0006: NEW ARRIVAL BRIEFING

[crux_npcs]

Who: New Arrivals, Graham Baker
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon, Aprilo 1st
Warnings: None

When awakening, the immediate surroundings are swarming with activity. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. They move with a practiced efficiency, already veterans of this kind of thing. The same goes for the robots in the hangars. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room.

The Briefing room is large. Not enough to accommodate a giant, but spacious enough for several dozen people. The tiles are black and featureless while the walls are nice, soothing colors. The chairs are high-backed and well-cushioned, more like comforting eggs floating a foot or so off the ground than anything else. Set into the ceiling and floor near the front is a large holographic projector. The floor in front of each seat also has a smaller projector, allowing people to see what the bigger device is showing without having to angle for a view. As of now, it merely displays a rotating pyramid.

Three Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. One man stands at the head. Graham Baker, a middle-aged man showing the first signs of balding and wearing a wrinkled business suit, clasps his hands behind his back and smiles.

[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with. The mods will not be doing hangar/medical awakenings unless it's specifically asked for.]

EVENT: BAD VIBRATIONS PART ONE

[crux_npcs]

Who: Wadjit, the Fleet, Plot Participants
Where: Space, The Teuberg
When: Evening, Aprilo 1st
Warnings: None

The peaceful day is shattered by warnings and sirens sounding all through the Fleet, including the city. There's no surface safe, even the personal communicators are letting out alerts. Finally, after a good five seconds, an alarmed voice shouts out. "HEAT SIGNATURES DETECTED! Counting at least seven destroyers, three frigates, and five War Serpents, possibly more, angling for attack vectors! Estimating fifteen minutes until combat range!"

There's a thirty-second wait, and then the communicators of the new arrivals start receiving messages. Civilians are directed to go to shelters, the military recruits are ordered to ship-board battle stations and repair areas, medical volunteers are directed to clinics and hospitals, and the militia has orders to take up defensive positions both in space and aboard the Teuberg, just in case.

The Wadjit fleet incoming is a boiling mass of capital ships, from frigate sized up to cruisers, all of them massive, ovoid, and covered in painted faces, huge fanged maws that actually curl back to launch fighters, mobile suits, and probes as they bore in towards the Fleet. There are at least 17 ships dancing in the void, with hundreds of assorted secondary assault units shedding from them like sporing fungus. The longest of them, armored with serpentine scales, are obviously the War Serpents. Their hideous maws actually open up while a cylindrical core slides out, spewing fighters and mobile armors out in a brilliant cloud of light. Those who have studied the enemy's vessels might recall that the 'cores' act as repair and resupply vessels in the battle, protected by their still-active 'skins' until it's time to retreat.

New stars flare in the darkness, in great circular blasts as the initial wave of defensive and offensive missiles slam into one another, and into energy shields, creating a huge tableau of warfare in its most silent and beautiful. The Fleet's responders are quick, spewing out hundreds of fighters and mobile armors like a dandelion spreading its seeds. They maneuver into positions, filling in three-dimensional formations and walls to defend against the oncoming wave of attackers.

After the initial spherical blasts, the Wadjit fighters, like great spiked claws, and the mobile suits, resembling hunched raptors, hurtle towards the fleet in an expanding mass of death promises. The only question now is how the stalwart defenders react.

[This is the Space Combat portion. Later, we will have the Virus drop in, and that will be a separate thread within this post tomorrow. This event will last for ONE WEEK, after which it will continue with backtags. Of course, once the virus drops, the effects will not be limited to this post.]