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[Shootandrun]

It all seemed to happen so slowly. Magnus was still on his way towards his seat, when he saw the handshake, and, from the corner of his eyes, he saw the gun. Something reacted in him - a memory from his days of youth, when assassinations attempts against him were still taking place often. He turned around and opened his mouth to shout something, but his words - whatever they were, he never remembered them afterwards - were cut off by the gunshot.

There was a moment of stunned silence, during which the man got out of the room. Then, just as the time had appeared to have stopped, it restarted, and cries started filling the room as panicked politicians started running for the door.

"Get DOWN!"

His voice boomed above all others, a talent that he had been training ever since getting out of puberty. Miraculously, some of the useless ones stopped running (and obstructing the doors) and found some cover where they figured they would be safe if the shooting started.

"Cover all the entrances and shoot anybody coming in here who isn't a fed or a paramedic! If there's anyone here with first-aid training, get to work on Maxwell! MOVE, damnit!"

[filiusenox]

Open fire. If that doesn't work, vault over the railing.

[5+1+2 vs 8+3] You pull the trigger on the chain gun, hearing it whir, but a tentacle lashes out, scoring a bloody line through your shell, down the center of your chest, and in the pain you let go of the trigger (3 health remaining).[7]You growl, lunging out of the way and jumping down the landing, rolling as you hit the floor, the beast following you down, crushing your arm painfully, and you hear the shell cracking. (2 health remaining)

[8+1+2 vs 3+3] Taking the time, ignoring the lance of pain, your ram your blade into the things shell and roll away after slicing a massive hole in it. (5 health remaining.)

[19:55] <NUKE913> Ah fuck it no I'll just run.

[8 vs 8] You stagger to your feet and begin to run, ignoring the pain that surges through your battered body. The beast rises as well, following along, ignoring the greenish, reddish blood dripping from the gash in it's back.

[9 vs 2] You turn, rushing into several corridors as the beast follows along behind you, sawing as it runs along, before it seems to tire, lagging, then falling behind.

[19:58] <NUKE913> Now find me a blast door that I can seal.

[7] You bolt into a thankfully bare food storage room, slouching against the door as you slam it and seal it shut behind you, you breath in and out slowly, before dropping the Gatling gun.

The shell of your right arm is broken and twisted.

[5.4.4] "Sealed away lower decks from top with Acid. Resting from fight. Causalities, many. Dead still need to be put down. Fighters need to hurry here."

[NUKE9.13]

Chh... well, at least there's food here.

Suspended animation my waste-end, if you weren't supposed to age, how come you still got hungry from it?

Popping open a can of "Classic Paté Chicken & Tuna Dinner", Markactl considered his options.

Well, he could die. Or he could die some other way.

Someone had been checking stocks when the attack started, and had left their comtablet behind on a shelf. A stroke of luck; one of the few he had had in a long time.

"Attentioning subjects. Recovering I. Saving you, I. Shellless Atlaca dying all, recapturing ship, problemless. Informing status. Hive-ship surviving okay?"

Reassure my people. Raise their morale.

[filiusenox]

"Attentioning subjects. Recovering I. Saving you, I. Shellless Atlaca dying all, recapturing ship, problemless. Informing status. Hive-ship surviving okay?"

Reassure my people. Raise their morale.

[6] While joyed to hear your voice, and your promise, your people are weary, many non-combatants and children dying when the infection surged to greater levels and many still lost during the bloody fighting and regrouping.
[~] The lower three decks are all that remains within your people's control, the rest apparently swarming with Infected. You hear tell of two more huge, shelled Atlaca lumbering about on the ship, but they apparently drowned one in acid.

Track the assassin, providing movement data to security forces in the area. Impede the assassin's progress by any non-lethal means necessary that does not also interfere with the sercurity forces. Signal emergency services,, staing that maxwell has been shot and paramedics are needed.

[4] Your data, while accurate and worthwhile is dully ignored by the Security Forces that set out after him, many ignoring or even leaving their data-slates behind.
[2] In your haste to impede the assassin, you open the wrong door to the outside, instead of locking it, resulting in the security forces and the assassin moving into a boulevard to chase after the man. [6] Luckily, you don't lock the security forces inside the building.
[1] The Paramedics, it seems, are dealing with a bombing on the other side of town, and those are to indisposed to come and stop Hayes from bleeding out.
 

"Cover all the entrances and shoot anybody coming in here who isn't a fed or a paramedic! If there's anyone here with first-aid training, get to work on Maxwell! MOVE, damnit!"

