Unfaltering - Printable Version

Unfaltering - Printable Version

+- Discovery Gaming Community (https://discoverygc.com/forums)
+-- Forum: Role-Playing (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=9)
+--- Forum: Stories and Biographies (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=56)
+--- Thread: Unfaltering (/showthread.php?tid=84063)

Unfaltering - Melanie Tyler - 07-18-2012

Liberty Navy Capital Ship Database...ONLINE.

Select a category:
•MOBILE ASSETS•
•STATIONARY ASSETS•

View files?
•YES•
•NO•

Enter file code...
******
File 129 - Liberty Navy Ship FURIOUS- selected.
Loading... DONE.

-- --- ---- -- - -- ---- --- --

-- --- ---- -- - -- ---- --- --

Communications ID: LNS-Furious
Class: Interdictor
Role: Heavy Escort
Status: Inactive, awaiting decommissioning.
CO: Commander Melanie Tyler
XO: Lieutenant Commander Matthew Salvos

Primary Weaponry:
2 x Battleship Primary Turret (Li-SPG-86L Laser-Plasma Artillery Cannon)
3 x 'Cerberus' Cruiser Turret (Li-C-25 Type 7 Contained Plasma Cannon)
1 x 'Light' Mortar (Li-AW-02 'Slingshot' Antimatter Launcher)

Auxiliary Weaponry:
1 x Battleship Flak Turret (Li-PDS-12H Anti-Material Shrapnel Burst)
4 x Liberty Cruiser Turret (Li-CPG-44 Laser-Plasma Medium Range Cannon)
2 x Cruiser Pulse Cannon (Li-SSU-9x Medium Pulse Ejector)

Armor:
Type VI "Iron Bastion" Standard triple hull design with palladium-iridium reinforcement.

Primary Propulsion System:
DSE-X-495-40 "Pegasus" Shielded Medium-Grade H-Fuel Reactor

Auxiliary Propulsion System:
DSE-Z-121-38 "Endgame" Microfusion Maneuvering Engines

Combat Maneuvering System:
DSE-Y-012-11 "Thunderbolt" Capital-Class Thruster

Defensive Systems:
1 x Heavy Countermeasure Dropper (Li-CM-14H 'Squawker' Disposable EM Radiation Package)
1 x Reinforced Cruise Disruptor (DSE-M(I)-12 Heavy Pursuit Missile)

-- --- ---- -- - -- ---- --- --

Brief history:

Furious's hull was laid in 818A.S, in response to increased aggression by Rheinland forces in central Liberty. Built upon the salvaged hull of the retired battle-cruiser Stockdon, Furious was finished and deemed combat-ready in record time, entering service in the early days of 819 A.S. The commissioning of Furious coincided with the disbandment of three divisions within the Liberty Air Force, and consequently several former Airmen and Women of the LAF's Bretonian Task Force, including Furious's first Commanding Officer, found themselves issued Navy uniforms and offered postings on board the freshly commissioned warship.

As a new vessel, Furious's combat record is sparse, with the vessel reporting occasional skirmishes against BDM incursions. However; her escort configuration could see the battle-cruiser reassigned to fleet duties in the future.

UPDATE (825A.S): Stress cracks noted in Furious' superstructure led to the ship's withdrawal from active service in late 819A.S. Engineering reports indicate the fractures were the result of poor integration of Stockdon's hull with the new Pegasus-type reactor utilized aboard Furious, leading to progressive damage during rapid maneuvering. CMDR Melanie Tyler retired shortly after the announcement, leaving the ship's decommissioning in the hands of LCDR Matthew Salvos. The ship was scrapped to provide repair components in early 820A.S.

A plaque in recognition of the warship's service was placed at the Liberty War Memorial by an assembly of former crewman in 821A.S.

Further notes:

The refitted hull has thus far shown no significant signs of operational stress, though sailors have already stigmatized the Battle-cruiser as a cursed ship due to the destruction of the Stockdon in 818A.S. It is expected that continued service will rectify this issue.

