Guard Rule

Barracks  - Earth -

A reinforced metal shack, about the length of a football field, only about half the space is used to contain the usual population of about 150 alien prisoners.

The "thumbprint," an oval-shaped containment area, is surrounded by iron fencing and bordered by catwalks and observation platforms manned by Guardian Fleet soldiers on a rotation.

The south side of the building is reserved for inmate processing and the warden's office.

Sun Sep 29 10:57:52 3002

Contents: Exits: Commander Landon   Out

Razorfang scoops some things off the ground into a small bundle, smiling to himself as he prepares to leave this room for the final time. On his way out, he picks up a pulse pistol off one of the corpses, and, cleaning it with his jacket, he sticks it in one of the empty holsters.

Landon is currently busy walking along the catwalk, slowly looking through the remains of the outpost for anything he can scavenge. Around his belt is a rifle taken from one of the fallen guards.

The floor is slick with blood along the corpses, covering Landon and Razorfang's shoes. In front of Landon is half a torso, the lower half rests a few feet away and it is here that Landon finds the weapon.

Razorfang quickly exits the building, perhaps out of superstition, perhaps out of sense of smell.

Area 16 Work Camp 

A dusty prison facility in the midst of a rocky desert, the Area 16 Extraterrestrial Labor Redirection Complex - also known as the Area 16 Work Camp - is a dreary destination for the Guardian Fleet soldiers who stand watch in the sniper towers along the 40-foot-high concrete walls. So, just imagine what a party it is for the aliens who have the misfortune of falling into the clutches of Earth's military forces and "disappearing" to this awful place. At night, spotlights sweep the compound and guards patrol with deadly black mastiffs. A metal-roofed prefab building serves as the one-size-fits-all barracks for the prisoners. Off to the east sits a cramped-looking box with a door and a locking latch.

Sun Sep 29 11:20:18 3002

Contents: Exits: GF-106TA2 Tactical Transport  Desert  Winding Trail [B] Barracks  Small Shack

Flames and smoke twist among the ruins of the work camp.

Razorfang glances around, un-holstering the Pulse Pistol incase of any danger ahead. He looks towards the small shack, his eyeridge raised up, and begins to head towards it, pistol up and ready.

The camp looks like it has been decimated by plasma weapon fire. Several people appear to be inside the nearby transport.

Razorfang is heading towards the small shack, upon which reaching, he opens the door quickly and glances inside.

The Cooler 

A cramped reinforced metal shack that is little more than a glorified cargo crate, with no windows and only a peppering of ventilation holes in the ceiling.

Prisoners of the Area 16 work camp who prove problematic to the guards or the warden occasionally wind up here.

It offers no comfort - someone six feet tall would have to spend their time sitting with their arms wrapped around their knees and their chin down to keep from banging their head on the ceiling. Taller aliens will find the squeeze even tighter.

Sun Sep 29 11:23:37 3002

Contents: Exits:  Out

Razorfang does not like what he sees- A small, cargo crate in which he would have to crunch himself down if he wished to get in. Now he knows what the Cooler is. "He shakes his head and then heads towards the transport.

Landon's eyes wander accross the camp, finally resting on the Transport. He lowers his hand to his Rifle and moves in towards it, trying to stay out of its range of vision.

Among the apparent occupants of the transport: A Demarian. No shackles or anything.

GF-106TA2 Tactical Transport

The GF-106TA2 tactical rapid transport is a fifteen-ton capacity, six-wheel drive armoured truck used for the quick transportation and deployment of all types of military personnel in a verity of conditions and situations. Long and bulky, it features an old-style method of mobility: wheels, and very large and durable ones at that. Capable of sustaining even weapons fire, the wheels are made of the highest quality material and interwoven metallic frame, adapting the truck for all kinds of terrain. Though lacking any hover systems, the truck has the advantage of not having clogged thrusters and being able to start in dusty locations, then stay alive while plowing through the thick of it. The cab is doorless, though featuring protected glass upon it's windshield, while the back consists of a covered section where the actual troops are carried, along with basic rations and various other items they require in the field. One might also note that it is very much shot to ribbons; holes - ranging from small to gaping - can been seen scattered over all of it's body work and armour, while the Cab windows - once reinforced - now remain cracked and sporting a small hole there and there. Scorch marks, seemingly from weapons fire, darkly caress and litter the overall paintwork, while nearly the entire front of the vehicle looks utterly crumpled and scratched. One of the solar collectors has exploded, while the wing mirrors that hold senty on either side of the doorless cab are missing the very thing that makes their namesake: Mirrors. All in all, this truck has seen better days, though remarkably still works. Along the sides of the rear section the words "GFD-T114/A" are boldly painted atop the desert cameo.

