#Blue Ridge-class command ship

[judgemark45]

From right: The U.S. Navy aircraft carrier USS Gerald R. Ford (CVN-78) steams in formation with the U.S. Navy Blue Ridge-class command and control ship USS Mount Whitney (LCC-20), the flagship of the U.S. Sixth Fleet, the Hellenic Navy frigate HS Elli (F 450), assigned to Standing NATO Maritime Group Two, and the U.S. Navy Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser USS Normandy (CG-60) during a photo exercise in the Mediterranean Sea

[pas-tandp-resent]

Skyfall, Decepticon Commander, Eldest Brother of the Spirecrest Family

A more in depth about Skyfall, who he is and what he looks like.

Skyfall is a loyal, hard working mech. He ensures that everyone under his command is treated well and fairly, right down to the punishments he gives. The Decepticons are struggling as it stands, and they need everyone in one piece and as functioning as possible. He still holds Decepticon rules and values on high, but gives the dead there proper due to those who need it.

While he's not very high in the chain of command, he is in charge of a decent sized ship full of mechs. Think a little smaller than the Lost Light.

Skyfall does not believe the war is over, and will not act like it until Functionalism is well and truly dead. And if that means laying siege on Cybertron with what Decepticons he finds and can rally then that's fine by him.

For now he floats around space with his crew, taking in injured Decepticons and slowly growing.

He will not stop until Starfall and Dawnstar are avenged and the Decepticons are the seat of power on Cyberton.

With or without Megatron in charge.

--------

Skyfall is a tall seeker, standing at 36 feet. He's not a heavy class flight frame, comparative to grounders he'd be a speed frame. Tall and slim, with thicker outer armor around his chassis, middle and other vital points. He has the same talons as Ghostspire, though his are largely retracted for easier use as a commander. Its hard to turn in data pads with punchter marks in them.

His kibble consists of his wings, one set of large ones angling up with a slight curve to them, and a pair of smaller ones just under those angling down, giving him a slight 'fairy wing' affect.

Each set of wings has three piercings on each, a very old Vosian noble practice. The right wing has three gems of gold, white and black. The left has pastel pink, pastel purple and pastel yellow. One the right lower one is three different gems of yellow, and the right smaller one three gems of red, black and gray (representing his second in command).

He also has a pair of silver lip studs, a glossa piercing, nasal piercing and an optic ridge piercing. He also has many etchings, besides the Decepticon insignia on his chassis.

Under his collar ridge, closer to his spark are the names of his dead trine and their dead new spark. Along his right arm is a swirling pattern and vaguely looks like burning towers if you look close enough.

His primary color is a very bright, sky blue that looks almost identical to the color of Cybertrons daytime sky. Along the outer edges of his armour and tips of his wings are white, and his biolights are a bright golden color. His optics are the same shade of gold as his brothers, but he covers them with a red visor.

Made using Hero Forge. Mostly used for the colors and general idea of him.

[j-r-macready]

Search and rescue swimmers train in Gaeta, Italy. by Official U.S. Navy Page Via Flickr: GAETA, Italy (April 13, 2021) Navy and Military Sealift Command search and rescue swimmers attached to the Blue Ridge-class command and control ship USS Mount Whitney (LCC 20) and Helicopter Sea Combat Squadron (HSC) 28 participate in joint training in Gaeta, Italy, April 13, 2021. Mount Whitney, forward deployed to Gaeta, Italy operates with a combined crew of Sailors and Military Sealift Command civil service mariners in the U.S. 6th Fleet area of operations in support of U.S. national security interests in Europe and Africa. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Scott Barnes) 210413-N-EI510-0698

[fang-wolfsbane]

Transformers Animated: Morning After: Chapter 02: Recruitment, Sir?

“Congratulations young cadet. You’ve made it as an official medic for the Autobot alliance. Only a few have ever made it to your position, so be proud of yourself and work hard.”

Those had been the words from Highdrive’s commanding officer the moment he stepped out of the Autobot Academy for Medics – A.A.M. for short. The moment he graduated, Highdrive had been certain that he was going to land a position within the Elite Guard, training amongst the best of the best to serve his home planet, Cybertron.

As third in his class, he had nothing but a promising future ahead of him, until an incident within the academy dorms had cost him a far grater demotion than he had thought necessary. He had been clearing out his dorm room for the next occupant when some of his fellow students had suggested that they play one last prank on their teacher as a farewell gift. Highdrive had been reluctant at first, but not wanting to be the odd one out, he’d gone with them. The idea had been to liquify the classroom hallway from one end to the other. A harmless prank, right? He had never been so wrong.

Not only had they used energon – the very life fuel they all needed to survive – but the teacher had indeed slipped on the wet floor, tumbled out of a carelessly left open window, broke not only their entire right leg apart, but had hit their helm hard enough to cause a crack within their CPU. A security guard had heard the commotion, and before Highdrive could even think of turning to ask his so-called fellow classmates what they would do about the situation, he was the only one left behind in the entire building.

It took some heavy convincing from one of his other teachers to get him a lighter punishment than he knew he deserved, but at this point he supposed it was the best he could hope to. When he was told he was to be the assistant medic on a space bridge repair ship, he tried to convince himself that it was a learning experience. He would have preferred the stockade.

With a personal escort, probably to ensure that he didn’t try and make a break for it, Highdrive had walked into the hanger where the repair ship was waiting. It was big, there was no denying that, and old… very old. How the bots in control of the ship expected it to be able to fly was a question all on its own.

Transforming alongside his escort, Highdrive was handed off to the commanding medic he’d be serving under. An old rust bucket whose white and red paint job certainly looked like it had seen far better stellar cycles. Highdrive visibly flinched to himself, not wanting to think of what his mother would have said if she’d heard him think so ill of a bot he was supposed to learn from. It was only because of his status as a medical student that he’d been kept from getting a permanent smack on his name.

Walking up to the bot, Highdrive tried to hide a visible flinch as he held his servo out towards the older mech. In reality, their colours weren’t that different. Highdrive himself sported orange in place of the other mech’s red. In all the stellarcycles he’d spent at the academy, he’s noticed a similar scheme to all of them. He supposed that when it came to saving lives, something bright coming to the rescue was a sign of reassurance to the one awaiting assistance.

Right, that was what he had been supposed to do when he joined the academy. Save lives, not ruin them…

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you sir. My name is-”

“This the kid?” the mech before him grunted, ignoring the outstretched servo, focusing his attention solely on the bot beside him. Highdrive blinked, reigning in the urge to curl his servo into a fist as he lowered his arm back to his side. There was no doubt that the mech had heard all about Highdrive’s reason for joining – if you could call it that.

His escort nodded, and with a muttered ‘good luck’ in the old bot’s direction, turned on his ped and casually strode off, only seeming to glad that Highdrive wasn’t his problem to deal with anymore. Unlike his fist, his distain at the thought couldn’t be hidden from displaying itself on his faceplate.

