nexus_crossings | Into a Rising Wind

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event

Into a Rising Wind

Winter holds the Nexus in its jaws, and its teeth sink ever deeper.

A month into the storm, the snow has yet to stop falling. The number of mouths to be fed has stopped dwindling, almost. Occasionally people go missing, and those who notice hope they’ve found a way back through their portals. It’s not enough to change the maths on their food supplies - all their supplies. Nobody is getting a full meal at a time, not any more. Isidor and Lyall have begun to enforce the rationing with iron hands. Both ignore the look that crosses Captain Kirk’s face when they upbraid a volunteer cook for being too generous – the look that lingers on Runa’s face if she’s close enough to hear. They’re doing what they must. They need a tight hold on their supplies if they want to get people through this. They need supplies even to send expeditions after more.

And expeditions are a difficult prospect now. Those who ventured into the storm and returned have brought stories that spread faster than Isidor hoped. The Crossroads Cafe has become a semi-official hub for those travelling outside or keeping watch on the bounds, a safe resting place kept warm by the combined power of Pokemon and Persona. In the long dark nights, people sit around the tables and share what they've seen, what they've heard from this scout or that refugee. Whispered tales of the creatures out there hunting in packs, hounding people from rooftops, even tearing open walls to reach them…

No-one goes out alone, now. Those brave enough to take the risk go in groups and arm themselves with the best weapons they can find. Sometimes they’re a risk to themselves. Not everyone knows how to handle that black market plasma pistol they picked up two days past. Not all of their team-mates keep their nerve when a figure looms out of the snows beside them. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s run afoul of monsters, and who of their own folly. Safer, but little less brave, are the people recruited to keep watch on that shifting line of torches. Just a precaution. The creatures don’t come past it, everyone says. But quietly, everyone doubts.

There've been bright moments, too. A strange alchemist comforting a lost child. An expedition team fighting their way home, back to back. Families brought safely through the snow by soldiers and wizards, by heroes young and old and sometimes surprising. A volunteer cook stepping up to prepare, if not quite a hundred thousand meals, then something that feels close. A young man saving the life of a stranger who'd threatened him. The past weeks have seen people who may never have known one another before come together to offer a blanket, or guiding words, or a helping hand in a search. Small moments, glowing reminders of how much good the people of the Nexus have on their side. But the Winter goes on, and the winds never get less bitter, and the smiles get more strained with every day.

Slowly the line of torches close on the Plaza, a noose no-one can afford to flee. Sheltered space is at a premium. Most of those who remain are settled as close to the centre as they can be. Whether in the big public bunker or the Cafe, people find themselves crammed all together, and tempers regularly fray among residents not too cold and exhausted for fighting. The more responsible Nexus-goers find themselves trying to duck out of (or break up) fights, or spending hours stuffing drafty accommodation with any insulation they can find. There’s snow to be shoveled from doors, pipes to be defrosted, bandages to be changed. Anything’s better than dealing with the problem of working bathrooms.

At one end of the Plaza headquarters, a makeshift screen has been dragged into place to give a semblance of privacy to Isidor’s desk. It’s painfully early in the morning, though the nights are so long and the days so dim beneath the storm clouds there’s little sense of time any more. There’s no-one around yet to wonder about the meeting going on. The only people present are Isidor, Lyall and a handful of senior volunteers – those who remain. Blaze-37 crouches by a makeshift fireplace, stacking the salvaged wood just right before she punches it lightly, setting it alight with the flames that ripple over her fist. The other robot, Ghost, is hovering over the desk playing flashlight for them, shining a pale beam over the maps and reports laid out there. Light, too, is a precious resource, as batteries die and outlets are lost to encroaching Winter. It’s the only reason those here have gotten sleep. They work until they have no light to work by.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Suou?” the Guardian asks when Isidor says they can begin.

“Officer Suou won’t be coming.”

