(2530-04-19) Red vs Blue
Summary: An Alliance military exercise goes poorly
RL Date: 19 Apr 2020
Related: 2530-04-20-red-vs-blue-on-air
nikki jonah lorenzo 

The Eavesdown docks…all of them


The day dawns grey after heavy overnight rain that threatens to resume. Low scudding clouds whip across the sky driven by a gusty cold wind that has a bitter edge, slicing through thin clothing and rippling the oil-rainbowed surfaces of deep dirty puddles.

Through one of these puddles an Alliance MULE drives at speed, showering passers-by with the foul water displaced by the massive off-road tires. It comes to a stop and purplebelly boots splash down, the squad fanning out with weapons drawn under the protection of the .50 cal gunner in the turret. The observant spectator may notice the magazines on the guns are marked, unusually, with blue and white tape. "Cover the shipyard entrance!" barks a sergeant. The Alliance has spread the word in its usual terse and incomplete fashion about the red-vs-blue exercises here, which is to say that anyone who can afford a comms system and pays attention to the official propaganda channels is aware.

Lieutenant Elsa Meyerson is part of Team Blue and she's very much eager to win whatever is to be won here. She leads her group to the shipyard entrance, where they find cover among the many crates, containers and left-over ship carcasses, keeping an eye out of the enemy.

Lieutenant Bob is on Team Red, and so he's got his unit in place, ready to meet the oncoming zerg rush of Team Blue into the Shipyard. He himself has a nice spot set for sniping, and as people start crowding in starts to size up possible targets of opportunity.

Elsa and Bob both have the tape stripes indicating blank ammunition on their magazines. The red team, the 'hostiles' who have taken the shipyard, are mostly newly arrived on Persephone. So far comms traffic is working, and there is minimal interaction with the civilians that are starting their workday. A few curious or sullen glances for now.

An AFAS comes screaming overhead at a very low altitude, no more than eighty feet off the deck, and pulls into a tight high-G turn. It's not clear whose team it is on. The barking sergeant barks something into her comm, but nothing crackles in her squad's earpieces. She tries again, with the same negative result.

With the Blues being the home squad it's easier for Elsa and the rest to fire at the invading Reds. Bang Bang Bang go the rounds, drawing more and more glares from the locals. "Gerrout my way!", an elderly man drawing a cart with pretzels barks at Elsa, "This is my place!" "Excuse me, Sir, we're in the middle of a highly important mission, keeping alien invaders from the Plorp System away." She is totally making it up as she goes along, gesturing for her team to keep firing.

As the blues start running into the yards, Red team starts returning fire when they come into range. Bob takes his time, picking one of the overzealous types that pushes ahead and squeezes the trigger, but misses. A grumble as he moves and shifts position along some crates to make sure he can line up another shot without drawing too much fire.

It will start to dawn on team blue that their earpieces have been silent for too long. Just the crackle of static or sometimes an unearthly squealing howl or a rude noise that would make a schoolboy snicker. An ASREV comes in on a strafing run at a more sensible altitude than the fighter, and behind it clouds of pyrotechnic smoke appear on the roof of the Deutz main hangar to be ripped apart by the gusting wind. The Deutz workers in the yard glance up but don't pay it much attention. That, at least, was planned.

What may not have been planned is one of the ancient civilian freighters starting its engines, the turbines spinning up after an initial coughing expulsion of oily smoke. There was supposed to be a ground stop on all dockyard traffic for 60 minutes. If the ship is intending to take off through the Alliance mock dogfights, there is a serious problem.

Elsa stares at the freighter trying to get going. She knows that this thing will kill people if it lifts off now. "What the hell is going on?", she shouts and taps her earpiece. Nothing. "Fucking useless rubbish!", she screams and turns direction to fire at the cockpit window of the freighter to get their attention. Whether the rest of her team will keep fighting Blue or not is really none of her concern now.

As the engine starts up, Bob frowns, and settles down, looking at that more than the Blue team. He taps his coms trying to get someone. "Anyone know what's going on with that Civvie trying to take off?" He gets a look at the state of the exercise for the moment, trying to pay attention to both the exercise and the potentially big issue while it takes place.

Pretzel Man hasn't gone away. "My pretzels are bein' the best in the ruttin' 'verse!" he yells over the sound of Else's rifle, moving towards her with his fists clenched. They may certainly be the oiliest in the 'verse. He has one in his hand and shakes it in her face. "Only useless rubbish roun' here is you purplebellies! Get orf mah planet!"

