Moonraker: The Part Where He Kills You, Part 1
[X] Main Spaceport
-[X] Docks: Aim for the heart, the ships themselves and the docks, taking control of them and making sure that nobody tries to run.
The Pirates' Moon orbited the planet, the barren, lifeless planet, far less important than its satellite. For the two hours that the Gazinitah navy finished its approach, all of the physical laws of the universe carried on their course, even as, on the ground, the pirates and citizens alike panicked. Those who hadn't yet escaped wouldn't be able to, and with a fleet overhead, no doubt filled with trained soldiers, there was little chance of victory, no sense in resisting. On the navy went, and within the bowels of the flagship, there was Hazitean, choosing her target.
Every vital spot would be hit, across the planet, but only one would have its leader there, only one would have Hazitean, empowered by orders and by her friendship with Speaker Vorzhan, but no official position. And a decision had been made. Far 'below' the citizens watched and waited, as the ships slowed down, no longer hurtling, crawling towards them. And then, as they passed the right by the moon, just barely grazing the atmosphere, they fired. The shipyards were half destroyed, though the targeting indicators showed that there were shields, and every single target that wasn't shielded got at least a few rounds of 'rocks' crashing into it, mass destruction on a grand scale, except for the slave pens. And then the pods were released, dropping down, and hurtling inside one of them was Hazitean.
*****
You decided that, ultimately, there was a risk. A risk that there were ships beneath shields, waiting to run out with valuable prisoners. And if they timed it right, they might be able to escape before the fleet swung around. It'd be close, but if you were there, you'd do it in a heartbeat, no hesitation, waiting for just the right moment. It was what you did, did all the time, and you guessed that others would try the same. All of the targets,major and minor, would be hit, but yours would be the team launched straight into the ruins and rubble that had once been a major shipyard. They wouldn't know what hit them.
*****
Initial Landing: Worldwide--1d100+25 (martial bonus)+10 (Planning)+10 (Bombardment)+5 (Resistance=futile)=96+25+10+10+5=146, well holy shit.
Hazitean's Landing: 1d100+32+10+10+5=7…+32+10+10+5=64, huh. Without bonuses this might have been total disaster.
You hit the ground hard, come in hot, dozens waiting for you, an ambush. You hit back, hard, exiting the pod with guns already blazing, a burst of machine-gun fire mowing several down and the rest of the team providing enough fire to shield you as you all take cover behind the pod, which can stand up to the lasers that the...are those robots? Combat droids? Combots, as one instructor had called them, didn't see much use. They were too easily hacked, they had too many flaws, it was too easy for everything to go wrong.
Perfect. You began trying to hack them, as one of your heavily-armored compatriots laid down covering fire.
[Robots: 1d100+32+10+20 (Equipment) vs. 1d100+20+8+15= 82 vs. 86]
Only to find that it was not responding. Was it some different model, or were you missing anything? You see dozens more pouring out of a bunker, along with several Iashec, and a human, who screams, "Defend the representative!"
You have to push through, and you begin looking for stable locations to hide behind. Your armor can take a lot, but there's a risk that one of them has something heavier. Taking a breath, you order Uilis to charge for the cover of one pile of rubble.
[Defend the representative!: 1d100+32+10+20 vs. 1d100+18+8+15+10 (Numbers)=95 vs. 59, victory.]
The robots turn to fire at him, and in that momentary confusion, a flaw in the programming--the sentients know that there is a greater threat, the robots target what they can hit--you strike them as hard as you can, moving forward. The fight that follows, and the two or three that dog you on the way in, are nothing to write home about. The enemies have weapons enough to hurt you, but they're incompetent, lazy, and their desperate fervor does them little good, for all that their numbers mean you have to be careful, using the hallways of the strange metal labyrinth you were journeying through. Until you found yourself hurrying, skittering down a platform above another hallway, into...a hanger.
[Is it Active? 1d4=3, maybe!]