That’s part of why they’re here, Isidor explains. The torches’ march has taken them past the Grand Library. The Crossroads Café is now on the very edge of the safe zone, along with all the people sheltering there. Katsuya’s magic is the only thing that will protect it. He can’t leave. It’s a turning point that only drives home the larger problem: they’re running out of time. They’re running out of everything. Most refugees are in some kind of shelter by now; what they lack is food to keep them alive and fuel to keep them warm. Isidor’s volunteers have counted heads and counted tins and counted everything backwards and forwards and the numbers never get better. Either they do something now, while they have the strength, or the meals will run dry in two weeks. Less, if anything goes wrong.

She lets that sink in. Nobody looks surprised: she’s confirming their worst suspicions and that gets a few flinches, but they understand. They talk, instead. By the time there’s a hint of daylight outside and someone knocks on the door for the first shot at rations, they have a plan. They need an expedition, bigger than any before. They need enough arms to discourage attack, the skills to get them to any buried supplies and the numbers to haul them back in quantity. Each of them walks away from the table with a mission in mind and an air of grim determination.

They have a job to do, and they’re going to need help.

((As before, so below: the main missions/subquests for the expedition prep are listed below. Tag any of them, threadhop, or post with your own character. I suggest putting your character’s name in the subject to help keep things clear. The OOC Post can be found here! If you have any questions, feel free to message me or one of the mods!))

Threads of Note

Scouting the Expedition | A Fistful of Torches | Scrapyard Sweep | The Home Front | Medical Attention | Isidor's Expedition Call | Main Expedition: The Raid

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The shortwave radio is a little older school Earth technology than she's used to using, but sometimes old school is necessary. Fortunately, it's simple enough that it's easily understood how to use it, particularly when her own communicator's range is limited, even when having Kirk's communicator code.

The first impression most people might have of Delia is that she's lazy, flirty, and doesn't really care about anything going on around her. In truth, she's observant. Relaxed in any situation, and uses this impression to her advantage frequently. When the chips are down--such as now--her attitude changes. She's still relaxed, but she's more focused. Setting forth to get things done, quickly, without causalities and with minimum loss.

She's a pirate at heart, still. But she's one with an honor code.

Shifting her position Delia tugs the radio closer to her ear, keeping the rifle in one hand so she can peer through the scope with her good eye, "Battista here, honestly getting tired of laying here with nothing in my sights, meet you in the Plaza?"

As it is, she's already getting up, tugging at the strap to her rifle to sling it over her shoulder as she starts heading that way--taking the building's fire escape down.

It's a piece of outdated technology that neither of them are well accustomed to but everyone's gotten the hang of them and very sparing use has meant Hermione's charms have kept them working up till this point.

"I'll be there in five. Kirk out."

The frigid winds nip like a cruel taunt at Delia's exposed olive green skin, batter against her coat and body relentlessly as if to chastise her for spending time outside in the elements rather than, well. The base is quieter than it was, with most of the refugees sheltered as safely as possible in the shelters they've set up. Her steps echo against the floor, the snow slow to melt with the draft that a lack of bodies has invited to seep insidiously in.

Captain Kirk is still shaking the snow from his hair and off his all-weather jacket. The cloak he's worn over it is hung on the back of the folding chair he's not using. His gaze snaps from the maps he's tracing with gloved fingertips up to Delia when he hears her come in.

"Holding up alright out there?" It's a rhetorical question, more of a greeting than an actual query. Jim only waits for Delia to acknowledge he's said anything before he gets straight to the point. There's nothing but tension and command in his posture these last few days. Things are getting tight and everyone knows it. It's showing in the decrease in rations being given to everyone. In how thin the grip those in charge are keeping of their composure. James T Kirk is no different.

"We have a bead on what might be the largest supply cache to date in a camp near the wilds. It's well outside the safe zone and if we're going to gear up and go out there I need to know it's a sure thing. We needs those supplies, Delia. Badly. I won't pretend this is a safe or sure thing, but I'd feel better if you accompanied that Washington kid on his speeder and checked the place out. He should be on his way here now."

Most of her life, Delia's either been aboard spaceships or stations. Being planetside was always a novelty and doing so for extended periods was a little disconcerting after a while, particularly as one of a nomadic species scattered across the Alpha and Beta quadrants of the Milky Way.

