Ylamona
Konlulu~
No Instant base though. Just imagine,with damage of Overlord Wrath, instant base drop andprobably army.
Wonder when will Foreman Scrin versus Neuroi...
Traveler [C&C3:KW Multicross SI]
Wonder when will Foreman Scrin versus Neuroi...
E.I.G.
Robo-Bird
- Pronouns
- It/They
... isn't that what the Scrin did?
In the invasion's starting moments their Drone Platforms go from orbit to operational in one action.
Also while I haven't played it the Tiberium Twilight preview material I saw showed the Crawler mobile bases being dropped from either high in the atmosphere or orbit to reach the battlefield. I haven't played that so I don't know if it made it to the final game.
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
Drone Platforms came alone out of the combi-Motherships, they then started warping in everything from there. What I'm looking for is a Drop Pod that falls onto the planet and unfolds into a viable Battle Base or somesuch.
Like stationary mini-Crawlers with lots of guns, yes. That can be used as orbital bombardment shells, yes.
For the Crawlers themselves, this is TW3. They haven't been invented yet.
- Location
- Australia
That said, it is possible, and that's all you need, really.
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
TONIGHT ON PRIMETIME TV
oh no. why did it have to be Berlin Hive.
TRAVELER-59 VERSUS CLUSTER 206
how the heck are you guys strafing at supersonic velocities?!
THE ULTIMATE SHOWDOW OF ULTIMATE DESTINY
oh nonononono. not the lone enemy flier.
GET YOUR TICKETS NOW
hidebuuuuuuu*DEAD*
With the Neuroi and their ridiculous beamspam against ScrinTech plasma, it's probably going to be rocket-tag matches all the way though. Both armies just spamming thousands upon thousands of jets at each other like they're going out of style, with the average unit's life expectancy being about .5 seconds or so.
Depending on who's got orbital superiority and the production mechanisms of the Neuroi, the Scrin might actually lose by way of resource crunches if the Seed Tiberium hasn't got time to grow.
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CrabMonarchy
Allegedly Dutch
- Location
- the Netherlands, apparently
Well, and then everyone else loses as the little bits of remaining Tiberium eat the world.
Unless he seeds a whole bunch of uninhabited, Earthlike worlds far away from the conflict, so that by the time he gets there, the seed Tib has already grown to readiness for harvesting operations from orbital forces already stationed there.
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
Command range and orbital superiority problems again. This isn't a PA SI, so no interplanetary WiFi for you.
Ylamona
Konlulu~
Technically you already have those, what with Scrin is more likely import all of their stuff from other side of Galaxy and communicate with the central..
CrabMonarchy
Allegedly Dutch
- Location
- the Netherlands, apparently
Actually, that raises a good point. Will the SI still be in contact with the Market of the Scrin in other worlds? I presume you don't exactly have the equipment to mass-produce your eBay tanks domestically.
*Insert joke about outsourcing work to China*
*Insert joke about outsourcing work to China*
Glitchrr36
Slick's Short Company, CEO
- Location
- The Wastes
- Pronouns
- He/Him
*Get's in bunker of readiness"
Do your worst! I'm prepared.
Do your worst! I'm prepared.
14. Dammit, ROB!
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
In which we all curse ROB. Again.there is no rob
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[Traveler Foreman, I've received reports of your units opening fire on friendly forces! Explain yourself!]
[Supervisor, my Reaper-17 counterpart proved unwilling to heed general withdrawal orders to reinforce the landing sites, and instead chose to continue the ill-planned invasion efforts well past the point of futility. By removing it from command, I have freed up resources stationed abroad to fortify the Thresholds.]
[True, but that still doesn't explain your "eagerness" to cavort with the natives. Numerous or no, we fail to see the value of negotiating with these primitive creatures. We would sooner perish than place ourselves as inferior to such beings!]
[Pursuing further hostilities are nothing more than a waste of forces and self-destructive to boot, all the data we have makes this fact very clear. By entering into negotiations, I aim to exchange concessions with Humanity to downgrade hostilities and prolong the lifespan of our base of operations, which will buy time for us to regroup and give us more options both in military and more peaceable terms.]
[As an added bonus, we will have a stable base to send out covert assets to find the individual known as "Kane". I believe he was an Object of Interest, no?]
[…hmm. You may continue, Foreman. Requisition additional assets from the regional Foreman as needed, the Overlord expects your success.]
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Careful, careful… aaaand perfect.
[Number 2 engine successfully installed. Disconnecting number 3 engine.]
My AutoShip lay suspended within the grasp of a Gravity Stabiliser surrounding the ruined vessel, held aloft by an invisible cradle of force. Scores of Construction Drones, each bearing an assortment of Ichor-alloy chunks and random pieces of Scrin biotech, flitted around the surface of the crumpled hull as they extricated and swapped out the burned-out internals, slicing through the thick hull with pinpoint microvibrations and tip-mounted Plasma Cutters on their manipulators. The Number 3 engine itself, a standardised civilian-model Gravity Drive designed for the Drone Ship class of vessels, slid out of its resident crèche with a screech of twisted metal, the cone-shaped device weakly dribbling Ichor engine fluids onto the mushy ground as a fleet of Drones carted it away.