Bob's radio call gets more static squeals. The fighter comes round for another ludicrously low pass over Bob's building, the wash a physically jarring blow. The pilot must be insane. There's another of Bob's team further down the roof and he takes the initiative to stand up, setting down his rifle to start waving crossed arms above his head. Stop. Then he's flung back in a heap of tangled bloody death. Blank rounds and laser tagging don't turn people's chests into bloody holes.

"Look, I could have you arrested for half a dozen reasons right now, so get out of my face!", Elsa shouts at the pretzel guy, before firing at the cockpit of the freighter again. Useless shitting blanks. She drops the rifle and pulls a proper gun out of her uniform, which she fires. PING! A spiderweb of little tears starts spreading over the cockpit window. "Get the hell outa here!", she shouts at her team. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to obstruct the freighter pilot's view.

And his guy is pasted… That's… OMG! Bob shouts out, "Live FIRE! Live FIRE ON THE FIELD!!!" He goes and tries to get down into better cover and waves for his men to do the same. Seems somebody screwed up big time. He tries to rally his people and gets them all under cover of whatever just killed his other man.

Bob's team get down as more fire splatters against the stomach-churningly low parapet behind which he and they are sheltering. Someone's screaming as if their voice could be heard across the dockyard. Someone's trying to stem the bleeding from the dead grunt, which of course is futile. Above them the ASREV, setting up for another strafing run, apparently gets a wave-off; the pilot pulls up and disappears into the clouds, and the carefully synchronised row of pyrotechnics positioned atop a row of shipping containers exploding in sequence would look rather silly in other circumstances. Perhaps the ASREV will be greenscreened in later. "Sir! What's happening!" screams a panicking rookie in Bob's ear. "He's dead! Sweet Buddha he's dead!" Another of Bob's troops is swearing viciously in Mandarin, emptying his blanks over the parapet. Short controlled bursts my ass, he's just holding down the trigger.

Elsa's helmet doesn't even budge when the pretzel hits it, flung by Pretzel Man. "You crazy purplebellies! Someone's gonna get killed!" He isn't wrong. He picks up another pretzel and hurls it.

When Elsa's round hits the windshield, the pilot of the freighter takes evasive action. The throttle is redlined, the ship lifts, and he or she uses the side thrusters to swing the tail round in an attempt to put the ship between him and his assailant. It would've been better had the undercarriage fully cleared the ground. The ship cants, the legs gouging across the crumbling concrete, and civilians run for cover. Then it's clear, belching polluting smoke (perhaps he could be ticketed…sure). Right into the path of the fighter's pass. In the cockpit of the AFAS, Lt Nikki Kennedy reacts instinctively. The little fighter twitches and almost clears the freighter. It doesn't. There's a violent bang and then the fighter is climbing vertically on full afterburner, gyrating wildly. It's missing the end of one wing. The freighter tips forwards and climbs away over the sprawling city.

"Just let it go!", Elsa shouts at pretzel man, because what else would she shout. "That's a waste of perfectly good pretzels. Seek cover!" She herself waves her team to retreat to seek shelter… anywhere… somewhere… ideally far away as the freighter spews black smoke and suddenly there's the AFAS in the mix and… ouch. "Someone get that freighter's ID!", she shouts at her team. They won't be just ticketed, she'll have them flung in jail, that's for sure.

"Everyone get their shit together!" Bob calls out and waves people down. He Gibbs smacks the one shooting his blanks pointlessly and shoves him to get under cover. THe one trying to stem bleeding on the dead grunt gets yanked off him. "He's DEAD! Get it together and make sure you're in cover in case anyone else with live fire gets stupid."

The bullets smacking around Bob and team cease, perhaps someone is finally figuring things are not going to plan. Bob's Gibbs smackee, though, has murder in his eyes. He turns and aims a punch at Bob's face and visor. He's not a small guy and he's hyped up on crazed adrenalin. Indeed, it's not so much a punch as a sledgehammer impact.

The Alliance red vs blue team exercise is turning into a cluster. It was supposed to be two Alliance teams firing blanks with laser tagging, some pyrotechnics, and a ground stop on civilian traffic while a fighter and an ASREV do some light dogfighting. When mislabelled live ammunition was mixed in with the blanks and a freighter decided to take off in the middle of the dogfight, it all could've been stopped with some urgent radio calls. But comms are down, just howling static, and it's not clear that all of the participants have figured out there's something amiss. The Alliance fighter, missing the end of a wing from a close encounter with the departing freighter, has disappeared into the clouds. Smoke haze from the pyros is drifting across the docks. People are screaming.

