Act 1
MISSION REPORT
Scene 1: Chaos 5
The Santa Rose
cuts through the sky above the rolling clouds of AR-32. Known for its
aggressive storms, it's no surprise that turbulence rocks the craft. The Santa Rose was
a fancy name for an upgraded drop ship. In truth, it was a mercenary
ship leased out by the owner to the highest bidder. Its size and
versatility made it less clunky and more agile than the USCMC dropships
of yesteryear. It had been modified with a planet-fall upgrade and
armoured bulkheads for strike and retreat blitzes or nail-biting search
and rescue missions. A second level medlab provided not only comfort and
vital frontier resources but also meant it was capable of longer
deployments. Even though its interior and exterior modules had gotten a
face lift, it still was operating on the older MU/TH/UR 6000 AI
system, which at times could be stubborn (just don't tell her that.)
The sleek upgrades and manoeuvrability made the Santa Rose the perfect
asset in the hostile atmosphere of the infamous and unforgiving AR-32.
Lt. Allen says he'll take the marines down close to the mine which is adjacent to the inactive hive. Weather reports indicated high winds upon entering the atmosphere and on the planet's surface. Nothing Jill can't handle, right?
"You got it Vickers?" Lt. Allen asks from the
co-pilot chair. Her stern look ahead is response enough, yet even with
the confidence portrayed by her glossed aviators, there is doubt among
the team. Normally, Jill Vickers would never be questioned, by a
co-pilot, officer or otherwise, but the crew noticed she had been "off"
before they left the Frigate. Whatever that means. She had been acting
strange since the briefing. Instead of her cool, Barbie air there was an
extra step in her walk, a self conscious rub of the arm which may have
seemed subtle to most, but to those that knew her stood out as something
amiss. Lt. Allen may be hardheaded but he's certainly not blind.
"Yes sir." Vickers response, doing her best to shield the shakiness in her voice. Mason shoots Capilano a look of concern.
"Should we be worried?" Mason asks with trepidation.
"Jill's the best fucking pilot I know. We've got nothing to worry about." Replies Capilano. As soon as Mason turns away Capilano runs his fingers across his chest, feeling for his golden cross. He's got no one convinced, including himself.
**Note: Each character has a signature item which they can hold to reduce stress. Keep your eye out for them.
"High
winds from now until planet-side. This isn't going to get any easier,
Vickers. Take us in gently now." Allen's voice comes through over the
comms with the motivating confidence of a father. His voice is
surprisingly calm. His experience gives the crew some reassurance, but
he can see that Vickers is sweating. The atmospheric storm is intense.
"Decelerating
now. Strap in for chop for the next few hundred metres." Vickers warns.
She leans to the right and flips a switch, which triggers a flashing
green light.
Jill was created to be my best pilot, but I'm
honestly having my doubts right off the hop. Lets see if she can get
them out of this with an impressive 8 dice.
Jill Vickers - Piloting Roll - Agility (5), Piloting (2) Skill (Full Throttle +2) 8 Base dice - 0 Success
Jill fucked up...
The
Santa Rose hurtles through the sky, caught in the grip of powerful,
howling winds that toss the ship in all directions. The once-stable
flight path now becomes a tumultuous ride as the vessel starts to
descend into a perilous nose dive towards the planet's surface.
All characters gain +1 Stress.
Jill Vickers gains +2 Stress.
The wind roars with a ferocity that causes the entire ship to shudder and groan under the immense pressure. What was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill drop is now a chaotic flurry of alarmed crew members.
Alarms blaze. Lights flash.
Someone hurls their breakfast on the ship's deck. Curdled eggs. Black coffee. A mess of gear spills and rolls towards the nose.
Through the ship's windows, the crew watches the ominous sight of the planet's surface rapidly approaching, looming larger with each passing second. A blur of swirling clouds, rocky surface and distant jagged mountains.
"Vickers what the hell are you doing!!?" The Lt. shouts at her. Sweat now pouring into his bulging eyes.
"Is it supposed to be like this?" Mason asks with his eyes squeezed shut.
Pakowski
pops a pink pill and swallows it dry. His skin pulled so tightly you
can almost see the circular outline squirm down his throat.
Vickers desperately works to regain control, her hands griping the steering mechanisms with white-knuckled determination. Her adjustments and corrections are met with a violent resistance from the relentless wind, making it a battle against nature itself.
Time seems to slow down as the Santa Rose hurtles towards the planet's surface. The crew's expressions are etched with fear. Every second brings them closer to impact, and the fate of the ship and mission hangs precariously in the balance.
I'm honestly thinking this is going to be a real short campaign.