“Better learn to grind your dentals here kid, or you aren’t going to last long,” were the mech’s first words to him as he turned and went back over to what Highdrive assumed to be an exterior control panel. Assumed being the key word. He could name each and every single component of a bot – even a Decepticon’s because of the few specimens from the war they’d been allowed to study – and give a list of their functions and possible malfunctions, but to take care of a ship? Surely the medic didn’t expect him to learn to do that too, did he?

Shaking his thoughts free from his CPU, Highdrive found himself jogging after the mech. “Y-Yes sir!”

“Sir, huh?” the other bot mused, stopping momentarily as a pair of pinchers revealed themselves from his forearm. It took all Highdrive’s self-control not to ask how long the other had his medical upgrade. Highdrive had been scheduled to receive his within the next week, or he would have, if the whole ordeal with his teacher hadn’t happened. Goodbye upgrade. “Haven’t heard that in a long time.”

“Is… is it a problem, sir?” Highdrive asked, shifting on his peds a little unsurely. “I could-”

“No. No… it’s fine. It shows you at least have some form of respect left in you,” the mech said, getting to work on the panel. Highdrive knew he failed at keeping the smile off his lips, taking the other’s words as a compliment, whether they were meant to come across that way or not.

“My name is Highdrive, sir. I’ll be looking forward to learning from you.”

“Ratchet,” the old bot introduced himself, frowning as he concentrated on his current task.

“That’s a pretty cool name,” Highdrive said, his smile growing until Ratchet’s blue optics focused on him, a clear, silent warning within them. He found himself taking a step back, yelping when he lost his footing and fell back onto his aft over an open toolbox carelessly left on the floor. As careless as freshly spilled energon in a dark hallway.

“Hey, watch it!” Ratchet scolded. Highdrive flinched, assuming the glare to be fixated on him until the floor began trembling as another bot, nearly three or four times his own size came bouncing over like a spry scraplet.

“Sorry Ratchet,” the bot said, one of his peds narrowly avoiding stepping on Highdrive’s digits. Yanking them away just in time almost had his spark stop. Breathing through his vents, Highdrive tilted his helm back far enough to study the army-green mech. From his build, he had probably enlisted in the military, though his supposed clumsiness left much to thought.

“Saying sorry won’t fix this ship if you break another welding wrench – again,” Ratchet hissed through gritted dentals. The bigger bot lowered his helm in shame before his own traditional Autobot blue optics whirred as they zoomed in on Highdrive’s faceplate.

“Oh, hey there! You must be the new bot,” the bulky bot said, now fully focused on, well, ‘the new bot’ as he put it. “Here, let me help you up,” and before Highdrive could even think to protest, he was yanked onto his peds by a lightly throbbing arm. He made a mental note to check his arm over for any possible dents later. “Sorry if I scared ya. I’m Bulkhead.”

“H-Highdrive,” Highdrive said, managing a nervous smile as his servo subconsciously rubbed over the previously grabbed area. Yup, there were definitely a couple of dents he’d need to buff out when he got the chance. “And no worries.”

That seemed to be enough to satisfy Bulkhead, if his smiling jawline was anything to go by. A nano sec later, he was blinking, all giddy again like a sparkling overdosed on sweetened energon. “Oh, you haven’t met Bee yet! Come on, I’ll introduce you!”

Before Highdrive could blink, he was swept up by the large Autobot and taken inside the old ship like some guest of honour. The tight squeeze holding him in place against Bulkhead’s frame was enough to warn him not to get on the other’s bad side.

“Hey Bumblebee! The new bot’s here!” Bulkhead excitedly announced as he took them into what seemed like the command room. In the commander’s chair was a slim, yellow, and grey mech, taking a stasis nap. He couldn’t be the commander, could he? Not wanting to risk upsetting his new superior on his first day, Highdrive took the plunge.

“Uh, it’s g-good to meet you, sir,” Highdrive managed to wheeze out.

“Sir?’ both Bulkhead and the smaller bot – Bumblebee – repeated, blinking at him in surprise as if he had just told them he himself was their commanding officer. Highdrive flinched, instantly regretting his assumption.

“Are you not the commander?”

“Pft, no,” Bumblebee sneered, casually flipping his peds up on the dashboard. All too comfortable with occupying the commanding seat, despite his lack in both title and possibly qualifications.

“Then why are you…?” Highdrive trailed off after noticing the way Bumblebee’s optics seemed to darken. A sore spot. A wound better left untouched. “Noted…”

“So, what frag-up got you here?” Bumblebee asked, getting to his peds, and resting his servos on his hip plating once Bulkhead deemed it safe to release his hold on Highdrive.

“I’d… rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind,” Highdrive admitted, pretending to find an interest in dust that decided the corner was a good place spot to begin its invasion.

Bumblebee casually shrugged his shoulders, pulling over a mop and bucket from who knows where, and shoved them right into Highdrive’s servos. “You’re on clean up duty. Doc bot says we gotta get this old dump clean before the new Prime gets here.”

Highdrive blinked. “Prime?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bumblebee frowned, arching an optic ridge in question, “do you not know what a Prime is?”

“Of course I know what a Prime is,” Highdrive found himself hissing back, earning a surprised blink from the shorter mech. All Cybertronians knew what Primes were. He’d have had to online on some far away organic planet to not know about something so simple about their planet’s culture. Slag, even the Decepticons knew what a Prime was, even if they themselves haven’t been around for eons after the war ended with the Autobots coming out on top. Breathing air out through his vents, Highdrive straightened himself out. “Why is a Prime coming here though? Is there some inspection or something?”

“Nope. Doc bot said he got demoted or something. That he’s lucky to still keep his title after whatever he did,” Bumblebee hummed, casting a glance up at Bulkhead, “though I guess we all are.”

Highdrive didn’t dare ask as he looked to the two objects in his servos. He had no idea Bumblebee could be so right.

[nicholassabalos]

Honor among friends....

                                        ....on the high seas....

SOUTH CHINA SEA (March 21, 2019) -- The world’s military forces -- and, from my own experience, especially navies -- are steeped in traditions and ceremony that date back centuries. Rendering honors between warships from allied and friendly navies is one of the most visible and symbolic.

Note these recent encounters between American and Filipino warships....

Top photo: Sailors aboard the United States Navy mine countermeasures ship USS Chief (MCM 14) render honors to Philippine Navy vessel BRP Ramon Alcaraz (FF 16) after completing a joint training exercise.

Middle photo: The commanding officer of U.S. 7th Fleet flagship USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19), renders a salute from the bridge wing of his ship to BRP Ramon Alcaraz (FF 16) after they completed maneuvers together.