[3+2] The random bodyguards seem more intent on getting their governors to safety and eyeballing other security forces than to listen to you. But a few of them draw their various weapons and stand by Maxwell's side, despite the lock of shock and anger that appears on the faces of their Planetary rulers.
[~] A delicately feminine, blue-ish skinned alien woman with feathery hair is kneeling beside him, trying to stem the bleeding, while Maxwell is pale, blood trickling from the sides of his mouth, breath ragged, weak.

Set out with my bodyguards to look for the assassin.

[7 vs 6] As you and your men, along with several Federation Security goons, chase the assassin down the boulevard, he suddenly trips over something, and scrambles into some cover, drawing the same gun he shot Maxwell with, as your allies do the same.
[6] A hover-car, marked with the Security Force's markings, hovers above you all, a large machine gun trained on the Assassin.

[NUKE9.13]

Rummaging through the food stores, Markactl finds a bottle of vinegar, and pours it on his broken arm. He then makes a few precise cuts with the sword, letting the blood flow freely, mingling with the vinegar, coating the wound. He then wraps the arm in strips of sack-cloth.

Now then.

About this monster.

It appeared to be a mutated Tapalcayo; and it still had a shell. That might mean that it shared weaknesses with the Tapalcayo. Now, but to hope that folks kept some of the more dangerous foodstuffs down here...

[2] No such luck. But there were other stores on the ship, and he knew for a fact that some of them contained stuff that could seriously mess a body up.

All he had to do was get from here to there without the Atlaca beast catching him.

*Patch up my injuries.
Check to see if the coast is clear.
If it is, make a run for it- looking for chemical storage.
If it isn't, fill a sack with catfood, vinegar, and whatever else in here stinks enough to distract a mutant. Leave the chain gun (too heavy), throw the sack as far away as possible, and run in the opposite direction.

[Ardas]

"Take cover! You , fed-sec, get that gunship to supress him! we need him alive!"

Arthur wasted no time in organising the gathered security and bodyguards to flank the assassin while the car supresses him with machine gun.

[thatkid]

"Good morning, XK-Two-Six," the Doctor wheezed, his gaze not on the console behind him, nor the archaic and delapidated bookcase beside it, but on the distant, twinkling stars which spread out beyond his viewport. "I trust you slept well?"
With a painful slowness, the console gradually flickered to life, each tiny light springing into existence behind each button before the screen itself cantered into being, displaying first a series of static and pictorial artifacts before switching, abruptly, to a command line. From somewhere within the stuttering speakers, a tinny voice, gender indescript and clearly inhuman in its perfect pronunciation, came. "Goo--d morning...Ma--ster."

Karloff grinned, bearing rows of perfectly white teeth to the stars. "You have found the latest program which I installed whilst you slept, XK-Two-Six?" He queried, knowing. The AI, or what resembled one, anyways, having nearly reached the point of true, functional sentience before being shackled by built-in limitations and failsafes within the code, had no choice as to what he did to its systems. He had the root password. Knowing this, the Doctor did not wait for a reply:
"Execute it, then."

Send out a distress signal, in the form of a youthful and feminine, and clearly human, voice indicating that a small-party vessel has been stranded at the station following a D:13 jump. Then promptly power down all unnecessary electronics in the station (effectively running on skeleton power), and have the Drones lie in wait conspicuosly placed in or near the docking bay.
Ie. Set the trap.

[Caellath]

"Well, let's get going." Emmanuel said, now after buying a cushion to help with the whole sitting-on-lap thing.

Prepare things, then keep on the trip towards the planet.

[Skyrunner]

Avens Urbanum frowned at the mech that just landed in the station with a gentle thud. It seemed vaguely familiar. And by vaguely, she thought, she meant that it crashed like an enraged bull into the china shop of her brain and knocked over a thousand memories pertaining to it. One of the rebellion bases had it in a remote garage, parked and standing dead as dead can be. Its innards were mostly intact, a relic of another age, and ... and there was a very enthusiastic young man who always was looking at the mech in his free time, scampering about the chassis. She didn't expect to meet him on this backwater moon; honestly, it would have been hard to meet him at the scene of strife next door, too. Providence, perhaps.

She waited a bit, until Emmanuel returned, and leaned over the utilitarian controls that were each labeled in tiny, stamped letters, flicking a few, and paused, noticing that there was another person with him. Hmm. The letter transfer protocol lever was flicked to the active position, and she typed out a series of words.

Is that ship named Crimson Flower? I think I've seen it somewhere.

[Tiruin]

3 months ago...

"Alright, we're in position."
"Tracker One reporting, skies are all clear. No hostiles but those orbital drones."
"The Sky-net is set then...what do you see, corporal?"
"They don't seem to be doing anything, sir. Just...staying there. No anomalies current on sight."

