driftfleet | it's gonna rain - and it never ends

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it's gonna rain - and it never ends

[ It's midday, or close enough to it that the sun is blazing red hot above the planet. Everything seems ordinary - for disturbing, red-tinted values of ordinary, anyway. But the normalcy doesn't last for long.

Without warning, an explosive sound shocks through the jungle. It doesn't come from any one central point, but rather several points, scattered throughout, strategically placed to the advantage of someone. And from those massive shocks rises a wave of missiles - large, fast, and apparently, freely flying. They're guided, and they've locked onto their target: any foreign ship that is currently within Lato'li's atmosphere.

There's no way to mistake it. They're headed right for the Fleet.

The first wave feels a bit sporadic - timings might be off, but the missiles are still deadly, and if they hit, they hit hard. Shields might withstand this wave, but ships without shields will take direct hits. The ability to stay airborn is very, very quickly lost.

The second wave is much more precise, expertly timed and executed by whomever is firing from below. Even smaller shuttles get caught in the crosshairs, and those ships that lasted through the first volley will take a few more shots. If shields saved you before, they will fail here, giving out under the strain.

And the third wave comes, a little bit longer after, to finish the job. There are more of them, and they are far more advanced - they make the previous two volleys look like warning shots. This time, it's all missiles launched, all targets acquired.

Seven Fleet ships - and many, many shuttles - fall out of the sky, headed straight for the surface at alarming speed. Only four ships manage to escape the assault and exit the planet's atmosphere, retreating to orbit as fast as possible. Those lucky enough to have been in orbit can only watch as all of this happens.

But the missiles aren't the only thing up their sleeve. Just when the dust settles, while the network is surely lighting up with activity, attempts to contact one another and check on the status of fellow ships and crew, A loud, quick, terrible screeching noise shocks the network. It drowns out all communications on any connected devices - ship or personal. Ships in orbit will see all on-board systems flicker, then fizzle out, all non-emergency systems have gone completely down.

And with that.. there's silence. Perhaps too much silence. No matter what you do, no matter which buttons you press, which channels you try, there is no connection. Those who have dropped to the surface are entirely radio silent, and those in orbit have been reduced to the barest of abilities and life-support, with the bare minimum of contact.

So... What can you do now? ]

(( ooc: Feel free to use this post as a mingle for all your crashy or missile-dodgy needs!

• The following ships have been shot down: Bishop, Bloodsport, Blue Fish, Goldstone, Heron, Tourist, Twin Roses.
• The following ships are now in orbit: Blameless, Caprine, First Breath, Huntress, Iskaulit, Red Fish, Starstruck, Vanquish, Wonderduck

Good luck, Dear Fleet...~ ♪ ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[After everyone who was on the Tourist is confirmed alive, Chekov goes to work. The planet, as he learned in the brief time they were in orbit, is not an entirely friendly place; they may not have long to enjoy being alive if they don't act quickly.

The Russian has, to his immense surprise and relief, managed to escape the crash relatively unharmed: some impressive bruises, some cuts, nothing that requires medical attention. Since he would be only minimally useful out in the forest and wants to keep himself in a state of not-requiring-medical-attention, Pavel chooses to remain inside the relative safety of the downed ship. Communications need to be restored, inventory needs to be taken, and preparations for an extended stay should be made. The latter won't be necessary, hopefully, but Pavel isn't going to bank on a speedy rescue or escape.

Help or hinder him!]

You know, I think the Atroma might actually be trying to kill us.

[While Chekov works on the communications issue, Felix is seated at the nav station. While there's nothing specifically jamming the functionality of those instruments, it had taken some damage in the crash. Felix isn't an engineer - frustrating as all hell, to be honest because he could do some good if only the frakking augments didn't mess with what he already knows - but there's a limited amount that he can still accomplish, and by the gods he's going to.]

Any bets on the next crisis they're going to throw at us?

[...He's mostly just grumbling. At least he's slightly less self-sacrificing about this one, even though he's not slacking off in his efforts either.]

Edited 2017-10-24 03:13 (UTC)

At this moment, there are other parties that are trying to accomplish that with far more enthusiasm.