From inside the Transport> Silvereye sits on the inside of the transport, rifle slung over his shoulder as he looks out the back of the truck into the twisted ruins of the camp. He looks fairly tired, like he didn't sleep much the previous night.

Landon slows noticably but doesn't move his hand off of his rifle. He moves in towards the demarian and the transport, keeping an eye on the rest of the camp.

Razorfang smiles as he sees his friend, Silvereye, and promptly holsters his weapon. He knocks on one of the windows of the vehicle, hoping to gain their attention.

From inside the Transport> Marlan is typing into a datapadd on the opposite side of the transport, her expression is similar to Silvereye's. She jumps at the sound of knocking and reaches for her weapon, eyes turning towards the window.

Razorfang is standing near the windows of the transport, knocking at it slightly and also slightly grinning.

Landon speeds up as he nears the back of the truck, boarding it with an agile leap before collapsing on the floor. He remains there for a moment, his face showing an expression of pain.

Altor strides over to the transport and looks down at it, and then to Razorfang. "Freedom, eh kitty?"

Razorfang nods, motioning with his head to his Pulse Pistol. "Yup, Nall came and fried em' all. Finally. But I wouldn't leave now... there's a Civil War. How'yer systems doin'?"

From inside the Transport> Marlan is typing into a datapadd on the opposite side of the transport from Silvereye. She is dressed in a Guardian fleet uniform minus the helmet. As Landon jumps up onto the truck he startles her but as he collapses, she drops the datapadd to her side and stands, stepping towards him.

Altor reachs down and picks up a tattered piece of barracks. "Watch this..." He flings the metal into the air, and lifts an arm to point at it. Out of the side pops a double-barreled energy weapon, which fires into the air to turn the metal into a molten glob before it hits the ground. "Everything's back on-line."

Razorfang smiles broadly. "A bittersweet victory, to be sure. I wouldn't go up against the Nall... I think they'll be fighting for a long time."

From inside the Transport> Landon remains where he is for a while before pushing himself up into a sitting position "Stupid Nall..." he whispers to noone in particular before looking towards Marlan "This transport outbound?"

From inside the Transport> Silvereye glances down at Landon, also startled by his sudden arrival. He unslings his rifle, laying it down on the bench beside him and kneeling to Landon. "You ok there?" He inquires, ready to help Marlan in her medical ventures.

Altor nods. "Waaaay too many of those scalies running around, and besides, they've not done anything to me. Got me out of that tin box so I owe them one."

From inside the Transport> Marlan waits for an answer before trying to help him up. Instead she looks back, locating her medical kit.

Razorfang nods in response to Altor. "Yeah, I've got nothing against them.. but if there are some Guardian Fleeters.. then it's time for some fun.

From inside the Transport> Landon twists his head away from Silvereye and Marlan as he coughs. "Nothing getting out of this hell-hole won't cure." he says slowly, looking over the truck.

Altor grins with a twinkle in his optics. "You better believe it. I find one of those pigeons and it's a turkey shoot."

From inside the Transport> Marlan moves away, leaving Landon with Silvereye as she goes for her medical kit.

From inside the Transport> Silvereye offers Landon a paw to help him to his feet. "With the Nall like they are, I think we're going to hang around here for a while. We'll have to have some sort of meeting to decide."

From inside the Transport> Marlan returns with the medical kit, scanner already in her hand, "Hold still until i can make sure yoru not hurt."

