0x9DE12C---File---

Name: Kurt Hans Schneider
HID#: 1092-437862-48
Astral Forces #: 6412-741125
Birthplace: Serpentis Orbital Colony, Indari Prime
Date of Birth: 292 Kareshearth 16
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Height: 1.87m
Weight: 99kg
House Allegiance: Aesgar
Induction: 310 Kareshearth 16
Active Since: 310 Darkstorm 28
Separation: [blank]
Rank: Proven Warrior
Specialty: Zero-Gee Combat
Training: Grade 4 Infantry; Grade 2 Astral; Grade 1 Survival & Tactics, Grade 1 Technical; Astral; Basic,
Qualifications: Graduated Sernidmir Military Acamedy [see attached file], Basic Powered Armor Proficiency (BPAP), Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Graduate, over 1000 hours in simulated EVA combat; Marksman score 450, Technical score 275, Piloting Score N/A [see attached file]
Battles and Campaigns: Magath VI, Huorn's World, Aelan's Insurrection, Battle of Chugath's Crossing, Operation Fistbreaker, Defense of Outpost 9C1, Operation Brushfire, Vangarian Traverse Campaign, Boarding action: Privateer Station "Babylon", Indari Joint Offensive
Decorations and Citations: Order of the Astral Trooper, Wounded Heart (two), Prince's Cross, Executioner's sword, Laurel of Victory, Sharpshooter's shell, Starwings
Previous Assignment: 119th Forward Guard - Bothislia's II Moon
Current Assignment: 1st Astral Troopers, "The Reapers" -- attached to the 4th Fleet under Novarch Merik Avanus, (House Indaris)
Callsign: Killstreak
Status: Active

---File---0xB38B12
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:44, Fri 25 July 2014.

My brother stands before me, stripped to the waist, the family blade in his hand. I have challenged him to a duel to determine which of us is the better man to carry it. Bruno is the elder, and I have two sisters. He will be posted offworld soon, this is my last chance to win it. I plan to close with him, where I can bring my strength to bear. He will doubtless try to cut me as I close, winning the duel.

I raise my sword, bought new for the enterprise. A fresh blade for a fresh battle. He raises it, the engravings appearing to shine and dazzle in the sunlight. I sweep my sword sideways towards him, my arms are the longer, and again. On the third time, he parries and steps a half step towards me, bringing the sword back towards my chest, forcing me backwards and bringing my sword round. I pin it upwards towards his chest, he steps back, I slash down towards his arm, and he leaps sideways. It is done, his right arm bleeds near the elbow, I have cut deep into the muscle, it will need to be bound.

"A clean hit" he says. As he does so, his arm shakes and he drops it. His face is a mask. I bend over, exposing the back of my head to him, and pick it up. Look at that, there's a notch in it where he blocked me. Several more notches adorn its ancient steel surface. I shall have to have that repaired. Later I am told that his wound was bound successfully, and that he will live.

I lose it on Babylon station - it cleaves right through some tech's neck, and sticks in a metal support column. I try to get it out with all my strength, but it does no good. I am needed elsewhere, and there is no time to go back and look for it during the operation. That sword has my name on it, and the names of everyone else who has ever owned it, engraved on the blade.

The 4th fleet has exited metaspace on the edge of the Tibe binary star system.


               Primary (Tibe A)
Type G6 V Yellow Main Sequence
Radius 7.38 x 105 km   (1.06 x sol)
Mass 1.96 x 1030 kg   (0.98 x sol)
Temperature 5300 K
Luminosity 4.72 x 1026 W   (1.23 x sol)


I
Type Rock Planet
Orbital Radius 6.81 x 107 km   (0.45 AU)
Period 2.71 x 103 hours   (0.31 earth years)
Gravity 12.33 m/s2   (1.26 x earth)
Notes Heavy radiation, large moon


Zori
Type Terrestrial World
Orbital Radius 1.26 x 108 km   (0.84 AU)
Period 6.78 x 103 hours   (0.78 earth years)
Physics Standard iron/silicate
Gravity 7.78 m/s2   (0.80 x earth)
Hydrosphere 0 % water, 0 % ice
Atmosphere Thin reducing
Civilization Colony
Notes Planetary rings