Cohesion issues between CMDR. (LN) Tyler and LCDR. (LN) Salvos reported. Marine contingent commander (MAJ. (LMC) Yami) has been made aware of actions on receiving conflicting orders. CMDR. (LN) Tyler has received personal brief from CAPT. (LN) Links. Further issues deemed unlikely.

-- --- ---- -- - -- ---- --- --

Crew Details:

60 Engineers
78 Gunnery Crew
50 System and Weapon Maintenance Personnel
100 General Crew
40 Auxiliary Crew
40 Reserve Crew
9 Bridge / CIC Crew
9 Command Officers
1 XO
1 Captain
50 Marines
2 Marine Officers
380 Crew Total

End of file.

Unfaltering - Melanie Tyler - 07-18-2012

Decommissioning Duty

Heat pulsed through the forward compartment of the Furious as her weapons systems hummed to life, palpable even through the half metre of armour plating separating the gunnery crew from their weapons. Inside the cramped confines of the forward battery an engineer hovered over the closest control console, pouring over the data with such intensity that he might have fallen in.
“Fifteen…Eighteen…Twenty. Core draw is steady at nineteen per cent.”
Beyond the metallic shell of the Liberty Battle-cruiser, waves of energy surged from her forward weapon mounts, successive pulses delivering enough energy to tear a warship’s shields apart. Impacts rippled across the hulk that served as the warship’s target, bolts blossoming into expanding flashes of light as pulse cannon bursts impacted with the crippled dreadnaught’s shields. Furious had been selected to sink the old Warlord-Class Battleship, a battered remnant of the Nomad war that had been pressed into service against Rheinland when war broke out.

Her age had shown in combat, dated drive systems leaving the battleship to the mercy of faster modern warships. Melanie Tyler knew from the briefing that the ship had been damaged beyond repair by Rheinland forces, chased down by hostile cruisers. She had pulled up the logs on the journey out and was amazed the old Hayward had managed to hold together, much less limp home. The ship had lost its primary propulsion system to a barrage of missiles, along with most of her engineers, staggering back to Houston on emergency power. Within a few hours the staff on Norfolk had declared the battered warship beyond even their ability to fix, and the engineers had begun stripping it for parts almost before the last crew member disembarked. Those few components beyond their ability to remove, either by damage or design, had simply been left on-board when the shell was towed back to Virginia for ‘decommissioning’. Tyler shook her head marginally as Furious’ scanners picked up the spot-failures riddling the hulk’s shields. No-one liked scuttling a warship, even one as damaged as the Hayward. It felt like she was betraying the crew who had fought and died to get that ship home. Battleships should die on the field, facing the enemy, not towed and tethered in the far corner of some far-off star system, waiting for a friendly ship to finish them off.

“Hayward’s shields are down. Requesting permission to fire lancers, Ma’am.” Lieutenant Tobias Petrie, the ship’s gunnery chief had made a point of personally handling fire controls for the scuttling. Like Tyler, Petrie had been assigned to the Air Force Carrier Ravenswood until politics had forced the Air Force to retire a great number of its personnel. Just as it had been in Leeds, the Lieutenant’s voice was clipped, the consummate professional, his words betraying none of his feelings at being assigned to break apart a friendly ship.

“Fire away Lieutenant. Two lancers. Target the drive core.” Petrie didn't need her telling him to fire his weapons, but he took the comment with a knowing nod that seemed universal to senior enlisted sailors, commissioned or not.

Petrie barked orders to the sailors manning the gunnery station, and a pair of missiles accelerated toward the hulk, metal shells keeping the colossal warheads in check until the moment of impact. Timers implanted in the weapons would prevent the missiles from detonating until they had driven a fair distance into the hulk’s hull, hopefully taking out the old ship’s MOX drives. Hurried as the salvaging had been, the ship’s reactor had been left online, partially to power her engines and partially because no-one wanted to go anywhere near such a catastrophically damaged system. Tyler hoped that the missiles would be enough to set off a core overload, vaporising the hulk. It wasn’t the honourable death in battle the ship deserved, but it was a hell of an improvement on being left to radiation and target practice. Even as the missiles left their tubes, Tyler felt her battle-cruiser shudder as thrusters kicked the big warship around, turning her stern to face the doomed Hayward. Inertial dampeners groaned as Furious accelerated away from the missiles; pushing herself out to the computer-calculated limits of the battleship’s core detonation. Tyler’s lips moved in silent prayer for the warship as she watched the Hayward fade to a simple highlighted dot on her displays. Looking around the fire control deck, she wasn’t the only one wishing the battleship well on its final journey.

