Futuristic Colonized Sol MHO Room

[krekireftw]

MHO RP HERE
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[krekireftw]

Location - MHO Mars Spacestation, aka "The Viper Relay"
Time - 09:17, Eastern Mars Time

It is peak morning hours, everyone is lax. The conflicts near Mars have been minimal due to the mighty presence of Supercarrier Hera Kratoria, otherwise known as just The Hera. The High Council has been hard at work dispatching several soldiers out to important fronts such as Europa and the Uranus Cluster. So far, news has been neutral on the screens of many, with the Mars Media, controlled by the High Council, being as honest as they have ever been. Even if that doesn't say much. The Media has been stating recent casualties and the recent openings for positions for several Captains after a recent attack near Saturn's Belt. It's been the biggest conflict of the war so far, accounting for the loss of Carrier Athena, 87 Scalpers, and 412 men for the MHO. However, the UNE side has apparently lost their Destroyer Khonsu, 72 Javelins, 4 Paladins, and 456 men. As well as the biggest conflict in the war so far, it's also been the largest stalemate.

Admiral of Largefleets, Algol Patton-Rapp, has been attributed for the destruction of the Destroyer Khonsu after being sent to assist the MHO of the Khonsu. What seemed like perfect timing, since the Khonsu had lost their charge for their Supercannons, the Hera simply fired once from it's Megacannon, obliterating the Destroyer. The Media also covered less war related news after that, and some UNE battering.

The High Council has also permitted personalization of Scalpers and Wardens to those who own them, which must seek approval first through Algol Patton-Rapp.

 

[Minyari]

LCDR Claire Anderson

Location: MHO Spacestation "The Viper Relay"
Status: Active Duty
Interacted: SCPO. Hans Weber ( Pilgrim59 )
Mentioned: N/A

​

The room was relatively dark other then the few blinking lights from electronics, Claire was laying in her bed deep asleep as the clock panel next to her bed sounded a morning ringer. It was 4:30 AM Eastern Martian Time. Claire weakly tapped the the panel multiple times before the alarm finally snoozing as the light panels of the room bring light to the dark room. Cowering under the blankets like a vampire, Claire's body refusing to get up and out of bed. After a couple of minutes of mental arguments, Claire got out of bed as she opened the door to the restroom doing her morning routine. After getting dressed into her uniform and tying her hair up into a ponytail, Claire left her room as she began to walk the corridors towards the cafeteria. The corridors were quite desolate with the few crew members passing by and the occasional salute.

Upon arriving at the cafeteria, Claire immediately sniffed the air as the aroma of food filled her nostrils. The cafeteria was a ghost town with the occasionaly late night meal for those whose shift had just ended. Claire usually woke up an hour earlier just to get the silence of eating by herself. Skirting across the floor she quickly arrived at the food dispenser and swiped her identity card against the food panel. There were many choices per usual; the infamous ravioli, New York steak, lo mein noodles, etc. Pondering for nearly a minute, Claire chose the ravioli and *bump* out came the tightly packaged meal from the dispenser. Reaching down to grab the packaged meal, Claire noticed that it was newer then usual and smiled in excitement as she walked over to one of the many empty tables and sat down as she began to unpack her tightly sealed meal.

The packaged ravioli was pre-heated the moment it came out from the food dispenser so there was no need to heat it, "freshly" opening the package the aroma quickly filled Claire's nose. Grabbing a fork and knife from the containers in the center of the table, Claire quickly cut open a ravioli and blew on it like a little girl before plopping it in her mouth with a satisfying "Mhm." Grown accustomed to the pre-packaged meals and military life Claire hadn't tasted truly cooked food in forever.

 

[Pilgrim59]

SCPO Hans Weber

Designation: Nightingale Actual
Location: MHO Spacestation "The Viper Relay"
Status: Active Duty
Interacted: Minyari
Mentioned: N/A

​

0449 Hours EMT
Disputed Airspace, Asteroid Belt

The silence of space concealed the mechanical pilot, whose fatigues and vests were all but fibers of the modern machinations. The only light that was seen beneath the shadowed cockpit was a constant flash of green from the armrest. The man was far from the realm of dreams, as his hands remained still by his armrest, gently tapping the lifeless flank-monitors to kill the deafening white noises. The Martian Scalper floated along the blankets of asteroids, along with its commander, avoiding the glares of the passing ships, before the debris of the recent battle had faded beyond the visual range. Several UNE Javelin would pass by, before a few streaks of amber tracers dotted its hull, causing a few sparks before its ultimate demise was met with a colorful combustion that was suppressed by the void of space. The pilot's seat would shift forward and his steed of steel emerged from the shadows of the asteroid belt.