Liu-Bei
Type Terrestrial World
Orbital Radius 1.86 x 108 km   (1.24 AU)
Period 1.22 x 104 hours   (1.40 earth years)
Physics Small ocean
Gravity 3.83 m/s2   (0.39 x earth)
Hydrosphere 91 % water, 51 % ice
Atmosphere Thin toxic
Biosphere Prokaryotic microbes
Civilization Colony
Notes Heavy volcanism, wreckage of a crashed starship


IV
Type Jovian Planet
Orbital Radius 2.85 x 108 km   (1.90 AU)
Period 2.32 x 104 hours   (2.65 earth years)
Gravity 17.14 m/s2   (1.75 x earth)
Notes 11 small moons


Distant Companion (Tibe B)
Type K8 V Orange Main Sequence
Distance 1.34 x 109 km   (8.97 AU)
Radius 6.43 x 105 km   (0.92 x sol)
Mass 1.72 x 1030 kg   (0.87 x sol)
Temperature 3600 K
Luminosity 1.00 x 1026 W   (0.26 x sol)
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:05, Wed 30 July 2014.

Your Proven Warrior Primus: Folarin Ortov collects the 1st Astral Troopers Battalion, "The Reapers" in the primary hanger of the INS-Avalanche, a newly commissioned troop carrier intended for boarding actions.

"Listen up, Astrals! We have arrived in the Tibe system near the edge of the frontier. The 4th Fleet has a shot at catching those Brotherhood bastards with their pants down and their asses hanging out!" He marches up and down the ranks of the Reapers as he continues his speech "In a few short hours, the Novarch is going to lead the 4th Fleet into orbital combat against Brotherhood warships! Intelligence suggests, that they were not expecting an attack here! What is here, out in the ass-end of nowhere that's so damn important? This is an enemy resupply depot and forward outpost in the middle of their godsdamned invasion corridor! If we hit them here and kick them out of this system, they will not be able to support their invasion fleet and be forced to withdraw!

Our target is this planet," He hits a button his wrist that causes a huge holographic display to fill the central part of the hanger, providing you all with detailed data on the world. "Zori. Second planet in this system. It's a lifeless, waterless hunk of rock and iron, but the Brotherhood has it, so we want it."

-Physics
Type Standard iron/silicate
Radius 5529.41 km   (0.87 x earth)
Surface Area 3.84 x 108 km2
Land Area 3.88 x 108 km2   (2.61 x earth)
Mass 3.58 x 1024 kg   (0.60 x earth)
Density 5.06 g/cm3   (0.92 x earth)
Composition 42.9% iron, 33.2% oxygen, 23.3% silicon, 0.7% other elements

-Gravimetry
Gravity 7.78 m/s2   (0.80 x earth)
Escape Velocity 9.28 km/s

-Rotation
Period 51.11 hours
Axis Tilt 41.72 °

-Hydrosphere
Water 0 %
Ice 0 %

-Atmosphere
Type Thin reducing
Pressure 72.61 kPa   (0.72 x earth)
Composition 71.7% argon, 20.0% hydrogen, 8.3% ammonia, trace other gases

-Climate
Type Standard
Min Temp 206 K   (-66 °C)
Avg Temp 299 K   (25 °C)
Max Temp 381 K   (108 °C)

-Special Features Planetary rings

"However, we'll let the ground pounders worry about that. The 1st Astral Troopers won't set foot on that rock if we're lucky! No, we have a more glorious prize..." He hits another key and the holographic image changes to a foreign looking Cruiser-class ship. Data streams and highlights indicate recovered information about it.
"This is the UB-Aquila , our recon ships have seen it before at several battles and invasion sites across this sector and we have reason to believe she is a command ship of some variety. The 1st Astral Troopers Battalion, 1st and 2nd Company get the undeniable honor of boarding that hunk of junk and taking her for the Hegemony. Word is, some of the techheads back at Fleet want to take her apart and see what makes her tick!" He beams with feral pride at this idea. "Now, the rest of the companies will be assigned to attack the rest of the ships in their flotilla. 4th Fleet will make short work of their gunboats and frigate escorts, but our secondary objective is to capture their freighters. We want deny them access to their supplies and take them for ourselves so we can turn this whole invasion business around! You will be issued some brand new Assault Armor for these boarding actions, so I know you'll all take extra good care of the Hegemony's tech. Report to your assigned assault boats at 0200!"