From inside the Transport> Marlan returns with the medical kit, scanner already in her hand, "Hold still until I can make sure you're not hurt."

From inside the Transport> Silvereye supports Landon, his larger frame holding out well under the pressure put upon it. He scratches his ear embarrassedly, most likely because he facilitated Landon's move against doctor's orders.

From inside the Transport> If it bothers her Marlan doens't comment on it, her eyes instead fixed on the medical scanner and nods a bit, brining it down to her side as she answers, "Nothing a few days rest and a good meal won't solve." she says and offers Landon a small smile, she looks over at Silvereye and nods to the benches, "Why dont' you help him tke a seat."

Razorfang shrugs slightly at the big robot, and then, with a slight smile, he begins to walk towards the door of the transport.

GF-106TA2 Tactical Transport The main Cab of the Transport is of a wide four-seater verity, adding to the GF-106TA2 Tactical Transport's wide and bulky image of power. The dashboard is a complicated affair, full of electronics and gadgets, but the normal feature of a steering wheel and the usual pedals are all there. Draconian, but still effective. The back of the Transport is far from special, however. It mostly consists of an open space, with seating on both sides, and a storage area at the front for provisions and equipment. Contents: Landon Silvereye Marlan

Landon shakes his head to clear it, "Any news on the civil war..." he asks slowly, "I need to get off this planet..." He moves towards the benches under his own power but allows Silvereye to help.

Silvereye helps Landon the best he can to the bench, sitting beside him. "Right. The Nall, whatever faction, hold the spaceport. We have someone upstairs, but with the fighting...Well, we may be here for a while."

Marlan nods, "Da. I'm going to call in a few favors but i woudn't make plans to be anywhere for a while." she replies as she begins to put the medical scanner back intot he kit.

Landon frowns slightly and leans back his full weight on the bench, "Don't they have anything small enough that can do a wilderness landing? Don't need much more than a chandler." he says, now looking the truck over properly.

Marlan shakes her head, "Your not seeing the big picture. We're in the middle of a Nal civil war, da. That means not just here on the planet but.." she motions upwards, "Up there in space too." she shakes her head, "It'd be suicide for anyone to try to get down here and then what would we do? The OS rings are down."

Silvereye raises an eyeridge at Landon. "Are you insane? The Clawed Fist Fleet is fighting up in the atmosphere. There's no way we can get any kind of craft down here, and then send someone back up."

Razorfang enters the vehicle slowly, his eyes beginning to close from lack of rest, but otherwise in good condition. He gives a nod to the occupants and with a "Howdy." sits down on one of the empty bench spaces.

Landon nods slowly, "The Nall live up to their reputation by being trouble in its purest form." he says. His gaze drifts towards Razorfang as he enters.

Silvereye glances at Razorfang as he enters, offering a curt, "Fang." to the other Demarian as he enters, then letting a grin creep over his face. "Regardless, glad they didn't tear you up in there." His eyes shift to landon while he head remains forward. "You don't know the half of it."

Marlan nods in agreement and turns, moving to take a seat on the opposite bank, she glances up at Silvereye, "No sign of Darktail yet?" she asks.

Razorfang smiles from his seat at his former Militia Superior. "Indeed.. Altor's systems are fully up now.. He has some heavy weaponry on-board."

Landon nods slowly, then looks away from Silvereye, "Any idea on which nall faction has the upper hand?" he asks.

Silvereye glances down at his footpaws the moment after Marlan addresses him. "Not yet." He replies somewhat quietly, shaking his head at Landon. "They all look the same to me."

Razorfang is sitting down on one of the bench seats, quietly listening to the conversation being held while picking dirk out of his claws and fur.

Landon glances around the back of the transport, his gaze not staying on any one face for long. "Then... we wait." he says slowly.

Silvereye bobs his snout to Landon. "Right. It may be a few days before the Nall balance of power is decided on Earth and things stabilize enough for us to deliver Eiger and get on with things."

Razorfang slowly slips into sleep as he cleans his nails, his movements slowing to the point where his eyelids are closed and his ears droopy.