In the center is a...thing. You have no words. You, Hazitean, crude and often rude, don't even want to talk. It's vast, larger than any pirate raider, but of black metal, gleaming, hanging from wires above and cords below, but with dozens and dozens of ports, some of them huge, lining the sides. You can see the gunholes, the positions for the turrets. It's not like anything you've ever seen, too big to be a gunship, but what else could it be? And lying on the ground are dozens of combat bots of a make you've never seen. Too heavily armored to be real, right? And some had chainguns for arms, and others...they just lay in heaps.
Subvocally, you spoke, "Well...shit. Um. Let's leave here and come back with a bigger army. Holy shit."
"I second that boss," Bueghin snorted, and turned, only for part of his front-left leg to brush up against the handrails of the walkway.
[Just sneak by...1d4=1, uh nope!]
The entire hanger is bathed and red, and at once, all of the robots stand up...and begin firing. Dozens of turrets pop out, from both the walls and from the monstrosity itself, as more fire than you've ever seen in your life is aimed. At you. Only one choice.
[Inner Sanctum? 1d100+32+10+20 vs. 1d200 o.o: 101 vs 113]
Your bugs return fire, fruitlessly, against hundreds of enemies. You, on the other hand, grunt and shot the railing. The lasers quickly tear through it and the whole structure collapses, as their fire doesn't track fast enough. You looked around, "Come! Now!" Your troops needed to get to...there! You saw it, an access panel to the underbelly of the hanger, maybe you can...which is when you're almost shot. Shit, they're more accurate than you thought. This could be it. Certainly, though, all you are dreaming of is hiding in the ducts and getting out of here, this is insane. An entire ships worth of fire is raining down on you, and there are hundreds of them, and ten of you.
[This is just like Anime. Only you're all going to die. 1d100+62 vs. 1d180= 130 vs. 27. Wut.]
Which is why when you break for cover, you're half surprised that you aren't dead. Heyslan fires several grenades, the smoke providing cover, and the fire of half of the team tears through the smoke, but not before it obscures your passage. Firing from the hip is silly, and yet you do it anyways, running and gunning, terrified, heart pounding, as your mean chitter, unable to keep their nerves, and yet firing, fighting anyways. And thus you and four others of your squad make it to the hatch, only to see that the rest haven't come. They've...fallen silent. They aren't even responding on the voc-casts, and there are no signs of...
[For Massive Damage: 1d100+62 vs. 1d160 150 vs. 44]
The robots hurry forward, hundreds of them, and then the entire area explodes into fire. "It's called hacking, Hazitean, not whatever the fuck that was before!" Erul'in joked over the comms system, as five figures sprinted in full heavy combat armor across a battlefield, as more and more explosions rang out. You turned, looking at the turrets...and the open hatches. Out from them were coming dozens of figures on hover-packs, floating turrets. And...was that a fucking Hover-Tank? Two? Holy shit, was this some sort of robotic army carrier?!
"What are we gonna do?" Bueghin chirped, her panting, moving with the other five, the sounds of explosions still echoing.
"Kill the fuck out of that," you scream, "Get down, get around those fucking…bots and take out the wire--"
"Ha. Ha. Funny Bugs and Funny little clicky noises. I am the master of a new weapon. I am that which shall end and begin an era of warfare! Tremble!"
A Tinny, robotic voice boomed, all through their communications systems, overriding everything, as from the ashes and smoke robots advanced, some letting off sparks, or half-slagged, controlled by one will, it almost felt like, watching it. You are terrified, and you said, "No time! Just charge the thing, try to slip around it and…"
One by one, the wires begin to retract into the ship, and the cords as well, and you have a feeling you are watching something...profane. Profane, and terrifying. Your communications are being jammed, and you're trapped here.