Bottom photo: Crew members aboard Philippine Navy vessel BRP Ramon Alcaraz (FF 16) wave a friendly “Farewell” to USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19) as the two warships pull away to their next missions.

Honor among friends....traditions cherished, respected....and worth their weight in gold!

                                         ________________________

>>Top photo: Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Jordan Crouch, USN; Bottom two photos: Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Adam K. Thomas, USN

                                         USS Chief (MCM 14)

                                     USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19)

[defpost]

U.S. 7th Fleet Flagship USS Blue Ridge Arrives in Guam for Second Safe Haven Liberty Port Visit

#US7thFleet flagship #USSBlueRidge arrives in #Guam for Second Safe Haven Liberty port visit. #LCC19

U.S. 7th Fleet flagship USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19) and embarked 7th Fleet staff pulled into Guam for a Safe Haven Liberty port visit on June 11.

The visit is the second of its kind since the ship pulled into Okinawa in May, enhancing liberty options for 7th Fleet ships conducting COVID mitigations.

200611-N-FA444-1089 U.S. 7th Fleet flagship USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19), her crew and embarked 7th Fleet…

[autisticdindjarin]

OC: Tacee de’Val, The Alliance Commander

Main Tag

Class Story; Chapter One

Beginning the Jedi Knight class story at age 19, Tacee was careful to keep her image of the perfect Jedi, even though she knew she wasn’t. She mostly did this by mimicking other Jedi that she admired - Satele Shan, Orgus Din, Bela Kiwiiks, etc.

The Jedi are the only family she’s ever known, as she was given to the Order at eight months old. She was trained from a young age by some of the finest blademasters who saw her potential in combat, and the way the Force moved around her, as if she would one day play a role in the fate of the galaxy.

But a perfect Jedi isn’t what Tacee is. She curses, she’s brash, she’s outspoken, she enjoys fighting, and she enjoys sex - and these are the things she hides about herself from the public image. She has a private one time fling with Doc and is over it, but accidentally breaks his heart in the process.

She finds a kindred spirit in Master Orgus Din, who takes her as a padawan during her trials. Once she’s made a Knight, she still stays close to her master, who she’s personally adopted as a father figure.  His death on Alderaan hits her hard.

Class Story; Chapter Two

During her time on Hoth, Tacee falls hard for fellow Jedi Leeha Narezz, but it’s not something she can act on. Her and Leeha become close friends, and that makes it even harder, and when she loses track of her on the Emperor’s ship, she loses her focus.

After her mind was taken over by the Emperor, she pushed away any thoughts relating to the trauma, determined now more than ever to be the perfect Jedi, since she had failed so extraordinarily in falling to the Dark Side. She hurt people, and she can’t quite forgive herself for that.

Class Story; Chapter Three

Tacee falls through the cracks, accidentally finding herself in situations that are bad and accidentally making the best of them - people think she’s great, that she’s supposed to be this great Jedi hero - but she just sees herself stumbling at every turn. 

Fighting Leeha and then finding out about her affair with Jomar Chul is the first taste Tacee gets of heartbreak - at this point she’s 21 years old and just trying to do her best, and feeling like it’s never good enough. Adding Scourge to the mix, she’s a mess. Such a mess at one point she unsuccessfully tries to seduce her Sith Lord roommate.

By some miracle, the Sith Emperor falls to her blade, and she briefly channels the dark side to do it. It terrifies her, and she nearly loses it when Satele applauds her success as being an upstanding Jedi.

Ilum

Tacee is captured by Darth Malgus’s forces while on Ilum. Fearing the loss of one of their most talented and well-known Jedi, the Republic calls in SIS operatives to coordinate with Havoc Squad for a rescue mission. Theron Shan heads the operation.

After her rescue, Tacee and Theron become close friends.

Makeb

Makeb is a breath of fresh air for Tacee after the Battle of Ilum. She thinks she’s going in for a somewhat easy mission, but it’s worth it when it turns into a catastrophe because of one extraordinary woman - Lemda Avesta.

They see each other a lot after Makeb’s destruction. Tacee often holos her for company or science questions relating to a mission. They meet up on Nar Shaddaa from time to time.

Attack on Korriban/Tython

The Republic calls in its heroes for the Attack on Korriban, and Tacee is part of the squad sent to infiltrate the Sith Academy. The same squad is quickly sent when news comes of the Attack on Tython. 

Manaan/Rakata

With Theron Shan, the squad investigates the mysterious circumstances around the attacks, and later they meet up with Theron on Manaan. They soon run into an Imperial squad led by a Sith Lord, and join forces against Darok and Arkous, the betrayers of the Republic and the Empire respectively. Here, Tacee first meets the Lord Wrath, Chiado, and they begin their long bickering journey of being frenemies.

Rishi

Tacee reunites with the ghost of her former master, Orgus Din, and learns to let go of her feelings of guilt and be healed from the psychological trauma the Emperor had inflicted on her. Letting go of her master as well, as both a teacher, a friend, and father-figure, is another trial, but she finds another father-figure thrown into her life; This time, her biological father, Torazz de’Val, a kind middle-aged Togruta who never knew he had a daughter. Tacee is wary of him at first, but the two of them quickly bond as they navigate their relationship.

She is bowled over by her sudden realization of the extent of her feelings towards Theron when she learns he’s been taken prisoner by the Revanites. She comes through Sky Ridge Island like a storm, tearing through Revan-aligned Sith and Jedi to reach her goal - Theron Shan’s safety. When he’s recovered, Theron barely convinces her that he doesn’t need to be carried, because yes, she is fully capable of swinging him over her shoulder and lugging him around. 

A kiss is shared before departure to Yavin 4, but neither of them are sure what it means yet. Their friendship was one of many years at this point, and neither of them wanted to lose that if things didn’t work out.

Yavin 4

On Yavin 4 many things are established. One is that Tacee and Chiado are incapable of not butting heads on any subject available. Two, that Darth Imperius is actually pretty cool for a Sith. Three, Theron Shan now has the effect of making her giddy just by mention of his name.

Tacee is the one who strikes down Revan after Chiado is grievously injured by him, and the one who guides his dark and light sides back together. She’s also the one that drags Theron Shan into his own ship for some exclusive time together, and just barely manages not to snicker at the Grandmaster’s speech about Tacee upholding Jedi ideals immediately after.

Ziost

Tacee arrives solo on the planet, leaving her companions safe in ship for their own safety, but determined to tear through the planet as much as she had the Revanite stronghold in order to find Theron. Unfortunately, she is injured, and Lana, Theron, and the recently recovered Lord Wrath find her.

Ziost is hell. Every possession is a flashback to Tacee’s own time under the influence of the Emperor, and she does everything in her power to help Master Surro. The destruction of the planet devastates her, and she finds herself on the doorstep of Theron Shan’s apartment not long after, where they take comfort in each other until Tacee is summoned to Darth Marr’s flagship.

