“Ah, Warrior Kisaki,” Muck observed from the bed he was sitting on as the door to ‘his’ medical cell opened.
“Not warror. Lieutenant. Lieutenant Gamlin, to you,” Gamlin corrected with a grimace before tossing a garment at Muck. “Get Dressed. The Captain wants to see you.”
“Nice of him to not demand I go parading through the halls in a backless hospital gown, El Tee.”(1) He shook it out and examined it briefly before starting to slip it on under his hospital gown. “Flight suit? Or duty jumpsuit? Either way it seems clear Max doesn’t want me to stand out that much.”
“Jumpsuit, but I’m not going to presume as to the Captain’s intentions. You’ll have to wait and ask him yourself, if you want.”
“I do want. I see you’ve not drawn your sidearm this time though.”
“Should I have?”
“Hard to say Lt. Well, since I don’t remember you doing anything to make me classify you as a threat, but as you’ve drawn down on me at least once that I remember, tells me YOU see ME as a threat.”
“I do.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
“Oooookay. So, do I lead, or follow?” Muck asked, finishing zipping up the jumpsuit and approaching the door.
Gamlin glared. “Which makes you least comfortable?”
Muck folded his arms and smirked. “Sorry, you’re the one allegedly in charge here Lieutenant. You have to decide. Call it the burden of power, command, or whatever you want. Whatever gets you through the night.”
“Fine. One pace ahead and to my right, then.”
“Just remember you need to tell me which way we need to turn instead of just shooting me. That will turn out bad for one of us. Not going to say which of us, though,” Muck replied, then transferred his attention to the door that slid open in front of the pair. Behind said door was a room that made where he’d been was something of a cross between an interrogation cell and a hospital treatment room. That the door to his right also started opening was a clear indication of where he was supposed to go even before Gamlin needed to say anything.
Gamlin did have to direct Muck once the two were in the hallway, indicating to turn left, which took them past a nursing station to a central elevator lobby; a hall Muck guessed was made of armor plate of some sort, painted in a “oh no, your not really in a hospital or prison” light beige instead of instead of a stark flat white. A short ride down the elevator, followed by a walk down more suspiciously empty hallways which eventually disgorged the pair onto a loading dock at what Muck assumed was the rear of the facility.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
(12-13-2019, 06:16 AM)Star Ranger4 Wrote: Gamlin did have to direct Muck once the two were in the hallway, indicating to turn left, which took them past a nursing station to a central elevator lobby; a hall Muck guessed was made of armor plate of some sort, painted in a “oh no, your not really in a hospital or prison” light beige instead of instead of a stark flat white. A short ride down the elevator, followed by a walk down more suspiciously empty hallways which eventually disgorged the pair onto a loading dock at what Muck assumed was the rear of the facility.
If he's on the Original Macross Superfortress, the walls only seem armored because they were built to withstand Macronized Humanoids, like say Zentradi, and Meltrans. When you are at that size they seem like Standard internal Bulkhead type walls.
Okay. Some corrections, some new text, some formatting changes to the point that I'm attaching a docx version if that works for people
“Ah, Warrior Kisaki,” Muck observed from the bed he was sitting on as the door to ‘his’ medical cell opened.
“Not warror. Lieutenant. Lieutenant Gamlin, to you,” Gamlin corrected with a grimace before tossing a garment at Muck. “Get Dressed. The Captain wants to see you.”
“Nice of Cap’n Jenius to not demand I go parading through the halls in a backless hospital gown, El Tee.”(1) He shook it out and examined it briefly before starting to slip it on under his hospital gown. “Flight suit? Duty jumpsuit? Either way it seems clear Max doesn’t want me to stand out that much.”
“Jumpsuit, but I’m not going to presume as to the Captain’s intentions. You’ll have to wait and ask him yourself, if you want.”
“I do want. I see you’ve not drawn your sidearm this time though.”
“Should I have?”