"All wings, Nightingale Actual, operation is a go, say again, operation is a go. Kankol, Juno, lock targets and engage. Sending signatures your way, over."

"Nightingale Actual, Nightingale One-Two, India Deltas confirmed and will comply, over."

A few lights flickered, as the cockpit's heads-up-display illuminated before the crewman's eyes. His fingers quickly bypassed the interface, while his dexterous hand wove the flight stick forward. Before long, three more Scalpers would exit its cover from the belt and unleashed its fury upon the dazzled squadron of Javelins. The initial contact dotted the darkness with intermittent beams of ballistic tracers and explosions. The dogfight gradually ended with the Martians' shock and awe quickly neutralizing the scattered Javelins. The pilot turned fro and forth, dodging a multitude of immediate suppression, before springing his flaps in an Immelmann-styled maneuver. Although the lull kept his demeanor calm, he could still feel the vibrating sensation of incoming fire from his stick. His opponent zoomed past him, misguided by the skilled pilot's abrupt break.

An explosion followed, as the Scalper torn the overspeeding Javelin with a few burst of hazel tracers. A few chatters on the intercoms would follow, with the rest of the Martian Scalpers checking in. The pilot planned his course, linking a few nodes on his interface before syncing it with the rest of his squad. They were to circle around the far orbit, before returning back to base. A precaution practice common in the age of guidance, as its practicality would ensure the crew's safe return without inviting the enemy home. A few chatter followed, as the man gave in to the silence of space. The pilot gave a slight sigh, before leaning back against his seat, and brought up his interface. His voice echoed his cockpit, like a clap within a room voided of audience. An artificial intelligence in a form of a feminine voice would greet the petty officer, before being given her set of orders.

"Stella, bring us home."

"Understood, Senior Chief Weber."

The autopilot function overrides his stick, slowly steering his craft towards the distant stars, as the man closed his weary eyes and turned off his HUD.


0925 EMT
"The Viper Relay", M.H.O Airspace

The Viper Relay, in all its splendor, stood strong as a bastion of Mars' greatest achievement in its stead. Its lights bloomed among the orbiting fleets and crafts like a flashlight among the fireflies of space. Hans awakened from his quick slumber, as his detachment of Scalpers slowly approaches the station, before being reached out by the tower.

"This Viper Relay Tower Two to incoming Scalpers, please identify yourself before being given a designation, over."

"Tower Two, Acting Detachment Team-leader from patrol schedule Mike-Romeo-Zero-Seven-One-Two, callsign Nightingale. Break. Mission report, four Javelins confirmed destroyed, zero casualty report. Equipment expenditure synced to data. Requesting permission to dock, over."

"Welcome back Nightingale. Please proceed to Hangar Two-One. Mars Aeternum. Over."

"Mars Aeternum. Nightingale copies and complies all. Over."

The Scalpers made their way towards the hangar, before landing gracefully within their designated plots, with the assistance of hover drones, while the naval personnel scurried hastily towards the fighters with tools in their hands, and zeal in their heart. Hans cockpit unsealed its tinted dome, before the pilot himself was greeted by the rest of the crew. He quickly retracted his visor and set his helmet down beneath his seat. Grabbing his gears, Hans dismounted his Scalper, revering her presence and folded wings. He took into sight her recent decals, that he has yet to spare some time for. Upon her fuselage, a large print in red could be read 'Summer', as befit of his inner thoughts - of which have yet to spill from his concealed heart.

Upon his disembarkation, the petty officer paced himself towards the mess hall in order to fill his stomach. Along his way, his short conversations and chatters enlightened his squad mates, all the while being brief on their recent performance. Hans's lax attitude had given his men time to spare some jokes and gags, something they were fond of in the lull of being on station. Even with the earnest words put forth by the Martian broadcasts going on in the background, the group had found some solace among each other's presence. To them, it was a common form of distinguishable understanding, but to others, it is often interpreted as the Martian brotherhood, and more commonly referred to as the latter in the medias. Disbanding his detachment, the petty officer retrieved a set of breakfast from the line, before settling down mindlessly beside a lieutenant commander, as far as his weary eyes could distinguish the Martian stripes and oak leaf. He gave a slight salute, short on discipline, before munching on his share of chicken stir-fry and mashed potatoes. His eye contact locked on to the

"I don't believe I've seen you around before, ma'am. But then again, I can't remember every COs around 'ere. How you doin', Lieutenant Commander?" Hans asked the feminine figure, in an attempt to be friendly to the seemingly distant face, among the other officers.