Continuing Story

Tacee eventually becomes the Commander of the Eternal Alliance, while carrying around an old enemy in her mind.

TBC

Physical Traits

Tacee is a big bunch of Togruta, standing at 6′1 - without including her montrals. She’s heavily muscled with a bulky frame, built for pure strength. She has red orange lekku and montrals that are heavily striped white, and circular white markings on her face. Her eyes are a light green that are often mistaken for blue.

Relationships

Past Flings: Doc, Garrede Dyverrak, Ghewa Aje, Fenn Bry, and Lemda Avesta

Current Relationship: Theron Shan

Weapons

Tacee wields one lightsaber. She’s gone through three different ones - A pink and yellow one during her class storyline, a fire orange from Ilum to Ziost, and now wields a lime green saber

Talents

Tacee is exceptional at Force leaping, and nearly specializes in it. It’s her number one tactic in her combat, jumping from one area to another to face enemies from all sides.

Force Shields are another talent that Tacee excels in, and overall shielding as well, whether it’s with the Force, or protecting others by using herself as a shield.

Personality and Mentality

I see Tacee as having Autism! She likes to flirt a lot, and though she is sometimes very bad at it, she’s not aware at how bad it is. She lives with PTSD after her possession by the Emperor, and anxiety. She often worries about living up to other’s expectations.

Otherwise, she speaks her mind, is brash, and can come off as rude when she’s attempting to be sarcastic. She is extremely focused on helping those who deserve it, but she’s quick to judge who doesn’t.

[the-thirteenth-note]

Frigid Sonata

0104 U.V.A. - Angora

“When I give the signal; plug the Mook with the red suit immediately.” Kwynn heard the man through his com-link, while observing the scene below through the scope of his long-range railgun.

“No worries, Piezos’ got about thirteen rounds. Should be enough to keep you covered.” He sat on a small chair near the window, his hotel room giving him a birds eye view of the entire plaza two streets over. Ornate light poles with white gem-stones embedded atop them lined the streets, set at regular intervals between long squat buildings constructed of ice and snow. It was still early and  the locals had yet to leave their homes.

There stood a fountain carved from Angorian quartz in the center of the plaza, the ivory structure caught the early morning light. Pulling it in and focusing it beneath the fridged water giving it an ethereal glow.

The mercenary pulled up a hardlight screen that displayed all the information he’d been sent the previous day, while his employer strolled over to the fountain and sat on one of the nearby benches. “So we’ve got some time,”— Kwynn rested his weapon at his side.

“Alpha one, what’s someone from E.I.D. doing on Angora asking for help from a ‘barbaric’ shambler?”

‘Alpha one’ was the nickname he’d given the Gyiyg who’d shown up with a job. Agents in the Enkeinian Intelligence Division were instructed not to disclose their designation-a combination of, one of the symbols used to classify PSI; ‘Alpha’ ‘Sigma’ Omega’ etc. followed by a number-while conducting espionage missions all over the Virindis system.

To any outside observer, the man on the bench appeared to be a tall, almost lanky Nevidian with brownish-red bristle like fur and a long silver-white fur cloak draped over his insectoid features, shivering slightly as the Shambler homeworld was the polar opposite of his own arid planet. Alphas holographic camouflage let him create numerous personas, allowing him to anonymously move through the criminal element of any world he visited. Of course, there was any number of ways to dispel the illusion; an E.M.P., PK Thunder, Even a good solid strike could cause it to fail. But barring those circumstances, it could be a useful, if not expensive tool.

Alpha reached out with his mind, establishing a telepathic link. “I’m after an interplanetary ring of ship thieves, they operate mostly out of Tii’mown but my intel and contacts have led me here.”

Kwynn deactivated his own communication system as he replied to the Gyiygs brisk voice in his mind, exercising his own telepathic abilities. “You’re going after Ziwen’s gang? For what? Does the Monarch need a new dreadnaught or something?”

“If successful in this mission not only will I secure, skilled engineers and useful technology. We’ll be able to use this opportunity to secure a lifeline directly into the heart of one of Lymeras’ most prominent criminal enterprises.”

While simultaneously turning the Vlynari crime family and the ‘The Scholar’ against each other, though Alpha elected to keep that bit of knowledge to himself. “I’m definitely gonna need a Cruiser when this job is over with, I’m talking top of the line tech; a full A.P.R. defense system, Photon cannons, 4th-D Ontological engine. All the bells and whistles.” The sniper said.

“I will see it done.” Alpha agreed.

The Shambler was already being paid quite handsomely but Alpha knew a free ship would go far in securing the mercenaries continued assistance at no extra cost to himself. Another fifteen minutes passed before a Mr. Saturn flew into the area, clad in Pangolin armor. As they landed the shifting hexagonal pattern of their suit metal morphed. Changing from heavy plating to merely coating them in a black and blue skin tight form, revealing the aliens’ eyes behind a pair of goggles a shade of midnight blue matching their armor.

He walked over and hopped beside the Gyiyg on the bench before saying. “Lenet send prices?” Getting straight to business. “Making sure you knowing what need, Zoom!”

Alpha nodded. “She’s informed me of the necessary arrangements, though I have a special offer that I wish to bring to your attention.”

“Request? " 

The rotund creature sitting next to him offered the Agent a wary look. “Kay-O. Am Listening.”

Ignoring the Mr. Saturns obvious apprehension he continued undaunted. “I’m willing to pay triple what I would’ve payed for my ship, for the opportunity to learn from Ziwen’s engineers. The reconfigurations they do to the ships you ‘acquire’ are known to be some of the best in the Virindis. Not even the shipyards on Nucade can compare to such levels of craftsmanship.” Alpha smiled internally. “Though they will very soon.”

“Can no do.” They replied bluntly, shaking their head. “Big risk in bringing. Lenet vouch but Ziwen slow to trust, Boing!”

“What if I were to eliminate the contracts placed on both yours and Ziwen’s heads?” Alpha offered.

“Lenet tell who put out hit?” The little alien said hopefully.

“No, she hasn’t found out who it was yet.”

“When I contacted her requesting your groups’ services she told me you two had been targeted recently, that the assassins had been relentless,” Alpha answered, letting a bit of sympathy line his words.

“Relentless, Zoom.” Was the only reply they gave, sounding worn out by the ordeal.

The sombre silence hung for a few moments, punctuated by the sounds of the bubbling water in the fountain behind them.

“Let us help each other,” The deceptive agent continued, attempting to make his case. “I won’t be able to get my ship if the both of you end up dead so here is my deal; Triple my ships price and I will find the source of these hitmen and terminate them. In exchange, you bring me to your boss and I’ll negotiate further terms with him.”

