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I'm Senior Flight Mother Talfryn Clough and it's my job to make sure you little shits stay alive. Sitting in my backseat is Ceynwyn. No family name. She is your Senior Instructor. You will call her Ma'am, or Senior Instructor or she will drill your dainty little asses until they fall off. Understood? " The crowd of quickly cowed cadets shouted back the traditional 'aye' of the Navy. "Good. Pickup will be here in 20 minutes, so I've got time to give you the second rule. If you see a pilot or WSO wearing a scarf like this? We've made Ace. That means we've thrown at least five living, breathing, thinking enemies into the vacuum of space. You don't get to wear your scarf until you do that. If we catch you wearing one without spacing five poor bastards, we'll rip it off your neck and throw you out the airlock. Now. Onto the lessons. " The instructor steps forward, clearing the body of the Interceptor as the cockpit closes. And then the Interceptor rises up. "As you have joined Patrol, these are one of the two ships you will be expected to become intimately familiar with.

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"Cookie! Why is this so boring. " "You know, I almost forgot about this. " Cookie replied, "Trying to study for a test and hearing you bitch and moan because you can't sit still. " "Oh fuck you! " The Irish lady called back before recovering her textbook. \ "Not interested. " The diplomat's kid replied, a spread of technical manuals sitting in front of him. A test on the capabilities and armaments of the Interceptors were coming up and he wanted to make sure he was prepped. "Let's see, one ASM and six variable weapon racks. Gimbal mounted nose weapon…" The door slams open, "What's up Slops and stiff! Guess who just aced her fucking astronav test! " There was a thud as a startled Nag'ri fell from the ceiling. Her snake-like tail had uncoiled from the support beams of the large bunkroom out of shock by the final roommate's arrival. The one who just kicked the door down was tall, but not tall to the excessive heights that most Shil'vati ascribe to, and most of her off-orange flesh was replaced with sleek machines.

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She was a Gear, the nickname given to a race who's proper name translates to about a paragraph of poetic music on the nature of machines, and she had just used the cybernetics that replaced her leg to break open the solid wood door. Again. "Dammit Forth! Commandant is going to lecture usss again! " The Nag'ri shouted out from her tangled heap on the floor. "And I shall take those slings and javelins of well deserved anger with the grace and dignity as befitting of my race, or my name is not Ventures Confidently Forth Into Great Unknowns! " The mechanically augmented woman said proudly before happily marching over to her desk and pulling out a toolkit. "You know. If you keep kicking doorsss then you'll keep having to fixsss your foot. " The final roommate said, still in a tangled heap. The Nag'ri were also an interesting race, while most dominant species in the galaxy were two legged and warm blooded, the Nag'ri were quite literally snake people. The particular Nag'ri on the floor was named something quite unpronounceable for a race without a prehensile tongue, so she went by the very uncreative nickname of "Slithers".

This is the VT-713 Standard Interceptor Pattern Interceptor All Skies Superiority Craft. Yes it's a stupidly long name. Call it the VT-713 if you're formal or just The Patrol Interceptor if you're not. Now, this sleek piece of machinery is the striking force of Patrol. She's clean, fast, can turn on you faster than a Nighkru offered a bribe and can, at max speed, hit a respectable fraction of C. " Senior Flight Mother Clough snapped her fingers and the wings of the ship expanded from the aerodynamic, arrowhead like shape to an angular T shaped vehicle. "Interceptors have two modes, combat and travel. Because of some fancy fuckery of Grav Drives you will have to memorize later on, combat mode is slower but more maneuverable and travel mode is faster, but you turn like a stuck turox. " There was a low tingle and everyone's hair stood up as a large ship with 4 interceptor sized hangar bays underneath it. "And there's our backbone. The support ship. Well, ride's here. Everyone get to your designated shuttle and then get your ass sat somewhere secure while we take a quick jaunt in system.

I cannot stress enough how much I love the whole "The Bank Job" - mission in DotO. So cleverly designed. Upper Cyria at night, the bank (outside and inside), the Clockwork sentinels and their utter creepiness, the safe design and all the clever ways to get to it, Dolores Michaels as an obsessed cult leader, the interactions with that one sleepy guard (if you decide to drug the bank personal), the memos you find everywhere, Lucia Pastors letter... I could go on for hours. And the soundtrack! Do not even get my started on the soundtrack! Had me on the edge of the seat the whole time. (Here's the link, if you want to listen to it:) Also, the opportunity to experience a district once at daytime and after that at night. The little things that change. Windows that are suddenly closed, the Karnaca Gazette reporting on things you did the previous mission... I'll stop rambling now. I just love this mission (and this game) so much!

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Slithers asked, hanging loosely from the rafters as the group quickly forgot their texts as the two ex-USN aviators grinned. "Oh they were beautiful…" Milk began. "We called our's The Lash and she could bank and dive like nothing else…" "You're taking a risk. " Ceynwyn said from Talfyn's right. The slender Shil had left her shirt back on the bed as her wife was looking over cadet records. "You know that Orlon has connections. " Talfyn sighed, scrolling down the list of bastards, beggars and bitches that she personally approved of. "I know. But we've got to give them a chance. I know I've got to give them a chance. " The bright red 'Possible Rebel Sympathy' mark on their file would be a death sentence for the human pair's admission into any Imperium civil service, but she let them through. "Can't keep running from The Thing in the Cave. We've got to face it. " "You say that because it'll piss off Orlon and you still feel guilty about shooting the Marchioness's WSO. " Ceynwyn replied dryly.