“Hard to say Lt. Well, since I don’t remember you doing anything to make me classify you as a threat, but as you’ve drawn down on me at least once that I remember, tells me YOU see ME as a threat.”
“I do.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
“Oooookay. So, do I lead, or follow?” Muck asked, finishing zipping up the jumpsuit and approaching the door.
Gamlin glared. “Which makes you least comfortable?”
Muck folded his arms and smirked. “Sorry, you’re the one allegedly in charge here Lieutenant. You have to decide. Call it the burden of power, command, or whatever you want. Whatever gets you through the night.”
“Fine. One pace ahead and to my right, then.”
“Just remember you need to tell me which way we need to turn instead of just shooting me. That will turn out bad for one of us. Not going to say which of us, though,” Muck replied, then transferred his attention to the door that slid open in front of the pair. Behind said door was a room that indicated by its décor that where he’d been was something of a cross between an interrogation cell and a hospital treatment room. The quality of the furnishings would seem to indicate people who understood that some people judged them by such things, but refused to allow themselves to be driven to excess. Which matched his memories of the Maximillian and Milia he knew all those years and fica ago.
• * * * * * * *
Gamlin Kizaki did his best to hide any uncertainty about the situation he found himself in as he directed the prisoner his captain and his mayor had… commanded? Entrusted to him? Gamlin supposed the exact status of the person he was escorting was secondary to his ability to deliver him to Captain Jenius’ office safely; but the teachings of his basic flight and combat trainer… aka the Mayor of the Seventh Colony fleet? She’d expect him to be ever vigilant, regardless of if he was in the cockpit of a Valkyrie or escorting a…
Gamlin cursed to himself as he realized that this train of thought had caused him to not be vigilant; that he and this ‘Muck’ had exited the rear entrance of the medical center, headed towards the transport that would take them to their meeting, only to have Muck reach back and pin Gamlin in general, and Gamlin’s sidearm in specific against the faux brick of the building. Gamlin found himself looking down at his chest, at his arm and his now useless sidearm pinned by the metallic arm across his chest for a moment before forcing his gaze up and to the right at the captor he had assumed was HIS captive. Muck had transformed from the Miclone Gamlin thought of him as into his metallic form that Gamlin had seen Muck shift into while unconscious and apparently delirious, given the speed and precision of the transformation just now. He’d opened his mouth to shout; for additional security or just in protest of Muck’s unilateral actions he wasn’t sure; but while he couldn’t actually see Muck’s eyes anymore, nor did a battroid have a mouth, yet somehow the miclone sized VF-1S managed to convey the image of the man who’d been standing there a second ago holding a cautionary finger to his lips in a traditional gesture of silence.
“Hear that, Kisakai?”
“Air Raid Sirens? SHIT. VAMPIRES”
“Vampires? Like flipping Dracula?”
“Doc Chiba doesn’t think so”, Gamlin said, then found himself ducking involuntarily as three enemy fightercraft screamed overhead. “No fang marks. And they don’t kill, but turn their victims into vegetables instead.”
“Dammit. Get your Valk, Gamlin, and get your arse back here.”
“And where are you going to be?”
“Steering to the sound of the guns, Gamlin,” Muck replied, pushing Gamlin away, his wings snapping open in conjunction with his flight thrusters snarling to life. “GET ME SOME VERDAMNED SUPPORT, LIEUTENANT!”
Gamlin rolled with the shove and took off running for the closest ERTS point[2] he recalled, even as he lifted the communicator strapped to his wrist.
“D 3 to Battle 7! D 3 to Battle 7!”
“This is Battle 7. Say your traffic, D-3!”
“Enemy ships INSIDE Island 7, B-7! Requesting immediate Valkyrie Interdiction!” Gamlin snapped as he threw himself down the ERTS chute. “D 3 In-route to scramble in support, B-7!”
