Far North.

[oxygen]

Allister pressed Onslaught forward, dragging behind Mute's swift progression. He didn't mind Onslaught's sluggishness; she wasn't built for any speed records, after all. She didn't need to be close to a target; she just needed to hit them.

"Onslaught, start running weapon diagnostics; be sure we're at full capacity before we run into anything, all right."
I had assumed you would want me to do that, and I have already begun and completed all performance checks. Additionally, I have begun cycling the Mana-Rail through its initial charging phases. You are combat ready at the moment.
"Sometimes I check you're in my head," Allister tilted his head in an awkward fashion and flicked the COMM switch, "Just keep me posted, Mute; if you hit something before I do, let me know. Rein, I want you to sweep wide. If shit hits the fan,I'd rather not be in a straight line for easy fucking target practice."

Onslaught peeled around floating debris, inching toward the checkpoint marker on the HUD. It would take a few more minutes, but they would rendezvous with the cargo-ship, but they were better late than never. It only upset Allister that they were not launched alongside it. Something about that was digging at the back of his brain, but he hoped it would amount to nothing more than paranoia. It didn't seem right to him that the cargo would be defenseless.

Your pulse has spiked several times over the past minute; however, I detect no anomalies externally. Is something amiss, Allister?
"Nah, I'm just letting my mind wander."
May I suggest that, for the remainder of the mission, then, that you refrain?

Allister loved Onslaught; after all, her voice was his kid sister's. Sometimes, though, sometimes he wanted to put his foot right through her brain. These thoughts were fleeting, however; it wasn't her fault, she was programmed to be calculating and direct. It made killing effective.

[Roystar.]

"Haven, Darling. Load programming gamma please."
Loading.
"Thanks sweetheart."

He relaxed and watched as the displays alter slowly. He felt Heaven drift out wide, far from the others. They formed an lopsided triangle now, Mute out in the front with Allister behind him and Serene far out to the side. Right on the edge of his sensors capabilities to detect them, but keeping him in close enough that Haven could pick them up.

"Allister, nothing out this far. Not yet anyway. "

He called over the COMM, spinning around to examine the space around him.

"Hey, if this cargo is so precious, why aren't there guards with it already? Why are we playing catch up?"

He imagined that something had spooked them after the cargo had been launched; but if that was the case, why weren't they briefed on what that something was before they were sortied? They nagged at him for a moment as he eyed the distance reading, Haven's thrusters automatically compensating to maneuver them through the space debris, while keeping the loose formation.

His eyes glanced up, watching the display counter that ticked off percentage charged for both his mana lines and the charged particle cannon. 87% and climbing with each passing moment; he did the quick calculations. They'd be fully charged by the time they reached the second checkpoint. Something just didn't feel right. He thumb the release switch, the compressed halberd from his thigh into the machina's hand. It grew within moments, reaching it's full length as the spikes on the head grew longer.

[|°ὺ₯₳ↄĸJONES]

ETA: 23 minutes.

Note: CPCs take a single turn to charge.

You all can continue to post once more. Good stuff thus-far.

[oxygen]

"I was just thinking the same thing, Rein: it doesn't make much sense to launch 'precious cargo' ahead of a security detail. I'm a bit bothered by how sloppy this all is, but if it all goes smoothly - then who am I to complain?"

The vacuum of space outside his Machina went on forever; in the distance he could make out bits of debris and wreckage, floating boulders smashing into one another violently. His ears strained in expectation of a sound, but they were met with nothing. The external microphones picked up nothing but silence, and his ears, in return, rang violently: not in succession or in a pattern, but that long, dull, singular tone. It was unnerving to say the least.

"Onslaught, can you kill the external microphones and give me something to listen to?"
Of course, Allister. I was curious as to why you had not asked me already to do this.

The ringing stopped, and the cockpit was filled with the Armand's "Evening Waltz in B Minor," a piece of classical Rosinderian music. Allister wasn't much for classical music, but it was better than nothing.

Allister, weapons systems are fully charged.

Easing onto the throttle, Allister pushed forward, trailing his companions as best he could. Even in zero-g, he felt sluggish. Nevertheless, they weren't far from the checkpoint - a large dot that flashed every moment or so on the map: 17:45 -- 17:44 -- 17:43. Even the clock seemed sluggish.

"Anything yet, Mute?" He waited anxiously for a reply, a hand already hovering over the firing mechanism for the Mana-Rail Cannon.

[Zenith]

The world around them went by as it had nearly a thousand feet back and how it looked as the next thousand would. Mute's chocolate eyes darted across the monitors as he licked his lips. Leaning inwards a little bit to touch a small green button, his chair extended to the full length of his frame so that he wasn't sitting anymore, but fully standing as Desol was and he stretched out, lifting his arms to clatter some keys quickly across the surface of the keyboard. He would leave Desolation to her scans and not bother with an auto-boot of his primary engagements.

With a few clicks, the primal pockets on either side of the unit's thighs parted and the metallic katars that exited the womb of space was instantly engulfed by the cloaking armor. They were small enough weapons that even on a short-wave scan, they would appear like a large flock of geese or a small asteroid. Another few keys touched and the pockets sealed themselves up and Mute double-tapped a key and then spoke to the guys.