The Mr. Saturn seemed hesitant still, but after a few minutes said. “Will call Ziwen, see wha-”

His answer was drowned out by the loud roar of engines as a black and gold Cruiser came down from the skies above, banking hard and veering directly toward them. In a split second, the Mr. Saturn armored up and had a cannon floating beside their body, ready to retaliate.

Alpha merely rested a hand on the barrel of the weapon, indicating for the Saturn to lower it. As the Cruiser descended the glass of the cockpit slid back to reveal a Mook wearing a red suit standing in the back seat, holding several plasmatic pistols in numerous tentacles; all aimed at the armored alien. 

The agent activated the device on his wrist with the press of a button and spoke into it. “Alpha protocol.”

Without warning a streak of crimson light tore across the plaza, colliding with the Mook hitman; engulfing him in flame so fast he couldn’t even cry out.

“Again.” Was Alpha’s final command before two more well aimed shots slammed into the ship’s engine throwing jagged scrap metal in all directions.

Sparks danced across the surface of the spacecraft as it plummeted to the ground with a loud crash, bellowing thick trails of smoke. It smashed into one of the buildings that surrounded the plaza causing several denizens to exit their homes to inspect the damage and commotion. 

“We can’t stay here,” Alpha said turning to the Mr. Saturn who only nodded in response.

Alpha drew on his psionic abilities while he placed a hand atop the aliens armored head and with a thought they both teleported. Warping instantly from the plaza outside to a hotel room located two streets over. When they appeared Kwynn was already preparing to leave, he had his psionic railgun hanging from a strap over his shoulder and was coming inside from the balcony that had been his snipers nest.

He wore a black leather jacket and had a holster secured around his waist, lined with various pieces of technology. His bicloptic eyes were green and his left tentacle had been replaced with a cybernetic prosthetic.

“Time to get while the gettin’s good,” Kwynn said, crossing the room in a couple of long strides. 

Coming to stand beside the two before being whisked away again by another use of PSI. Their next location was on the roof of the hotel, where a Dreadnaught class ship waited. Small for its classification, the larger vessels of its type were usually manned by crews that ranged from between five to fifteen people, this one looked as if it could only hold ten if that.

As they approached their own ship, two more came down from the sky; diving at them with swift fury. Alpha and the Mr. Saturn ran straight for the getaway ship while Kwynn turned toward their aggressors, pointing his prosthetic at the newest opponent. 

The black and blue metal limb transformed; becoming straight and ridged before splitting into the trisection barrel of a cannon. A missile slid forward with a motorized whir, before clicking into place and with a thought the mercenary let loose the projectile.

An intense jet of neon blue energy carried the rocket toward the enemy vehicle leaving a glowing trail in its wake. 

Before it could make contact a beam from one of the opposing ship blasted it from the air, detonating a massive explosion causing the ships to wobble in the air from the backlash of the force.

The Shambler fired off several more missiles before jumping onto the ship while Alpha practically threw himself into the pilots seat, flipping switches and pressing buttons with haste and efficiency. The engines roared to life as power fed into them and in seconds they were air born, flying away from the small town out into the frozen wastes of Angoras tundras; an infinite expanse of baren ice as far as the eye could see.

Alpha weaved and dodged around their pursers’ relentless assault of missiles and concentrated bursts of thunder as Mr. Saturn returned fire. Telekinetically manipulating the controls to operate the gunners’ chair though the enemy’s shield systems were too advanced, easily shrugging off their retaliation.

“No good, needing plan, Boing!” He yelled fighting to be heard over the explosions and beeping sensors alerting the crew to the imminent danger.

Alpha called over his shoulder. “This ship doesn’t have enough firepower to break through that level of shielding.”

“I’ve got something in the back for that, but I’ll need to get real close. Let me off and I’ll take care of ’em.”

The Shambler got up unbuckling himself as he sent his employer a quick telekinetic message.

“Don’t you go forggetin’ my Cruiser, Alpha.”

The agent nodded as he speeds up the ship. “All the bells and whistles.”

Satisfied Kwynn turned, followed by the Mr. Saturn through the sliding door that separated the cockpit from the back part of the ship as it swayed, dodging incoming fire.

It was spacious; there were several seats for passengers and a few crates stacked near the back wall. As he walked through the area Kwynn set down the railgun he had used earlier, exchanging it for a massive double-sided axe he grabbed off the wall, the mercenary walked toward the door and pulled a small lever to its left, revealing the icy plains

As they speed over the frigid environment it looked like a broken video feed; repeating the same loop endlessly.

“You not wear Pangolin armor?” Mr. Saturn asked.

The Shambler shook his head. “They’d be able to detect an armor reading,”

There was a smile in the man’s voice as he continued. “I need the element-”

He probed within the axe with his mind, telekinetically flipping an internal switch in the weapon to active it. The dull grey of the axe was replaced with a shimming silver white as small dots of ebony blinked into existence along the blade.

“Of surprise.” Kwynn disappeared right before the Mr. Saturns eyes, becoming invisible before jumping out of the ship into the fray.

[navalpost]

USS Mount Whitney and USS Porter visit Batumi, Georgia

USS Mount Whitney and USS Porter visit Batumi, Georgia

The Blue Ridge-class command and control ship USS Mount Whitney (LCC 20) and Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer USS Porter (DDG 78) arrived in Batumi, Georgia for a scheduled port visit, Nov. 8, 2021, according to the U.S. sixth fleet. The port visit highlights an important relationship between NATO allies and vital Black Sea partner Georgia. Georgia has been a consistent and steadfast…

[judgemark45]

Just a month before the Berlin Wall would begin to fall, the U.S. Navy and its allies in the Pacific held a gargantuan set of naval drills dubbed Pacific Exercise 1989, or PACEX '89 for short. It was the largest combined allied armada since the end of World War II and worked as a symbolic showcase of the Reagan military buildup that played a significant hand in breaking the Soviet Union. In total, some 54 vessels of U.S., Korean, Japanese, and Canadian origins—as well as a number of submarines that were never disclosed—combined forces to show just how outgunned Russia was in the Pacific and how they could operate together as a cohesive fighting force. These include the aircraft carriers USS Enterprise (CVN-65) and USS Carl Vinson (CVN-70), the battleships USS New Jersey (BB-62) and USS Missouri (BB-63), the nuclear-powered guided missile cruiser USS Long Beach (CGN-9) and the amphibious command and control ship USS Blue Ridge (LCC-19). A number of the cutting-edge Ticonderoga class guided missile cruisers are also seen flanking the central lineup of capital ships.

- Tyler Rogoway

[ayojalanterus]

MELURUSKAN Para Conspiracy Theory Tenggelamnya KRI Nanggala 402

𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬

Apakah kapal kombatan yang berusia di atas 40 itu tahun berbahaya?