“Battle 7 copies all, D 3. Break! ALL STATIONS, ALL STATIONS! Clear this channel and stand by!” Miho Miho’s voice echoed through Gamlin’s communicator as the Valkyrie pilot sprinted across the transit platform to what emergency protocols told Gamlin would be a transit car that would transport him to the closest transit point to Gamlin’s VF-17.
“D-3. Standby for Battle 7 actual,” Miho warned.
“This is D-3. Go ahead Battle 7 actual!”
“Diamond 3. This is Battle 7 actual.[2] State your location.”
“En route via ERTS to my Valk, Sir.”
“Where is your prisoner Gamlin?”
“To use his own words, Sir, ‘Steering to the sound of the guns.’ SIR! D-3 is scrambling in support, sir!”[4]
“Negative D-3. Lieutenant Gamlin Kisaki, you are now Diamond 1 actual, Not Diamond 3” Maximillian Jenius corrected. “Otherwise, proceed as briefed Lieutenant. Chase those damn mecha out of my fleet and escort ”
“Diamond 1 copies all, Sir!” Gamlin acknowledged as he sprinted across the hanger bay to his waiting Valkyrie, waving away his crew chief as Gamin threw himself into his cockpit.
“Then get out there and bring that wayward sheep home before Island 7 Actual goes ballistic on both of us Diamond 1.”
“Diamond 1. Raja. Out,” Gamlin acknowledged
1) This = LT, = A standard military shorthand for Lieutenant, equivalent to an officer in one of the first 3 Officer ranks of the current military rank system.
2) Emergency Rapid Transit System. An assumed but never seen feature of Island 7 that allows Basara to get to his fighter so quickly. Gamlin using it here is more of its designed purpose, including alerting Gamlin’s deck crew to make sure his Valkyrie is ready to sortie.
3) So, sue me. Trying to evoke what I was trained in as far as ‘real military communication protocols’ here.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
In combat, adrenaline does strange things to one’s perceptions of time. Even though thanks to the timing circuits of the probe he’d been merged with all those years ago Muck always knew both true duration and local time, Effective duration was still malleable. Which meant that it didn’t matter how long he’d been engaging these Vampyr, as Gamlin had called them. Subjectively it was half a fricking lifetime ago; He’d been overconfident and flippant when he’d told Gamlin he was steering for the sound of the guns. The problem was that he’d found the guns… and found most of his offensive options were totally ineffective against the enemy mecha; while the Star Shield could and did block enemy attacks and Star Sword was able to pierce the enemy armor with ease, He’d forgotten why during his time aboard the SDF-1 he’d concentrated on being a Veritech pilot. And was having the point driven home, in spades once again. The vitals of an enemy mecha ten times his size were just too well protected for him to get to before being counter attacked, nor did these mecha have the same stupidly accessible weak point the old Regult ‘ostrich’ battlepods did.
So, Muck was stuck on the defensive. He could stop any single attack on the civilian population of this city, but he couldn’t take the attacking mecha out of the fight. And he was one person, badly outnumbered. No way he could be everywhere he needed to be. Dammit, he needed a firepower upgrade! Where the flaming flack was Gamlin? He’d been a verdamnt idiot about all this. He knew he could transmit and receive any audio band transmission he’d yet been exposed to, but that didn’t mean these people were using frequencies or protocols he was familiar with… yet. But his ‘Other half?’
//Affirmative. Two primary RF transmission sequences identified and analyzed. One matches experiential waveform and language components. Patching us into that audio ‘feed’. //
“Battle 7, Island 7. D 1 LAUNCHING! Requesting vector!”
*Is that? *
//Affirmative. Pilot Gamlin appears to have launched. Unable to determine location, must assume he is outside of sensor range, unable to predict ETA. //
*Understood, * Muck acknowledged, hoping it would force the probe AI into quiescence when his concentration was disrupted by something occluding the light from above him.
//EVADE! // his probe-self warned, for once Muck found himself ahead of the ‘combat curve’ and had been moving out of the line of attack as a grey something flashed past him and embedded itself into the mecha he had been trying to block and draw away from the citizens of the city he’d found himself in.