Better send a Harvester to suck up all the spillage before we leave. Creating random Ichor fields everywhere we go wouldn't be good for relations, methinks.
With the Drones settling in to work on installing the replacement Drive, it'd be roughly three hours or so before the ship would be ready to lift off again. Looking over the rest of the base, pack-up efforts were proceeding fairly well over the remains of the compound as my subordinate Drone Platforms slaved away at the base's firewalls, their impressive software capabilities linking together to grind down the encryption on each structure one by one and linking their prizes to the overall command network.
Every few minutes or so, a soft ping heralded a brand new entry into our little colony, and my tech tree expanded to accommodate.
A quick note about the Tech Tree mechanic in-game and how it played out here: the tech buildings such as the Technology Assembler and Stasis Chamber in the stronghold weren't just stereotypical research labs and the like; they also served as "workshops" for the researchable upgrades. First downloading the blueprints from the satellite networks (GDI) or from the incomplete Threshold Tower's secondary Warp Transmitters for the Scrin, the specialised auto-factories within the Tech Buildings would then churn out precision-engineered components to be delivered to the actual War Factory/Warp Sphere for installation, the brute-force assembly lines in the Factories no match for the advanced engineering suites in the Tech Buildings in machining the delicate instruments involved.
What did that mean for me? I now had Conversion Beam technology. Granted, it was mostly limited to "upgrade packages" for the Devourers and Tripods I already had, but the ability to produce the weapons themselves were now within my reach. Sure, the vanilla Scrin models wouldn't exactly stand up in a pitched battle with the superior designs of the Reapers, but they sure as heck packed a lot more punch.
Though, as I cast a glance at the glassy slag that was once Reaper-17's command vehicle, I didn't exactly manage to get everything. What a shame.
Oh well, as least I got Attenuated Forcefields out of that whole fracas. Shielded Stormriders, here we go!
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Speaking of which, Voice? Did'ja have anything on the "Autonomous Drone Platform" project I'm supposedly a part of? Any notes or such from my… creator, or something?
[Acknowledged, Foreman. Displaying results.]
It's been bothering me for a while now. Everything seems convenient, for lack of a better word, even suspiciously so at times. The way I all but flowed into this Commandering business, the instinctual control I had over my units, heck, even my lack of surprise at all this wasn't right! I'd initially brushed it off as shock at first, then rationalised it as "getting over it" after time passed and that excuse ran dry.
Hah, no shit. Me? Willpower?
Anyways, I'd even juggled the theories of either this whole SI business somehow "improving" my squishy human psyche or ROB screwing with my brainmeats to keep me from going insane. I mean, watching your pet BESRMoW go nuts within twenty seconds wouldn't be entertaining at all for a bored extradimensional being, right? All I had to do was hope that this ROB's terms weren't too unreasonable, and I could eventually muddle my way home in this Nice Boat of mine.
After all, if the universe's empty of intelligent life, just add in some more! Fermi's Paradox can suck it, for I bring honest-to-goodness Jetpacks and Flying Cars! To the 90's Space Age we will GO!
[Intelligence Data Updated. Files appear to be heavily encrypted, displaying successfully decoded sections.]
Oh, looks like the files are done cooking. Now for the moment of truth…
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[Remainder of document is too heavily encrypted to decode at this moment, Foreman. Traveler Cult cipher required for further decryption.]
...huh?
I'd expected a snarky note from a ROB or something, telling me in no uncertain terms to "entertain it OR ELSE" and maybe, even maybe, a release or "go home" clause to fulfil. Nut instead got whatever the heck was this crytic bullcrap on par with the SEELLY Wormfic I once read, absolutely no answers AT ALL and not even a courtesy "frak you" note from the local spacetime Troll in charge?
…oh great, I've scored one of those "mindscrew" ROBs for my Bizarre Adventure here, haven't I? Stupid a-hole must be laughing his ass of after gaslighting me like this, I just know it. ROB, if you're watching me, you're a massive DICK!
…
Looks like he doesn't even have the decency to smite me either. Hmph.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Across the globe, Warp Spheres began collapsing as the last of the entering Scrin vehicles passed into the spacetime bubbles held within its arches, the alien structures ceasing to exist as their component Ichor beamed back to Ichor Hub.
Humming a little ditty in my head, I busied myself with organising the teams of Harvesters sweeping Ground Zero of the Swiss city as the rest of the base continued to fold in on itself. In exchange for a temporary ceasefire to buy time for negotiations, I had promised a general withdrawal of all Scrin units to the Red Zones and assisting in cleanup efforts in the Blue Zones hit in the invasion. With the sheer OPcity of the Scrin's storage-less economy we could harvest the Ichor fields faster than they could regrow, gradually "blighting" the immediate surface of the glowing crystals and leaving the considerably-safer cleanup to the GDI personnel. With the rate we were going, I'm pretty sure we'd be able to finish up and get out of the city well before the allotted two weeks were up.