Not that she's unprepared for it. The jacket's long and heavy, and her uniform (with pants, rather than her usual skirt) beneath it help, but she's still very much outside her element in this situation. The Nexus is a lot like being planetside, except it's harder to predict. More chaotic than anything she's ever really experienced.

"About as well as I can be," Is the Orion's reply. She doesn't like this. Not being in contact with her ship and crew hasn't helped, as up to now she's always at least had the ability to open a comm-line home. Now, not so much. Being that it's been days and she's no doubt missed her last check in by that much, they're trying to get to her from their end.

Delia hides her stress well, but over the period of this Winter, Jim's seen her enough that he can tell there's a difference. She still at least appears relaxed to most, at ease with her surroundings, but there's an edge there, like a coiled spring wound tight and ready to go off. She is, after all, a command officer too (After all, she may introduce herself as 'Captain' Battista, but for all points and purposes, her official rank in the Defense Force is actually General), and when she's not scouting or trying to find information, she's been trying to keep charge too. Stay calm, look like there's a plan going on for all of this.

Because if people find out otherwise, well.

There's a lot of them. Crammed into this small space. Delia's heard things that happen when stations and ships are lost, lose contact with the outside worlds. How people of any species can turn desperate and terrifying when their holodecks are gone, and their bellies are starving. It's not just limited to humans, klingons, or any one race.

Desperation can drive even the most smoothly running mind mad.

"Truthfully, I've been worried about sending him on some of these trips by himself as it is," Delia admits, "Away Team tradition usually has at least two people."

"I know, but we don't have the manpower to afford pairs all the time. He knows not to go too far on his own."

Kirk pinches at the bridge of his nose to try and ease the tension headache that never really goes away these days. Every activity is a math problem now; how much energy versus what they're going to bring back. Not everyone comes back from these missions even when they've sent teams. Joshua's pretty good on that speeder and it's definitely kept him from getting too close to harm's way and very quickly out of it when harm does come up more than once already.

It's something of a relief not to have to pretend things are okay around Delia, though he doesn't drop his in control demeanor. At this point if he lets go of it he might not get it back. Still, he appreciates his friend being someone he doesn't need to pretend around. Doesn't need to sugarcoat things. He's not sure he'd have the patience to anyhow.

Over the near perpetual howl of the wind it's difficult to hear the speeder pulling up, though Joshua's quick to dart inside before he also starts shaking and dusting off as much snow as possible before it melts and starts to chill him.

He jerks his head up slightly in a greeting to Delia and Jim. Offers a quiet 'yo' as he makes his way over to where they're standing. Jim nods back, stepping aside smartly so the Canadian can get a look at the map they're standing over.

"This is purely recon, you understand." The captain leans forward and draws a circle on the map with a pencil. It's within the boundaries of the wilds, though not too far by speeder. Not near the residential fringes or parks that tend to line its edges nearer the plaza. Definitely outside the safe zone. "We've got a lead on a large stockpile of food. A store for our enemies out beyond the torches, more than likely. I need details. How much, how guarded. We can't afford to ignore it."

Honestly, Delia typically doesn't want it sugarcoated. She can understand the need for it, but honestly? Give it to her frankly. She can cope better that way with the information given in the most direct and efficient manner possible. In Mission contexts, she's typically similar with her own crew, and anyone she works with.

That said, this event, no. This is not okay. Things are not going well.

But this is a moment in time. As with all things, it too will pass. The challenge is living through it with your body and sanity intact.

Delia tugs at her coat as she shifts to glance at Josh, giving him a nod. Her attention turns to the map. "Right. The thing we need most is information more than anything else. Knowing what we're up against--and maybe seeing it for myself might help too. The stories I've been getting from asking around haven't really helped much in that regard. I'm assuming the speeder can hold both of us fine?"

Delia glanced in Josh's direction briefly. "But I won't start anything if we can avoid it, I'm pretty sure these things are like anything else, none too fond of disruptor fire and photon grenades, but we can't be too careful when energy resources are limited as it is."

After all, she'd eventually have to recharge her rifle, or at the very least replace the power cell.

"Y'don't have to tell me twice, Captain."