Elsa (Maya)'s Pretzel Man retreats, flinging another pretzel for good measure and yelling an obscene suggestion that is both illegal and physiologically unwise to attempt. At least two of the onlookers have cameras out. Live Cortex streaming - Elsa will be famous!

Lorenzo starts to run now his eyes are covered with those red shades, he is fully armed as he heard the firing from the Fallen Angel, as the large black man leaps out of the cargo bay."STAY IN THERE!" His voice barking out an order, as his hand hits the button to lock the cargo bay door, the older solider is running for cover, as he looks around trying to make sense of wha woke him from his nap, in his right hand is a very large pistol with a scope. He starts to slowly load it as he is debating on his next move.

Elsa groans when she sees the first unwise civilians being drawn into the chaos… with proper weapons. She ponders the real gun, she is still holding and the big impressive rifle, then sticks the gun back into her uniform and lifts the rifle at Lorenzo, when she sees him approach. "Stay back, this is a military exercise!", she shouts at him, "There is no danger to the public." Maybe.

The Alliance teams out on the periphery of the docks have clearly not got the message, for the staccato rattle of automatic weaponry is blown aross the docks. From the upwind end, thick white and thin green smoke pours from cannisters, spreading over the grey morning. Mixed with the automatic fire is the occasional thudding boom of a shotgun or the light crack of a pistol, probably not a good omen. Together with a few civilian Cortex-streamers, a news crew appears. The reporter, her green-dyed hair whipping in the wind, is already speaking as the cameraman zooms in on the Elsa-Lorenzo interfacing. "I can't tell what's happening but it's looking like our brave Alliance troops are being attacked," she gushes breathlessly. "Nobody knows what's happening but I don't think this is supposed to be happening!" Pulitzer-quality.

Elsa (Maya)'s Pretzel Man retreats, flinging another pretzel for good measure and yelling an obscene suggestion that is both illegal and physiologically unwise to attempt. At least two of the onlookers have cameras out. Live Cortex streaming - Elsa will be famous! »>'

Lorenzo stays down law as he looks at Elsa with a little chuckle, his hand is placing the pistol back into his holster."Sure, totally looks like ya get a handle on this gorrum thing, just like ya always do." His voice is almost teasing, as he reaches out a pocket to fish out a cig, as he places iti n his mouth lighting it with a lighter with a skull in the middle, taking a long drag.

Jonah enters with a cow. How he came to be present at this disastrous 'celebration' with the beast in tow is a mystery that will have to wait. For now, both man and animal are wide-eyed at the chaos, nostrils flared at the acrid smell of smoke. While Jonah seems at a loss for words, the cow lows a loud, long note of protest and braces her hooves against the tarmac, bringing both of them to a dead halt. The dark haired man, for his part, starts looking wildly about, trying to get a bead on the situation, his body jostled back against the cow's as people frantcially push past to leave the area.

Elsa looks relieved that the civilian is seeing sense. "Please tell others to keep at bay as well.", she warns. And then she sees the cameras. Ooooh. Hopefully she hasn't acquired any smears. She flashes a bright smile at the camera, then turns back to her team… and then there's a guy with a cow?! "Sweet Buddha's tits.", she curses under her breath and aims her rifle at Jonah now. "GET AWAY FROM HERE!"

A grenade arcs through the air from behind some low metal crates. No, not a grenade. A pretzel. Elsa's Pretzel Man hasn't given up the fight. "Oh goodness gosh, those are pretzels!" exclaims the too-young reporter, "someone is throwing pretzels!" The cameraman is older and sharper and has zoomed in to a far distant shot of Alliance troops stretchering someone at the run. A little weaselly fellow near Lorenzo eyes Elsa and edges to the side, shoving his hands into his bulky pockets. Very bulky pockets. As many people are trying to leave as are swarming in, both those coming to work this gray morning and those drawn to any sort of public spectacle of mayhem and death. Across the docks in an abandoned area, a series of fireballs roll up into the air, perfectly sequenced, before a red flare soars into the sky. That could be the cease fire signal. A big woman approaches Jonas and rasps, "You wanna sell that cow?" Timing, lady, timing. A moment later and the AFAS drops out of the clouds. Lt Nikki Kennedy is fighting the controls with the starboard wingtip missing, the control surfaces gone, the jagged metal still attached flapping wildly. A panel several feet square detaches, flapping down into the crowds below. It looks like she's trying to land.