The uninterrupted harvesting from the cleanup operations also served as a massive moneymaking scheme for my coffers, but shh!
At this point, most of our heavy units were gone from the field and only light or less mobile units were left. Zone-suited GDI troopers freely mingled with the alien chitterbugs as they roamed the remains of the base, a couple of them even taking out pocket cameras to snap pictures of the sleepy airfleet idling above the sprawling Refinery complex blanketing the crystal-encrusted city center, the ships on standby as the facilities below topped up their fuel tanks. A sizable portion of the GDI forces had eventually relaxed around us over the course of these five days after we showed no sign of wanting to mess with them, inspection teams and even the occasional spook were freely navigating around the alien structures as they oversaw our progress.
With the rate we've been trucking through the crystal fields, we might actually be done by tod-!
[Foreman, a Scrin emergency beacon has been detected on the planet.]
…I jinxed it, didn't I? Trace the signal's ID, I'll try my best to diffuse the situation. Hopefully the GDIs or Noddies over there aren't too uppity. Voice, if you please?
[Acknowledged, Foreman. Signal origin has been identified as a Tacitus-class secure data repository, located in Region: China.]
Right, call up the local forces ther-whaaaat?!
Get me a visual on the Tacitus, stat!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Stormrider sailed through the relatively clean air at high altitude, the small manta-shaped craft casting a blotchy shadow on the clouds as it closed in on the shore. As the craft neared the mainland and the cloud layer thinned out, the Stormrider's optics were drawn to bright flashes along the shoreline.
In the midst of a burning harbour city, a smoking GDI Construction Yard sat in the middle of an open-air carpark, a quartet of heavy Sonic Emitters surrounding the squat structure. Around the buildings, piles of wrecked Nod vehicles lay strewn about the Yard and its vigilant attendants as reinforcements roared in from the surrounding roads, a small picket of APCs forming in advance around the buildings as the tell-tale dustcloud of rolling Predator Tanks formed further back. In the skies above, a skirmish was forming between the Hammerheads and Venoms of each force's advane guards, the nimble gunships strafing in all directions as they raked each other with sprays of armor-piercing bullets.
With so many objects to track, the Stormrider's sensors barely registered a flattish Stealth Tank materialising on the ground nearby. The violent screams of a couple of Tiberium Core Missiles streaking past its vision was the only warning before the Scrin gunship's feed suddenly cut out.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh crud, Tacitus Interruptus's already begun. And I'm not even there yet!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note: RISE, CHICKEN, RISE.
I want to get off Mr Bones' Wild Ride
Whoooo, this took a lot out of me. With my schedule being as messed up as it is theses days, would you even believe me if I said that THIS snippet alone was done over the course of about five whole days? I have fulfilled my oath, muse. Release meeeeee
...you don't, do you? Drat.
ANYWAY, experimenting a bit with a "Show, Not Tell" style on detailing the negotiations bit, thus the lack of direct narration on the proceedings (also because I'm an incompetent writer, ha). One of the major troubles I had with this section was excising the right amount of data chunks from the T-59 records while still leaving it as a strong enough hook, but I think it turned out fairly well. As obvious, the main "arc" of this Bizarre Adventure's coming right along very soon, I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did planning it!oh god what have i done
As always, reviews and criticisms are gladly appreciated! Goodness knows I need as much as I can get!stop stop please
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Traveler Foreman, I've received reports of your units opening fire on friendly forces! Explain yourself!]
[Supervisor, my Reaper-17 counterpart proved unwilling to heed general withdrawal orders to reinforce the landing sites, and instead chose to continue the ill-planned invasion efforts well past the point of futility. By removing it from command, I have freed up resources stationed abroad to fortify the Thresholds.]
[True, but that still doesn't explain your "eagerness" to cavort with the natives. Numerous or no, we fail to see the value of negotiating with these primitive creatures. We would sooner perish than place ourselves as inferior to such beings!]
[Pursuing further hostilities are nothing more than a waste of forces and self-destructive to boot, all the data we have makes this fact very clear. By entering into negotiations, I aim to exchange concessions with Humanity to downgrade hostilities and prolong the lifespan of our base of operations, which will buy time for us to regroup and give us more options both in military and more peaceable terms.]
[As an added bonus, we will have a stable base to send out covert assets to find the individual known as "Kane". I believe he was an Object of Interest, no?]
[…hmm. You may continue, Foreman. Requisition additional assets from the regional Foreman as needed, the Overlord expects your success.]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Occupied Stronghold, North Berne, 01 25 hours
Careful, careful… aaaand perfect.
[Number 2 engine successfully installed. Disconnecting number 3 engine.]
My AutoShip lay suspended within the grasp of a Gravity Stabiliser surrounding the ruined vessel, held aloft by an invisible cradle of force. Scores of Construction Drones, each bearing an assortment of Ichor-alloy chunks and random pieces of Scrin biotech, flitted around the surface of the crumpled hull as they extricated and swapped out the burned-out internals, slicing through the thick hull with pinpoint microvibrations and tip-mounted Plasma Cutters on their manipulators. The Number 3 engine itself, a standardised civilian-model Gravity Drive designed for the Drone Ship class of vessels, slid out of its resident crèche with a screech of twisted metal, the cone-shaped device weakly dribbling Ichor engine fluids onto the mushy ground as a fleet of Drones carted it away.