Josh is tired. They all are. It feels good and fulfilling to be given such an important job during all of this, to feel useful and important. But not every day is a good day. They can't afford to wait for him when he's not at his best. So Josh has been trying harder, stretching himself as thin as he can to stay Here and in a mostly stable mindset.

But the cold always brings with it whispers from his past. Hunger always claws at him and reminds him of those long nights trapped in the mines of Blackwood Mountain. This time of year, he's always a bit distant. This year though, he's trying.

And this mission is important.

"Unless you're a lot heavier than you look we should be fine." It doesn't occur to Joshua that he might have said something wrong until he catches Captain Kirk staring at him like he grew a second head. Josh's eyebrows knit in clear confusion before he sucks in a breath and has the decency to flush before taking half a step back. "Sorry. What I mean is, it should be fine. I'll get you in Ms. Battista. An' out again, quick as you like."

Edited 2019-02-09 16:20 (UTC)

To be completely fair, Delia is also tired. She hasn't really slept well in this cold weather, having not felt safe enough to fall completely asleep. Not to mention there's Things to be done, keeping watch, keeping the peace, trying to keep everyone calm and taking charge in the situation.

As soon as this is over, she is taking the longest, hottest shower she can manage.

Delia snorts a little at the slip-up and waves a gloved hand. She's more amused than offended, "No, no, I'm not one of those overly dense types, dear, what you see is pretty much what you get." She flashed a brief grin, trying to lighten things a little with her sense of humor.

Glancing back to Jim, "If there's nothing else? We should probably get going as soon as possible, especially before whatever passes for nightfall in this mess. I don't want to imagine what comes out at night, when whatever's in the day is already terrifying to most."

"Agreed. It's fucking cold enough during the day out there." He rummages in his jacket pockets for his goggles and face mask, glancing back at Delia after half a second. "You're gonna want something over your face or th'wind is gonna be hell."

A quiet warning while he gets himself ready to head back out into the cold once again. He's gotten pretty quick at gearing up these last few weeks out of practice and repetition. Day and and day out he's on the speeder keeping a lookout for whatever needs doing.

Captain Kirk doesn't have much else to say. He shakes his head at Delia's look. Nothing else so far as information goes. So long as they've got the gear they need in an emergency including flashlights and rope he's ready to let them head off and get this sorted for them. Though he does speak up when they're nearly at the door outside.

"Be quick. Be safe. Let me know as soon as you're back."

Joshua tips him a mock salute before shouldering open the door and setting about brushing the snow off his speeder. The few minutes they were inside hasn't hindered it any and it whirs to life the moment he fires it up. With practiced ease Josh hops onto it before scooting himself forward as far as he can on the seat and pulling up next to Delia so she can climb on.

For her part, she doesn't have anything quite as fancy as a face mask, but digging out a scarf from her leather bag will do when she wraps it around her lower face, securing it in place with a loose knot. Topping this off, she further secures the rest of her equipment, tightening the straps on both rifle and the bag, and making sure her coat's securely closed before getting on the bike and wrapping her arm around Josh.

The other hand gives Kirk a two fingers, mocking salute of her own before slinking around Josh as well.

"Alright, if we're gonna do this, let's do this."

In a flurry of snow and stinging chill wind they take off across the plaza. The longer the Winter Storm holds the Nexus in its clutches the more alien a world it starts to look. Even the semi-constant landmarks are either buried under a foot or more of drifting snow or hidden by a constant and persistent fog that creeps in and settles over the Nexus every time the wind dies down. Pathways and streets that used to be bustling with people coming and going from all manner of lands and times sit deathly quiet and empty now. Their portals frozen over and people either long since gone home where it's safer or sheltered in one of the refugee camps out of the elements.

With a design meant to travel above the ground rather than on it, Josh is able to get over the worst of the snow and ice with little trouble. Where possible he still sticks to the hard packed trails people have worn through expeditions, supply runs, and travel as they tend to be the most reliable but all too soon they're off every beaten path, flying across open snowy hills. Past empty buildings that stand now only as a shell of their former purpose. An empty husk long since abandoned by anyone with the means to do so.