Kaylee was in her Mech, along with several other Federation personnel headed by Sergeant Markus, of the 76th Mechanized Division. Obviously, this meant the whole squad comprised of ten mechanized infantry were all inside...Mechs.

"Hold it, our scanners are fluctuating rapidly! Err, the readings are off the charts! Ships are warping in!"

Even before the soldier finished his transmission, the skies began to turn dark from the arrival of various ships of all sizes entering the planet's orbital zone -- the area in which any spacecraft could launch their attack vessels at a planet without any penalty or worry.

Their objective was to aid in fortifying the planet, and hold the line against any forces willing to take the place. Dictatorship or not, they were on orders to shoot first and ask later, regardless of political thoughts of actions.

But there was no semblance of the Dictatorship here, or in any of those ships. They were of alien origin.

"Contact lost with the comm array! We've lost the frontal outpost! We're fighting blind!"

The retaliation was swift by the defenders; but it was all for naught. The blockade was destroyed in a matter of minutes as the skies poured raining death via biological weaponry as well as drop-pods bearing soldiers of undeterminable origin. Not even the Mechs had a chance of holding the area until it was overrun by the aliens.

"Accursed In-f&&king-fected! We weren't prepared for this! Who prepared our intel!? Fall back! All troops, fall back!"

The perimeter was breached, no living being survived the first wave -- all were caught in the torrent of living death. The Mechanized squad was valiant in their stand. Futile, but valiant, for the soldiers were taken down one by one, by the enemy troops or by aerial support. They were fortunate however, for their courage was not in vain...Their leader activated a personal Deus Ex Machina, one that ensured the information he held would be kept secret, even if it had to die with him.

"Corporal Kay! Lead the others back! I'm taking these sodding sons of the void on a trip they'll never forget! Enim foederationis! Long live the Federation!"

The only thing the young woman could hear next, were screams of the beings busy wracking the hull of her mech, then the silence of an explosion. She couldn't recall much of the event afterwards, except for a single message telling her of the status of her faithful ally.

"All channels, offline. No organic hostiles detected."

Current time, 3 months later

"It's just you and me now, Iridia. The Federation won't go looking for us in this blasted landscape, but at least you're strong enough for both of us, eh, girl?"

Kaylee tapped the leg of her Mech as she proceeded with it's structural repairs. The days haven't been good to the young soldier, for the fleet that had arrived was identified as a Consumption fleet, a carrier of things worse than death. She brought up a hand and felt the area right under her left eye -- smooth and hard. It was a scale, an iridescent one, born from her wounds of the battle as she discovered the aftereffects of...experiencing a close-quarters fight with one of those things.

She was glad her training wasn't wasted. Memories of tentacled creatures, horribly looking like distorted reptiles plagued her dreams in the coming weeks, and it was proven as she winced from the touch. Perhaps this was just an allergic reaction?

"We are the last of an army in quarantined space, and we've no hope but a miracle. I'd accept any faction's aid right now...Three whole months and I'm all alone save for these...others."

It was a strange feeling, sometimes talking to yourself. Not strange though, when you realize that you listen back, musing on your own ideas and feelings. It was normal, actually, though not of Kaylee's person to commit herself to intrapersonal persuits.

Inspect the nearby area, this area and the status of my mech. Check my body if my vital signs are normal and alright.

Kaylee wished she had at least said goodbye to those she knew before this happened...

[filiusenox]

Exist

[5+1+1] The alien woman works, removing the barbed, twitching bullet from Haye's chest with the tips of her fingers, ripping rags from her clothes to stem the sudden gush of blood. Her hands shake, even though her movements are deft and fast.
[9] However, as she mops away the blood, you catch sight of something shiny within Haye's chest, ringed with wiring.

Arthur wasted no time in organising the gathered security and bodyguards to flank the assassin while the car supresses him with machine gun.

[9] The security guards ring the Assassin, who makes a break for it, despite the aforementioned ring of burly, armed men and women.
[1] The hover-car, fires, not aiming to scare the assassin, no aiming straight for his head and torso. The chain-gun rips through the soft flesh of the man, reducing his fatigues to rags and his body to so much ground meat.

[2] With that bloody business done, the hover-car aims the chaingun on the security forces, and a mechanized voice speaks, tauntingly, giving a hoarse chuckle,
"You're all under arrest. You have the right to be turned into mincemeat."

*Patch up my injuries.
Check to see if the coast is clear.
If it is, make a run for it- looking for chemical storage.
If it isn't, fill a sack with catfood, vinegar, and whatever else in here stinks enough to distract a mutant. Leave the chain gun (too heavy), throw the sack as far away as possible, and run in the opposite direction.