Lt. Allen - Piloting Roll - Agility (4), Piloting (2) 6 Base dice + 1 Stress = 1 Success
Luckily Allen shoots a pair of steady hands out and grabs the sticks to pull them out of the nose dive. He manages to fight off the turbulence and glides the ship down to the surface. The Santa Rose drop ship touches down with a rattle and thud, its occupants audibly exhaling at once. The crew is in disbelief. Jill is literally the best pilot this team has worked with and yet she choked on the landing. No doubt the Lt will be having a word with her.
 |
| The Santa Rose touches down on AR-32... but just barely |
Scene 2: Chaos 6
The crew unbuckle in unison, eager to get free of the ship. Jill lowers her head and breathes a huge sigh of relief. She blew it and she knows it. Allen looks in her direction, but she doesn't dare meet his gaze. It's just as well, because the LT is disgusted and it's not even noon.
"I
want a full damage report. Sensors. Thrusters. Armaments... everything
down to the fucking coffee machine. And you can do that before you even
think about taking five, pilot." Allan barks. He storms off towards the
back of the ship.
Vickers and the Lt. are staying on the Santa Rose. Because of the wind storm and Vickers dropping the ball, it put the crew far off course from the hive. The ground team will have to take the APC the rest of the way. Given the current events, no one seems to mind staying out of the air for awhile.
"Ground team, you are go for destination. Retrieval should be less than 3 hours. Radio in once you have visual on the hive. Remember your training: Full contact. No exceptions." Allen crackles over comms.
Mason straps in to the driver seat with confidence. He knows any minor fuck up or bump in the road will pale in comparison to what just happened. The ramp slaps the hard, crusted surface of the planet and the APC rolls out the ramp with the vigour of a getaway car from a heist. Mason can manage it. He speeds against the driving wind, moving two zones closer to their objective. The winds slow them, but Mason can manage... until he doesn't. The Oracle tells me that this is not going to be a Sunday drive. Roll for complication. I get "Trek" + "Whipping". Looks like we're walking.
WHACK!
A tremendous thud collides with the top of the APC. It rocks the steering, but Mason quickly regains control.
What
the hell happened? Roll for minor component damage. I get "Sensors".
The APC sensors were knocked out in the high winds. This storm is
getting ugly. They're rolling blind. That means they can't ping the
doctor's PDT chip until they're up an running. While the APC still runs,
Pakoswki thinks they'd be stupid to continue any closer to a hive
without sensors, no matter how "inactive" it is. Before they know it
they could crash right through the wall or find themselves surrounded by
hostiles. Not only do the sensors take environmental readings, they
also communicate directly with the armaments. That means if a threat was
encountered, they'd be sitting ducks. At least they still have radio
contact with the Santa Rose... for now. They can pinpoint their
position.
"Mason, we're walking. Suit up." Orders Capilano, as he fits himself into the cuffs of his environmental suit.
"Lt. do you read us?" Capilano asks into the comms. A brief moment of fuzz until...
"What is it, Corporal?" Allen asks.
"The
sensors have been knocked out in the storm. We're rolling blind. We can
go in as close as possible, but it looks like we're in for some
walking. Can you provide an estimated distance?"
"I read you. Stand by.... You are to proceed 1 zone further, no more. One zone and then you walk marines. Copy?" Allen states.
Mason turns to his pal. "You up for a Sunday stroll?"
The APC rolls only 1 zone closure. Looks like they have to walk 1 zone further after that. It's better to be safe than sorry.
"Pakowski,
how long until the sensors are back online?" Kitzmiller asks. Pakowski
ducts out of the harness and approaches the corporal.
"What's your hurry? Isn't this the vacation you've always asked for?"
Kitzmiller looks back, stone faced.
"Couple hours maybe." Pakowski clears his throat.
"Then get it done."
Marlaina
and Capilano suit up. While the atmosphere is breathable, leaving the
safety of the APC without protection would be like sticking your face
into a sandblaster. And it's not just sand. It would have taken a
grapefruit sized rock to knock out those sensors. The environment suits
are made for that purpose, problem is with the visors down they'll be
breathing the artificial air from the tanks, which has a limited supply.
"This is a foreign hostile planet. There's no way I'm opening that door without knowing what's out there." Mason switches on the motion tracker.
Does he get a ping? "Yes". I roll a D6 to see how far it is. I roll a 1 so that means "Zone 1". The same zone the team is in. Is it moving towards us (50/50)? "Yes".
Okay here we go.
"So much for being a dead planet." Mason breathes, checking the ammo counter on his pulse rifle.
"Lock and load people. Looks like we may have a welcome party. Let's not let them get the jump on us." Capilano rallies the team. His voice is followed by a cacophony of clicking metal, snapping buckles and pulling zippers.
Thanks for reading!
Stay tuned for what happens next. Feel free to leave comments.
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