Mini & Cerulean's Scandalous RP!

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Minibit

Returned from the Void
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. One post per day
  2. 1-3 posts per week
  3. One post per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. No Preferences
Genres
Urban Fantasy, High Fantasy, Epic Quest, Sci-Fi, Time Travel and World Hopping, Steampunk, Action/Adventure, Modern Drama, Mystery, Slice of Life, Romance, and many more.
Sergeant Ashlynn "Ash" Summers sat crouched at the corner of the shuttle. On her wrist, strapped over the cuff of her military uniform, a device that looked like a strange wristwatch displayed a steady green light; her personal cloak was running, and the resulting field around her rendered the redheaded soldier invisible to the naked eye. Similarly, a cooling device attached via spine-pin to her neck kept her body temperature cool enough to bypass most casual heat scans. It took practice to learn to work without shivering, and at the same speed she would with normal body temperature, but Summers knew the training was worth it; the first thing most people did when they suspected an intruder was to scan for the heat signatures of extra life forms.

Resting her left hand on her forward knee, and keeping her right one ready to draw her plasma-beam sidearm, she wondered where in the hell her partner had gotten to; they had gotten all the information they needed, all that was left was to regroup at the shuttle - which was cloaked similarly and tucked away in an outgoing storage bay.

Frowning, Summers got up to walk around the shuttle again; on a normal mission, she'd be in the cockpit, ready to take off as soon as her partner got in, but this was a stealth mission, it was critical they remain unknown. If anyone were to come by who could see them take off - there was no way to cloak the exhaust from a starting temporal engine. As she paced around the small craft, scanning the bay with steel-grey eyes, Summers hoped against hope that her partner's intel would dispute her own. Because what she had found out snooping around their enemy's military base, well, it was hard to swallow.

There was a mole in their home base. The enemy had in their computers, and on the desk of their chief tactical officer, the detailed plans for a surprise attack which coordinated with the enemy's supply lines. Friendly troops would ambush and board the vessels, bypassing security checkpoints and infiltrating the base from within. Considering their temporal recon technology was supposed to be top-secret, and no piece of it had ever been lost or stolen since it's conception, the only way they could possibly have known that, would be if one of the persons in the group responsible was a spy. Who? She wondered, and then pushed the thought out of her head. The last thing she needed right now was to not be able to trust her fellow soldiers. returning again to the back end of the shuttle, she resumed her kneeling position facing the cargo bay entrance, waiting.
 
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A very noticeable rumbling rock the rest of the base. It actually worked. An entire wing went up in flames, after a well placed placed flash bang decided to get into part of their fuel system. He had too. They detected him around the kitchen. Well, not really detect as much as they heard a guy moaning and seeing a floating ham and cheese sandwich. He had been on the run for about a minute before the explosion was set off. Stealth went out the window once the bad guys starting firing. The ham and cheese sandwich was half gone and Sergeant William Frost trying to be long gone. That explosion gave him the edge he needed to get the hell out of there.


Of course, any and all of this little predicament would be all hogwash to his temporary partner. Surely, she would lecture, scold, or whatever to get her point across. However, he would be able to wave information in her face to get the monkey of his back.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

The fire was damn hot a pretty close to giving, him something to look at and remember this trip. Luckily, his strong legs propelled him him down the corridor and into the bay.

"Plan B, Plan B!"

Frost ran to their designated rendezvous point, trying to find Ash. It would be a photo finsh, assuming they made it out of there.
 
Summers gave a small, startled twitch as the explosions rocked the space station's cargo wing, drawing her blaster and training her eyes on the entrance to the hangar. She tensed as it opened and her partner's voice rang out in the otherwise unpopulated room.

"Plan B, Plan B!"

Scowling as he gave away their rendezvous, she kept her cloaking device enabled and sprinted toward the cockpit; her partner was trained as she was to enter an invisible shuttle. She kept her cloaking device on once she was inside, and began starting the engines while she strapped herself in. The shuttle was a small craft, designed to hold a crew of no more than six, with two seats for a pilot and copilot, and a couple of two-butts-wide benches against the walls behind them - what was currently being used for a storage area, in case they had to remove something bigger than a computer file. A three-sectioned computer panel stretched across the cockpit's dashboard, which was small enough that if she leaned a little out of her seat, Ashlynn could reach the controls on the far side with relative ease.