 Tidak juga, karena Amrik pun masih pakai Amphibious Command Ship (Blue Ridge Class), Nuclear Aircraft Carrier (Nimitz class), dan Guided Missile Nuclear Submarine (Ohio class) yang dibuat di Dekade 70an dan 80an awal. Jadi bukan usianya yang jadi masalah, tidak. Karena selama kapal itu DIRAWAT sesuai dengan standar pabrikannya, kemudian DIOPERASIKAN sesuai dengan spesifikasinya, maka insyā’Allōh aman. Apalagi kemudian kapal tersebut mengalami refit (pembaharuan).

❌ Jadi tak usah lah membahasnya secara liar, apalagi dengan mencampur segala Conspiracy Theory. Jangan!

Iya, sebab beredar beberapa Teori Konspirasi tentang karamnya Kapal Selam (KaSel) KRI Nanggala 402 tersebut. Yang pertama yang bikin tertawa ngakak adalah teorinya kaum Koped (penyembah si Timbul Kardus) yang mengatakan itu sengaja disabotase untuk menjatuhkan si sesembahannya. Hahaaaaay... basi lah!?! Memangnya siapa si Timbul Kardus itu sampai perlu banget menjatuhkannya dengan cara mensabotase? Please deh, waras lah?!?

Kemudian teori Konspirasi yang kedua mengatakan bahwa ada kapal selam misterius yang menembakkan torpedo. Ck ck ck... ini juga sotoy banget lah! FYI ya, yang namanya menembak kapal selam yang sedang menyelam dengan torpedo itu susah sangat. Tidak seperti di filem-filem Hollywood macam "The Hunt for Red October" atau "Hunter Killer" ya, tidak. Itu urusannya repot banget, karena menembak kapal selam yang lagi menyelam itu butuh sistem pendeteksian yang mumpuni, sehingga lebih mungkin menenggelamkannya pakai depth charge (bom laut yang dilontarkan dari oleh kapal di permukaan laut). Lagian, menembak Kapal Militer itu adalah Act of War, dan bisa menimbulkan krisis internasional kalau sampai terbukti. Pelakunya bisa "dihukum" oleh masyarakat Dunia.

Lalu apa dong?

Seperti kita ketahui, KRI Nanggala itu adalah buatan Howaldtswerke-Deutsche Werft (ThyssenKrupp), Jerman, Type 209. Ada 61 buah KaSel Type 209 ini yang pernah dibuat antara 1971 s/d 2008 di mana sebelumnya belum pernah ada yang karam (total loss), dan baru 2 saja dari 61 unit itu yang di-decomissioned.

KaSel Type 209 ini adalah jenis "Diesel-Electric", alias ditenagai oleh mesin diesel yang berbahan bakar solar sebagai mesin utamanya. Mesin diesel yang dipakai berlayar kalau Kapal Selam (KaSel) itu berlayar di permukaan laut, dan sekaligus juga untuk mer-recharge baterai / accu-nya. 

KaSel Diesel-Electric ini punya kemampuan jelajah 11.000 NMi (20.000 kM) pada kecepatan jelajah 10 Knots (20 kM/jam) apabila berlayar di permukaan laut, dan 8,000 NMi (15.000 kM) pada kecepatan 10 Knots (20 kM/jam) apabila menjelajah menyelam dengan kedalaman periskop (masih bisa menggunakan mesin diesel dengan memakai corong udara atau snorkel). 

Sedangkan apabila menyelam maka ia harus menggunakan tenaga baterai / accu, yang mana itu hanya mampu sejauh 400 NMi (700 kM) dengan kecepatan jelajah 4 Knots (7 kM/jam) (kecepatan maksimal 21,5 Knots (39,8 kM/jam) di mana kalau melakukan itu, maka jarak jelajah jauh berkurang), dan setelah itu harus naik ke permukaan untuk recharge lagi baterai / accu-nya. 

Jadi jelas sebenarnya KaSel Type 209 ini menghabiskan mayoritas waktu pelayarannya adalah di permukaan laut atau di kedalaman snorkel. 

perhatikan bentuk moncong KaSel Diesel-Electric ini sangat berbeda dengan KaSel (bertenaga) Nuklir, di mana KaSel Diesel Electric moncongnya masih dibuat untuk membelah air di permukaan (seperti pada kapal biasa), sedangkan moncong KaSel Nuklir itu sudah seperti proyektil / rudal (sebab KaSel Nuklir memang diciptakan untuk berlayar di bawah laut terus menerus, dan kecepatan jelajah bawah laut adalah 20 Knots (37 kM/jam) dengan kecepatan maksimal 24 Knots (44,4 kM/jam) dan jarak jelajah limitless.

Pada KaSel Diesel-Electric, tenaga listrik yang dipakai kalau lagi menyelam itu di-supply oleh baterai / accu yang mana ia harus diubah dulu dari Arus DC ke Arus AC oleh DC to AC Converter. 

Nah di sinilah kemungkinan terjadi permasalahannya sebagaimana diutarakan oleh LaksDa (Purn) Frans Wuwung – link: https://bit.ly/3nhtQjT – yang mantan Kepala Kamar Mesin KRI Naggala 402. 

Frans Wuwung mengatakan kemungkinan terjadi "black out" alias kehilangan daya listrik akibat rusaknya DC to AC Converter-nya, sehingga kapalnya black-out tidak ada daya. 

Kemungkinan karena black out tersebut, maka KaSel tidak mampu lagi untuk naik ke permukaan dan akhirnya karam sampai kedalaman yang melebihi batas ambang batas spesifikasinya (crush depth).

Apa itu "crush depth"?

Crush depth itu adalah ambang batas kedalaman maksimal yang mampu ditahan oleh lambung kapal. Kalau melihat data di Jane's, maka crush depth dari KaSel 209 itu adalah 500 meter. Sedangkan battle depth-nya antara 200 Meter saja.

Kalau pernah belajar ‘ilmu Fisika, pasti tahu tekanan air di permukaan laut itu adalah 0 Bar. Tiap turun 100 Meter, maka tekanannya naik kira-kira 10 Bar. Jadi tekanan air di kedalaman battle depth KaSel Type 209 itu adalah antara 20 Bar s/d 25 Bar. Sedangkan tekanan air pada crush depth 500 Meter itu adalah 50 Bar.

Berapa itu 1 Bar?

1 Bar itu adalah 100.000 Pascal. Gampangnya, ada tekanan 100.000 kG per M2Detik. Jadi kalau 50 Bar, maka itu 5.000.000 kG per M2Detik. Gampangnya, kaleng minuman soda itu (dalam keadaan kosong) akan jadi gepeng rata kalau ditekan dengan tekanan sekira 4.500.000 Pascal.

Apa yang terjadi kalau KaSel karam melebihi crush depth-nya?

Sederhananya: IMPLOSION (remuk).