*What the?*
//Lack of information. Audio information incoming! //
*What the flack? *
//Analysis in progress. This ‘singing’ is severely disrupting all previously designated enemy units in sensor range. //
*We’re seeing a Lynn Minmei attack??*
//Affirmative? //
*You? Uncertain? *
//Affirmative. //
*HA! Let’s go and follow their lead, and do the Planet Dance! *
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
12-29-2019, 05:43 AM (This post was last modified: 12-29-2019, 05:50 AM by Star Ranger4.)
In combat, adrenaline does strange things to one’s perceptions of time. Even though thanks to the timing circuits of the probe he’d been merged with all those years ago Muck always knew both true duration and local time, Effective duration was still malleable. Which meant that it didn’t matter how long he’d been engaging these Vampyr, as Gamlin had called them. Subjectively it was half a fricking lifetime ago; He’d been overconfident and flippant when he’d told Gamlin he was steering for the sound of the guns. The problem was that he’d found the guns… and found most of his offensive options were totally ineffective against the enemy mecha; while the Star Shield could and did block enemy attacks and Star Sword was able to pierce the enemy armor with ease, He’d forgotten why during his time aboard the SDF-1 he’d concentrated on being a Veritech pilot. And was having the point driven home, in spades once again. The vitals of an enemy mecha ten times his size were just too well protected for him to get to before being counter attacked, nor did these mecha have the same stupidly accessible weak point the old Regult ‘ostrich’ battlepods did.
So, Muck was stuck on the defensive. He could stop any single attack on the civilian population of this city, but he couldn’t take the attacking mecha out of the fight. And he was one person, badly outnumbered. No way he could be everywhere he needed to be. Dammit, he needed a firepower upgrade! Where the flaming flack was Gamlin? He’d been a verdamnt idiot about all this. He knew he could transmit and receive any audio band transmission he’d yet been exposed to, but that didn’t mean these people were using frequencies or protocols he was familiar with… yet. But his ‘Other half?’
//Affirmative. Two primary RF transmission sequences identified and analyzed. One matches experiential waveform and language components. Patching us into that audio ‘feed’. //
“Battle 7, Island 7. D 1 LAUNCHING! Requesting vector!”
*Is that? *
//Affirmative. Pilot Gamlin appears to have launched. Unable to determine location, must assume he is outside of sensor range, unable to predict ETA. //
*Understood, * Muck acknowledged, hoping it would force the probe AI into quiescence when his concentration was disrupted by something occluding the light from above him.
//EVADE! // his probe-self warned, for once Muck found himself ahead of the ‘combat curve’ and had been moving out of the line of attack as a grey something flashed past him and embedded itself into the mecha he had been trying to block and draw away from the citizens of the city he’d found himself in.
*What the?*
//Lack of information. Audio information incoming! //
*What the flack? *
//Analysis in progress. The new combatant appears to have launched a transceiver that is transmitting audio information directly into the enemy mecha. Enemy combat efficiency is dropping. //
*I’m seeing a Minmei grade psy-op??*
//Affirmative. //
*HA! Let’s go and follow their lead, and do the Planet Dance! *
Muck wasn’t sure if he personally liked the singing he was hearing. This was the first time he’d heard, for lack of a better term ‘combat singing’ since he’d left the SDF-1; and while Planet Dance had its merits, to Muck’s ears it wasn’t “We Will Win”, either. Based on the rapidly degrading combat performance of what he had assumed were the enemy mecha, though… It didn’t matter if the duo he was hearing appealed to his own tastes or not, the disruptive effect they were having on the enemy was turning the tide of battle. Literally, as the enemy mecha were now retreating even as a third mecha type was now arriving, using its transformation from fighter form to a Battroid (though more on the enemy scale than Muck’s own) to quickly dump velocity and hover in front of him.