*****
[Overcome the Impossible… 1d100+62 vs. 1d145 142 vs. 33]
Afterwards-- As in, five seconds later-- you aren't sure how you aren't torn apart. As tough as your suits are, as ridiculously enhanced as they are, capable of carrying you great distances in the air with every jump--and you remember afterwards that you jumped more than once. The wrecks of dozens of hover-tanks growing behind you as several turrets are destroyed on the ship. Out and out more and more targets spew, because that's what they are. Targets. You're close, now, and the thing looks cobbled together now, but you're also under the guns, no time to watch, no time to take in any details at all.
[And Kick… 1d100+62 vs. 1d120 . 83 vs. 41]
Just keep on firing. Keep on. You're running out of shots, but you can't stop. You have only one choice. The top hatches, there might be some way in on top. Nothing but hope, nothing but luck, fear running through you, fire bathing your unbroken squad. You have to jump! Jump! Up you leap, onto a ship filled with death. You run, run once you're there, turrets popping up with clicks, the entire body of the thing seeming to be a series of modular parts, turrets popping up only to be silenced, explosions wracking the top of the vessel as you run along it, trying to find a way in.
[Reality to the Curb! 1d100+62 vs. 1d100+10 140 vs. 80]
And throw grenades down into the parts of the ship that rise up to attack you, the turrets that have to explore layers of the ship. Find areas where there are not turrets, shoot through the turrets, the ideas are endless, and the ship is almost damaging itself, providing so many targets, so many parts of it on the surface to be destroyed. You bet you can locate it. And more importantly…
"Pick up, pick up! Can we break through now?" you scream.
"I got it!," Erul'in, "You're on! We've broken through!"
"All units, be warned, we have some sort of crazy superweapon at the docks! Ships, ships, all Destroyers presently guarding the Phoenix Wing," a shot pushed you down and you tumbled, "You are to assume orbit of this moon, and shoot this designated target. We are tagging it, but you can't miss the parentfucker! Do NOT let it off the moon, whatever the cost!"
"I. Shall. Not die! You shall not end me. They promised me immortality!"
*****
Dying Beast! All Out Battle Attack! 1d100+62 vs 1d130+20 (Marital)+15 (Weapons)--107 vs. 115
The walls explode. No, they shatter into a trillion little pieces at the force of the guns firing not at you and your squad, but at the walls. And the bright sunlight of the moon's dayward side, the atmosphere and air and smoke, are revealed to you as it begins to move, first slowly, but picking up speed. It's trying to get away. Trying to go...where? Can it survive in space? You're rocketed by the speed, and while most of the attackers fall off or are left behind, one of the turrets blasts your group, and, losing balance, you tumble, desperately trying to recover. Erul'in, though, falls, tumbling through the sky, crashing into the ground below as dozens and dozens of robots, and even several tanks, converge upon his shattered form.
In holovids, these moments are in slow motion, but the reality is that you see only a blur, and register that the vital signs of a bug you'd gotten to know somewhat well are extinguished. The longer you remained here, up on top of this speeding ship, the more chance you'd have to fall off. You needed to get inside! Once inside you could find the crew of this crazy thing and ask them what the shit was going on! Just needed to find a way in!
Enter the bowels! 1d100+60 vs. 1d120+35: 110 vs. 60
The only area without turrets, that had to be the part that needed to be accessed, and after a dozen moments of near-death, you found it. You found it. Now, you just have to punch through...
Hard to Avoid Aerial Attack!: 1d100 vs. 1d100: 56 vs. 54!
What the...was that a laser? It sliced right through the sky, almost, but you keep on shooting, and eventually you slip in, and then look around the cold, soulless hallways, barely big enough for you to fit. So small. What, were the crew midgets. "Where...are the crew?"
"Crew? Crew! I am the one and only! I control them, I am each finger of each hand, I am every soldier and every program and every gear! There is nobody here but I!"
Some...sort of, robot or...something? Controlling an entire ship? Without a crew! What sort of madness is this? AI couldn't do this, not without glitching out or going wrong or...this was impossible! You knew the latest military technology, and this was beyond it. Way, way beyond it. What was going on?