There's a lot of debris up ahead, so keep your scanners peeled. These dots are so small though, there's no way they could hid anything smaller than a single UMV or a human-run, minor mech. They're smaller than my katars, but the look like something was blown to shit here...

Whatever it was, boys. It's gone.

Fifteen minutes. Scanners are clean, boss man.

The metallic voice cut quietly to listen to the soft music that played over Allister's COMM and Mute tugged a smile across his shy face to listen. It sounded wonderful -- exactly his type of music, too. He sighed heavily, being put at ease and then with a wave of his hand, Desol swatted an asteroid off course and it collided into another one...

From outside, this probably wasn't a good idea and Mute shook his own head in thought. Recon. Invisible to sight. And he's magically setting rocks off their predestined courses. Gah, what an idiot. Mute rubbed his forehead in agitation to his own ignorance and then sighed heavily again.

[Roystar.]

He was inside the second biggest machina of the group, the Charged Particle Cannon was nearly charged already, his Primal Alloy Halberd was already deployed, ready to cut through even the thickest of metals and he had two other Machina covering his back; why did something feel wrong?

His eyes darted to the charging bars, watching the percentage rise slowly; very slowly. The bar transfixed him as he stared with unblinking eyes for the next few moments. It wasn't until Mute came across the COM channel with that signature metallic tone that he blinked and shook the daze away.

"Gotcha Mr. Mute."

He flicked the COMM switch again, rotating his view point around for quickly, watching the trail left by his comrade.

"What are you doin' man? Invisible and running into things?" His tone was joking, carrying his humor with it over the channel. He eyed the countdown that appeared slightly over 7 minutes ago. 14:59 -- 14:58. "I so can't wait to get back to....what was her name again? That hottie with the glasses." He smiled, despite forgetting the girls name. The comment was made mostly to lighten the mood, taking the edge of the pilots nerves.

He gave another eye to the charging meter, 91% and still climbing. The Mana charge was at 100% already.

So far, so good.

[|°ὺ₯₳ↄĸJONES]

[justify:1ky74c85]The cold of space was capable of giving even these titanic machina goosebumps. The cold was symbolic; perfectly setting the tone of this cosmos graveyard littered with debris that could've been anything ranging from: older machina models and parts, airship exterior panels, french wooden panes, etc.

More importantly, what lingered in the bowels of space was company. A single unit that sat 300m outside of Mute's maxium senory range (1300m away and substracting).

The moment Mute's machina breached the 1100m, soundlessness would engulf a projectile that flickered like the stars in the ethereal backdrop. A lock had been attained some minutes ago, and Mute would come to discover this the minute the unknown and unregistered unit popped onto his radar. Prior to discovery, a cluster of lackuster 180mm rounds planned to interdict the path of Mute's machina, the shooter hoping to drench the opposition in a primal alloy shower of (50 rounds).

Voiceless, for the actions of this pilot would do all the speaking. A pirate desguised by the cosmos with plans on claiming whatever entered space as personal property no matter who it belonged too. There were very little rules out here, and it was up to the ctu's to bring some, if only a little authority to these unclaimed, uncharted, and infinite void.

Mute can engage enemy.

Allister must wait 3 turns before engaging the enemy unless locks are shared with Mute.

Reing must wait 2 turns, same rules given to allister apply.

Eta: Pending...

[/justify:1ky74c85]

[Zenith]

Being silently jettisoned across the silent void would be eerily deafening enough to consume one's entire brain and thoughts -- the send them erratically wandering left and right, but nothing like a few heavy knockings on the external shell of a monstrous machina to get the mind swiftly engaged and pumping into action. With a seamless hesitation, the moment the radar went off and the bullets came spraying in, Mute snarled and jerked the heavy katars from his thighs and lifted them high, one up and one down to defend Desol's core before her leg thrusters engaged and an instant burst of power erupted from the ebony skies.

ENEMY ENGAGED AT TWELVE O'CLOCK! EVASIVE MANEUVERING NOW, DESOL!

With lightning reflexes, the thrusters kicked off and sent the small mech shifting to the inside left, ducking beneath the spray and deflecting what stray bullets might find their way to his hull, having taken a few incoming rounds, but the primal armor could take a rough beating from cannon fire before breaking through and collapsing. Now that Mute was alert, not another shell would touch this hull -- those brilliant emerald eyes gleamed with fury.

ENGAGE THIS FUCK! HOW -- DARE -- HE SHOOT YOU, DESOOOOLLL!!

Skating across the obsidian skies, blue ignitions sprayed out from the back of the unit and stabilizing thrusters pulsed softly, as the figure tore across the skies like a professional blader. Avoiding the spray left and right and then ducking and deflecting the random spray that came inbound, Desol would duck beneath the fire until the unit was directly overhead, making it rather hard to fire beneath -- almost behind the mecha and then with a powerful upward thrust-cut, the katar blades would come from between the legs of the unit, in attempts to cleave the despicable wretch in two.