it's gonna rain - and it never ends

[thespaceopera]

[ 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...~ ♪ ))

Comments

2

[candothat]

[Chekov doesn't know exactly what happened or why his shipmates seem to think that going outside more often than is strictly necessary is a good idea, but he can identify someone who shouldn't be walking around when they are doing just that.]

Anders, where are you going? [Not accusatory even if his patience with people who refuse to care for themselves in situations where such stubbornness is detrimental to everyone involved is wearing thin.] Maybe I can help...?

[apurrstate]

[I'm sorry you're surrounded by useless protagonist-based people, Chekov.

Anders pauses and turns a tired smile to the communications officer. He was almost done. Really. This time, he really would go back to bed after checking in on the next room.]

Hello, Pavel. I'm checking in on the crew, there's enough danger here, I'm fairly certain I'll blink and someone will be nearly missing a limb or something.

[He says it as a joke, but there is a line of worry wide enough to show he was a little concerned for that possibility.]

More seriously, even if not injured, some of the others are straining themselves to the breaking point with limited rest, I need to be able to give them whatever boost I can to keep them from hurting themselves.

[Welcome to one of the biggest hypocrites in the world, Chekov.]

Speaking of, how're you feeling?

[candothat]

[Ugh, protagonists. This fleet needs a few more sensible secondary-character types.

Pavel frowns, not the least bit amused by Anders and his apparent inability to see that he is straining and very probably hurting himself.]

A half-dead healer on his feet does not benefit a crew as much as a fully alive healer in his bed. We can find you if any limbs go missing.

[How is he feeling? The Russian sighs and prepares to give Anders the most mild and sincere scolding possible.]

Anxious. Exasperated. [Yes, he knows Anders wasn't asking about those kinds of feelings.] I am far more worried that my crewmates will kill themselves through either stubbornness or recklessness than I am about the threats posed by this planet. I think that what they need is someone with medical expertise to impress upon them the importance of rest... preferably by serving as a good example.

[apurrstate]

[He grimaces a little at that, now Pavel was starting to sound like Justice and Anders wasn't sure he needed another one after him.

But before he can even think far enough to come up with a response, the other man was starting in on a mini rant...one that ended with the healer looking appropriately chagrined.]

I...suppose that's a reasonable thing to be feeling. I just don't want things to end up being worse because I wasn't there to help as I should have been. What if Jim passes out from not resting enough and somehow electrocutes himself on those damn wires? Or Fenris gets ambushed while insisting on patrolling at all hours? Or Felix somehow gets injured because he's stuck down here with us and already has an impairment to his walking?

[He doesn't list them to argue, they're simply the thoughts that keep pushing him from one room to the next, half expecting to walk into one to find someone's unconscious and injured and no one knew it because half the ship's in chaos anyway.

He didn't get sick or injured very often, not the point where healing himself could be just as detrimental as leaving the wound to heal on it's own, he barely knew what to do with himself. But Chekov's argument was perfectly reasonable, which was one of the few things Anders had a hard time arguing with.]

[candothat]

[Pavel looks somewhat chagrined himself. While he's often frustrated by people not taking care of themselves and Heroics in general, he tries not to be overbearing. Still... he's pretty sure he's in the right here.

More gently:] You can afford to rest. The captain is an intelligent and capable man. Fenris is a good fighter and--more importantly, maybe--disinclined to listen to you even if you ask him to rest. Felix is smarter than almost everyone else on the Tourist combined and knows not to endanger himself needlessly. I promise you that everyone here is either competent enough to avoid unnecessary risks or too stubborn to be scolded into being more careful.

Additionally, I have every intention of bothering all of them into cautiousness myself.

[He says that like he's joking. He absolutely isn't.]

[apurrstate]

[Anders snorted.] I don't ask Fenris to rest, I simply heal him and neither of us talk about it. [But still, he knows that's not the point.] But I understand what you're saying.

I'll get some rest. Just swear to come and get me should anyone pass out or anything ridiculous like that.

[candothat]

Ah, yes. I forget that your relationship with Fenris is... [on the barely-civil side of hostile?] ...complicated.

I swear on my life and country that you will be told about any ridiculousness. Please rest, and also tell me if there is anything that I can do beyond monitoring the state of the crew?

[apurrstate]

[Well that was certainly one word for it, especially now that they'd hashed everything out...for the most part. Now they were...something that definitely wasn't friends but also could hardly be called as bad as what they'd been before.

But that was between them.]

Thank you. I do appreciate your concern, please don't think that I don't. It's simply hard to not continue working. And, should I think of anything, I'll let you know. [He paused, considering.] I suppose if you find yourself without anything to do and horrifically bored, I'd love to know if we have anything on the ship still that at least vaguely resembles tea.

[candothat]

Appreciation is unnecessary, but thank you. [Really, worrying is a service that he's happy to provide whether or not it's wanted.] If we do have something tea-like, I will bring it to you... unless you are walking around with no good reason to be doing so after I find it.

[apurrstate]

[Anders' expression breaks into a wide grin, the closest he feels like he can allow himself to laughing seeing as his wound didn't appreciate it much.]

If you find me up and around for no good reason, you have every right to issue out whatever punishment you see fit. As well as withholding tea.

[candothat]

[Please no laughing. This is the one time in his life where getting a laugh would make Chekov feel terrible.]

Thank you. I'm glad that we have reached an understanding.

[With the utmost sincerity:] Try not to worry too much, please. I promise to watch the others and to get you if necessary.

[apurrstate]

[Anders nods in assent.]

I believe you. Thank you, Pavel.

[He was clearly going soft in his older age if it only took this much to get him to give in.]