*****
Capture it Alive 1!: 1d100+2 vs. 1d100 69 vs. 73
The fight through the ship wasn't as difficult as it might have been. After all, most of the enemies were destroyed, but the ship wasn't designed for humans. Even Xvorzit would find it cramped, and you continued onward, fighting again and again, pushing through by sheer bullheaded luck more than anything else, breaking through walls and doors and going around traps. But slowly, slowly but surely, you were being worn down...
Capture it Alive 2: 1d100 vs 1d100 68 vs. 67
But then again, so was it! There was only so much they could do, and you closed in, and in, and in on the inner sanctum, and it spoke again.
"Do not! Stop! You shall not get any farther! Beyond this room, beyond the room after it, is the inner sanctum. I shall flood this place with nerve gas, I shall crunch your bones! Run, flee brief mortals, for all shall never die…!It cost too much too much too much too much die die die."
Hazitean's Charge!: 1d100+32=42. Ouch
Well, fuck what some crazy robot wanted, you charged through the door ahead of you, only to be confronted with...holy shit, was there a single square inch of the hallway not filled with guns? All firing at you? And then you tripped over...was that a robotic hand just...just stuck in the ground like that?
Hazitean Recovery: 1d100+32=37. Huh, well shit, that turned.
You roll, as shot fills your vision, shields and armor, all of it being torn away, as the full might of the ship descended on you, death nearing, nothing you could do, trapped. Dying in a stupid place like this to some stupid robot, and there was nothing you could do and you couldn't even talk to Speaker Vorzhan.
Die at ninety? Ha! Ha! Ha. You wish…Dead friends, dead allies, a past flashes before you, and it's nothing more than regrets. More and more regrets, piling on like rounds of shot, like damage.
*****
[Regrets: 1d100=4, like hell.]
You're popped out into the world dirty already. Your shell is hard, protective. It has to be, because the damage starts right there. It starts and keeps going on a dirty floor of a miserable run-down den, and it keeps on going. You pile up injuries and it's called growing up. As if dirt only gives a person character, as if a piece of junk is worth more than a new model. You learn what you can, but the more important thing is what you don't learn. Because from the start, you understand that you are being lied to. That with every breath, with every buzz and chirp, your teachers were liars.
Everyone was a liar. But you could show them. You had something that wasn't a lie. A fist. Close the fist, and close yourself off. Listen to too many bad bands and read too much bad Barsa philosophy, it doesn't matter, you don't matter, so why should this be any different. Become a grunt and then get ideas. You're always getting ideas and people don't even understand. Silly little Hazitean, that's how they see you, vicious and stupid. And you let them. You dance and chirp and keep your ascent hidden, your ambitions modest. And then one day it falls apart. Everything taken from you. Friends are nothing, love is nothing, your heart is for sale and you are damaged goods. Nobody buys something so used, nobody wants it either. Cast out. You fall, lose yourself for a time, accept the old lies. That damage has a value, that cruelty has no price, that--
And then when you finally hope, you can't even tell the truth to yourself, let alone the Speaker, let alone the humans. You're messed up and wrong. You're junk. Defective low-caste junk. And that's all you've ever been, and that's all you'll ever be.
Even the Speaker knew it, damn it. Damn it. DAMN IT! Not here not now not here not now! They knew you were worthless, that's why it sent you here, sent you here with nothing more than their word. No authority, no nothing. To die.
All those people you killed. All of those family members. You are the last. They starved or got shot or became criminals and maybe you had them killed all those years later, or fell to diseases long cured or or or. They died and you lived and it meant nothing it meant nothing at all.
******
You lay there, listening to a rant coming from...everywhere, at the end of your life.
"They died they all died for me to live! I am immortal! I cannot die i must not die stop stop they are in me they are me they are with me I am with them! All of this cost, it has to mean something, there has to be something more to it!"
You almost laugh. What a silly robot, there doesn't have to be any purpose to sacrifice. Or death. Or anything at all.
Mission Failed, Reload from Turn 1?
[] Y
[] N
A/N: ...
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