thin, small falls to the floor.

The young woman was facing away. In the corner of your eye she was turning, standing from a console at a table bisecting the length of the room. You didn't see the M6D clenched in a white knuckle grip until it cleared her side, but before even muscles could twitch to let go of the traitor in your hands, rounds ripped into her bicep, her shoulder. Spurting blood, visible tremors reverberating up and arm, she recoiled back, pistol hanging limply in a near useless hand. Her mouth opened to scream before Maris' stitched another 4 rounds into the space just below her throat.

She hit the floor.

You dumped Taubes into a seat, the man instantly cradling his ruined arm and gasping for air. The sound of the door shutting and something tacking against your side. Your SMG, in an invisible hand.

The Venezian hadn't moved a muscle, his face totally devoid of color, notable against his black hair as the sound blood flowing like water fell against the deck. Eyes locked on the matte black muzzle aimed squarely at the center of his chest.

A moment of gasping breath. Taubes lifted his head, not even starting at the still smoking barrel almost pressed against his forehead.

He spat the word out like a curse.

"Spartans."

>Extract the vitals as fast you can. Minimal talking, maximum pressure and no room for repeats. (Leave all questions to me. Roll 1d10 for all questions. Easy DC, but doesn't glean the most info.)

>Wring them dry. Dig deep and drive as much as you can out before someone notices the corpses outside. (Allows player input. No rolls necessary...as you have the time to get the truth, or close to it, if you ask the right questions. If you choose this one please include your question/questions)

>This is already messier than you'd like. Kill them and scrape whatever you can find out of the console.

>>6250748
I'll have to think about this. If there are more representatives to interrogate, then maybe getting the basics quickly would be ideal. On the other hand, despite the known inbound, this location is as quiet and isolated as we are likely to get for a deep interrogation.

>>6250748
>Wring them dry. Dig deep and drive as much as you can out before someone notices the corpses outside. (Allows player input. No rolls necessary...as you have the time to get the truth, or close to it, if you ask the right questions. If you choose this one please include your question/questions)

>>6250748
>Extract the vitals as fast you can. Minimal talking, maximum pressure and no room for repeats. (Leave all questions to me. Roll 1d10 for all questions. Easy DC, but doesn't glean the most info.)

>>6250748
>>Extract the vitals as fast you can. Minimal talking, maximum pressure and no room for repeats. (Leave all questions to me. Roll 1d10 for all questions. Easy DC, but doesn't glean the most info.)

>>6250748
>Extract the vitals as fast you can. Minimal talking, maximum pressure and no room for repeats. (Leave all questions to me. Roll 1d10 for all questions. Easy DC, but doesn't glean the most info.)

I'm going to be putting things on hold until Friday. A few things have popped up that require a lot more of my attention and time.

However, go ahead and roll three 1d10 for me, and I'll see you guys in a couple days : )

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>6251914

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>6251914

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>6251914
See you then!

Fero! LIVE!

>>6254121
Update later today (Saturday) don't worry. Got a bit lazy, apologies

Writing

>>6252462
>>6252496
>>6252534
You deactivate your photoreceptors without ceremony.

The golden sheen of your visor catches the light, reflecting back dully. The sudden appearance is enough to make the URF man, Taubes, stiffen at the full reveal of your silhouette. The Venezian seemingly keeps his composure, besides the beads of sweat springing all over his face.

Maris is already at work, the sound of a chair scraping across decking as she moved into position behind the console.

You weigh your options. Despite shattering his wrist, Taubes was still looking up at you with a modicum of defiance, his eyes flickering from you to the puddle of blood, the dead woman, the weapons clattered on the deck. On the other hand, the Venezian was terrified, though he was desperately trying to hide it.

"Why the jammers?" An inconsequential question, but enough to elicit some kind of response, level the field so that you could figure out the pressure points. A bead of sweat finally rolled down the Venezians face, his eyes looking to Taubes, almost for... permission? But the man wasn't looking at him, and the silence was drawing on.

He clears his throat. "Paranoia. Concerns about listening devices. Moles. Your kind."

Taubes exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching and relaxing, but no words. Annoyed at the response.

You turned ever so slightly, angling your visor at the Venezian. You let the silence sit for a measured second. Despite wanting to delve deeper into that line of reasoning, it was better to get them farther off balance.

"Why are YOU here?"

The question was sharp, pointed, utterly accusatory. The Venezian snaps his mouth shut into a thin line, his whole body tightening.

He was utterly terrified.

Another second passes as he and Taubes exchange the quickest of looks, sweat visibly staining his collar.

Your fingers twitch, already knowing that Maris was moments away from driving the information from the man. The Venezian breaks before you could give the signal.