The paired lancers collided with the hulk that had been the Liberty Dreadnaught Hayward in a flash of light and force; tearing strips of metal from the steel skeleton in a terrifying display of force. Hull plating that had stood firm against nomad assaults crumpled as the missiles pummelled their way through, burrowing towards the drive core. Corridors skewed from enemy bombardment gave way before the barrage, sections of the ship’s mess visible for a brief moment before Hayward blossomed into a starburst of radiation and plating, vanishing from Tyler’s sensors as the blast caught up to the drifting components. Consumed in a flurry of detonations, the decades-old battleship simply ceased to exist.

Systems aboard the Furious chimed instants after, algorithms scanning for any remaining fragments and concluding that they posed no threat to the warship’s shield banks. Any larger chunks would be vaporised by automated systems if they drifted into range, but Commander Melanie Tyler had no intention of being there by the time they arrived. Somewhere on the fire control deck, a Sailor moved to congratulate his Chief, finally breaking the silence. With a parting salute from Lieutenant Petrie, Tyler excused herself and began the long climb to the bridge, feeling oddly empty.

RE: Unfaltering - Melanie Tyler - 11-26-2012

Strange Times

“So, you're telling me that High Command's playing with Nomads?” Melanie Tyler gestured at the image hovering in her stateroom, her hand passing through the simulated shapes of a Liberty Dreadnought watching over a pair of Nomad warships, supposedly in dock. The Dreadnought wasn't a small ship by any stretch of the imagination, but the alien warships outstretched even it, bulbous forms extending beyond the confines of the man-made docks they were housed in. She rubbed her eyes again, driving the last of the night's sleep from them. Her sleeve slipped back halfway down her arm as she did so, Tyler glared at it and pointedly rolled the offending fabric back-up. Comfortable, or even well-fitting work uniforms were rarer then they had any right to be in Liberty, even for someone of her slight build.

It was still early in the ship's day, and her Commanding Officer had managed a halfway decent sleep for the first time in what felt like centuries. Odd, considering that they were posted in Texas, where a swarm of Rheinland warships rushing past the too-yellow sun was an ever-present possibility. Tyler blinked again, and stole a glance out the virtual window that overlaid the bulkhead. Houston was barely visible, a faint brown dot against the infinitely brighter star behind it. It was strange to think that such a tiny dot was home to billions of people. The very concept seemed laughably absurd when weighed against the vastness of space. It worked both ways though. From any of Houston's major cities, the Battlecruiser would have been indistinguishable from the blackness around it. Even artificial eyes struggled to distinguish the ship at that sort of range. Which, of course, was exactly the idea. It wouldn't do to have enemy eyes watching while the warship slept. It was a fragile sort of security, and one that Tyler felt slipping further and further away the longer she stared at the nomad battleships sitting in their cradles.

