driftfleet | 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

I'm there, I'm there.

[He's half-there, but he'll get all-the-way-there when he can sit down and make sure he doesn't pass out from a head injury. Cool? Cool. He plops down beside her, wiping bloody bangs behind his ear.]

Leg first?

Leg first. [Agreement. Less selfishness than common sense-- she's gonna be able to help out a whole lot more if she's not dealing with grinding pieces of bone at the slightest movement. A splint certainly won't solve the problem but everything will feel more sturdy. She can work with that.

She delves into the first aid kit when he opens it, though, looking for antiseptic. He'll have to deal with her leg, but she can follow up in a moment with some treatment for that, y'know, open wound you've got in your forehead there.

Sam is the more paranoid and perceptive person here, concussion or not, so. How's your hearing for some distant, careful movement in the trees?]

[He is maybe hearing something. Maybe. But he doesn't want to freak her out just yet until he knows that's not his concussion talking; it's with that in mind he listens more intently, moving to collect the splint materials from the kit before he turns (totally not off-kilter) and inspects her leg. He glances up at her, quirking his eyebrow at that painful looking antiseptic doom and gloom.]

For me? Oh, you shouldn't have.

[... Listening still. Carefully listening. Shh. We're okay. Everything's a-okay.]

[She makes a face at his response. On a better day she'd probably be able to pick up on the tells that go with such cautious listening, but today she's just in pain and it sucks.]

Oh, shut up.

[She's gonna keep stockpiling what she needs, wincing as her leg settles into a steady throb of pain.

There is definitely someone on the approach, though. A few someones, maybe.]

[... Dammit, there are a few someones, huh.

He looks a bit more serious when he looks back to her — after casting a concerned eye toward the forested area around them. His head throbs painfully, but he has a little clarity to their not-so-great situation. He's started trying to hurry along with treating her leg, but it's kind of a Problem here.]

... I think we're not going to be alone for long.

[She blinks at him for a moment, dares to look hopeful-- only his body language is all wrong, and common sense tells her already that whoever's coming here aren't likely to be rescuers. Not in any way they'd appreciate.

They got shot down. Stands to reason, doesn't it...? If they're wrong, that'll be a pleasant surprise. Problem is, neither of them are really in any state to fight. Her fingers close around the climatact, white-knuckled.]

Huddle up.

[Huddling up, he can do. Yeah, he's good to huddle.

But he also keeps focus on her leg, making sure everything's in order to get the fuck out of here. Even if he has to piggyback, that's something he can definitely do. With or without a mild concussion, anyway.]

How good are you on zapping any guests?

One guy? Maybe. [Her voice is dropped to a whisper, a little unsteady as she fights nervousness and pain all at once. Zapping one guy doesn't take much effort, but for a full area effect tempo, she's... probably not gonna be able to do that without maneuverability. And more time than they have right now. Her stomach turns at the thought of it, to be honest.]

We can try for the subtler approach. Maybe get an idea of the kind of people we're up against.

[Because hiding them doesn't require getting up. It just requires staying real still. Sam's probably familiar with that blanket of cool air that drops over him by now. But yeah, huddle up real close. The less effort, the better.]

Got it.

[It's all he needs to offer, really, because he knows immediately what to do right now; he huddles a bit closer as expected and makes sure to sit more on his knees, because the last thing he needs is to topple over from his head injury. Just in time, too, because — oh yes, there's their visitors.

And they look... unpleasant.

Those are definitely weapons they look more than ready to use.

But more than that, he's starting to think they look... familiar to him.

Oh shit.]

[Nami has no dreams or visions to go by, but Shiro gave a heads up about the natives before this, and weapons and that kind of get-up speak for itself. She fights the urge to hold her breath, watching as they fan out and meticulously go over first the shuttle, then the few signs they were here that are still out in the open.

They strip the shuttle of anything else worthwhile, head in their direction, and then she holds her breath, grip tightening-- both on the climatact and kind of Sam's arm, sorry Sam-- but they're walking right by the tree they're huddled under, quiet and careful, clearly on the hunt. There were drag marks and footprints headed this way.

It's probably partly luck that none of them get close enough to breach her mirage. Gonna come pretty close, though.]

[It's all good, squeeze away. What's a bruise on top of a head wound, really. In his other hand he's got his gun at the ready, though he knows if he has to fire it things will be particularly ugly; chances of getting kidnapped or murdered would be really high then, especially since he can barely move his friend at the moment.

But they pass, and he breathes out carefully, slowly, before glancing at Nami and mumbling in a low tone:]

You gonna rip my arm off and hit 'em with it?

[He's just teasing, but also, ow.]

[WHOOPS. She lets go in a hurry, though her hand still hovers there like she's contemplating it.]

Tempting. But not all that practical.

[See, she's joking. Don't mind the sheer nervousness underlying her tone, because it's pretty damn clear how bad a situation this is.]

...think they'll be back? We should probably-- probably go. Somewhere.

They'll definitely be back, especially since there weren't any bodies in that shuttle.

[He looks around, his hand careful and protective at the middle of her back.]

... Well, we don't have any maps, and we have no idea which way to head, so...

[He stands fully, before he offers his hand.]

Obviously that means we should just walk and hope for the best.

[She's gonna have a mite of a problem with walking, Sam. Nami chooses to ignore that for the time being, because he's brought up something else she deems more important. She can at least help there--]

The Bloodsport crashed northwest of us. We should try heading that way. [Maps, psh. She can navigate coordinates in her head, it's all good. She takes his hand, gingerly pulling herself up, teeth shutting with a snap against the hiss of pain. I'm just gonna lean on you a sec, okay? Okay.]

...I can keep us hidden, anyway.

...we'll have to move slow.

[Well. With a concussion and a broken leg, it'd be a snail's pace anyway.]

it's gonna rain - and it never ends

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