Taylor sighs, his grip slackening on the controls. "What a ride like always."
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Taylor grips the controls, pulling back on the main thrusters, flailing the ones along the ship to turn the ship in place giving a clear shot to the enemy vessel.
It's not exactly clear what Taylor had intended to do this time as he he turns the ship towards the enemy vessel and starts to speed past it, giving just enough time for the gunnery crew to take a couple pot shots. He seems to have judged the firing range of the enemy ship poorly however, leaving them wide open for a retaliatory attack.
...Or so it would seem, as he manages to jerk the ship to the side at the very last moment before a shot can connect. "You science guys should work on covering our ass here!" He loudly exclaims, calling for their aft shields to be strengthened.
Focused as he was on putting the ship behind the enemy vessel, Taylor didn't seem quite as capable pulling off one of his maneuvers this time around.
Thr man grunted as the ship was hit, but wasn't fully discouraged by the blow. If he could just put a little more into his turns...
Taking the reigns of the controls he puts his thoughts into practice, moving through space in a curved arc in order to give the gunners a stronger heading. While he was at it he kept a good eye the firing range of the enemy ship. With some luck and skill, he might dodge their shots.
The Martian grit his teeth, slamming a metal fist into the side of his skull several times. "Damnit, get your head back in the game Taylor. Aright, let's show these brainsquids who they're messing with!" With renewed determination he grips the controls, with intent to correct their heading and better before the enemy was in proper engagement range.
"Aye aye, captain." Young spoke, grasping the reigns so to speak. His all wasn't in it today, but his work was hardly ever truly lackluster.
'A promotion,' He thought bitterly to himself once the social high of it all had come down. 'Dad's bound to be proud. "Good work, son! See, it's a good think you decided to abandon your dreams for our ambitions." Urgh.' Physical therapy sessions always brought back those terrible thoughts, his body having long paid the price of reckless flights of fancy. According to the doc there were some muscular tears where flesh met silicon on his right shoulder. Strained himself too hard when he went several rounds over his limit with the sandbag. Nothing serious, but the ice cold look she'd given him got the point across. He needed to take better care of himself. 'Well, whatever.' His emotions drifted as he finished a careful stretch of his legs. 'No sense in it. Hmm... That new Vesk guy had some pretty slick chrome of his own. Should compare specs when I have the chance.'
"Well, at least it's not asteroid survey work again." He reasoned, though his good mood was quickly fleeting overall.
The man gives a bold smile, "As if my skills were ever in doubt. It's about time I get some recognition for a change!" Finishing with a laugh, his light hearted boast is revealed as nothing more than a joke among friends.
Taylor lowers his pistol, taking a look around to make sure everything was inert. "Right. Someone wants to tell me why we were attacked by someone's moldy lunch?"
Out of practice from using his gun, Taylor forgets about the brief cool-down period this weapon has and misfires the damn thing. "Damnit-!"
"Ah hell, come on, let's get this over with!" Taylor shouts, taking out the standard issue laz-pistol. "Shove off, you overactive snotball!"
"Being chased by sentient orange slime molds is not what I pictured my day ending up like!" Taylor shouts, realizing that he just simply couldn't outrun these things and keep Tanny safe at the same time. Bringing up his mechanical limbs to brace himself, he knew that Dr. Yusil was going to chew him out later for this.
"Well that's disconcerting!" Taylor shouts, before rushing into Parker to dodge-tackle her out of danger.
"Yeah, kinda figured." He shrugged, then proceed to wipe the substance off on his pants. "Where do you think it came from?"
Frowning, "Got something slimy here on the grass."
"Well, that's pleasant." The ensign commented. This whole 'Mandatory patrol' he was assigned to would've been a lot easier if they had a rover. Those were meant to be for more advanced expeditions, however. "You two'll keep us safe if we get jumped by little green men with death rays, right?" Kneeling down, he examined the area around the strange corpses, looking for signs of what might've killed these things.
