milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Despite everything, Ellen is still under orders from her superiors to refrain from telling anyone else in the Brotherhood, or any civilians either, about the existence of Milliways. It was difficult enough to get permission to tell Jerald about the place, and she's married to him. She put in a request to have the order amended to some degree before leaving for the Commonwealth, but there's been no action on that request so far. Elder Lyons has other things on his mind. She also has a pair of Mr. Handy robots that proved to be remarkably skillful at working the controls of a basic camera despite not actually having fingers.

These two things are related, to a degree. She's currently seated at one of the Bar's tables with a spread of only slightly blurry black-and-white photographs in front of her; they're mostly of stonework, masonry, shattered human skeletons, and an absolutely ridiculous number of bipedal blue crabs the size of two or three football players tied together.

That's an exaggeration. Maybe just two.

Look, they're big crabs.

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When Sahaal comes downstairs for dinner, he's just finished stripping down his bolter. There's a bit of grease on his fingers and tunic that he's not quite scrubbed off yet.

Usually, he'd head straight over to the bar to order, but he spots Ellen looking over a collection of picts. It's been a while, so he decides food can wait.

"Evening."

Ellen looks up from one of the pictures and smiles a little. "Hi, Sahaal," she says. "It's been a while, hasn't it? How have you been?"

He returns the smile, nodding. "It has been, yes. I've been fine, thank you. You?"

"Well, I made it to the Commonwealth without completely disgracing myself at sea," Ellen says with a faint grimace. "Probably helps that Knight Conklin was almost as seasick as I was. We're currently largely camped on an island in the harbor and gathering intelligence on a possible permanent regional base of operations."

Oh, yes. The reconnaissance mission that required all the tablets.

"I'm glad to hear it. Come across anything interesting during your scouting?"

"Well," says Ellen, "there's a possible base of operations within striking distance. It's a fort a few centuries old, but the previous residents apparently renovated it, established an electrical grid and generator system, installed artillery, and so on. Problem is, about forty years ago the previous residents were overrun by the local wildlife, which now occupies the place."

She taps one of the photographs.

"From what the people in the nearest population center say, the Minutemen were suffering from severe morale and supply problems at the time, and an attack by a heavily armored acid-spitting mutated crab monster fifteen feet tall was more than they were able to handle."

Artillery, generators, walls you can't put a bolt round through. About all you could require for a forward operating base. In this case, however, it sounds like some extra work might need to be done.

Sahaal leans in a little closer to the stack of pict-captures. Or photographs, in English.

"Mutant sealife? Not surprising, given the radiation levels you've talked about. You intend to clear them out?"

Ellen nods. "There's more of them on the premises than I'm used to seeing," she says, "but from what we can tell from the images, and from talking to the locals, it'd be worth the effort. The smaller crabs-" She indicates one that's probably about a head taller than an ordinary human male. "-have heavy chitin exoskeletons, but the right rounds can penetrate that, or incendiary weapons. Or something like a ripper, for that matter. It's the one that struck that place the hardest that I'm worried about... we weren't able to get a picture of it, but we fought something with a very similar description when we were pulling up to the first place where we docked our boat, and it was a lot harder than we were expecting."

Perhaps it's his combat experience, or, more likely, he's being arrogant again. But to Sahaal, the crabs don't look like they'd be hard to take down. Especially not if they're vulnerable to incendiaries.

"How did you manage to kill it, this giant specimen you mentioned?"

He pauses.

"And what exactly is a ripper?"

"Multiple humans with energy weapons, and ship-mounted ballistic weapons," Ellen says. "We had some difficulty sounding out its most vulnerable places, but the Scribes retrieved as much of the carcass as they could to analyze for any figure combat we might have with that kind of creature."

"Oh- it's a melee weapon some of the combat orders use. Like a sword, but edged in a high speed cutting chain. The U.S. Army was using them before the Great War as a close-combat option. I never learned to use one, myself."

"And did you manage to find any vulnerabilities?"

He's interested, of course, but not as much as he is about Ellen's second comment. Sahaal straightens his back slightly, and a smile twists his lips.

"If that's what can bring these beasts down, then I think I can help you. Your 'rippers' sound extremely similar in operation to weapons my Legion used to field - although I would bet your Paladins use smaller versions. I have a few down in my workshop, if you're interested."

