Durgama Takeover

It was a dark day. In space, they were all dark days, but it was especially dark today. Raveneye Officer Finian took in the faces of those around him; Stern expressions held in place overtop a boiling anger barely hidden beneath. The Nomads were mad.

And rightly so.

The attack on one of their Motherships had unified the three jurisdictional commands in a way that hadn't really been seen in quite some time. Not since Aleph's incursion in some decade ago. Sure, they always worked together, but never so focused on one singular goal.

Revenge.

Surviving Corregidor troops who had been on the station during the Raveneye incident were today welcoming a cadre of Tunguska allies to help hold the line. It was absolutely imperative that the Port Battery stay in Nomad hands. Losing it would not only be a devastating blow for morale, but also a major threat to the the Human Sphere. Whoever controlled the battery could potentially wreak havoc on targets all over Concillium, or in orbit, provided they could repair it. The Nomad High Command could think of no faction more suitable for deciding how to wield that power than themselves.

So they would hold the line.

Finian approached one of the Mobile Brigada Lieutenants who stood with their helmet off, letting their tangled long hair fall down one side of their face.

The Mobile Brigada glanced up at Finian. "Yes, pig?"

The troops around them grinned, and some made oinking sounds. Finian ignored them.

"Let me join in the game."

They were coordinating rapidly organized a training simulation for the Tunguskan arrivals. All Nomads were proficient to some degree with being in zero-g environments, but none were so skilled as those who hailed from Corregidor. From youths spent working on asteroid mines to military stints in the Tomcat ranks providing battlefield support before being promoted to more specialized roles, every Corregidor trooper could handle themselves in the case of an environmental catastrophe in deep space.

The same could not be said for the Tunguska troopers. So Corregidor was going to help them get their zero-g legs.

A skirmish between two elite squads: a make-shift game of capture the flag, but without the shackles of gravity. By the end, Corregidor command would decide if they were ready for the heated contests deeper within the Raveneye complex. They would have to be.

"You'll just get in the way." The Mobile Brigada replied.

Finian balled on his hands into a fist and slammed it down at the table they were congregated around. "You think you were the only ones hurt?! I have family down on that planet. I have just as much reason to keep those apes off this station as you do."

"How do we know you're not a PanO lapdog?"

A young ropy-muscled Clockmaker approached and poked Finian's chest, hoping to earn some clout with his peers. "Yeah, piggie. Your on a Pano lea-"

He was interrupted by Finians balled fist smacking into his face. The Clockmaker staggered back before looking back at Finian, blood slowly dripping from his bottom lip where it had slammed into his front teeth. Within seconds, the stern mask that all the troopers around were trying to keep up fell, and the anger boiled over. Everyone began yelling, forming a circle around Finian and the Clockmaker, prodding them to brawl.

The Mobile Brigada lifted her light flamethrower in the air and shot a burst of flame above their heads. "Enough!" Everyone crouched down and quickly fell quiet. She then stormed over to Finian and grabbed him by the collar. "You want to play at being with us?" She pushed him toward the Clockmaker with the extra power provided by their powered suit, causing Finian and the Clockmaker both to almost fall over each other. "You're on his team."

Despite the low stakes, Finian's heart was pounding. If he was going to have any hope of earning the trust of the Nomads, he'd have to have a competent showing at least.

Jazz Caticovas pointed to him. "You, guard. You're on guard duty," she said as she ducked into cover near the beacon.

Finian's shoulders hunched up tightly as around him, the "battlefield" exploded into action.

A fireteam to his left advanced while covered by smoke provided by the mercenary McMurrough. Finian ignored the warrant on his arrest for now. Probably not the best time to bring that up.

A burst of fire rang out, followed by the revving of bike engines. Motorcycles, on a space station?

Motorcycles dodging missiles. Reaktion Zonds opening fire down range, only to receive return fire for a Kriza Boracs. The bloody faced Clockmaker repaired the Zond, before it took off across the table to gun down some of the bikers, followed closely by Billie.

Absolute chaos. Finian gripped his shotgun tensely as a line of smoke began appearing in a steady pattern towards their Beacon, as the bikers, healed by a Securitate paramedic, roared toward him in a rush. As they approached Finian unloaded his submachine clip at them, landing a couple hits, but not causing a wound. To his surprise, the bike zoomed past him, only to be clipped by an E/M mine he had placed near the beacon.

Smoke started to fill the air around him as he pointed his submachine gun wildly. He couldn't see anything as he stumbled in the vague direction of their beacon. He heard the sound of metal on metal as Perseus used his shield to flip the beacon into his hand in a flashy motion, not that anyone could see it.

The Mobile Bridaga yelled out across the way, "Time! We have a winner!"

The Clockmaker who had antagonized Finian earlier handed him a stim. Finian glanced down at it.

"You know I'm a cop, right?"

The Clockmaker raised an eyebrow. "You didn't shit yourself when those bikes were bearing down on you, guns blazing. You're no cop."

They were waiting for the post-match results to come through, lounging among some empty military crates, the contents having been sent to the front lines. Corregidor command had been watching the game with interest, and were deciding where best to deploy certain troops based on their skill set.

Finian took the stim. "That's me. Finian the Fearless."

"I'm Jo. That stim might come in handy later on."

Finian narrowed his eyes quizzically. "What, are you friendly all of a sudden?"

The Clockmaker ignored his question. "Man, did you see when I popped up and took down that Heckler? He didn't expect THAT from a bloody GREASE MONKEY DID HE!" Each word he spoke louder, like a crescendo, until it ended in almost a yell.

Finian paused. "You alright, Jo?"

He watched Jos face move from an expression of ecstasy, to anger, then to despair, before finally that stern mask, that facade of calm, was back in place.

The game had been an outlet for all of that pent up anger and tenseness. Now, they were back to idling in a warzone that happened to be on a cramped orbital platform that was damaged and filled with enemies, some of whom and tried to blow up the Corregidor mothership. Looking around, Finian saw now clearly written in the subtext of the movements and words of everyone around them; Thoughts of home, of what they had almost lost, and thoughts of their comrades, and those they did lose.

"I'm alright, bossman. I'm right where I need to be."