"I'm just happy to stretch out my swimming muscles again. I paid extra for those after all." He smiles, trying to not stare for too long. While he hadn't much luck yet, being labeled wrong would definitely dash his chances.
Present Young habitually flexed each of his fingers one by one, then did the same with his toes. He needed to have his prosthetics checked out before he was cleared for the water, and make sure everything sensitive was sealed against water. It's one of the lesser known benefits of people that opted for covering their limbs with skinweave as opposed to those like him, who liked preferred the natural aesthetics of cybernetics. Now that he was here planetside, dressed up in a wetsuit (No way he'd use trunks on a world with unknown pathogens), he was planning to get some swimming in. Martians like himself were oddly obsessed when it came to bodies of water. "Nice breeze today." He smiled, towel hung around his neck and snorkeling gear carried in hand.
Shaking his hand at the data being sent to the station, Young found himself largely at a loss. "Not sure. Maybe some form of hologram projector? I could get into one of the shuttles and investigate up close."
"The hell- Captain, am I reading my interface right? There's no way a glancing blow just utterly vaporized their ship." Young rambled, metallic fingers tapping away. There wasn't much he could do from a gunners seat, mostly having to rely on the sensor feed from the bridge. Something weird was going on here.
"Have them on sight, captain!" He called out, before taking a carefully aimed shot.
Swearing, the Martian quickly rushes the rest of the way to his temporary station. His command code is quickly entered as he sits down in the cushioned seat, bringing the ship's weapons to bear. "We're online here captain."
Well, this was different. "Sir." Young nodded, vacating the chair for his captain. Once he was out of the bridge proper he pinged his communicator to check which of his peers were currently off-duty. Picking one of them seemingly at random, "Oscar, Cap needs you at the helm."
"Aye-aye, sir." The Martian half-heartedly replied. More survey work, again. People who joined this outfit looking forward for adventures into the unknown were absolutely fooling themselves. This was the real bread and butter of OSF operations. Well. To be fair, his posting aboard the ship had been a little more exciting than most, what with the pirate run-in a few weeks back.
"Busy busy." He agreed. "I've tried one of those before, there was a collective back at the academy that invited people over. Think they wanted to try bonding with their fellow cadets, but most of us just left feeling confused and mildly uneased. Jurat though, a vesk friend of mine, was in tears and went on and on about how moving the experience was. Guess they're better adapted for that type of entertainment than humans."
"What, this?" Lifting his cup up to give it a cautious swish. A taunting smirk on his lips he brings it up to meet them. "This is clearly just a coke." Looking over to Uncanny Resolve, "Been keeping yourselves busy doing what have ya'll?"
A smile comes to his face as the hiveform made their collective approach. "Same old, same old. Heard some of the away crew had a venture back on that iceball, meanwhile, the bridge crew and I were left performing sensory tests. Why'd they gotta have all the fun, huh?"
Evening in the crew lounge saw a human leaning against one of the standing tables with a glass of something brown in one hand, staring out the observation window. He'd just gotten off his shift for the day a few minutes prior, and felt the best way to unwind would be him, a cold drink, and the stars. Only way to make it even better is if had a lady to spend his breaks with, but he's not had much luck in that area so far. Well, there was always next time, he figured.
"What I'm here for," The man replies, somewhat easier.
Mustering a smile for the woman, Taylor nods to Tanta in acknowledgement. He gives a half-hearted salute as he speaks, "Strictly doing my duty as a proud member of the OSF." Truthfully, the captain was less upset then he expected, but he felt there was a light chastisement somewhere in the man's tone. More a warning to not get them killed then to not pull off any crazy stunts like the start. If he had to do them, make them count. A far cry from his his last posting, Captain Goodfellow wasn't very lenient when it came to his restrictions. Chaffed something fierce when he had to keep a squadron of Pirates from cracking the ship open like an egg.
