Re: Drifting
Posted: Jun 27, 2013, 7:21 PM
Kellser's idea seemed to work, as one of the two boarders came into his line of sight ordering his boot to come out of the corner. In the darkness of the cargo hold, Kellser was able to make out a bullpup carbine in the man's hands, and an atmo suit with a flak vest and webbing. From his position, Kellser felt confident he could put some rounds into him, but Corporal Cohen's doubts of the Marines' scavenged weapons' ability to punch through armor fluttered through his mind and gave him pause.
Then, the boarder's partner spoke up: “You are out of your jurisdiction here, Colonial Marines. You have violated an inter-colonial treaty by entering a no-fly zone. We are operating in accordance with inter-colonial treaties by boarding your ship to ensure that its contents do not pose a threat to Union assets in this region.”
Oh boy.
Kellser knew for a fact that the Omaha had been on a course for the Local Cluster as part of a patrol, which was about as far from "out of your jurisdiction" as a Colonial Marine could get, and the ship wouldn't have taken a course through non-U.A. territory... unless there'd been a malfunction of some kind.
So either these guys were full of bullshit -- maybe they were a high level pirate outfit trying to take a Colonial Marine ship and trick its contingent into giving up without a fight -- or the Omaha had legitimately crossed a border it wasn't supposed to for some unknown reason, setting up an inter-colonial political shit-storm in the process.
A political shit-storm that could only be made worse by bloodshed, especially if the blood spilled belonged to a security force that was simply doing its job and following procedures established by inter-colonial treaties. If what they said was true, capping this short grunt in the back and hoping Taggert could manage to take down his partner as well was the worst possible course of action.
But no matter how much common sense told him that going along with their orders to stand down was the best bet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. For one thing, it would leave the others in the cryo chamber without weapons, intel, or a clue as what the fuck happened to two of their guys. And he just couldn't shake the feeling that it would be the wrong thing to do. Maybe his English teacher's warnings of being brainwashed by aggressive bravado had had some weight to them, maybe it was a sixth sense trying to warn him, Matthew had no fucking clue.
While neither option was especially appealing, the fact was Kellser would have to pick one or the the other, especially when he heard Taggert move behind him and then identify himself to the boarders. He'd probably holstered his sidearm to do so, so it would be up to Kellser to initiate combat, if that's what he chose to do.
He didn't get to make the choice, though, as the senior boarder ordered the other man back, and the two left with promises of radioing in their findings.
When the door hissed closed, Kellser stood, peeked around the cargo container, and watched the door for a moment before moving to retrieve his boot. "This is bad," he said to Taggert as he took a knee to put it back on and tie it, keeping another crate between himself and the door the U.P.P. marines -- and he was all but convinced they genuinely were U.P.P. -- had left through just to be safe. "If we're really in restricted space, then we're sitting on a political powder keg."
He then stood and looked at moved to see the door to the next room. "We need to find an intercom, get in touch with the others and figure out how we're gonna handle this. Hopefully one of the officers or staff noncoms woke up."
((OOC: Sorry for the hold-up, brief RL distraction.))
Then, the boarder's partner spoke up: “You are out of your jurisdiction here, Colonial Marines. You have violated an inter-colonial treaty by entering a no-fly zone. We are operating in accordance with inter-colonial treaties by boarding your ship to ensure that its contents do not pose a threat to Union assets in this region.”
Oh boy.
Kellser knew for a fact that the Omaha had been on a course for the Local Cluster as part of a patrol, which was about as far from "out of your jurisdiction" as a Colonial Marine could get, and the ship wouldn't have taken a course through non-U.A. territory... unless there'd been a malfunction of some kind.
So either these guys were full of bullshit -- maybe they were a high level pirate outfit trying to take a Colonial Marine ship and trick its contingent into giving up without a fight -- or the Omaha had legitimately crossed a border it wasn't supposed to for some unknown reason, setting up an inter-colonial political shit-storm in the process.
A political shit-storm that could only be made worse by bloodshed, especially if the blood spilled belonged to a security force that was simply doing its job and following procedures established by inter-colonial treaties. If what they said was true, capping this short grunt in the back and hoping Taggert could manage to take down his partner as well was the worst possible course of action.
But no matter how much common sense told him that going along with their orders to stand down was the best bet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. For one thing, it would leave the others in the cryo chamber without weapons, intel, or a clue as what the fuck happened to two of their guys. And he just couldn't shake the feeling that it would be the wrong thing to do. Maybe his English teacher's warnings of being brainwashed by aggressive bravado had had some weight to them, maybe it was a sixth sense trying to warn him, Matthew had no fucking clue.
While neither option was especially appealing, the fact was Kellser would have to pick one or the the other, especially when he heard Taggert move behind him and then identify himself to the boarders. He'd probably holstered his sidearm to do so, so it would be up to Kellser to initiate combat, if that's what he chose to do.
He didn't get to make the choice, though, as the senior boarder ordered the other man back, and the two left with promises of radioing in their findings.
When the door hissed closed, Kellser stood, peeked around the cargo container, and watched the door for a moment before moving to retrieve his boot. "This is bad," he said to Taggert as he took a knee to put it back on and tie it, keeping another crate between himself and the door the U.P.P. marines -- and he was all but convinced they genuinely were U.P.P. -- had left through just to be safe. "If we're really in restricted space, then we're sitting on a political powder keg."
He then stood and looked at moved to see the door to the next room. "We need to find an intercom, get in touch with the others and figure out how we're gonna handle this. Hopefully one of the officers or staff noncoms woke up."
((OOC: Sorry for the hold-up, brief RL distraction.))