Better send a Harvester to suck up all the spillage before we leave. Creating random Ichor fields everywhere we go wouldn't be good for relations, methinks.
With the Drones settling in to work on installing the replacement Drive, it'd be roughly three hours or so before the ship would be ready to lift off again. Looking over the rest of the base, pack-up efforts were proceeding fairly well over the remains of the compound as my subordinate Drone Platforms slaved away at the base's firewalls, their impressive software capabilities linking together to grind down the encryption on each structure one by one and linking their prizes to the overall command network.
Every few minutes or so, a soft ping heralded a brand new entry into our little colony, and my tech tree expanded to accommodate.
A quick note about the Tech Tree mechanic in-game and how it played out here: the tech buildings such as the Technology Assembler and Stasis Chamber in the stronghold weren't just stereotypical research labs and the like; they also served as "workshops" for the researchable upgrades. First downloading the blueprints from the satellite networks (GDI) or from the incomplete Threshold Tower's secondary Warp Transmitters for the Scrin, the specialised auto-factories within the Tech Buildings would then churn out precision-engineered components to be delivered to the actual War Factory/Warp Sphere for installation, the brute-force assembly lines in the Factories no match for the advanced engineering suites in the Tech Buildings in machining the delicate instruments involved.
What did that mean for me? I now had Conversion Beam technology. Granted, it was mostly limited to "upgrade packages" for the Devourers and Tripods I already had, but the ability to produce the weapons themselves were now within my reach. Sure, the vanilla Scrin models wouldn't exactly stand up in a pitched battle with the superior designs of the Reapers, but they sure as heck packed a lot more punch.
Though, as I cast a glance at the glassy slag that was once Reaper-17's command vehicle, I didn't exactly manage to get everything. What a shame.
Oh well, as least I got Attenuated Forcefields out of that whole fracas. Shielded Stormriders, here we go!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Speaking of which, Voice? Did'ja have anything on the "Autonomous Drone Platform" project I'm supposedly a part of? Any notes or such from my… creator, or something?
[Acknowledged, Foreman. Displaying results.]
It's been bothering me for a while now. Everything seems convenient, for lack of a better word, even suspiciously so at times. The way I all but flowed into this Commandering business, the instinctual control I had over my units, heck, even my lack of surprise at all this wasn't right! I'd initially brushed it off as shock at first, then rationalised it as "getting over it" after time passed and that excuse ran dry.
Hah, no shit. Me? Willpower?
Anyways, I'd even juggled the theories of either this whole SI business somehow "improving" my squishy human psyche or ROB screwing with my brainmeats to keep me from going insane. I mean, watching your pet BESRMoW go nuts within twenty seconds wouldn't be entertaining at all for a bored extradimensional being, right? All I had to do was hope that this ROB's terms weren't too unreasonable, and I could eventually muddle my way home in this Nice Boat of mine.
After all, if the universe's empty of intelligent life, just add in some more! Fermi's Paradox can suck it, for I bring honest-to-goodness Jetpacks and Flying Cars! To the 90's Space Age we will GO!
[Intelligence Data Updated. Files appear to be heavily encrypted, displaying successfully decoded sections.]
Oh, looks like the files are done cooking. Now for the moment of truth…
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Remainder of document is too heavily encrypted to decode at this moment, Foreman. Traveler Cult cipher required for further decryption.]
...huh?
I'd expected a snarky note from a ROB or something, telling me in no uncertain terms to "entertain it OR ELSE" and maybe, even maybe, a release or "go home" clause to fulfil. Nut instead got whatever the heck was this crytic bullcrap on par with the SEELLY Wormfic I once read, absolutely no answers AT ALL and not even a courtesy "frak you" note from the local spacetime Troll in charge?
…oh great, I've scored one of those "mindscrew" ROBs for my Bizarre Adventure here, haven't I? Stupid a-hole must be laughing his ass of after gaslighting me like this, I just know it. ROB, if you're watching me, you're a massive DICK!
…
Looks like he doesn't even have the decency to smite me either. Hmph.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Across the globe, Warp Spheres began collapsing as the last of the entering Scrin vehicles passed into the spacetime bubbles held within its arches, the alien structures ceasing to exist as their component Ichor beamed back to Ichor Hub.
Humming a little ditty in my head, I busied myself with organising the teams of Harvesters sweeping Ground Zero of the Swiss city as the rest of the base continued to fold in on itself. In exchange for a temporary ceasefire to buy time for negotiations, I had promised a general withdrawal of all Scrin units to the Red Zones and assisting in cleanup efforts in the Blue Zones hit in the invasion. With the sheer OPcity of the Scrin's storage-less economy we could harvest the Ichor fields faster than they could regrow, gradually "blighting" the immediate surface of the glowing crystals and leaving the considerably-safer cleanup to the GDI personnel. With the rate we were going, I'm pretty sure we'd be able to finish up and get out of the city well before the allotted two weeks were up.