[Pavel, accustomed as he is to being an all-purpose genius, also finds the augments' tendency to cripple abilities that should be there endlessly frustrating. Now more than usual since his communications knowledge isn't solving their system's issues. Everything seems to be in order--as in order as anything can be after a spectacular crash--but nothing's working. Is it an engineering issue? Some kind of undetected phenomena related to the planet or its inhabitants' technology? Or are the Atroma keeping the ship's systems down to up the entertainment factor? Whatever the problem is, he has to believe that he can do something about it if he keeps at it.

Felix's grumbling is a pleasant distraction from yet another potentially life-threatening situation. What are their lives.]

Mm... something more creative, hopefully. If I wanted to see entire civilizations threatened or to be stranded on a hostile alien planet, I would stay at home.

[Their lives are unfortunate, is what they are. At least he can provide (morbid) amusement though.

Felix tips his head in slight acknowledgement of the Vieziri's more immediate threat, a grim smile on his face. To the second point, one of his eyebrows just lifts a little. They've chatted about this, kind of, but.....:]

Are you sure you haven't considered a career change?

[It's mostly a joke. That he probably shouldn't make while on a ship that is captained by the person who is actually Chekov's superior officer elsewhere. Hopefully his tone is dry enough to convey that he's not really suggesting Chekov leave Starfleet.

Not that he thinks he would anyway.]

[Unfortunate indeed. Chekov is quite sure that the Atroma owe them a nice planet after this one. If not nice, at least not in immediate peril or populated by murderous natives.

Even though Felix's tone is joking (or so he thinks, the other man can be a hard read), he treats the question seriously. Now is as good a time for seriousness as any.

Quietly:] I have. Not at home. Here, though, where I am far enough away to see more than a navigation console and a view screen... [He trails off. Smiles.] But who abandons a dream when it doesn't go as planned?

[Felix has his head bent over an electrical panel, and it's a lucky thing. He's looking down and slightly away from Chekov. That's why it's lucky.

Because Chekov's question hits him like a sack of bricks to the gut. Emotionally. He's dimly amazed that he doesn't audibly exhale, because he feels a little bit like it hit him physically. It probably has at least a little to do with the immediate internal answer that rises up in him. Me. I did. I gave up.

It's ridiculous for this question to bother him as much as it does. For the way it automatically twists something in his gut. He should be able to just shrug his shoulders and say something noncommittal.

Except.

Except that it's not like Felix has never noticed how he and Chekov are incredibly similar people. Or were. That's the thing. Were. Chekov is young, bright, friendly, eager. And, apparently, an idealist. "Who abandons a dream when it doesn't go as planned?"

It's not easy to come face to face with what you once were and aren't anymore. Maybe he'd kind of known all along that they shared so much. Even down to that vague worry that there could be something more. It's a little bit dizzying. He could say something. Warn him about lost chances and too much optimism. About not being smart in some ways that really count. He could do a lot and maybe it would save Chekov pain down the line. Because the world isn't a very nice place and Chekov is a nice person and Felix has a lot of personal experience with how that kind of thing can go.

(At the same time, Felix has the stupid sudden urge to find Kirk. To take him by the shoulders and to get him to promise to take care of Chekov. Watch out for him. Listen to him. He won't. But he wants to.)

In the end though, he can't bring himself to try and change Chekov's worldview. Felix has no idea if that's a kindness or not. He doesn't know if he himself would be better off if someone had tried to tell him how the world really worked. It comes down to the fact that being how he is hurts. He doesn't enjoy being reminded of how broken he is (especially now, brought into such sharp relief with Chekov just feet away) and he can't imagine twisting someone else that way. It still may not be a kindness.

It feels like Chekov asked the question hours ago, but in reality Felix's brain has been whirling through all these thoughts. It's a testament to his composure that he doesn't look as shattered as he feels. The only truly obvious sign is the way that his fingers are curled around the edge of the nav console, the fact that for a few long moments he grips it hard enough that his fingers are white. Maybe his eyes are noticeably distant. Maybe. After those moments, though, he pulls himself together enough to tilt his head in consideration, and then nod.]