Quicker now than ever before they come across a line of torches marking the end of their relative safe perimeter. No matter how rough the wind blows, how wet the snow, these torches have stayed lit since well before Winter began. Rather than plowing straight past the torch line Joshua turns the speeder to go alongside it for a ways, cutting north for as long as he can. Eventually though, he has to turn westward once more. They sit at the edge for a few long seconds and Delia can feel Josh's body tremble in apprehension of what they're about to do. Underneath her fingers the young man shakes with fear before he revs the engine. The speeder whirs louder and they're off again toward the Wilds.

They leave the safety of the torches behind them.

Progress from here on is slower. The last thing Joshua wants is to give away their position so he's puttering along the shallowest of the snow drifts rather than kicking up clouds behind them. Wherever there are tracks to be followed he's doing so but slowly. Carefully. Always with an eye out for traps.

They come to the base of a large hill. Josh stops the speeder and leaves it hovering but twists around to look back at Delia.

"Think I should probably let you off here to get a closer look. I'll swing around the side and if there's trouble to be had give them one hell of a shock so you can get closer. If you hear gunfire go quick cuz I'll be swinging back to grab you and get the hell out. Sound like a plan?"

Delia's ridden a few hoverbikes and similar vehicles before, so this is nothing new, although she can hear her younger sister's voice in the back of her mind, chastising her for not wearing some sort of head protection while riding on this one.

The Nexus has always been kind of, well. Alien, to the Orion woman. Clearly human-centric, even with the various other species, those she recognizes (such as the Ferengi in several shops), and others she doesn't.

Seeing it all covered in snow, though, is somewhat disturbing. Delia hasn't really been to too many snow-covered worlds, and scarcely avoided being imprisoned on one the Klingons use as a prison world for criminals and the like.

For the ride, she stays quiet, watching the world go by, snow whipping by and in her hair. As Josh comes to a stop, she releases her grip around him, dropping off the speeder and hefting the rifle in a one-handed carry with the short butt of the weapon against her hip. "Works for me," is her reply with a nod, "I'll provide covering fire with my rifle if need be, but mostly I'm just going to be using the scope to try and get a better view."

That said, she's careful, as she starts up the hill, moving with careful steps, hard boots crunching soft in the snow as she works her way up to a higher vantage point to try and see this camp that they were told about. She keeps a watchful eye for traps, and keeps herself crouched low as she works her way up, rifle in one hand, and the other fishing out her tricorder.

Not that she expects it to be much good, but it's worked intermittently enough in this weather that she hopes it'll at least give her some kind of idea as to how many things are here. If it gives her more than that, hey, a bonus.

They’re at the edge of the woodlands, and the slope Delia has to climb is scattered with trees. That adds a layer of treacherous footing under the snow, but it also means she has cover as she climbs. Within the trees she’s sheltered from the worst of the wind chill, the hardest of the falling snow.

It’s once she reaches the top that her tricorder will be able to pick up the life signs below. In the lee of the hill a clearing has been made. Maybe it’s been there a while: if so, the original inhabitants of the camp are long gone. The humanoid-looking shapes that move below don’t look like refugees. Delia will have to be careful as she advances through the undergrowth. The tricorder’s readings don’t make it look like there’s any kind of perimeter guard, but in this weather it’s difficult to get a clear assessment of the dozen or so beings ahead. They do give off some strange energy signatures as she gets closer…

Josh faces challenges of his own. Trying to navigate a clear path through the trees while making sure to circle back on the right point… it might be simpler, were it not for the blinding snow and the wind trying to tug him off-course.

Delia isn't going to be seeing or hearing any trouble from Joshua right away. Nor are the figures below going to be distracted form their work just yet.

The first heavy gust of wind sends him off course and nearly burying his speeder into a snow drift. His left leg sinks into the drift when he tries to kick himself back upright. A tense minute of quiet, desperate swearing ensues as Josh works to free himself and not get their ride stuck along the way. It's probably better to stick closer to the trees and putter like he had getting Delia to the drop off point but that's not without its own challenges.

It's slow going for the Canadian as he tries to scoot around the base of the hill.