"Slipspace drives" he blurts out. We-I was delivering Drives here, to the URF. To the refugees, " he corrects himself, sitting up that much straighter, voice somewhat losing the undercurrent of fear. Some semblance of control returned to his face. "Your government left them here. We did not. The URF reached out for aid, for logistics, and we have responded. Despite your unwillingness, we intend to-"

"Evacuate the Refugees by strapping Slipspace drives onto their ships." But that didn't- "Why drives and not empty ships?"

The Venezian hesitated again.

"It was...available. We only have enough to outfit the ships most overcrowded to allow them the ability to leave. And regardless of our... capacity to arrive in Venezian marked vessels, you understand that several hundred of the citizens the UEG has stranded here wish to return to that very same UEG. The UNSC does not respond positively to Venezian transponders."

"And where are those slipspace drives?"

>>6254587
Taubes shifted in his seat. His eyes were locked on to your visor now, hard, defiant. The more he stared, the more his breathing increased, his eyes softening just minutely. You recognized it, that look of... resignation.

He knew he was going to die. An unfortunate thing-he was hardy, you could tell, and you didn't have the time to pull all the information you could from him.

"I won't ask a second time." You said, focus turning back to the Venezian.

His cheeks were flush now, and his brow knit into a frown. "This is not right. Venezia is not here on any jurisdiction that the UNSC can exploit. You abandoned this system, these people. You will not punish them all simply because-because they're affiliating with the only people willing to help."

You understood fully. He was an idiot. Trying to dominate the space. You were almost taken aback.

Two birds.

Grabbing Taubes' wrist, you squeezed and his scream was gut wrenching and desperate, hand scrabbling against yours. The Venezian cringed as you yanked his arm up, the older man's screams increasing in pitch as torqued the limb behind his head. His shoulder shifted and the resistance in his arm vanished.

You let ago and he collapsed to his knees, the pain too much for him to even scream now. Deltoid was probably torn, by the way he was trying to move it. Messy, sure. But the Venezian suddenly looked properly terrified again.

"Answer." Maris spoke, her voice dripping with something that almost sounded like enthusiasm. "Colonel Garret Taubes of the 331st Infantry, out of New Bali, probably doesn't want any more, you know?"

The console was proving worthwhile. Good. The Venezian looked close to tears as his mouth opened.

"Level 6. For final...final outfitting before we ship them out. Get them attached."

It felt like nothing. No-it felt like a lie. Slipspace drives to help a bunch of UEG refugees? The timing didn't work out, how did you prepare a bulk shipment of drives and ship it out in a months time frame? Venezia was easily 3 weeks away in a Prowler, and standard shipping was even slower. Not only, but was that the purpose of the meeting? A disagreement over giving refugees a means to escape? You considered this as Maris pulled a data stick from the console and slipped it into her harness, bloody footprints ghosting their way to the doorway.

>Drive in just that much deeper. The room was sealed but you weren't sure if it was sufficient to drown out Taubes cries-though your motion tracker still showed nothing. And you still needed details from the URF man himself.

>Delta out. Shoot them both and decide your next plan of attack-either waiting for the rest of the HVTs to arrive or move on to Level 6.

>Write in. Includes the option to ask additional questions but you're allowed ONE-since the vote was against it last time.

>>6254589
>Drive in just that much deeper. The room was sealed but you weren't sure if it was sufficient to drown out Taubes cries-though your motion tracker still showed nothing. And you still needed details from the URF man himself.

>>6254589
>Drive in just that much deeper. The room was sealed but you weren't sure if it was sufficient to drown out Taubes cries-though your motion tracker still showed nothing. And you still needed details from the URF man himself.

>>6254589
>Delta out. Shoot them both and decide your next plan of attack-either waiting for the rest of the HVTs to arrive or move on to Level 6.

Less frequent voters will have to step up, I'm innawoods for a week.

>>6254589
>Drive in just that much deeper. The room was sealed but you weren't sure if it was sufficient to drown out Taubes cries-though your motion tracker still showed nothing. And you still needed details from the URF man himself.

There's something fishy here. Though I wouldn't be surprised if this is just the official story, that's all they really do know and the actual information on this operation is compartmentalized and above them. Still, it's better to take no chances and get what you can. Something is better than nothing.

>>6254605
>>6254828
>>6254935
>>6256033
Locked in on further interrogation. Update will come later today.

Ehh, sorry for the delay. Been honestly busy. Update WILL drop today.

>>6256631
You haul Taubes off of the ground and place him into his seat, AGAIN, his good arm striking your armored forearm with a defiant grunt. It's like punching bulkhead-pointlesa, but you didn't punish him for the act.

Instead you leaned down, positioning you faceplate just inches from his.

"Why would the Peoples Occupation would push back against handing slipspace drives out to the refugees?"

That landed well-the man vaguely cringe, subtlely, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening. He's wondering how much you know, now.