“D1, Star Ranger. Sorry, but I’ve relieved the requested party on station, LT,” Muck replied, glad that his metallic form should be projecting a sense of sangfroid in spite of the weapon barrel as large as his head being directly in line, and at point blank range from said head. Muck hoped Gamlin was bright enough to pick up on the subtext here; he was pretty sure catching a round from whatever this weapon fired would cause a !Type.mismatch with !Status.Alive error.
“D-1 copies, Star Ranger. Fall in on my wing; we have an appointment to get back to.” Muck breathed a sigh of relief, confident it wouldn’t be heard by his new ally.
“D-1, Ranger copies all. Forming up in Right Echelon[5] ell tee.”
* * * * * * * *
Muck was not surprised at the office he and Gamlin wound up in, the instructions changing where this meeting would take place from Captain Jenius’ office to MAYOR Jenius’ office has come through while on approach to land back on the central island ship of the colonization fleet; the one Muck had been defending without even realizing the scale he was working at, but he had to admit to himself that the size disparity he had just faced had made said disparity brutally clear.
The décor of Milia’s office was, even more than its placement in the building at the city center, clearly that of a leader of civilians over what Muck would have assumed would be a relatively austere office if this meeting was taking place in CAPTAIN Jenius’ turf. Everything about it seemed to be about emphasizing the occupants state of power and privilege, leaving Muck to wonder how it was Milia hadn’t totally destroyed her workspace; it was so unlike the Milia he knew he entertained a brief fantasy of Milia destroying this space at least once a week but ordering it rebuilt just as it was before because ‘that is the way the office of the mayor is SUPPOSED to look’.
Of more concern, though, was the tension clearly evident between Captain (or was it Admiral? In Muck’s experience Captain was the person in command of a single ship. THIS Jenius was in command of a Fleet of transports and escorts!) and Mayor Jenius. Muck had lost track of the number of relationships he’d had to meddle in over the numerous fica he’d found himself in; while there was almost no chance any other person in the room at the moment would remember, even if they ever had been exposed to ‘Quantum Leap’ . Getting his mental train back on track it seemed clear to him that Jenius Maximillian and Jenius Milia really needed a marital intervention to get their relationship back on ‘track’; it would not be the first time that such a seemingly minor thing would turn out to be what was needed to ‘set right that what once went wrong’ . If anything, it seemed like the cosmic entity that had sent him on this quantum quest was MORE interested in these sort of small fixes (that might, or might not, have a multiplicative ‘Butterfly’ effect) than the larger sort that laid despots low, shattered galactic empires, or other such reality defining events. To be honest with himself, Muck really was a lot more comfortable with the smaller changes it had turned out to be the reason he had been in any particular fica leap along his quest.
This thought was secondary to whatever quest Captain and Mayor Jenius were about to conscript him to.
(1) This is verbally spelling out L T, = A standard military shorthand for Lieutenant, which can represent, depending on the service, up to the first three ‘common’ officer ranks (0-1 through 0-3) as defined by the United States Military.
(2) ERTS: Emergency response transportation system; aka a plot device meant to explain how Pilots (and Basara Nikki) can get to their fighters, and into combat, so quickly
(3) yes, this is supposed to represent the sort of actual commo traffic that would be going on. Knowing who is who is important.
(4) Three bags full, sir…
(5) In military pilot speak, this means Muck will be right off Gamlin’s right wingtip where Gamlin can easily see Muck, which means even without Gamlin’s VF-17 being so much larger Muck has put himself at a maneuvering disadvantage in order to make Gamlin more comfortable.
(Right. A bit of revisions, etc, whole file included in attached docX file)
* * * * * * * *
Muck was not surprised at the office he and Gamlin wound up in, the instructions changing where this meeting would take place from Captain Jenius’ office to MAYOR Jenius’ office has come through while on approach to land back on the central island ship of the colonization fleet; the one Muck had been defending without even realizing the scale he was working at, but he had to admit to himself that the size disparity he had just faced had made the situation brutally clear.