Treacherous footing is fine, as long as she takes it slow. Orions tended to have some natural agility to them, and someone as physically active as Delia is no exception. She's quiet, save for soft crunching of snow and the quiet shifting of the equipment she's carrying, her gaze alternating between her footing--as to make sure she doesn't fall, and her tricorder, to make sure she stays at a respectable distance from her opponents.

Once she finds a good vantage point, Delia leans against a tree, holstering the tricorder back in her belt, keeping the proximity sensor activated in case something tries to sneak up and surprise her. She shifts the rifle in her hands, aiming it forward and tilting her head so she can look through the scope with her eye, trying to spot the camp. "Where are you..."

If her readings are reasonably accurate, given how her tricorder is behaving in this weather (and the Nexus in general, really), they should be....

Right about....

...There?

Crates litter the clearing, stacked haphazardly and in some cases rather precariously to give makeshift windbreaks to this small camp. There's dirty gouges in the snow that have already begun to fill in where a couple of shipping containers have been drug into position to shield anything that might need to be kept out of the wet snow. Though considering there's not a pathway of felled trees it's a mystery as to just where the containers themselves came from.

The creatures move about the camp going about their strange business. They may not be winning any prizes in organization or landscaping but there does seem to be a definite purpose to their activity. Boxes and bags and crates are all systematically rooted and rummaged through for supplies the creatures could have use for. While the smaller ones dig around a larger creature paces with menacing Purpose alongside their work station. It's four armed instead of two, and easily more than a foot taller than the others. It stops now and then to grab at one of its underlings and growl something or other before an overlooked bit of wiring or likely defunct PINpoint is added to their piles being carefully sequestered into storage in the shipping container. It will only take Delia a few minutes to note that one thing they very much do not seem to give any concern with is food.

At least.

Nothing that would be edible to a humanoid. They toss aside canned fruits and vegetables, dried meats, packages of non perishables into a crate that's nearly overflowing and left uncovered and open to the elements and it very clearly is a trash receptacle as every other unwanted bit and bob also ends up cast aside there.

A scratching warble carries across the camp. It starts at the edges of the clearing from the creatures who had until now been idling while they peered out into the snowy wood. Echoed and magnified as every creature jerks to attention one after another and joins in on the chant that carries a fervid energy to clash with the howl of the wind. They've spotted something. Weapons are being drawn, devices on persons are being activated which disappears them into nothing more than a shimmer against the snow.

It would appear Joshua has their attention now.

There's a loud whirring rumble and snow being thrown up, carried on the wind. The Canadian has the throttle nearly full-open as he darts around another large tree before hopping over a large snowdrift and kicking up another shadowing cloud of the flakes that disperses on the wind.

The purpose only raises further questions in Delia's mind, and right now she was wishing the tricorder could get more accurate readings past the Nexus's interference. Something she thinks she should talk with one of her science officers and engineers later. Although the idea of introducing the latter to the Nexus is a terrifying prospect, it might get her more answers for the risk to be worth it.

For the moment, though, that's filed away for later. Right now she needs a headcount in addition to all the supplies she sees scattered about. Looks like there's the one leader with the four arms, and a bunch of the little ones who are subservient to the big one.

Either her Universal Translator is out of range, or the Nexus's own translation field doesn't work on them, but she can't hazard a guess as to what's being said in what she hears. Delia reaches up, twisting the scope to zoom in a little when Josh gets their attention with his bike. Okay, let's see how many come out of the woodwork to start chasing.

Along with listening for weapons' fire.

Delia would have been able to put a count in at just under a dozen of the creatures including the three on sentry duty who started the rallying cry. It's difficult to keep count after, as at least a handful have cloaked themselves to be near invisible before scurrying out of the camp as fast as they can run, scattering a handful of large black birds who have been gorging themselves on whatever they can get their beaks around in the pile of supplies.

Difficult, but not impossible.

There's only the one larger commander running the show even once the alert has been sounded. A few more sentries are crowding in and aiming their weapons from their posts, unwilling to leave the camp unattended even as most have gone rushing out of it. Even in the snow the smallest of them are fairly agile, well used to adapting to all manner of climes. All in all there's got to be around twenty of them give or take a couple.