"Any questions?"

"How many people are taking part in the assault?
Do we have any estimates of opposition strength?
 Finally, is there an established position on the tactical decompression of the enemy ship? Enact or avoid?"

Primus Ortov strides over to you, a big man, but not to your prodigious size. You stand a head over him in your uniform.

"Proven Schneider! I've met your brother, Bruno. You're even bigger than he is. What do they feed you in the Schneider family?" He laughs, and half the platoon laughs along with his joke.

"1st and 2nd Platoon, Warrior. That means you and about 400 of your brothers in arms are going aboard that cruiser, guns blazing. It'll be close quarters work, so don't bring any kit you don't need and make sure you're armed for it.

Estimates of opposing strength are low. That Cruiser could have upwards of 300 crew, but we don't believe they'll have the weapons or the training to present a challenge. There might be 30 or so security personnel, maybe some other unknowns. Nothing a couple Companies of Astrals can't handle!

As far as decompressing the atmo on the ship, that's a negative. We want to capture as much of the bridge crew as possible, and hopefully any high value individuals as well. Security personnel are nonessential. Don't hesitate to defend yourself if someone comes at you with a suit ripper or a thermal pistol."

Kurt cracks a smile at the joke, "Understood sir, we'll be taking prisoners."

"We'll be ready sir."

A few hours later, the klaxons blared throughout the ship. The 4th Fleet was engaging the Brotherhood ships above Zoni. Thousands of drop troopers were being hurled towards the surface in thin shells. Fighters and bombers were streaking towards opposing frigate screens.

Aboard the INS-Avalanche, rows of heavily armed and armored Astral Troopers were checking their Assault Armor for the last time before boarding the assault boats. Most them were equipped with D-14 Lyan Armory Plasma Rifles, close ranged but powerful weapons, unaffected by particulate matter and devastating at point-blank range. A large number of them also had monomolecular swords, simple straight blades with a single unbroken edge and a shorter 1/3rd length edge on the reverse side extending from the point back down towards the hilt. They fit comfortably in the oversized gauntlets of the assault suits.

Techs and other Astral Troopers check the readouts and vitals on each of the suits, verifying they're ready for boarding action. The holograms overhead flip on and huge pulsing arrows indicate the loading queues, bulky Astral Troopers climbing into Shark-class assault boats and securing themselves in the frameworks of the shuttle.

Folarin Ortov is the last to board your ship, designated Shark-04, covering his big shit-eating grin with his armored visor he secures himself and closes the hatch, sealing you all into 2,500 tons of boarding craft with 100 other astral troopers. 6 of these ships would launch from the INS-Avalanche and attach to the hull on the UB-Aquila, blast their way through with fusion torches and lascutters, before boarding the ship. The 4th Fleet would task the INS-Stormhawk to use it's integral Gravcannon to soften up the armor plating, giving the assault boats a chance to get into the outer decks.

It was a risky manuever. A hundred things could go wrong. The Stormhawk could take a hit from the Aquila or from fighter-bombers and have to pull back before they could take the shot. The troop transport could be blown in half by orbital defenses or fractal charges, the Shark-class assault boats could be shot out of orbit one by one by point defenses. they might even choose to overload the spike-drives and self-destruct the ship rather than let it be captured. The whole operation hinged on the skill and speed of the Hegemony's finest.

I walk into my assigned position in the shark, and plug in the air and power prong to my spot. You can't really sit in assault armour, but you can kind of lean back on the bulkhead, so that is what I do. There's no telling how long we may be here, and I must reach battle in good condition.

I spend my time reviewing my situation and expanding on my decision tree.
If the ship is holed, perhaps they will launch the boarding craft and we will have our fight. With luck, we will have it anyway. When we reach the enemy craft, we will not know where the bridge is, nor engineering. Probably the trick is to press towards where the fighting is thickest, at least until we find a map.

I'm is reasonably happy with my type II lasgun, having seen it in action groundside, its energy beams sometimes seeming solid by the damage they do.
If the corridors fill with smoke, I can also use my sword.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:02, Thu 31 July 2014.