"They don't exactly explain why those refugees would get suspicious, the Drives," you continued, "unless you all weren't planning on allowing them to go where they pleased? And why would you need to cover a... logistical issue, in the second most obfuscated area of this installation?"

Each point, the mans jaw tightens. His breathing-already elevated through the pain-becomes more erratic.

He spits, flecks of saliva smearing across your visor.

You didn't react, only stood back up.

Too much time, he really won't break. And you don't have the time to try.

Still, he told you something in that-there was something a bit more important that he was trying to keep from you.

You turned back to your more compliant correspondence, but before you can speak, Taubes moves out of the corner of your eye, surging up and out of the chair in a sudden burst of motion, lunging for the gun still sat on the blood stained deck.

A plated forearm caught him across the chest before he even rpse fully out of his chair, driving him back down as bone and metal meet with a dull thwack. He crumples under the force, gasping.

The motion tracker lit up. Blossoming yellow contacts. Four. Six. Nine.

You triggered your photoreceptors, eyes glued onto the display as you blended into background. A breath, the Venezian staring up at you.

The dots were coming on, quickly.

>Enough. Kill them and turn to the group moving in. If you're lucky it's the rest of the HVTs coming right onto your laps. Unlucky, and you've been made, and that was a squad of armed and ready PMCs sweeping the installation for your presence.

>Kill Taubes, and secure the Venezian as quickly as you could. He still had information he could give, and you could potentially get away before whoever was coming discovered you. Potentially.

>Write in

>>6256913
>Enough. Kill them and turn to the group moving in. If you're lucky it's the rest of the HVTs coming right onto your laps. Unlucky, and you've been made, and that was a squad of armed and ready PMCs sweeping the installation for your presence.

>>6256913
>Kill Taubes, and secure the Venezian as quickly as you could. He still had information he could give, and you could potentially get away before whoever was coming discovered you. Potentially.

>>6256913
>Enough. Kill them and turn to the group moving in. If you're lucky it's the rest of the HVTs coming right onto your laps. Unlucky, and you've been made, and that was a squad of armed and ready PMCs sweeping the installation for your presence.

>>6256921
>>6257147
>>6257670
Locked in. Update will come in later this afternoon.

Enough.

You step back and raise your M7. Taubes barely has the time to raise his head before the suppressed SMG burps a round clean through it, jerking his skull back with a wet crack.

The Venezian begins a stammered plea just before Maris slips a knife just under the base of his skull, body shuddering before she pulls the blade back out.

Moving. You both are, her wrist flicking most of the blood from the knife before slipping it back into her sheathe, you scanning your EW feed for anything.

Nothing popped up, but your motion tracker pulsed again, contacts feeding in. Faster.

You took point, Maris just behind you as you keyed the door and slipped out. The bodies were still there and the coast was still clear. A quick decision, and you signaled to Maris to drag a body behind the desk, as you did the same with the other, before slipping off to the right-just behind the corner, heads peeking out as-

Nine. Head to toe in armor, walking hurridly around the far corner. Still, no standard URF gear. They were in quality stuff, vaguely similar to UNSC Army BDUs but obviously some domestic pattern.

They were also guns up. Ready for contact, rifles vaguely sweeping left and right as they filed towards the conference.

You checked your motion tracker. No other contacts, so far.

>Fade out. You had the chance to bug out, conserve ammunition. You've already been burned, somehow-why else would a patrol be heading here?

>Engage. Even if they weren't your targets, dropping them before they could discover the bodies you left in the conference room might give a few more minutes to move through the floor. Unless they were already on high alert. It's impossible to tell, cut off from the network. (Begins combat encounter.)

>Write in

>>6257936
>Fade out. You had the chance to bug out, conserve ammunition. You've already been burned, somehow-why else would a patrol be heading here?

>>6257936
>Fade out. You had the chance to bug out, conserve ammunition. You've already been burned, somehow-why else would a patrol be heading here?

>>6257936
>>Fade out. You had the chance to bug out, conserve ammunition. You've already been burned, somehow-why else would a patrol be heading here?

>>6257981
>>6258158
>>6259288
This will lock things in and be a pretty good start for thread 3! Hope o didn't make anyone think I flaked. Just been a little busier than I expected, started a new job and school and blah blah blah.

Maris and Faolan will return probably on the 3rd of July. Have a nice one!

>>6264282
cool thks

>>6264282
Glad this is still alive, though I'll probably only be able to vote once or twice in the first couple weeks of July.

>>6264282
ok!

>>6264282
Still alive QM?

>>6269885
I sure as hell am. Got a little caught up the last couple of days. New thread will come in tomorrow or at the latest, the 6th. Hopefully.

Glad to know there's someone still waiting : )

Yay

>>6269893
>Glad to know
Always. Waiting warmly.

>>>6270245
>>>6270245
>>>6270245
It's up!

>>6270245
>>6270245
>>6270245