KRI Nanggala kedalaman TKPnya sekira 850 Meter – link: https://bit.ly/32OYoji – yang mana itu jauh di atas ambang crush depth-nya. Tekanan air di kedalaman 850 Meter itu sekira 85 Bar (8.500.000 Pascal). 

Maka ketika KaSel Type 209 tersebut karam melebihi depth crush-nya, yang terjadi adalah ia mengalami implosion (remuk). Lambung KaSel itu remuk karena tak kuat menahan air di kedalaman lebih dari 500 Meter di atas permukaan laut.

Maka karena terjadi implosion itu, tentunya lambung remuk itu akan mengakibatkan keluarnya solar dan debris (reruntuk). Sehingga pada hari pertama saja sudah ditemukan debris seperti sajadah sholāt, botol berisi grease, dan bagian dan alat peluncur torpedo – link: https://bit.ly/3viAklq – yang mana semuanya itu barang-barang yang letaknya ada di dalam KaSel, yang tak mungkin bisa keluar kalau tak terjadi mushibah pada KaSel tersebut.

Demikian kira-kira mushibah yang terjadi pada KRI Nanggala 402 tersebut. Jadi ia insyā’Allōh adalah mushibah.

Adapun bagi para Perwira dan Pelaut Muslim yang gugur, maka kita do'akan semoga Allōh ﷻ memberikan pahala kesyahīdan bagi mereka karena mereka pergi dalam keadaan menjalankan tugas menjaga Tanah Air dan Bangsa di bulan Romadhōn.

Kata Baginda Nabī ﷺ:

الْمَائِدُ فِي الْبَحْرِ الَّذِي يُصِيبُهُ الْقَىْءُ لَهُ أَجْرُ شَهِيدٍ وَالْغَرِقُ لَهُ أَجْرُ شَهِيدَيْنِ  

“Orang yang mengalami mabuk laut lalu muntah mendapatkan pahala orang yang syahīd, dan orang yang tenggelam maka baginya pahala dua orang yang syahīd.” [HR Abū Dāwūd no 2493].

📌 [fb]

source https://www.ayojalanterus.com/2021/04/meluruskan-para-conspiracy-theory.html

[j-r-macready]

210719-N-EI510-0294 by Commander, U.S. Naval Forces Europe-Africa/U.S. 6th Fleet Via Flickr: 210719-N-EI510-0294 GAETA, Italy (July 19, 2021) A search and rescue swimmer jumps out of an MH-60S Sea Hawk helicopter attached to the “Dragon Whales” of Helicopter Sea Combat Squadron (HSC) 28 during training with the Blue Ridge-class command and control ship USS Mount Whitney (LCC 20) off the coast of Gaeta, Italy, July 19, 2021. Mount Whitney is the U.S. Sixth Fleet flagship, homeported in Gaeta, and operates with a combined crew of U.S. Sailors and Military Sealift Command civil service mariners. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Scott Barnes)

[black-strike-otp]

part 47

I feel ya existential crisis Blackout my guy. #MyLife

Rousing from her sleep with an anxious muttering, Novastrike glanced around the dark interior of her tight quarters. Her spark was pounding in its chamber. The world seemed pressed too close for comfort. She looked around the space for a moment, trying to determine exactly where she was.

“Novastrike?”

The mellow voice was calm and collected as it spoke. It was filled with concern and gentleness, but she was more focused on the way her name rolled forth from that voice with so much intrigue. It hardly sounded like her own name; there was an unfamiliar and enticing attraction to each syllable drawn out.

“Sorry,” she managed to yawn. “Did I fall into recharge?”

“Yes, you did. You sounded like you were having a bad vision there at the end.”

Reaching up, Nova casually rubbed around her optics. It didn’t help the temporary blur that occurred until they came into focus, but it was habit. She took in the surrounding darkness and the position she was currently sitting in and vaguely recalled that she was inside Blackout’s holoform.

“It was only a dream,” Novastrike said aloud. Even to herself, it sounded more like a reassurance for her than a statement.

“Care to talk about it?” Blackout rumbled in that rich baritone that vibrated through her armor.

“No, I’m fine,” Nova managed, trying to wash away the image of Neutroboost’s distorted face staring from above her with a sinister smile.

Blackout produced an unsure growl that echoed through his form like thunder.

Cutting through the awkwardness, Novastrike loudly requested: “Do you ever dream?”

It seemed to work.

“Not really,” Blackout admitted. “I lack much imagination. The very few times I have any variation of what some may call a dream, it’s only memory recall.”

Leaning forward, the small femme plopped her elbow upon the arm of the chair and placed her chin upon her servo. Her optics scanned the window to look out on the swallowing endless darkness and the miniature stars that shimmered so distantly. She wondered briefly how far they were still out from the Rising Star.

This had been one of their first outings in a while just to enjoy each others companies on a lone planet, rather than going to look for supplies. It had been a bit more of a trip than usual and with her nap, she wasn’t entirely sure how close they were to returning.

Not that it mattered. Going back and taking Neutroboost’s evil optic as he glowered at her wasn’t an idea of a good time. Flying in this nothingness with Blackout and Scorponok (where did that bug go when he transformed?) was fine by her. She may have lost track of exactly how many jours they’d spent on the planet just scouting and talking and being, but it had at least been a cozy experience.

Growing tired of the silence that left her too much ability to have wandering thoughts, Nova casually went back to her pestering.

“So, what sort of things do you dream about when you do dream?”

The mammoth mech was quiet for a moment before replying: “I don’t remember really. As I said, I dream so rarely. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually dreamed.”

“But you have dreams,” Novastrike insisted, swapping subjects. “What sort of ambitions do you have; hopes, goals, wishes?”

A chuckle escaped Blackout softly. “What’s with the sudden interest?”

“I’m interested in everything about you.”

“Hmm,” he droned quietly. “I don’t know. I used to think it was pleasing Megatron- Lord Megatron,” he hastily corrected, “and being the best soldier I could be. Whatever his aspirations were became my own. I don’t... really know what I want.”

“World peace?” Nova suggested. “To be happy? Or maybe a home, or a lot of credits? I know- a bigger, badder, badaft weapon!”

“Maybe.”

“You sound off. Did I upset you?”

“No I... I’m fine.”

Nibbling on her lip, the femme inclined further into her seat. She pulled her helm away from her servos and placed them on the arm rests, drumming her digits lightly.

“What about you?” Blackout slowly asked. “Don’t you have any fantasies you aim to achieve?”

Novastrike tilted her audio receptor to the side slightly. “A lot, actually,” she admitted. “But I prefer to live in the present for the time being. I have everything I could want right where I am.”

“The Rising Star does offer an adequate supply of energon and conversation,” Blackout agreed. “The work’s a bit slow, but-”

“No, not that,” Nova cut off, her audios glowing. “I meant right here. As in right here.”