The uninterrupted harvesting from the cleanup operations also served as a massive moneymaking scheme for my coffers, but shh!
At this point, most of our heavy units were gone from the field and only light or less mobile units were left. Zone-suited GDI troopers freely mingled with the alien chitterbugs as they roamed the remains of the base, a couple of them even taking out pocket cameras to snap pictures of the sleepy airfleet idling above the sprawling Refinery complex blanketing the crystal-encrusted city center, the ships on standby as the facilities below topped up their fuel tanks. A sizable portion of the GDI forces had eventually relaxed around us over the course of these five days after we showed no sign of wanting to mess with them, inspection teams and even the occasional spook were freely navigating around the alien structures as they oversaw our progress.
With the rate we've been trucking through the crystal fields, we might actually be done by tod-!
[Foreman, a Scrin emergency beacon has been detected on the planet.]
…I jinxed it, didn't I? Trace the signal's ID, I'll try my best to diffuse the situation. Hopefully the GDIs or Noddies over there aren't too uppity. Voice, if you please?
[Acknowledged, Foreman. Signal origin has been identified as a Tacitus-class secure data repository, located in Region: China.]
Right, call up the local forces ther-whaaaat?!
Get me a visual on the Tacitus, stat!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Stormrider sailed through the relatively clean air at high altitude, the small manta-shaped craft casting a blotchy shadow on the clouds as it closed in on the shore. As the craft neared the mainland and the cloud layer thinned out, the Stormrider's optics were drawn to bright flashes along the shoreline.
In the midst of a burning harbour city, a smoking GDI Construction Yard sat in the middle of an open-air carpark, a quartet of heavy Sonic Emitters surrounding the squat structure. Around the buildings, piles of wrecked Nod vehicles lay strewn about the Yard and its vigilant attendants as reinforcements roared in from the surrounding roads, a small picket of APCs forming in advance around the buildings as the tell-tale dustcloud of rolling Predator Tanks formed further back. In the skies above, a skirmish was forming between the Hammerheads and Venoms of each force's advane guards, the nimble gunships strafing in all directions as they raked each other with sprays of armor-piercing bullets.
With so many objects to track, the Stormrider's sensors barely registered a flattish Stealth Tank materialising on the ground nearby. The violent screams of a couple of Tiberium Core Missiles streaking past its vision was the only warning before the Scrin gunship's feed suddenly cut out.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh crud, Tacitus Interruptus's already begun. And I'm not even there yet!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note: RISE, CHICKEN, RISE.
Whoooo, this took a lot out of me. With my schedule being as messed up as it is theses days, would you even believe me if I said that THIS snippet alone was done over the course of about five whole days? I have fulfilled my oath, muse. Release meeeeee
...you don't, do you? Drat.
ANYWAY, experimenting a bit with a "Show, Not Tell" style on detailing the negotiations bit, thus the lack of direct narration on the proceedings (also because I'm an incompetent writer, ha). One of the major troubles I had with this section was excising the right amount of data chunks from the T-59 records while still leaving it as a strong enough hook, but I think it turned out fairly well. As obvious, the main "arc" of this Bizarre Adventure's coming right along very soon, I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did planning it!oh god what have i done
As always, reviews and criticisms are gladly appreciated! Goodness knows I need as much as I can get!stop stop please
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Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
Oh? Really now~?
15. Mega Movers
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
In which the Scrin pull of one of the most broken reinforcement powers ever.
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Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. LEGION's already in the process of snagging the Tacitus, and I'm completely out of position to intercept! The Brotherhood base of operations had been fairly built up already before they started going after the GDI MCV carrying the Scrin repository couple that with the heavy GDI presence in the area and sending any Drone Ships into the area would be tantamount to suicide. I'm going to need a strike force to carve out a beachhead.
Little problem with that though. I'm a whole continent away, remember?
Oh bloody hell.
Right, I'll be needing a force of quick movers that can get to the Orient in time before the Noddies finish capturing the Tacitus while still being beefy enough to not die within the first five minutes upon landing. The AutoShip's guaranteed to be going there as I'll need to be on-site to handle things (can't trust the Drone Platforms to not go all omnicidal on everyone) and the extra tankiness my customised hull comes with. Escorts are probably gonna be the little airfleet I've got here seeing as they're, well, here, plus all of the other Scrin bases are more than a day's travel out even with IchorTech gizmos.
One AutoShip, seven Devastator Warships and a pair of PACs, going straight in what I'm guessing is a mid-to-late game bloodbath. And I've already seen how fast ScrinFleets go down to massed AA.
I'm not liking this. I'm not liking this at all. Damn the Scrin's lack of transport planes!
[Resupplying complete, Foreman. The fleet is ready for deployment.]
Thank you, Voice. Nothing I can do about it then, ping the fleet and let's get ready to set off.
…wait a minute.