“No. I'm telling you that it looks like Command's playing with Nomads." Furious' Electronic Warfare Officer, a Lieutenant by the name of Macentyre shook her head, smiling as if she were explaining the color of the sky to a toddler. It was a trait that Tyler found incredibly annoying, but Macentyre was an outstanding Officer, as evidenced by her presence in the Commanding Officer's stateroom at ten to four in the morning. "The encryption messed up the file too much to reconstruct it properly.”
“It's fake?” Ancestors, wouldn't that be a mercy? She had enough problems to deal with as it was without adding... Whatever it was you called it when your own Command was growing jellyfish with an attitude problem- to the mix.
“Not quite. The whole thing was chopped up too badly for Furious' regular systems to get a proper idea. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I honestly couldn't tell you whether it's legitimate or not.” Damn. Tyler's fingers beat a staccato rhythm on the chair she inhabited.
“I ran the authentication code through the Fleet Database.” Macentyre continued. “Not a whisper, which was odd. Usually a search'll throw up a few matches, even if they're just typos. You'd be amazed how many 'dessert' exercises the ground forces run.” The young Lieutenant caught a glare from Tyler and the meaning behind it. Not all of us have been awake for six hours. “Anyway. 'REUS' didn't return any results. Zip. Nada. Nothing.”
“And this means what, exactly?” Tyler had never had much to do with military intelligence, preferring the rush of fighter combat. She'd been transferred directly to the capital fleet, and her inexperience showed - a fact the XO never grew tired of reminding her of.
“It means that we've either keyed in the unluckiest search terms in the history of the database, or my access is being blocked.” Tyler frowned. Macentyre had a bit of a reputation for eccentricy within the fleet. Even so, this was far beyond her usual fare.
“And if you're being blocked, then the database does have something on REUS.” Tyler finished, her brain finally shaking off the dark clouds of sleep.
“I'd bet my commission on it.” Macentyre nodded, smiling like the cat that had got the proverbial cream. Tyler just hoped that curiosity wasn't gunning for the same feline.

After the obligatory thanks and courtesies, she dismissed the Lieutenant, noting that the young officer failed to salute on the way out. It was the sort of absent-mindedness Macentyre was renowned for. Such a flighty nature was strangely at odds with the attention she paid to the ship's multiple intelligence-gathering systems, and Tyler couldn't help but wonder if she ignored the courtesy on purpose. Not that the older officer minded, she had far bigger things to worry about, and wasn't about to start jumping down the throats of subordinates who dug up such valuable, if concerning, information.

Tyler kicked her feet back on the projector and stared at the ceiling, allowing her mind to wander as she watched the virtual map drifting across the bulkhead. There were still a few hours left before reveille, and she knew she wouldn't sleep again that night. Texas' primary star dominated the view, hovering on the lower edges of the map like a God of old, completely apathetic to the concerns of the tiny creatures scurrying about it. A series of circles, tiny to the point of insignificance, hung suspended at the map's centre. If she cared to enlarge the image, she knew she would find Furious at the core of the innermost sphere, consecutive circles denoting the range of the warship's weapons, communications, and sensors. Against the scope of a star system, even they seemed woefully inadequate. She tapped the scale again, and Sirius shimmered into existence above her. Someone out there knew what REUS was. What the image still shimmering beside her meant.

It could just be nothing, but she knew in her gut that there was as much chance of that as there was of the ship beneath her growing a mind, deciding the Rheinlanders were really quite lovely people and proceeding to settle the war itself. One way or another, there was something Command was hiding. She shouldn't have been surprised, it seemed to be in their nature, even when it got people killed.

She sat there for a hazy period of time, drifting in and out of consciousness, but always faintly aware of the image beside her. The alien warships kept dragging her eyes to them, grabbing her focus. She had to be sure. A message to command? No. Pointless, foolish even. If the image was real, she'd only be exposing her ship to danger by sending it. If it wasn't, well. The response would be exactly the same. I'm sorry, Commander, we haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, good day. The images themselves would have to be verified first, but who could she trust to do that, if Furious' systems weren't up to the task? She knew a few people in Liberty, all of them in some form of military service or another. All of them too likely to be monitored. Too many problems, and too few solutions. She entertained the idea of hiring a shuttle to Bretonia and living out a life fighting the Gauls. It might be short, but at least it would be simple and she'd heard the Bretonians offered fantastic military pensions. Even as she thought it, she threw the idea away. If the problem was as bad as it might be, then she had no choice but to stay. Perhaps she could send a message to Tom, though...

Of course. Thomas Page, a Sergeant in the Bretonian Police Force. The two had met, and fought together, against the Gallic incursion in Leeds. The idea hit her with all the subtlety of a train crash. The Police would have access to the technology she needed to verify the images Macentyre had given her. Add to that the distance from anything vaguely associated with Naval High Command, and it might just be worth a shot. Tyler jumped to her feet, sending a file lodged against the projector skidding across the floor, powered on her terminal, and began to write.