The décor of Milia’s office was, even more than its placement in the building at the city center, clearly that of a leader of civilians over what Muck would have assumed would be a relatively austere office if this meeting was taking place in CAPTAIN Jenius’ turf. Everything about it seemed to be about emphasizing the occupants state of power and privilege, leaving Muck to wonder how it was Milia hadn’t totally destroyed her workspace; it was so unlike the Milia he knew he entertained a brief fantasy of Milia destroying this space at least once a week but ordering it rebuilt just as it was before because ‘that is the way the office of the mayor is SUPPOSED to look’.
Of more concern, though, was the tension clearly evident between Captain (or was it Admiral? In Muck’s experience Captain was the person in command of a single ship. THIS Jenius was in command of a Fleet of transports and escorts!) and Mayor Jenius. Muck had lost track of the number of relationships he’d had to meddle in over the numerous fica he’d found himself in; while there was almost no chance any other person in the room at the moment would remember, even if they ever had been exposed to ‘Quantum Leap’ . Getting his mental train back on track it seemed clear to him that Jenius Maximillian and Jenius Milia really needed a marital intervention to get their relationship back on ‘track’; it would not be the first time that such a seemingly minor thing would turn out to be what was needed to ‘set right that what once went wrong’ . If anything, it seemed like the cosmic entity that had sent him on this quantum quest was MORE interested in these sort of small fixes (that might, or might not, have a multiplicative ‘Butterfly’ effect) than the larger sort that laid despots low, shattered galactic empires, or other such reality defining events. To be honest with himself, Muck really was a lot more comfortable with the smaller changes it had turned out to be the reason he had been in any particular fica leap along his quest.
This thought was secondary to whatever quest Captain and Mayor Jenius were about to conscript him to, but if it got him access to something that would even the size disparity, he was willing.
“Lieutenant Gamlin Kisaki and… guest, reporting as ordered, Sir; Ma’am.”
“At ease Lieutenant, Ranger? Thunders?”
“Thunders in my human form; Star Ranger in the other. Its sort of a… thing where I come from. Not a true secret identity, I suppose, but I do like to keep them separate. Kind of like only responding to one’s call sign while in the cockpit.”
” Just who and what are you, then?”
“I have been Roland, Beowulf, Mary Sue, DJ Croft, Skysaber…[8] and kidding.” Seeing Milia’s look of unamused confusion, Muck changed tactics as he continued on. “I do that a lot. Aside from what you’ve already seen and been told, I’m a wanderer, doing sort of a Quantum Leap from fica to fica trying to find my way home. And maybe helping others along the way.”
“And how is it you propose to help?” interjected Milia.
“Well, that depends on what sort of help you are willing to accept, Madam Mayor. I’d prefer to work WITH the local authorities, but I can do Batman if I have too. More so here, since your Vampires seem to be mecha that leave me feeling a bit… inadequate.”
“That can be arranged. Assuming Lt. Gamlin signs off on your being qualified to pilot a VF-17,” Cap’n Jenius replied. “Since we are starting to move the fleet into the VF-19.”
“And what happens to me, Sir?” Gamlin found himself breaking into the conversation, his fears over-riding his sense of decorum and protocol.
“You remain in command of Diamond Flight. What you might not want to hear is that I am assigning Diamond to point defense of Island 7. That means you will be working directly for Mayor Milia most of the time. Thunders here will be your number 2, assuming he qualifies to your satisfaction. I’ll transfer a third from the pilot pool.”
“But SIR!”
“No BUTS, LIEUTENANT. This is NOT a demotion; but a transfer to where you can do the most good until you have time to transition to the ’19,” Max replied in a tone that to Muck was supposed to cut off any further discussion. “You are being assigned where you can be of the best use. Channel your heritage to show me this is the right decision… OWCH. You wanted to add instructions, Madam Milia?”