Lorenzo watches it all as he exhales the smoke, his eyes on the cow, the man, then the chaos with a little chuckle."What a mess, this is special." His voice is low, as he chuckles behind the stocking crates next to the falle angel."Totally got this handled, huh?" He looks over at Elsa with a wicked smile, as he shakes his head again.

It is amazing how quickly things go from being distantly dangerous to immediately dangerous. With a rifile pointed a his face, Jonah does what any self-respecting and life-loving man would do. He raises his hands in the air. While this has the benefit of showcasing his desire to remain unshot, it has the drawback of releasing the cow. Behind him, the beast starts to back away from the tarmac, eyes wild and rolling. "Don't shoot, please! I was told to bring the cow! I—" He blinks wide eyes at the lady making him an offer. "THE COW ISN'T FOR SALE!" That's definitely a note of panic. As the flares boom, Jonah places his raise hands on top of his head as if to protect his brain from bullets, and slightly ducks. "Is that ship coming down….here?" He gapes at the AFAS. The cow, meanwhile, turns and prepares to bolt.

Lieutenant Elsa Meyerson… stares. This wasn't what she had signed up for earlier. "Get that cow under control or it's steak for tonight!", she yells at Jonah, then shoots into the air a few times to get people's attention and motion them away. "CLEAR THE SPACE!", she hollers, seeing Nikki make her rather wobbly approach to the tarmac with a frown. With the stupid earpiece not working, she grabs her old-fashioned com to alert the Docks' fire services. "Potential crash near Bays 12-15, quickly!", she shouts and then, along with everyone else watches to see what Nikki will do…

"Oh no, there's an animal loose, I think it's a cow and it's stampeding, there's a lady chasing it, I think it's her cow but she's just been knocked down, oh no, that poor cow!" gushes the reporter excitedly. This sure beats covering yesterday's story, a sewer overflow. Fortunately for Channel 9 News ("A Finger On The Pulse Of Eavesdown"), the cameraman is concentrating on slightly more significant visuals such as the fighter. It drops lower, wings (or what's left of them) rocking violently, and then out of sight of Elsa and company. A moment later there's distant and ragged cheering. She's either landed without killing anyone on the ground, or she's crashed and died. Eavesdown dockites would cheer either. Weaselly guy sidles back towards Lorenzo as Elsa's attention is diverted. "What you wanna do?" He's a stranger, one of those who can talk out of the corner of his mouth and make anything sound suspicious, sexual, or both.

Lorenzo watches it all, then he sees the ship coming down with a frown and then he flicks the cig down as his boot stomps it out of the world."Well, then I think we need to move folks the helloua here." His voice is booming out of his large frame, as he shakes his head again with a little frown."What the hell ya trying to do?"

"GET OFF MY COW!" No longer enraptured by the fate of the ship, Jonah has become aware of all that is happening behind him. With a lurch, he starts fighting through the crowd to reach his bovine charge. Having knocked it's would-be captor to the ground, it has become entangled in some tent lines and is dragging a mass of canvas folding tables and chairs set up for the festivities behind it. And the woman, who clings precariously to one of the animal's legs.

Elsa is distracted for a longer moment as a team member passes on the date of the civilian freighter that just took off without permission. Heading for Bellerophone. "Excellent, we have a good presence there, make sure they are arrested as soon as they touch ground.", she tells her underling, then gestures at two others. "Get the details of that man with the cow, he'll get a fine, too." Both of them troop off obediently, but hang back when they see the man, the woman, the cow and the chaos. Not their problem. Elsa meanwhile tries shouting into her com again. "What happened to Kennedy?" There was no massive fireball. Surely that's good news?

Lorenzo looks around for a moment, as he starts to yell."Back up. Give it room, I aint' cleaning up this tarmack." His voice is yelling into the air, as he looks over at Elsa, and then over at Jonah with a chuckle."I would move the cow."

Weaselly Guy sidles. Of course. His sort never just walks. "Gotta be opportunities," he mutters. "Folk need protection while the purplebellies got their hands full." Just your typical Eavesdown chancer.

"It's MY cow!" screams the woman without letting go of the leg, as the cow is bought mostly to a halt by its anchor chain but decides it can move sideways significantly. "That's my tent!" yells the tent owner, entering the fray. "You owe me five hundred credits!" A born haggler, even in this chaos. "No, it's HIS cow!" yells an enthusiastic bystander, pointing to someone who isn't Jonas.