The transport reaches combat range as the 4th fleet opens up with the big guns: torpedoes, plasma beams, charged particle bursts, the Gravcannon and a half dozen other weapons of apocalyptic destruction rip into the Brotherhood's fleet. Return fire is no less intense, armor plating and reinforced composite weaves are ripped apart by massive particle beams and mass drivers. Ships up-shift into different spike phases, trying to evade incoming ordinance.


The Shark-class boats detach from the mothership and begin careening towards the Cruiser. You can't see outside the ship, but you can feel it jostling about as it adjusts course and slams aside the ever-growing fields of debris from the opening volleys. The assault boats have single-phase drives, unlike many of the larger warships. They rely almost entirely on fighter cover, speed and the fact that there's a lot of other much bigger things shooting at you to worry about a few small shuttles.

Without warning, the craft buckles, tearing your armor out of the bulkhead socket with a loud POP. There's a blinding flash of light and a scream over the commnet which is immediately cut. You feel something hit you hard. You begin spinning. You see fire, venting gasses and atmo, a member of your squad tumbles away into the blackness. You try to reach out and grab something but you can see Shark-04 breaking up in space, fuel lines split open and the whole shuttle goes up in a strangely even ball of fire and hull fragments.

You're spinning further and further away, alarms blaring inside your suit. Power Failure. The energy cell running your suit has ruptured. Suit integrity is critical in several locations. O2 is leaking out of a torn hose still attached to your life-support. You can see the distant fire of warships ablaze, burning debris, the engines of fightercraft firing desperately to gain the upper hand in a dogfight.

You're spinning. Losing oxygen. Your assault suit is shutting down...

The space battle rages on around me, but I have no time for it, nor to work out how fast I am spinning, nor anything else to orient myself. I must prioritise the oxygen, so I reach up behind me and hit the hose eject button. I have a spare cell in my quick access webbing, if I can stop the o2 leak I can work on changing the ruptured cell.

Fortune is with you and the valve is not jammed. Despite failing power throughout your suit, the emergency release works and ejects the torn hose from your suit, sealing the O2 loss. The manual pressure gauge indicates you have about two hours of oxygen left, maybe three at most. The air escaping into the vacuum further accelerated you away from the initial explosion, which may have been a blessing.

Power is running out, but as luck would have it, you have a type A energy cell attached to your combat webbing and your lasgun is still dangling from it's cord near your right arm, no worse for the wear and still packing another fully charged type A energy cell.

It takes some work, struggling against the failing servos and prying the dead cell loose. You let it float away into the void and pop a new one in place. The assault suit whines back to life, booting through the combat OS and back to normal operation.

It confirms you're down to about 1/3rd oxygen and the suit has suffered a pretty major hit. Minor systems appear to be malfunctioning across the board, targeting, uplink, weapon pairing, atmospheric sensors, etc...

Several of the servos appear to be showing yellow states and the OS is recommending that you take your suit to the maintenance hanger for repair and evaluation.

You are still rapidly spinning through space...

With death's nearness receding, Kurt's pulse stabilizes, and he takes in the view. He is tumbling through a space battle, surrounded by a sparse cloud of debris from the shark, all heading away from him at considerable speed. He has air for two hours, and plenty of power.

He glances over at his comms, do they seem operational? Has the air hose he ejected from his suit drifted away yet, or is it within reach? He seems to have two options, either to try to improvise some sort of thrust, or to break radio silence and risk the enemy triangulating his position. Well, without somewhere to go, thrust is pointless, can he see any ships nearby? He raises the binoculars to his eyes, triggering the autohilight feature - any ship should flash before his vision every so often, although the amount of time taken could be very variable. He can afford to spend fifteen minutes looking for a ship before taking further action.

Comms appear to be picking up static. Low-level jamming and interference from ECM and ECCM systems on the warships. Radiation from the cracked shuttle core. Ionosphere storms. Background radiation.

There's a lot of noise. Warship comms are encrypted and your system isn't keyed into that. You're only able to communicate with your own unit, though you can decrypt transmissions from your Knight Commander all the way down the ranks in your regiment.