She sped through the process, cursing in her head the lack of time to properly warm and calibrate the temporal engines, circulate the fuel, and thanking her past self for pre-setting their escape coordinates earlier. Gritting her teeth as the explosions and heat wave started to enter the bay, she waited for Frost to enter the shuttle.
 
It was getting too damn hot, in this landing zone. Frost was blazing a path to the shuttle with a firey flame of death on his tail. Unfortunately, he had forgotten where the exact location. This was probably for the best, as a probably irritated Summer got to watch the man barrel and crash. And by crash, he ended smacking into the hood and falling to the floor. He grunted with the pain going through his body.

"Owwww."

He stumbled and quickly opened the door.

"Lets get the hello out of here!"

With the shuttle sealed, Frost made his way to the other chair and strapped himself in.
 
Summers would have face-palmed at Frost's unfortunate impact with the front end of the shuttle, if she thought she had time to. As it was, she only let out an irritated huff just before he finally blundered his way inside. "Strap the fuck in and get our shields redirected to the rear" she snapped, ignoring the fact that he was already in the process of doing so, and powering down the stealth with her left hand and initiating the start-up sequence with her dominant right hand. She threw the small ship forward toward the bay doors, praying to whatever gods might roam the universe that they hadn't locked them down yet. Miraculously, the mechanism still accepted the key code their launch sequence sent out, and the bay doors slammed shut, sealing off the rest of the ship - but not before a good bit of the fireball followed them through the bay and out into space. Summers began to move the ship into a higher speed; turrets would start firing on them any second, and if they got out of range of those, no doubt patrols would begin to close in; they had to reach hyperspace as quickly as possible.
 
"Get your shields out of your rear."

He whispered under his breath. Of course, he knew it needed to be done and it is was done quickly. It took him a second to recover from the lunge forward but by the time they were out, the shield were in the proper formation. However, they were extremely lucky. Half of the ship was already a fireball and started to implode/explode most of the turrets on the right side. While the other half now suddenly had an explosion to redirect their fire to a bigger heat signature. Fire they did, but their the Seasonal Ship (which is what it was called at times) was no where near the firing. A few of the turrets' tracking spotted them slipping through the the darkness and began to fire on the shields.

"Just had to get the sandwich...."
 
"Sandwich?!" Summers shouted over the reverberations of the turret-fire hitting their shields. The hyperdrive was almost online, but taking this fire was not making it any easier to charge anything. "You blew our cover, jeopardised thousands of comrades, not to mention billions of dollars of technology - for a god damn SANDWICH?!" She twisted in her pilot's seat to face him in her shock, and the movement forced her hand to jerk the controls

"SHIT" she swore, turning her attention back as the ship continued to rock; she started powering up the hyperdrive, hoping they could make it before the shields gave out.
 
Frost always felt like a deer caught in the headlights when someone was like this. Summer was especially...volatile. But when she blew off, part of him felt like she enjoyed being to release any emotions onto him and then move on. At least, that was the impression he got from their time together so far. As he readjusted himself after the driver decided to swerve. "You didn't let me eat before we left! Now get your pretty eyes back on where the hell we are going!" He yelled back to her. Not that it was her fault that he grabbed the sandwich, but she had just let him bring along a snack, it would have been fine.

"Hurry the fuck up!"

The ship was doing its best, but the turrets were a lot to handle. Frost could feel the power behind the speed. It was ready. Hyper drive was a go.
 
Summers gritted her teeth, her red brows diving down toward her nose at the curse as she thrust the hammer into place with one hand and turned her pilot's key to start the hyperdrive with the other.

The ship lurched forward, and the stars, turrets, and slowly approaching scouters began to blur as the jump began - streaking like weeds on the edge of a highway. the window began to open before them, and they were hurtling toward it; light flashed as the bow of the ship entered, and Ashlynn began to breathe - they were home fr-

KRAK-BOOM!

The entire shuttle shook as a blast hit them directly from behind, piercing straight through their worn-out shields, and sent the pilots slamming into the console despite their seatbelts. She didn't even have time to scream for an explanation before gravity tried to send her into the ceiling as the ship hurtled in a corkscrew dive into hyperspace.

The next thirty seconds were a blur; streaks of light and darkness in uneven shapes flashed past the cockpit, making Summers feel like she was being shaken inside a hamster wheel inside a strobe light inside a disco ball. Something snapped in the back and a foul-smelling smoke started to fill the cabin; lights were flashing and alarms were whooping, but she couldn't get her upper body - let alone her head - to stay still long enough to see which ones were doing what - much less what to do about it.