Alliance comms is abruptly restored at full volume with everyone talking at once. Honestly, the silence may have been better. Somewhere in there is Nikki's voice, yelling something about the freighter who she clipped. She sounds pissed.

"It's not your cow! Why are you lying?" Jonah seems troubled that anyone would fib about cow ownership, his brow tightening into a terrible little knot between the eyes. Finally breaking free of the ring of onlookers, he gapes at the chaos of the tent. "I'm sorry about the tent," he says genuinely to its presumed owner. "I'm sure we can salvage it. I think it's just been dragged a little." He swallows thickly. "I don't have 500 credits…Let me just…" He makes soothing noises to the frantic cow as he approaches. "Easy girl. It's okay. We'll get you out of here….okay? Shhhh…."

Elsa is both annoyed by the sudden chatter on the earpiece and relieved to hear that Nikki is alive and sounding as pissed-off as ever. She inhales deeply. Well, the exercise is clearly over. There'll be an awful lot to clean up now and then a mountain of paperwork. For now she scans the area to see what needs attention most.

Fortunately for Jonah, the argument on cow ownership centers on the two non-owners, each egged on by their factions. "My goodnessy gosh, I think everyone's going to be alright but some poor people may have been hurt but I think they are alright!" the green-haired reporter gasps. "This officer seems to be in charge, m'am, can you tell us what happened?" She's approaching Elsa thrusting a microphone like a medieval lance. Sirens, orders, shouting. Just another day at Eavesdown.

Elsa is only too happy to give an interview. She takes off her helmet and shakes out her white-blonde hair first. She might have practised that at home. Then she explains how the Alliance had planned and scheduled this exercise and how it has been an almost unmitigated success, except for a few unruly civiliants ignoring warnings and prohibitions, who will be punished in due time. "But all in all we have shown once again today, that the Eavesdown Docks are a safe place for everyone on Persephone with the Alliance in full control at any given moment. I say thank you to my fabulous team and all other participants!" Speech done, she saunters over to see what the deal with the cow is.

The cow, still clearly terrified, does seem to quiet down under Jonah's careful ministrations, and before too much longer, he is gently disentangling her hooves from the tent ropes as dockers bicker over her about what should be done. "Good girl. Gooooood girl. See? That's so much better isn't it? Let's get your on your ship, yeah?" Taking the beast by the halter, he starts to lead it away from the escalating argument only to come face-first with Elsa. Perhaps because she was pointing a rifle at him not long ago, he blanches. "Um…hello." A slight blush tinges his pale cheeks.

"Can you read, Sir?!", is all Lieutenant Elsa barks at him. She might look slightly less fearsome now with open hair instead of her helmet, the rifle lowered to one side.

"Yes, ma'am. Everyone back home studies how to read and write as children," Jonah responds with utmost sincerity and a little hint of pride. That pride is muddied only a little by his confusion at this particular greeting from his erstwhile riflewoman. "Did you need me to read something for you," he offers helpfully. His eyes scan her person for a letter, perhaps, or a leaflet.

Elsa GLARES. "THEN WHY HAVEN'T YOU READ ANY OF THE ABOUT HUNDRED NOTICES POSTED AROUND THE DOCKS TO STAY CLEAR OF THIS AREA FOR THE MORNING?!", she yells at him loud enough to startle the cow. "Name and address please.", she says primly and somewhat quieter, getting her digital notepad out.

Jonah blinks rapidly his face doing little tiny jerks backward with each word as if they are been accompanied by a punching baby fist. "I'm here on business." He gestures feebly to the cow, then deflates, mumbling out an address in the nearby slums, a bad area even by Persephone standards. "Jonah Ezekiel Fisher. That's Jonah with an H. And Fisher like a person who catches fish," he amends helpfully. "Am I in trouble?"

Elsa types up the name and address and if he looks at the screen, he'll see his full details come up including a photo. She studies the data for a moment, then hrms. No known troublemaker. And she's simmering down anyway. "20 credit fine for trespassing.", she declares and does a bit more typing. The pad spits out a small sheet of paper with the relevant info and a QR code thing. "Payable within one month." She offers it to him primly.

"Yes ma'am." Jonah reaches out and accepts with paper with dignified resignation. "Will there be anything more?" He waits obediently, one of his hands absently lifting to scratch the cow on the top of her head.

"No. Be on your way.", Elsa tells him and stalks off to find other civilians to fine for their mere presence.

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