"The face area is less heavily armored than the rest of the animal's body," Ellen says, "and while the chitin on the legs is pretty stout, they're jointed in multiple places. An impact weapon directed at one of the leg joints stands an excellent chance of doing significant damage. Which is probably the best bet for someone who can approach from behind- the behemoth's back was more heavily armored than anything else, but the thing's field of vision isn't great-" She indicates the approximate angles involved. "-and it can't pivot at the waist to bring either the pincer claws or the acid attack into play if someone goes after its legs from behind."

"Really." The mention of similar weapons gets a thoughtful look. "That might be worth having a look at. I'm assuming they're sized for someone built like yourself?"

"A well-placed shot could take out the face, and presumably, the brain behind. Limbs can be cut off, but if those claws are as sharp as they look, something more traumatic would be preferable. I definitely like the idea of attacking from the back. Perhaps some sort of explosive charge could be attached to the rear carapace. Especially if their field of vision is as poor as you say."

He's talking to Ellen, of course, but there's something in his tone that says that his words are just as much thinking out loud.

"Yes, the chain weapons are legionary-sized. But, using them would afford extra reach."

"Hm. Well, for whatever it's worth I've got at least two people on this trip whose melee training included super sledge work," Ellen says. "Two handed rocket-boosted kinetic impact hammers, basically. They're the longest reach weapon we have; if the chain weapons you're talking about are similarly sized and could be wielded two-handed by someone in power armor, it might work pretty nicely."

"Well, I can wield a chainsword one-handed, so one of your men in power armour would have no problem using one with two hands. Especially not if they're trained with similar weapons."

He pauses. "How many would you need, and for when?"

"I doubt more than two. I've got four Knights and three Scribes, but two of the Knights are primarily focused on ranged weapons and only use melee as a last resort," Ellen says. "I never got trained on the ripper myself, but I've got a fire-augmented sword that'll be useful if my own energy weapons don't cut it."

He gives a little smile. "No problem. I can have the swords in working condition by tomorrow evening."

A tiny pause, and then - "Fire-augmented?" What do you mean?"

Edited 2018-07-18 23:10 (UTC)

Ellen sighs. "It's not much compared to something like the shocksword my husband made for me as a courtship gift," she says, "but I built a sword a few years ago from the toughest piece of long, sharp metal I could extract from a lawn mower and connected it to a fuel tank so that whenever I squeezed a valve handle, the tank would deliver fuel to a channel in the blade and an igniter in the handle would set the fuel on fire. Basically, it let me fight with a flaming sword instead of having to aim a flamethrower or just hope hitting things with a sharp blade would be enough."

Sahaal smiles. "Combining incendiaries with melee combat. I like the idea."

Although using a lawnmower blade doesn't seem like the best idea for a weapon.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure," says Ellen. "What is it?"

"Can I come and... help you fight these creatures?"

There's a slightly awkward tone to his voice. Not out of any trepidation for battle, but well, he's Astartes. This is the first time in his life he's ever had to ask to fight an enemy.

Ellen blinks once, and then smiles. "Sure," she says. "Honestly, I was going to ask if you were interested, and maybe if other people were too. I've had to face enemy groupings like this before, and I know enough to know when it's time to call for assistance from the interested and qualified."

Sahaal relaxes slightly, and the smile slips back onto his face.

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you'd want me in the assault party. When would you need me to be prepared for?"

"Hello, Paladin Park," Hawkeye says, approaching with paperwork tucked under her arm. "What are those pictures?"

"Oh- hello, Lieutenant Hawkeye," Ellen says, looking up. "These are photographs I had one of our robots take of a building that might be a viable base of operations in the Commonwealth. It's an old fort that hasn't been occupied by humans for forty years- the local wildlife's too dangerous. I'm trying to figure out our best approach to the situation. How have you been?"

"I've been well, thanks for asking. Caught a rogue alchemist in Central," Hawkeye says, leaning in to look at the photographs. "Are those crabs? They're huge."

"They're mirelurks. Mutated crabs," Ellen says. "We had small crabs before the Great War- I've seen photographs of them- but a lot of creatures were mutated by the aftereffects of the bombs. Bigger, stronger, nastier, things like that... How did the capture go? Was anyone hurt?"