Another crash sent her slamming back into her seat so hard that the thought of whiplash flashed through her mind. The craft had smashed into something, metal screamed as solids scraped by the hull; something tore through it, she saw light begin to flicker through a hole in her peripheral vision. When the thing slammed to a halt, the inertia pushed her forward again; she had slid around in her seat so much the seatbelt was over her stomach, and she had to suppress a gag as the thing pushed into her. The engine coughed and sputtered for a moment, and then was silent.

Slowly, Summers began sitting up and checking herself for broken bones; she didn't feel any fractured, but she was certain there were bruises on her feet and shoulder blades from slamming about so much. Blinking, she looked up. Trees towered up around the cockpit; thick, moss-covered trees as wide as her arms would probably stretch. Sunlight filtered from what she presumed was a canopy, and she could hear the muffled cries of birds she didn't recognize.
 
They were so close. But as they both slammed time and time again, it proved that they weren't close enough. Frost was still feeling the effects of the first collision with the ship but now as he turned into a rag doll proved that it was not enough these days to simply do something once. It needed to be done several times over. And you bet your bottom dollar that it was. He was just happy to still have his armor on, which protected him for the most part but there would surely be plenty of bruises.

Gathering himself, Frost stood up and went over to Summer. He lightly put a hand on her shoulder, and looked over her face.

"Are you okay, Summer? Anything exceptionally hurt right now?" He asked sincerely.
 
Distractedly, Ashlynn waved off Winters' hand as she got to her feet. Her knees hurt; probably a side effect of her being so tense while the ship was crashing. Dazed, she looked over the dashboard; a couple of lights were dimly flashing, but most of the board was dead. Stumbling, she moved over to the cockpit door and pushed the release. It was stuck. She bashed her shoulder against it, to no avail except that now she had a sore shoulder - not that she was able to put much force into the blow on her shaky legs. The ship creaked, and she stepped back, the idea that the ship may not have landed on a sturdy surface occurred to her, and she returned to the cockpit, peering through the windows.
"Where are we?"
 
He had watched the entire display and grew nervous as the ship started to shake. When she reentered, he was checking over to see what, if anything,was broken on his armor. Seems that for the most part it would survive even with a few scuffs and scratches. Her question seemed to be quite a good one. Just not one to ask his partner.

"If you have no idea, how the hell would I know?"
 
((I have a phone again!! Sorry for the wait))

His booming voice shook her out of the haze she'd been standing in

"I-It was a rhetorical question!" She stammered, knowing that it hadn't been one when she asked, and changing the subject quickly as colour flushed her cheeks. "Well, anyway, we need to get out to see where we've landed"

She looked through the cockpit windows as she said this. Wherever they were was heavily forested, she could tell that much. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of any planets remotely close enough to their objective which had the atmosphere for this kind of vegetation. They could be in some kind of huge greenhouse, or other protected plantation, but the lack of order to the plants and sheer height of the canopy made this unlikely.
 
Frost huffed, and went to the back of the ship to check to see what survived that crash. Summer was so....not sometimes. Going through each cabinet he was able to take a decent inventory. They still had basic medical supples and some rations, so they weren't entirely out of luck.

"Nah-ha-ooooooooooooo." He whimpered, coming out with the top half of a champagne bottle. "The victory bottle I brought along didn't make it."

Frost carried it with him a little longer before putting it on one of the already dead consoles. He looked out the window as well.

"We still have supplies back there so it should buy us timeto be able to find a way off this planet. Did you find anything useful?"
 
Summers had knelt down, accessing a cabinet behind the driver's seat. It was intended for longer-term missions, but wasn't emptied for shorter recon work like theirs, either. Inside were a few basic tools to fix minor problems, among them a small torch. She was busy applying it to the lock of the jammed door when Frost re-entered. Fortunately her back was to the consoles, or she would have snapped out of survival-mode in order to first question how he had gotten alcohol aboard in the first place - the only reason she could think of was he was sleeping with their commanding officer and the inspection workers - and then to lecture him on priorities of the situation.

"Working on it" she grunted, trying to ration the pressure of the device; she didn't need it breaking on her. "There doesn't seem to be anything against the hull on this side from what I can see, so if we can open this we can assess the atmosphere"
 
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