May as well stick with it.

Edited 2017-11-10 00:29 (UTC)

[If Chekov had not spent so much time in the company of people who hide their emotions--some out of necessity because they are in a position of command, others out of habit after living in worlds where emotion is a weakness to be exploited--he might have thought nothing of the too-long pause or the death grip on the console. As it is, he notices both.]

May as well.

[He turns his full attention to Felix. It would probably be best to make some inane observation or comment on their (lack of) progress, allow the other man to continue hiding behind wry remarks and noncommittal responses.

But Chekov knows just enough about Felix from spending time in his company and from the Atroma's calibrations to be too concerned, too curious to wave this subtle reaction away.]

What is it?

[Full attention is the opposite of what he wants. In this moment, all Felix really wants to do is retreat and be alone and regroup. Not that any of that is really possible, not without giving away just how shaken he is.

...At least he has a plausible out. He's lucky he thinks quickly enough to find it.]

What? [As if he has no idea what Chekov is talking about, at least not immediately. Felix forces himself to look up, meet Chekov's gaze. He lets the question "click", then.] Oh it's nothing...my leg's just...been bothering me a little more since the crash. The pain flares up sometimes.

[There. That explains everything, doesn't it?]

It's not serious, though.

[Chekov watches Felix for a moment. He's always skeptical when people wave off concern and intuition tells him that this isn't the truth... but, while worrying is certainly in his nature, pushing is not. Neither is making his friends uncomfortable.]

There may be something that you could take for that. [And then there's Anders who doesn't seem like a viable option since he went and almost died.] I can look...?

You don't have to go out of your way. I'll ask about it later.

[His desire to be alone and regroup for a couple minutes wars with his desire not to cause that much of a stir. And the latter wins.

Even if he's not completely lying when he says his leg has been bothering him. That's why it's a good excuse. Plausible without being the absolute truth in that particular moment.

(There's a little portion of him deep down that is at least a little touched that Chekov seems to care as much as he does. It's nice to be reminded people care. It's just...you know. He could do with less caring right now.)

Felix's tone is easy, unconcerned. It's a tone that he's mildly forcing, but every second that passes between his revelation and the current moment makes it a little easier to really regain composure. He even returns to what he was doing to the electrical panel, although his attention flickers between it and Chekov. He shouldn't be too rude.]

I appreciate it, though. Thanks.

Yes, of course. Please let me know if you change your mind.

[Knowing that something is wrong without knowing what to do improve the situation is frustrating. Doesn't matter if that something is a communications system that's oddly resistant to being fixed or a person who's against accepting help.

Feeling rather defeated on all fronts, Chekov pushes away from the communications console with a sigh.]

I think that the only thing preventing this from working now is spite.

[Back to a more comfortable conversational place. You're welcome, Felix.]

[He appreciates that, yes, thank you. Maybe he's a tiny bit sorry for being difficult but...

Well. Actually no, not that much. Chekov seems like a nice guy and not someone that deserves to be burdened with anything approaching Felix's issues. No one really deserves that.

Felix glances over at the comm station, tilting his head a little.]

Spite sounds like a good enough rationale to me.

[Very dry tone, there. When were things ever easy?

(Okay he suspects it's probably outside interferance, but he also thinks Chekov is smart enough to have considered that, so he doesn't directly say it. Because if it is, there's probably not a lot they can do from here anyway.)]

[Burdens tend to be heavier and less likely to lighten when they're kept. Chekov knows this, which has done nothing to stop him from encouraging others to share theirs while keeping his own close. He's fairly open about his history, dreams, beliefs, and thoughts, but pain? That's not something that he wants to put on anyone else. He hasn't noticed his own hypocrisy.]

But spite is not a helpful diagnosis.

[He makes an expression that's somewhere between annoyance and grim amusement.]

I do wish that it was the ship being spiteful and not the Vieziri... or the Atroma. Ships can sometimes be reasoned with. The others not so much.

Inside the ship post-crash, before Zhade's broadcast

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