On-screen, one of the idling Planetary Assault Carriers lay on the ground, a veritable forest of improvised "stilts" keeping the hulking vessel suspended off the floor. Beside it, a pair of Mammoth Tanks drove past on freshly-constructed roads on their way to the larger FOB further up, the larger Scrin vehicle outsizing the superheavy tanks by quite a bit.
Oho~! Tell me, Voice, what's the maximum carry weight on those things again?
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"Run that by me again?" Lieutenant General Granger rumbled, staring at the on-screen icon representing the commander of the alien forces. "You want to do what?"
"Contribute to the China engagement, General Granger." The enigmatic Scrin replied, not missing a beat. Its voice was all seriousness now, the odd cheer from its previous conversations absent. "I've learned of the Tacitus and the ongoing Nod offensive to acquire the artefact, and how the battle's faring. The command staff here at FOB Berne directed me to you for seeking permission to deploy reinforcements into the area to assist."
"Denied." The aging general deadpanned, shaking his head. "Truce or no, there's no way in hell we're letting your kind run around in a Blue Zone unchecked." Turning away to another set of displays in the command centre, his eyes returned to tracking the progress of the V35 Ox squadrons en route to the conflict zone. "No offense, but who's to say you won't just turn against us the moment you land and grab the Tacitus for yourselves?"
"Unchecked…?" The alien parroted, a hint of smugness in its synthesized voice. The triangular insignia of the Cult of the Traveler glittered as the Foreman snickered. "How about we give your soldiers a little… lift?"
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"Err, Trraveler? Are you sure this's gonna work?"
A very nervous tank commander rumbled over the radio, the sweating man looking out of the open hatch of his Mammoth Tank and up at the gleaming underbelly of the gigantic alien spaceship parked bare meters above. Around him, a host of Construction Drones (both GDI ones and the squid-shaped alien things) flitted around in the space between the two massive vehicles, fastening the improvised carrying bracket the superheavy tank sat in to the Scrin vessel with rebars, struts and lots and lots of welding.
Given how the rebar "cage" enveloping the Mammoth Tank tended to groan and shudder with every motion from the hovering object above, the setup didn't exactly inspire confidence in him.
Over the circular landing field situated in the cleared-out crater in the middle of the Swiss city, similar incidents were being carried out on the other vessels of the Scrin's prodigious fleet. Scores of little Drones fastened a pair of Shatterer hovertanks in a back-to-back position under one of the Devastator Warships, while its neighbour visibly bobbed in midair as it had an entire Rig bolted onto its hull. Both of the largest ships in the area, the once-dreaded Planetary Assault Carriers, sported a Mammoth Tank nestled in carrying brackets each, the fearsome ships looking rather ungainly as the spine-shaped ships slowly hoovered into the air.
The damn aliens managed to airlift a Mammoth Tank. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry as his brain cells underwent a civil war over the sheer impossibility of a flying Mammoth.
"Ey, boss! Nice weather we're having up here!" The Mammoth's driver hollered out over the din, his head peeking out of the driver's hatch. Cocky bastard had the largest shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he watched their tank leave the earth's embrace. Still grinning, the driver looked over and started waving at a Commando team surgically planting C4 charges on top of one of the Devastator Warships, cackling like a loon. "All my life, all these years of service, all of it leads up to this moment! Screw the chairforce, we're going flying in a tank!"
The commander groaned, a sinking feeling in his gut. He should've guessed that the excitable punk would've loved something like this. Turning over to face his driver, the commander opened his mouth to chide the soldier when his eyes suddenly bulged, staring at something off into the distance, the man's mouth hanging slightly open. Noticing the oddness, the laughter of the Mammoth Tank's driver tapered off as he turned around in his position to look, staring down the twin barrels of their vehicle's heavy-duty railguns.
Roughly five to six hundred meters out, an abnormally large version of the aliens' mobile bases tilted drunkenly as it rose into the air. Bolted onto the side of the gigantic Drone Ship's hull by a veritable mess of rebar and cabling was the iconic tortoiseshell shape of a Mobile Construction Vehicle.
"Yeah… I got nothing," the tank's driver finished lamely. His companion remained speechless.
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All systems green, cargo is secure. We've got a full tank of gas, let's bring 'er up. Voice, punch it!
[Powering up all drive cores, Foreman. Beginning ascent.]
In the growing light of the European sunrise, our combined GDI/Scrin taskforce lifted off. One AutoShip, seven Devastator Warships and two PACs loaded for bear with an eclectic mix of heavy GDI vehicles (including two Mammoths and a MCV) started climbing to about ten thousand kilometres, escorted by a sizeable posse of V-35 Ox Transports bearing a host of smaller vehicles. Shimmering blue ovoids of force coalesced around my ships, keeping out the wind from battering their precious cargo and creating a more aerodynamic profile for easier flight. Safe from tearing themselves apart from drag (Scrin units have atrocious aerodynamics, I say), the ships punched their main engines and set off.
Loading all that kit and letting them plant "insurances" on my warships was a pain and a half, but oh boy was it so worth it. Lashed under the ships like grocery baskets was pretty much an entire heavy tank company and some, plus two of GDI's signature monster-tanks and a bloody MCV. I had to scrap the fighter complements of both PACs to save weight for carrying the Mammoths and endure the MCV playing merry hell on my AutoShip's balancing, but still! Heavy tanks and a whole mobile base!
