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Vietmyke
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Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team
It is year 2899. Humanity has long since conquered the stars around them. The resources and riches from their conquests had brought the human race into an Golden Age of technological advancement. Powerful self sustaining AI's were developed to aid humans and their machines, and cyborg parts allowed cripples and the weak to continue working for society.With the advent of AI, biotech and cybertechnology several centuries prior, the advancement of humanity has grown exponentially. Starships of massive proportions were built, floating worlds in space were created, massive Utopia cities on lush green planets were erected. Worlds beyond even what humanity thought were possible were discovered. Wars weren't fought, the human race was too busy expanding at a breakneck pace. Life was perfect. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
And then it did. By the year 2480, Humanity had overextended itself; the great sprawling empire it had forged had become too large for it to support itself. The empire collapsed onto itself. In the course of 20 years, the mighty empire humanity had established splintered into thousands of factions. The fall of the Empire resulted in a massive power vacuum and the Galaxy erupted into a large feudal war. Some factions grew power by warring with other factions, taking them over; others stayed secluded for as long as they could. Many were taken back by the earth empire, and just as many were lost in deep space.
By the 25th Century, most of the numerous factions had consolidated into 3 major powers: The original Earth Empire, the largest and most numerous of the 3 powers, made up of most of the core empire planets; The Coalition, a group of separatists strictly opposed to the Earth Empire, spanning across most of colonial space; and the Krellian Republic, a reclusive, bizarre group focused mainly along the outskirts of known space. The Earth Empire and the Coalition fight bitterly, the Empire seeking to reclaim their lost territory, and the Coalition fighting for a new order in the galaxy. The Krellians choose to stay out of the conflict, their faraway frontier colonies too far away to be bothered by the other two factions.
By the turn of the 26th century, the Earth Empire and the Coalition had suffered dreadful casualties on both sides, and just as many worlds lost in the splintering had been razed by both sides. The two superpowers agreed to an uneasy truce. That marked the start of an intergalactic cold war, as the two superpowers begin a buildup of military strength and engage in proxy wars with smaller nations and colonies.
As the end of the 28th century drew near, a series of failed operations by the Earth Empire at an attempt at securing a rumored Coalition Superweapon has sparked up and reignited the flames of war. After almost 300 years of peace, war between the Coalition and the Empire had renewed in earnest. Millions of people from both sides are drafted as fleets of starships and planets are thrown into vicious war. The Coalition forces take advantage of the Empire's overextended lines to take victory after victory by utilizing a new type of fighting machine: Mobile Armor Suits, a humanoid fighting machine much more maneuverable than conventional aircraft and ground units, and effective in most environmental situations.
In an attempt to counter the new threat and reorganize their military efforts, the Empire assembles the 101st Legion, a Special Forces unit with the purpose of using Mobile Armor Suits of Imperial design to counter the Coalition Suits. All the meanwhile, the Krellian Republic continues to watch from a distance, giving unease to both sides.
Though off to a rough start, the 101st Legion has proven to be an effective counter to Coalition Suits and has become the standard to which new Mobile Armor Suit units are designed after. The 101st has received news that the Coalition may be attempting to pull out its Superweapon to bare on the people of the Empire. Despite knowing full well the superstition and misfortune that has revolved around this weapon, the 101st regardless prepares to strike. This is Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team.
0600 Hours December 12th 2899 Universal Earth Calender.
Ulysses Space Dock, High orbit above Fortress Planet Cerol.
The Ulysses Space Dock, the largest of 5 space docks in orbit above the planet Cerol. Made up of three U-shaped multi-purpose docks, around a reinforced space station, each U-Dock had the capacity to hold up to 10 capital ships in its arms at a single given time, as well as over a dozen smaller vessels in its 'vertical' docks, with plenty of space for several more on its outer edges. Serving not only as a re-fit and repair station, the dock also served as its own shipyard, with an entire dock devoted entirely to the production of naval warships. Shuttles and freighters laden with supplies zipped back and forth between space stations and the surface, as wings of fighters and MAS units flew on regular patrols. Several large fleets floated in close proximity to the planet, some preparing to leave, others returning from the front lines for much needed repairs.