You'll have to sit there and try to boost the gain on your transmitter, it might take up to 30 minutes to work on that. You could also try to just sift through the channels and see if anyone is broadcasting nearby.

The explosive pressure of the oxygen line being ejected from the suit has caused it to spin beyond visual range by now.

Fumbling for your binoculars, you raise them to your armor's eyepeices and flip on the IFF function. You spend about fifteen minutes, according to your chronometer and realize there's nothing close by. You can see in the distance, the beacons of the 4th Fleet as they engage with the Brotherhood over red, dusty Zino.

There's debris and fire out there in the distance as well. You can't tell which side is winning, but in the cold silence of the Void, it does appear beautiful.


-115 minutes of oxygen remain-

I have no great experience with working on radio engineering, so I set a chronometer counting down from twenty minutes in my armour's head up display, and start methodically searching through the radio frequencies for any nearby transmission. It would be really useful if I had the crypto keys for a signal I find, but if I am desperate, I could try sending out signals with no encryption and see if anyone is listening.

20 minutes gets you through a handful of frequencies, being forced to tune your system manually. Your comm system was never intended for anything other than unit communication as the idea of leaving every cryptographic secret within a standard suit of powered armor would be contraintel suicide.

You eventually broadcast some S.O.S. signals, but your transmitter is fairly weak compared to a starship, intended only for ground to ground communication with a range measured in kilometers rather than millions of kilometers.

It is beginning to get cold as your system is conserving power.

You have 95 minutes of oxygen remaining.

I'm quite concerned by the cold. My suit should have plenty of power, it shouldn't be trying to conserve power. If I become too cold, I can always jog on the spot for a moment - the servos should give off quite a bit of heat.
I decide to try to boost the power of my transceiver, which will probably be difficult. I don't have a toolkit, or a supply of components. Perhaps my laser rifle will furnish some components, it disassembles easily enough, at least some wire to supply more power to the base layer.
Acting on an inspiration, I light a glowbug and stick it two my suit - modern sensors are very good, perhaps they will see me.

Unfortunately, you're not trained in pulling apart advanced tech. A lasrifle is far more than simple wire, full of capacitors, crystals, unstable gasses, a primed type-a power cell... Floating in space, you lack the proper tools and in your haste to remove some wiring, you accidentally complete a circuit between the primary stepping coils, overloading the energy cell with a cascade that has nowhere to go... but out.

It explodes with the force of a frag grenade going off in your face with a bright flash. You are blinded for seven minutes as your eyes try to adjust in the blackness of space. The force of the explosion cracks your suit, embedding shrapnel in your body and burning your flesh.

The suit manages to seal the punctures, but your faceplate is now cracked and the remaining HUD elements are distorted, forcing you to rely on manual gauges. What's worse, is you notice that your commpad unit, affixed to your left forearm is now shattered, tiny pieces of hologlass and isochips floating lazily near yourself, the few pieces which didn't get blown away deep into the space by shrapnel.

After the time spent working on the laser rifle and the vented air from the suit tears, you have 80 minutes of oxygen remaining.

Kurt howls in pain as the shrapnel digs into him, cursing outloud by several gods. What was he thinking, working on the rifle while it was live? Well, he was done now, wasn't he. Adrift in space and no means of radioing for help. Calm returns, he was drifting in space, and had 77 minutes more oxygen left. He'd better do something about it. He attatches more glowbugs to his armour, perhaps they will see him. Thinking furiously, Kurt tries to find a solution to his dilemma.

Over the next hour, you struggle to find some answer, some solution to your problem. Some way to survive.

There is nothing. You are a soldier, and only a soldier. No skill with technology, not particularly intelligent and greatly lacking in sense or self-awareness.

Eventually, the oxygen is depleted. You hold your breath for a few minutes and eventually pass out, asphyxiating in your cramped assault suit.

A salvage ship finds your body 12 days later.



0x9DE12C---File---

Name: Kurt Hans Schneider
HID#: 1092-437862-48
Astral Forces #: 6412-741125
Birthplace: Serpentis Orbital Colony, Indari Prime
Date of Birth: 292 Kareshearth 16
++[CONT]++
Status: KIA

---File---0xB38B12