And oh yes, at the last of her count when Delia thinks she's got as much spotted as she can there is the distinct whine of weapons firing. Plasma or hard light--definitely not the barbaric metal slugs many of the people who call the Nexus home seem so keen on using. A few scattered shots ring out at first, but there will be more very quickly.

A louder shot rings out as the first of the sentries finds a shot to take on the speeder. It must miss for the grumbling hiss that can only be a swear in a native tongue before he raises the rifle to try again. His buddies are joining in too and they all seem to be much better shots than their buddies running around in the snow.

Too good for Joshua's comfort.

He can't see who or what is firing at him with all the snow he's kicking up, the trees he's trying to dodge, the wind he's correcting for. All he knows is that some of those shots are close. Close enough to graze the speeder in at least one case. He's throwing the throttle fully open now, nearly losing control when he whips around another drift before finally getting the machine to cooperate fully as he races away from the camp to lose his attackers before he can start to circle back around the hill.

Edited (missed the whole last bit wow, there we go.) 2019-02-22 22:34 (UTC)

Still, knowing there's at least a dozen of these guys--weird as they are in her opinion--means they'll need a much more significant force to try and acquire these supplies. Not that she was expecting to do so now, but making it back with something to show for it aside from information would be nice.

Not that information by itself is bad, but she's still a pirate, born and raised, so having to leave it all behind is a little internally frustrating in that sense.

The flashes of light from the weapons both are and aren't a surprise. They're a common thread in the stories she's gotten from asking around, but it doesn't fit with the image of actually seeing these things, as they look a little less technologically advanced than to have energy weapons of any kind.

But Delia herself knows well, and uses well: Not judging something or one by its appearance.

With the commotion Josh has kicked up though, Delia lingers long enough to see how they react before she pushes off the tree she was leaning against and starts down the hill, ready to fire her rifle if she needs to defend Josh while he slows down to grab her.

Even with the numbers they have, their loot camp is too big for the sentries posted to be adequate – not when so many of them are distracted shooting at Josh. Delia’s got a good head start down the slope, gravity accelerating her stride as she goes and she’s most of the way down before a crow flaps cawing over her head and someone notices her. There’s another harsh shout, and then the shots begin to lance her way.

Josh whips around and comes in again through the trees, though. Now the roar of the bike’s engine is louder and closer with every heartbeat. He clips through a snowdrift, throttle open and rifle fire on his tail, only to slow just enough and reach out-

Gloved hands clamp around one another: one pulls, the other springs and they’re away. Josh is laughing involuntarily, the sound lost in the wind but for the way it makes his voice sound. “Shit! That actually worked!”

They’re not out of the woods yet, though. Metaphorically or literally. The creatures behind can’t keep pace with them… but there are other shapes moving in from their left flank, long and dark.

Catching Josh's hand and hauling herself onto the bike behind him, Delia raises her own rifle into the air, aiming straight up. Something you might would think would be ineffective with conventional disruptors.

But this weapon isn't a conventional disruptor.

She taps her thumb on the button on the side, it beeps rapidly three times, and then she pulls the trigger. The sound that occurs is difficult to describe, as it makes a sort a 'ftyoom!' noise, launching a grenade out of the end of the weapon.

With their speed, and Delia accounting a little for timing, it piffs down in the snow right in front of their pursuers. And then detonates.

This isn't some 20th century Earth grenade, either. It's a 25th century, Klingon Photon grenade. It explodes with a loud set of booms, sending snow and ice flying in Josh and Delia's wake, helping to cover their escape.

Josh doesn't dare twist around in the speeder to see just what Delia is up to back there. They're still under fire and something is trying to herd them back up round toward the base where those far too accurate for comfort sentries are waiting to fill them full of holes. Josh's weaving has been cut dramatically with their flankers' approach, leaving more of those shots glancing off the speeder, and them if they're unlucky.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos Josh has already been nicked by a blast though it only shows in the small grunts he makes when he throws his weight into swerving the speeder.