I can't wait to see their faces when we show up!
[Cruising altitude reached. Accelerating to supersonic speeds.]
Onwards, to victory!
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Author's Note:
Ursakar E. Creed would approve. Having the ability to drop heavy armor practically anywhere is tactical GOLD already, with the Rigs and the MCV it's just plain unfair. "All your base are belong to us" suddenly becomes surprisingly, terrifyingly feasible.
As always, comments and criticisms (C&C, ha!) are welcome as always! See you next time!
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Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. LEGION's already in the process of snagging the Tacitus, and I'm completely out of position to intercept! The Brotherhood base of operations had been fairly built up already before they started going after the GDI MCV carrying the Scrin repository couple that with the heavy GDI presence in the area and sending any Drone Ships into the area would be tantamount to suicide. I'm going to need a strike force to carve out a beachhead.
Little problem with that though. I'm a whole continent away, remember?
Oh bloody hell.
Right, I'll be needing a force of quick movers that can get to the Orient in time before the Noddies finish capturing the Tacitus while still being beefy enough to not die within the first five minutes upon landing. The AutoShip's guaranteed to be going there as I'll need to be on-site to handle things (can't trust the Drone Platforms to not go all omnicidal on everyone) and the extra tankiness my customised hull comes with. Escorts are probably gonna be the little airfleet I've got here seeing as they're, well, here, plus all of the other Scrin bases are more than a day's travel out even with IchorTech gizmos.
One AutoShip, seven Devastator Warships and a pair of PACs, going straight in what I'm guessing is a mid-to-late game bloodbath. And I've already seen how fast ScrinFleets go down to massed AA.
I'm not liking this. I'm not liking this at all. Damn the Scrin's lack of transport planes!
[Resupplying complete, Foreman. The fleet is ready for deployment.]
Thank you, Voice. Nothing I can do about it then, ping the fleet and let's get ready to set off.
…wait a minute.
On-screen, one of the idling Planetary Assault Carriers lay on the ground, a veritable forest of improvised "stilts" keeping the hulking vessel suspended off the floor. Beside it, a pair of Mammoth Tanks drove past on freshly-constructed roads on their way to the larger FOB further up, the larger Scrin vehicle outsizing the superheavy tanks by quite a bit.
Oho~! Tell me, Voice, what's the maximum carry weight on those things again?
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"Run that by me again?" Lieutenant General Granger rumbled, staring at the on-screen icon representing the commander of the alien forces. "You want to do what?"
"Contribute to the China engagement, General Granger." The enigmatic Scrin replied, not missing a beat. Its voice was all seriousness now, the odd cheer from its previous conversations absent. "I've learned of the Tacitus and the ongoing Nod offensive to acquire the artefact, and how the battle's faring. The command staff here at FOB Berne directed me to you for seeking permission to deploy reinforcements into the area to assist."
"Denied." The aging general deadpanned, shaking his head. "Truce or no, there's no way in hell we're letting your kind run around in a Blue Zone unchecked." Turning away to another set of displays in the command centre, his eyes returned to tracking the progress of the V35 Ox squadrons en route to the conflict zone. "No offense, but who's to say you won't just turn against us the moment you land and grab the Tacitus for yourselves?"
"Unchecked…?" The alien parroted, a hint of smugness in its synthesized voice. The triangular insignia of the Cult of the Traveler glittered as the Foreman snickered. "How about we give your soldiers a little… lift?"
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"Err, Trraveler? Are you sure this's gonna work?"
A very nervous tank commander rumbled over the radio, the sweating man looking out of the open hatch of his Mammoth Tank and up at the gleaming underbelly of the gigantic alien spaceship parked bare meters above. Around him, a host of Construction Drones (both GDI ones and the squid-shaped alien things) flitted around in the space between the two massive vehicles, fastening the improvised carrying bracket the superheavy tank sat in to the Scrin vessel with rebars, struts and lots and lots of welding.
Given how the rebar "cage" enveloping the Mammoth Tank tended to groan and shudder with every motion from the hovering object above, the setup didn't exactly inspire confidence in him.
Over the circular landing field situated in the cleared-out crater in the middle of the Swiss city, similar incidents were being carried out on the other vessels of the Scrin's prodigious fleet. Scores of little Drones fastened a pair of Shatterer hovertanks in a back-to-back position under one of the Devastator Warships, while its neighbour visibly bobbed in midair as it had an entire Rig bolted onto its hull. Both of the largest ships in the area, the once-dreaded Planetary Assault Carriers, sported a Mammoth Tank nestled in carrying brackets each, the fearsome ships looking rather ungainly as the spine-shaped ships slowly hoovered into the air.
The damn aliens managed to airlift a Mammoth Tank. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry as his brain cells underwent a civil war over the sheer impossibility of a flying Mammoth.