"Understood, captain." Replied Young, a frown just skirting his features. Navigating the console he brought up the proper protocols, a process that was admittedly almost entirely automated. When you're skirting the laws of physics, leaving things up to human error was just asking for trouble. "Standing by."
Taylor breaths easy through his nose, the brief adrenaline high he felt dying down. When the names come through over the comms, he has to work his mind hard to try and consider anything about them.
Taylor's irritation briefly rises as the chief issues a command, only for the captain to swoop in at he last moment. Much better. He worked best when he didn't have to listen to people barking orders at him thinking they knew better than him. That said, this was a tricky position. Those interceptors could turn on a dime, and they were making good use of it. He might be able to get out of one's range, but there was little he could do about the other. This was going to be a bit dicey...
Take it? With what boarding party, Young didn't ask. Perhaps the chief knew something he didn't, so he focused solely on the task of keeping them alive.
The transport was fast, faster then their own ship for certain. Pure speed factored a lot, but with enough skill, people in his position could pull of real magic. As he punched the controllers forward this time instead, he couldn't stop the corner of his lip from twitching upward. Doubtless that Captain Cooper would chew him out for pulling close like this later, but because of him they actually were going to have a chance for it. TheGuangzhaou pitched forward, and Raylor used every bit of extra thrust to twist the ship in a complex zig-zag that brushed passed the transport. Practically teasing the damn thing, while giving the gunners a perfect shot at it's vulnerable aft.
Too close, they were too close! Damn these sensors, where the hell were they hiding? The interceptors were bad enough, but he did not want to be in optimal range for that transport. With determination, Taylor jerked the controls backward to buy them some distance.
"Ah hell-" With gritted teeth, he practically punches several icons on his nav-screens before gripping the analogs. With a complex twist of his wrists, the ship suddenly jerks to one side.
"understood, Captain." Taylor replied promptly, eyes glued to the screens in front of him. The high mood he'd felt days prior was on it's last dregs as the monotony started to settle in. This was exactly the same dreadfully boring work he'd come to expect from the OSF, dragging it's feet across space in the vague hopes of finding a grain of rice atop Olympus Mons. With their luck, this would just be another iron-silicate composite like the one reported last shift. One of this size wasn't even particularly unusual. Regardless of how he felt about his work, he'd never stoop so low to be willfully incompetent about it. Gliding the Guangzhou into position for their outdated sensors to get a better read wouldn't be any trouble for him at all. Hell, if he was particularly adventurous, maybe he could get them within visual range.
"Doesn't it just?" He laughs, "It varies with human cultures but where I'm from, we've got our given name and our family name. Combined together, that's who we are. You're 'Canny Resolve' of the 'Azure Host.' I'm 'Taylor' of the 'Young' family line."
With an easy smile, "Just the one, so far. Taylor Young."
"Don't have much personal flight experience then," he nods, translating the metaphor with ease. "I've heard about some pilots experimenting with telelocation to place themselves 'inside' their ships, as it were. Make it an extension of yourself in a way simply fondling controls could never replicate"
"Always with the chairs," He agrees, smiling easy despite soon coming face-to-mass with a mass of insects. "I've fought with my cousins like that all the time back home, no worries. Pleased to be aboard with you." Not knowing for sure whether they're adapt at human customs, he chooses to keep his hands to himself this time. He'd rather not have to try picking insect legs from the joints. "I've heard about the rumors, though authorities weren't ever able to prove anything. Whoever was behind all that flying though, that ship sure was a beauty. You know much about how the controls work in those vessels?"
Taylor Young "Well now, ain't that somethin'" He spoke, eyes wide as the swarmfolk walks in. "I'd love to have a chat with them later, K’drunni ships are like nothin' I've ever seen. I've seen some of the pictures taken after 'Drive to Succeed of the Emerald Swarm' pulled off a win during the Saturn Route a few years back, definitely not designed to piloted by humanoids I'll tell you that much." |