"Th'fuck was that?!" His shout is only barely heard over the din before the grenade goes off. "JESUS CHRIST FUCKING CHRISTMAS CAKE WHAT THE FUCK--!!" That last swerve is entirely reflexive and it nearly sends them both pitching off the speeder before Josh gets it corrected and they continue on racing back toward the torches, all but exploding out of the tree line in the wake of Delia's actual ordinance.

There's a sick crunching of falling trees snapping everything that's in their path as those blown up by the blast crash through the frozen forest. Between the blast itself, the exploded terrain, and the snow that's been whipped up their pursuers will find it damn near impossible to keep up writh them now.

"Photon grenade!" Delia shouts by way of answer, "Should scatter them enough to let us get clear!"

Her free arm snaked around Josh's waist as the bike pitched and swerved into the turn. Hindsight 20/20, but she probably should've warned him first. Regardless, watching the devastation over her shoulder, she's pleased that it seems to have worked.

"We're almost there! I've got a lot to tell Kirk."

It's a bumpy, white knuckled ride back to familiar ground with more fish tailing than either one of them would really like. Josh won't slow down until they're back within the safety of the torch line though. He's learned from tragedies in his own world that when danger is nipping at your heels haste is the only way.

Any mistake means death but lingering most definitely seals the fate just as readily. Either choice leads to a terrible fate. He's breathing heavily, arms shaking from his adrenaline fueled race back to the hunkering remnants of civilization when they make it to the cafe. Joshua waits for Delia to get off the speeder before he shuts it off, though the man is loathe to get up immediately himself.

When he does slip off the bike it's with a grimace and a hand firmly pressed against his side.

"Y-yeah. We gotta tell him...actually I have no ffffffucking idea what you saw out there. But I can tell him damn well how much those weapons royally suck."

As they ride back, Delia keeps an eye on their six, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to make sure they're not being followed. She keeps one arm around Josh's waist, the other having a tight one-handed grip on the rifle, ready to launch another photon grenade to discourage pursuers if necessary.

The fishtailing? She takes in stride. This is, after all, a woman who's experienced in combat, and a pilot to boot. She's used to that sort of thing (particularly when you do things that inertial dampeners aren't to fond of, piloting-wise). Not to say she doesn't have her body tensed, thighs clamped around the seat of the bike as much as possible though.

Last thing she wants to do is fly off unexpectedly.

When they reach the safety of the torches and Nexus Plaza, Delia gives herself a moment to relax and catch her breath before sliding off the bike, hefting the rifle over her shoulder to use the strap to carry it.

"Lots of supplies. Odd behavior." She says in response to Josh, "And lots of these guys."

Alright. Time to find one James T. Kirk.

Maybe they'd have gotten out of there quicker if Delia had been piloting or if Kirk had gone with instead. Josh doesn't make any claims of being better than the other scary capable people who call the Nexus their home. But this speeder is his and Joshua's loathe to trust it in anyone else's hands. Even if it means he needs medical attention now.

"Great, just what we need." It's a sullen grumble but he falls into step behind Delia while they head inside to locate the man organizing these expeditions. It's not difficult to spot Captain Kirk while there's work to be done. He's testing flashlights and radios with a couple other scouts making ready to venture out into the storm. When they brush past Delia and Josh to head outside they leave the captain free for at least the moment.

Kirk stifles a yawn into a fist when they're out of sight before shaking any fatigue off as best he can and returning to a radio he's attempting to put back together. Not that he'll get far at all along with that before Delia and Josh find him. The captain's jolting to attention when he notices them.

"You're back! And hurt. We can get you treated. What's the word?"

Josh doesn't bother trying to wave the captain's worry away. He really would like a hand and a painkiller if they've any to spare but he doubts that's a possibility with how low supplies have dwindled.

"'Ow's the fuckin' word, Cap'n." Josh falls quiet after that, though. They've got the intel Kirk wants. Delia does at least. They didn't fail in their mission.

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attackpatternbattista - 2019-03-12 04:34 (UTC) - Expand

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smartass_captain - 2019-03-12 23:38 (UTC) - Expand

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Into a Rising Wind

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Stepping in for brother_alone

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