"Ey, boss! Nice weather we're having up here!" The Mammoth's driver hollered out over the din, his head peeking out of the driver's hatch. Cocky bastard had the largest shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he watched their tank leave the earth's embrace. Still grinning, the driver looked over and started waving at a Commando team surgically planting C4 charges on top of one of the Devastator Warships, cackling like a loon. "All my life, all these years of service, all of it leads up to this moment! Screw the chairforce, we're going flying in a tank!"
The commander groaned, a sinking feeling in his gut. He should've guessed that the excitable punk would've loved something like this. Turning over to face his driver, the commander opened his mouth to chide the soldier when his eyes suddenly bulged, staring at something off into the distance, the man's mouth hanging slightly open. Noticing the oddness, the laughter of the Mammoth Tank's driver tapered off as he turned around in his position to look, staring down the twin barrels of their vehicle's heavy-duty railguns.
Roughly five to six hundred meters out, an abnormally large version of the aliens' mobile bases tilted drunkenly as it rose into the air. Bolted onto the side of the gigantic Drone Ship's hull by a veritable mess of rebar and cabling was the iconic tortoiseshell shape of a Mobile Construction Vehicle.
"Yeah… I got nothing," the tank's driver finished lamely. His companion remained speechless.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All systems green, cargo is secure. We've got a full tank of gas, let's bring 'er up. Voice, punch it!
[Powering up all drive cores, Foreman. Beginning ascent.]
In the growing light of the European sunrise, our combined GDI/Scrin taskforce lifted off. One AutoShip, seven Devastator Warships and two PACs loaded for bear with an eclectic mix of heavy GDI vehicles (including two Mammoths and a MCV) started climbing to about ten thousand kilometres, escorted by a sizeable posse of V-35 Ox Transports bearing a host of smaller vehicles. Shimmering blue ovoids of force coalesced around my ships, keeping out the wind from battering their precious cargo and creating a more aerodynamic profile for easier flight. Safe from tearing themselves apart from drag (Scrin units have atrocious aerodynamics, I say), the ships punched their main engines and set off.
Loading all that kit and letting them plant "insurances" on my warships was a pain and a half, but oh boy was it so worth it. Lashed under the ships like grocery baskets was pretty much an entire heavy tank company and some, plus two of GDI's signature monster-tanks and a bloody MCV. I had to scrap the fighter complements of both PACs to save weight for carrying the Mammoths and endure the MCV playing merry hell on my AutoShip's balancing, but still! Heavy tanks and a whole mobile base!
I can't wait to see their faces when we show up!
[Cruising altitude reached. Accelerating to supersonic speeds.]
Onwards, to victory!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note:
Ursakar E. Creed would approve. Having the ability to drop heavy armor practically anywhere is tactical GOLD already, with the Rigs and the MCV it's just plain unfair. "All your base are belong to us" suddenly becomes surprisingly, terrifyingly feasible.
As always, comments and criticisms (C&C, ha!) are welcome as always! See you next time!
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E.I.G.
Robo-Bird
- Pronouns
- It/They
... I am now firmly thinking that when Scrin high command reviews your combat records they are going to look into political discussions with the strange locals that have actually managed to contain an Ichor infestation. After all, they managed to work with Traveler of all sects.
- Location
- Vienna
And in the time the MCV and Mammoth's are straped down you can Infiltrate/scan the crap out of them.
Or Infiltrate the MCV with Nanobots to copy the Database (hopfully without GDI detecting it) so that you can build your own later on.
Or Infiltrate the MCV with Nanobots to copy the Database (hopfully without GDI detecting it) so that you can build your own later on.
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
Humans invented the World-Altering Missile, Tiberium Catalysm and the Tiberium Control Network, which is basically post-scarcity tech. And they're not even a spacefaring civilisation yet.
Bullshit humans are bullshit.
The Scrin will pay through the nose for stuff like this. Might have to be careful of the Overlord pulling an Economic Victory over humanity though.
Hard to scan something when you're flying lopsided at supersonic speeds, with all the shaking and all. Also no nanobots and Assimilators are too obvious, the people in the MCV'll spot somthing like that going on.
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- Location
- Anatolia
What do you mean Economic Victory?
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
Galaxy-Spanning Empire =/= Planetary Civilisation
British Empire =/= Indigenous Natives
Much like the System Alliance's fears about establishing ties with the Council in Mass Effect, cultural colonialism by sheer economic expansion from the Scrin is a very real danger. Humanity needs a constant, long-lasting edge over the Benevolent Alien Overlords to stay relevant in the galactic community.
Granted, it'll be a little slower due to the Scrin having no concept of capitalism, but still.
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- Location
- Russia
You just keep delivering awesome... first a Kenshiro!Ravager, then Fist of Newton and now this!
- Location
- The Great Beyond
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
Some typos.
Probably Scrin Fleets with a space, definitely massed AA, not 'masses AA'
Extra l in 'leads'
'in his position to loo' is probably supposed to be in his position to look
Great chapter.
Probably Scrin Fleets with a space, definitely massed AA, not 'masses AA'
Extra l in 'leads'
'in his position to loo' is probably supposed to be in his position to look
Great chapter.