“Yes, Captain. I would like to request that the pilots of Diamond Force, since they will be under my command, patrol the colony ships in general and Island 7 in specific because we have had attacks against our population even when enemy mecha have not been present. Perhaps Diamond Force, or perhaps just ‘Muck’ can interdict and stop the non-mecha based attacks?”
“I can only try. Ma’am. I must caution I am only one person, though. Even with Lt. Gamlin and our third pilot, the three of us can only be in so many places at once, Ma’am.”
“Understood. Our situation is dire, though. Anything can only be seen as an improvement.”
“Thunders copies all, then, Madam Mayor. Just trying to head off unrealistic expectations, Ma’am.”
“Gamlin. Thunders. Outside, Please?” Max demanded, so the two pilots, one official, one provisional followed him out of Milia’s office.
“One additional order.” Max stated as the door closed behind the trio. “I have authorized a special unit, called ‘Sound Force,’ under the supervision of Dr. Chiba.”
“Chiba.” Muck murmured. “Short guy, right at the service weight limits? Wired me for sound while out cold?”
“Yes. And the reason I am convinced you are what you claim, Thunders; instead of being held in a maximum-security facility,” Max replied with a glare. “Don’t make me revisit that choice.”
“Sir, Yessir!” Muck acknowledged, even as he snatched the foot closest to Gamlin away before the pilot could kick him in the ankle, before the pair exchanged a quick glare at each other before returning their attention to their erstwhile commanding officer.
From Max’s ‘spock eyebrow’, the captain was clearly NOT AMUSED; but confined his displeasure to a brief clearing of his throat before continuing. “Sound Force is comprised of non-combatant singers of the band Fire Bomber. Pacifists who follow the tau of Minmei. One of whom is the daughter of myself and the mayor. Diamond force WILL protect them, even if it conflicts with other orders.”
“Sir! YES SIR!” Gamlin acknowledged.
“Three bags full, SIR!” Muck followed up, causing Max to facepalm as he left Milia’s outer office.
*My gods.* Max thought to himself. *Were Milia and I that flippant to Hikaru and Misa? Hell. Were we worse? *
(1) This is verbally spelling out L T, = A standard military shorthand for Lieutenant, which can represent, depending on the service, up to the first three ‘common’ officer ranks (0-1 through 0-3) as defined by the United States Military.
(2) ERTS: Emergency response transportation system; aka a plot device meant to explain how Pilots (and Basara Nikki) can get to their fighters, and into combat, so quickly
(3) yes, this is supposed to represent the sort of actual commo traffic that would be going on. Knowing who is who is important.
(4) Three bags full, sir…
(5) In military pilot speak, this means Muck will be right off Gamlin’s right wingtip where Gamlin can easily see Muck, which means even without Gamlin’s VF-17 being so much larger Muck has put himself at a maneuvering disadvantage in order to make Gamlin more comfortable.
(7) Can you say ‘FORSHADOWNING?’ I knew you could!
(8) I swiped this from Bob Schroeck,( http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/) with permission, who apparently recalls it from yet a third person. I have Bob’s permission to use this, but if someone else objects… well… send me a message. I’ll either agree or tell you to pound sand.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
Huh. Well, I know ya'll are reading it, the views went up. Guess I'm still kinda just mediocre... which really, if I think about it is a good thing, cause if it was awful ya'll would say something? Right?
Ah well. I have to remember I am writing this cause this story has kinda grabbed hold of me and is demanding to get writ.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
I don't know about anyone else, but I'm enjoying it. I just don't have enough familiarity with the source material(s) to feel confident to comment on more than grammar and usage, and there's been no need to do so.
-- Bob
I have been Roland, Beowulf, Achilles, Gilgamesh, Clark Kent, Mary Sue, DJ Croft, Skysaber. I have been
called a hundred names and will be called a thousand more before the sun grows dim and cold....
... It can be found on YOUTUBE. Its where I saw enough to get me started on it, though I can understand how folk don't really have the time to research I have.
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to rock the sky?
Thats' every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry!
NO QUARTER!