"Mirelurks," Hawkeye repeats, mulling that over. "They certainly seem nasty. Are you going to have to clear them out of your base? And yes, the alchemist in question was killed, so we technically didn't catch him, merely stopped him."

Ellen nods. "They're an aggressive species. We don't have the option of herding them away from the occupied areas," she says. "On the bright side, they're edible, so we'll at least get some provisions out of it, or trade goods to offer the locals in return for other food."

"Well, that's good at least," Hawkeye murmurs, looking over the photographs again. "Do you need help?"

"We could use some extra people," Ellen admits. "The crabs might not be bright, but they outnumber us, and the behemoth's harder-shelled than the rest on top of being enormous. It wouldn't be the first time I've reached out to people from Milliways for assistance."

Hawkeye considers this. "I'd need to find a source of ammunition, as writing the bullets off in my world as practice rounds would be suspicious. Behemoth?"

"There are a few dealers in University Point, which is the nearest population center," Ellen says. "They've indicated that there's a few people a little farther south that might be a viable option for ammunition, too. What type of rounds do you need? -- ah, that's the giant one. There are mutated former humans in the Capital Wasteland who've degenerated into mindless monsters that throw motor vehicles and use municipal water supply pipes as weapons. We call them behemoths because they're so much bigger than other mutants. The biggest mirelurk is as large by comparison to the regular mirelurks as the super mutant behemoths are to regular super mutants, so for now we're calling anything that big a mirelurk behemoth."

"I need .32 caliber rounds," Hawkeye says, patting the Browning FN Model 1910 pistol at her side. She's wearing four total--two in shoulder holsters and two strapped to her back--one with a stainless steel finish. "If those won't work for killing the mirelurks, I'm more than willing to use whatever weapon you have available."

Edited 2018-07-16 19:24 (UTC)

Ellen thinks for a bit, then nods. "I'll see what I can do," she says. "If .32 caliber isn't available enough, I can definitely set you up with something similar and suitable. It shouldn't be a problem."

"Do you know approximately how many mirelurks we'll be facing?" Hawkeye says, glancing at the photos again.

"Several dozen, I think," says Ellen, "although we haven't yet isolated the specific individuals in the photographs to verify that the same ones haven't been counted twice. Our robot wasn't able to get as far into the fortifications as we would have liked, so my estimate is padded a bit to include the possibility of mirelurks out of sight."

"And there is only one behemoth as far as you know?" Hawkeye says, tapping the photograph.

"We haven't seen signs of more than one," Ellen says. "We've had robot and human observers alike watching the place, and as nearly as we can tell there's only the one."

"A queen, then," Hawkeye says, her sharp-eyed gaze flicking to Ellen's face. "Or a king. These mutant crabs aren't intelligent, right?"

Ellen shakes her head. "Vicious towards humans, territorial when it comes to their breeding spots, but not particularly aggressive towards one another otherwise," she says. "There's no sign of intelligence or society there. I had to sneak into a mirelurk nest once to plant an observation device years ago. Ants are smarter."

Hawkeye's hair falls over her right eye as she inclines her head very slightly. "What do they eat? Animal and human flesh?"

Ellen nods. "Fish, other ocean life, humans, some of the larger insects-"

She indicates something about the size of a human baby, or a little larger.

"Oh, they start jumping and biting anything that moves pretty much as soon as they hatch, too."

"Are bullets the best way to take care of mirelurks?" Hawkeye says, standing with her feet shoulder-width apart. "Or is there a more effective weapon."

"Bullets to the facial area and parts of the lower body work," Ellen says. "Direct attack with bladed or heavy blunt weapons is a bad idea unless you can get a direct hit in on the legs. Incendiary weapons work significantly better than most regardless of where you aim on the animal, since the exoskeleton doesn't make much difference in the face of fire. Explosives work pretty well, especially from below."

"So I'll just have to aim for the face," Hawkeye muses, keeping her face neutral. "Just let me know when you want to leave."

"Will do."

(OOC: I'll set something up in Ellen's journal for slowtime tagging and posting, and let you and Sahaal's player know when it's ready.)

{ooc: Great, I'm looking forward to it. Will Wilford and Noriko be joining us as well?}

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