[4] You do a rather crappy job of patching your wounds, the vinegar doing more harm then good as pain rickets through the arm every time you flex your fingers.
[3] Outside the door is a single mutant, shell-less like the other, tentacles having replaced it's arms, it sniffs the air, long, forked tongue flickering in and out of it's mouth.
[5] You fill a plastic sack with a number of stinky food products and local chemicals, and it takes you only a moment to stab a hole in it and throw it down the corridor.
[5] It takes a moment, but two Mutants step out of the shadows and trundle down the corridor, followed by the other, the one that would have baited you.
[4 vs 2] You step out, and begin bolting down the corridor as silently as you can, the mutants too busy scarfing down and fighting over the bag of food.
[2] However, you soon get lost as you try to avoid the worst of the mutants, it takes you a long time, and you trip over a number of things, but [8] you finally find a chemical storage room, in your ship.
[9] There's more chemicals than you know what to do with here, including a few that you know makes things blow up.

Send out a distress signal, in the form of a youthful and feminine, and clearly human, voice indicating that a small-party vessel has been stranded at the station following a D:13 jump. Then promptly power down all unnecessary electronics in the station (effectively running on skeleton power), and have the Drones lie in wait conspicuosly placed in or near the docking bay.
Ie. Set the trap.

[5] There's a long wait the signal well...signalling, before scanners detect a ship  moving in from the outer orbit of the system, trackers indicating it's heading for you station. [9] Scanners, on the other hand, note that it's a Tourist Luxury Ship, large, lumberous and filled to the brim with squishy humans. [2+1] You try to power down almost everything, but it's too late, the ship having already docked, but despite the fact that the lighting is on and such, [4+1] The people don't seem to notice, overconfident about the crew being able to take on any pirates.
[1 vs 1] Your ambush fails, the drones coming out of hiding too soon to be of any use in the element of surprise. A firefight starts up, the crew rifles firing on the drones as they hold the hallway to the ship bravely.
[4 vs 2] But resistance is squished, the armed and armored crew dying to chainsaws and electrical shocks from the drones, your drones.
[~] The tourists soon surrender after a declaration of 'Surrender or Die like the crew.'

Fifty humans gained!

Inspect the nearby area, this area and the status of my mech. Check my body if my vital signs are normal and alright.

[~] Your currently holed up in one of the last two cities on the planet, set in among the shifting white and red sand dunes, a beacon of hope still alight for those who dwell within. The walls of are of thick, reinforced iron and ceramic, keeping the mutant hordes, which drift in from the desert, from time to time, out of the small, crowded city. A number of condensers pull moisture from the air, distilling it into drinkable water.
This place is the last capital of the democracy as well as the headquarters for General Versen and his 'Aces and Eights' or 'Dead Men Walking' division, having been named something else in the beginning, but changing with the name of the planet.
Welcome to Hellstal, Pop est. 800,000,000

[9] Like before, you have a 0.05 infection rating, one of the lowest, even lower than General Versen, who now eats his meat raw, like so many other soldiers trapped here, despite their dislike, distaste and disgust with doing so. And your only physical mutation is the single, shiny scale, no large patches of scales or warts which look vaguely like tentacles, like most of the other soldiers seem to have.

[Taricus]

Assume direct control of the hovercar, prevent if from firing.

[Ardas]

Aw shit.... TAKE COVER! SOMEOE CALL IN SUPPORT OR DISARM THAT BLOODY VEHICLE!

Take cover and call in support if there is any to be had. Return fire if possible.

[Shootandrun]

Magnus frowned and shook his head, then whispered something to himself - although he thought Hayes was able to hear.

"So that's how you did it... You're a cyborg..."

Then he spoke a little bit louder, to make sure the candidate was listening.

"Can you walk, Maxwell?"

[NUKE9.13]

Poisons for Ozomatli, poisons for plantlife, poisons for Synths, poisons for Lanyrians- ah, here we go. Poisons for Tapalcayo.

Markactl picked up a heft canister covered in warning labels.

"Shell-melter. Thinking this stopping even big Atlaca."

Setting the canister aside, he continued his search. Various cans, bottles, and vats of dangerous chemicals were pulled from the shelves, along with some boring old regular explosives, triggers, wax paper, and suchlike and so forth.

Then (keeping an eye on the door) he sat down and started work.

Make some bombs that'll fuck up anything remotely resembling a Tapalcayan (and probably mess with anything else as well).
Then head out into the corridors and find a lone terror to try them out on.
If they work, go looking for the big guy.