Among the returning fleets was the Fifth Imperial Expeditionary Fleet, fondly named the 'Fighting Fifths' by the Emperor himself for their exemplary record and combat prowess. With UEE forces spread so thin, the Fifth Expeditionary was one of the few fleets to have a full compliment of 101st Legion MAS pilots, as well as an entire wing of carrier vessels to house them. Having recently returned several weeks prior from heavy conflict along the Ilyan front, fending off a Coalition attempt to establish yet another foothold into UEE space, the majority of the Fifth fleet was undergoing repairs, with several smaller ships being built from the ground up to replace fleet losses. Transports shuttled back and forth through the ships of the Fifth Fleet, delivering supplies and transporting personnel. Shuttles bearing the black and gold stripes of the 101st Legion flew from the planet Cerol to several of the fleet's capital ships, as they dropped off new pilots and MAS's to replace the fleet's losses during its previous operations. The station seemed to be giving the Fifth Fleet priority, rumor had it the fifth fleet was being sent off again on another mission, with little to no time to rest.
Space Station Ulysses, Command Briefing Room.
A rather dimly lit room, the command briefing room was a large, spacious room, with plenty of space for the officers that used it. The commanding officers from the Fifth Expeditionary fleet's capital ships, as well as the Station's command crew, and several of the top brass were in the room, either physically, or through secured holo-displays. The officers were in the middle of a heated debate...
"We can't deploy yet! Half of our ships are still damaged!"
"We don't even know if the weapon exists!"
"We must deploy the fifth fleet now! They've already destroyed three colonies!"
"Survivors confirmed that it was an orbital bombardment by a Coalition fleet"
"What kind of orbital bombardment bores a hole through the middle of the planet?""Regardless! Half the fleet is damaged, we're not fit to jump deep into enemy lines on a hunch!"
"Do you doubt the capability of your captains, Admiral?"
"One of my carriers barely has the capacity to jump, let alone make combat maneuvers!""He's right! How do you intend on securing a super weapon with a battle group of crippled ships?!"
"What if we sent a task force?""A task force?! Are you asking me to send my men on a probable suicide mission to test your hunch?!"
"Yes."
"Why you.. You crooked snake! I oughta-!""Admiral Bishop! Please calm down!"
"Control your tongue Admiral Bishop! Might I remind you who you are speaking with?"
"Yes, Bishop, control yourself or I will have you removed from this meeting, and much worse.""....(damned snobby upstart, thinks of war like a game.)....."
"So," said Admiral Ardin, with a air of finality in his snobby, snakey voice, "Do we have any volunteers for this mission?"
The Admiral was a thin, wiry man, with clean, short hair, save for a single lengthy lock that hung over his face, a look quite befitting his serpentine voice. The Emperor's nephew, Admiral Ardin made an astoundingly fast leap from lieutenant to Admiral in merely years, making himself the youngest admiral, and officer in the room. Aged in only his early 30s, many would have thought he'd be at the command of a frigate, instead of multiple fleets. Many conservative and older officers had no small amount of distaste for who they felt to be an upstart with more power than he could handle, though several commanders backed Ardin fully, likely for their own personal gain.
On board the Liberator Class Abraham Lincoln.
The hangers were a buzz of commotion as engineers made fine tune adjustments and repairs to MAS's and planes that they wouldn't trust machines with. The sounds of welders, sparks, computers, and dropping machinery could be heard as the small army of engineers went about their daily duties taking care of the sleek Naginata fighters, Albatross bombers, and MAS units with trained efficiency.
Meanwhile, in the center of the hangar, Sterling McKnight along with most other of the 7th MAS team pilots lounged around, Sterling and several others sitting laxly on top of several crates, while others stood, idling around. They were all waiting for the 101st transport to arrive, and see who they were getting transferred to them, old friends, notorious pilots, famous war heroes, or new recruits, most of the pilots were eager to see who was coming, though not all for the same reason. On one hand, Sterling happily anticipated meeting his new comrades, and though there was still a sore spot from their recent losses, the large man was in a relatively good mood.
Some of the other pilots on the other hand, weren't so enthusiastic. Rick Astelion in particular, their squad leader's twin brother, had an understandably moody look on his face. After the loss of two of his close friends in combat, he wasn't looking forward to seeing the Newcomers. Astelion sulked off to the side on his own, his foul, stormy mood prompted many more prudent pilots to give him some distance.
