Post by khizlek on Mar 1, 2014 14:15:25 GMT
1st Fleet Force (KH-F)
Mellitik, Hand of the Xenom and subdirector of his squadron gazed out into the cosmos through his pict-display helmet, the familiar lines and symbols appearing as the screen helpfully listed the status of his crew and ship, whilst still overlaying the location and general state of his fellow Fleet Force members. It was not good. Large sections of the line had been pulverised, and other portions requiring significant repair duties. They were not of the Okkot first wave front, acting as the first ships to receive enemy fire; they had vowed their lives to the Alltier, but not to their immediate extinction so that members of the Okkot agreed to.
He was no fool; he knew they had done terrible damage - large portions of the enemy front line had collapsed as the clash went through the first and second wave, with even enemy command craft caught up in the maelstrom of destruction. Yet here they still were - filling in the front lines, waiting for the third signal to attack the enemy fleet. Around him the crew lay in their combat pods. He could see that they were exhausted, and the craft itself showed significant issues with readiness. Then he thought of his old family, his mother and cousins, his regional tribe. If they failed these invaders would not stop at just ending the live his fellow ship personnel. And what of the Alltier? He had pledged to continue on in all things when he had joined the following of the new Alltier. It was only now he realised just how far they may be required to go when they responded to that call.
His front appendages grasped the neuro-kinetic controller that allowed complex commands to be easily issued, feeling the texture of the psycho-reactive gloves installed into each set of the many combat pods installed. The supple, fine material of the cloth was said to have been personally touched and assigned to each craft member, and was to signify their roles of acting as the hand of the Alltier. He knew this was false of course, for the Alltier surely had better things to do than touch some ceremonial material produced by the thousand, but it made him feel better that through some connection when the time came for his crew to take the pledge of the Okkot in action, rather than in words.
And so Mellitik stared, and waited.
Mellitik, Hand of the Xenom and subdirector of his squadron gazed out into the cosmos through his pict-display helmet, the familiar lines and symbols appearing as the screen helpfully listed the status of his crew and ship, whilst still overlaying the location and general state of his fellow Fleet Force members. It was not good. Large sections of the line had been pulverised, and other portions requiring significant repair duties. They were not of the Okkot first wave front, acting as the first ships to receive enemy fire; they had vowed their lives to the Alltier, but not to their immediate extinction so that members of the Okkot agreed to.
He was no fool; he knew they had done terrible damage - large portions of the enemy front line had collapsed as the clash went through the first and second wave, with even enemy command craft caught up in the maelstrom of destruction. Yet here they still were - filling in the front lines, waiting for the third signal to attack the enemy fleet. Around him the crew lay in their combat pods. He could see that they were exhausted, and the craft itself showed significant issues with readiness. Then he thought of his old family, his mother and cousins, his regional tribe. If they failed these invaders would not stop at just ending the live his fellow ship personnel. And what of the Alltier? He had pledged to continue on in all things when he had joined the following of the new Alltier. It was only now he realised just how far they may be required to go when they responded to that call.
His front appendages grasped the neuro-kinetic controller that allowed complex commands to be easily issued, feeling the texture of the psycho-reactive gloves installed into each set of the many combat pods installed. The supple, fine material of the cloth was said to have been personally touched and assigned to each craft member, and was to signify their roles of acting as the hand of the Alltier. He knew this was false of course, for the Alltier surely had better things to do than touch some ceremonial material produced by the thousand, but it made him feel better that through some connection when the time came for his crew to take the pledge of the Okkot in action, rather than in words.
And so Mellitik stared, and waited.