As she strained her word, Novastrike made a slight arc with one of her arms across the space. She knew there was some way for Blackout to view his interior. He’d made comments before about what she was doing. How he noticed though she wasn’t exactly sure.

For a moment, she thought she might have either confused him or been too tacky with her words. It felt like a fire was burning in her ears as the silence stretched between them.

“I like that idea,” Blackout finally agreed, sounding extremely soothed.

“You do?” she asked, sounding a little breathless.

“I do,” he snickered back. “Here sounds like the most ideal place to me as well.”

Fidgeting, the white-armored femme reached up to place her servos over her ears. The blue glow was growing so harsh, she could see it reflecting on Blackout’s interior. The repetitive throbbing of her spark gave a fine impressive of a beating drum; following an erratic and unpredictable pattern.

It grew quiet. Equally shy from their corny, sappy remarks, the couple drew into an unyielding silence. Neither side seemed capable of budging and being the first to speak again. Nova was beginning to think they would take the rest of the flight in utter quiet when Blackout finally spoke up.

“Speaking of the Rising Star, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to bring up to you.”

“Oh?”

“Something else came up the day that Guard gave me his room,” Blackout vaguely remarked.

“Okay,” Nova puzzled. “Are you going to keep me in suspense?”

“He asked me if I would consider becoming a commander on the ship.”

“What? Blackout, that’s amazing news! Did you accept? No, wait, you must not have; we would have heard otherwise. Why didn’t you take the position? You’d be perfect! You’re the most experienced bot on the ship. Why wouldn’t Guard think of asking you? This is great!”

“Nova,” Blackout gently urged. “Focus.”

“Yes, sorry,” she sheepishly commented with a grin.

“He told me he’d give me time to think about it,” Blackout hedged.

“And? What have you thought so far?”

“I’m still considering.”

“What’s there to consider?” puzzled Novastrike.

“It’s a big responsibility,” he firmly responded.

“You don’t think you’re ready for it?”

Blackout paused for a few spark-beats before slowly responding, “It’s not that I wouldn’t feel ready. I held high class among the Decepticons. When Megatron was not on duty, Starscream, “ he snarled the mech’s name, “Was next in line. From there, it was either Shockwave, Soundwave, or myself. Soundwave always... held a unique position by Megatron’s side. The communication’s officer was practically his equal, really. Shockwave remained on Cybertron, so his status on the ship was null and void, though he still carries his importance and his work.”

“And then there’s you,” Nova repeated.

“Yes, and then there was me,” Blackout agreed. “But that was on the Nemesis. This is the Rising Star. This is a rogue ship. I am just...”

As Blackout grew hush, Nova twitched her audios with impatience. Her optic ridges slowly drew together with worry and confusion.

Clearing her vocalizer, she spoke gently, “Blackout, dear?”

He didn’t respond.

Venting softly, the small femme spoke on his behalf with a firm voice: “You’re just incredibly strong, determined, resourceful, intelligent, fearless, adaptable, diligent, bluntly honest, impartial-”

“Novastrike, please.”

“- intuitive, rational, persistent and sometimes annoyingly so, truth-worthy, considerate, hard-working-”

“Nova,” Blackout pleaded.

Narrowing her optics, the femme gave a huff. “What?”

Grumbling with embarrassment, the big mech mumbled, “I appreciate your enthusiasm and high belief in me. I do. But I am still a soldier and a killer. None of that has changed. My self interests I still place above all us. My loyalties are questionable. Guard shouldn’t have even offered me the position. It was a mistake.”

Novastrike gave a short shake of her helm, smiling faintly. “I don’t think it was a mistake at all,” she murmured, gently stroking the arm rest. “He trusts you, and so do I, even if you don’t trust yourself. And you clearly put a lot more than just your self interests first, otherwise you wouldn’t have me.”

“You’re under my umbrella of self interests,” Blackout admitted plainly.

The warm glow from Novastrike’s ears grew brighter once again. She drew her mouth into a small frown, though the gesture was meant for herself. If only she could calm her clamoring spark.

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” she insisted softly. “I think you should give the idea a chance. If you couldn’t handle it, I’m sure no one would fault you for stepping down. It’s a great honor to hold that sort of position. You’d do everyone proud. You’ve made everyone’s lives a lot easier and you’ve been working so incredibly hard on keeping us safe. If it wasn’t for your know-how we wouldn’t be getting along as well as we have. Our weapons are actively online and well maintained, the ship’s crew is training again on a somewhat regular basis. Bots trust you, Blackout. You’ve done nothing to prove us otherwise. And I know for a fact you wouldn’t throw us in the way of harm or jeopardize anyone’s safety if you could help it.”

“You think better of me than I think of myself,” Blackout whispered.

“I could say the same thing,” Nova mused, smiling. “Yet you still tell me all the time how lovely I look, how powerful I am, that I have a good spark and hold a lot of will. I’ve never seen myself as anything other than generic, spineless, and puny; someone easy to walk all over and wiling to throw in the towel the moment things get rough. But you still tell me otherwise.”

A grunt escaped Blackout unhappily. “And I will continue telling you otherwise,” he gruffly snorted.

“As I expect,” she giggled. “And just as I can’t always see what you claim to in me, I want you trust in what I have to say about you. Trust in yourself, deep down. You know what I say is true.”

Turning her helm slightly, Novastrike rested her lips against the side of the seat she was on. Her mouth curved into a sly smile as a resounding rumble moved through Blackout in response while she grazed a kiss against the metal. Her lips teasingly caressing as the echoes grew steadily louder.

“You are a spiteful femme,” Blackout growled deeply.

“Oh I’m so sorry, am I bothering you?” she hummed lightly.

“Whatever did I do to deserve having you in my life?” Blackout questioned. Although his tone suggested teasing, there was a sense of awe that advocated that he meant his question seriously.

“Be an incredibly handsome piece of work?” Nova teased.

“I knew you were in it for my body,” he snarled playfully.

“Who wouldn’t be?” she purred pleasantly in response, stroking her digits along the seat lightly.

A quiet reverberating chuckle escaped Blackout. She couldn’t stop herself from beaming with delight at the intense manifestation. For such a profoundly low-pitched gravely bass, the sound was absolutely enchanted her. Pure joy, in its finest.

“So, do you know what you are going to tell Guard?” she nervously chimed.

A slight grumbled moved through Blackout’s interior. “I think I do,” he admitted.

“Do I get to know a little early?” Novastrike asked in her most enticingly velvety tone, letting her optics flutter slightly as she pouted.

“Do you always use this spell to lure in mechs?” Blackout mocked.

“Is it working?”

“For some time, obviously, yes.”

“Nice to know. I’m afraid though, that there’s only one mech that interests me at the moment.”

“Pray tell so that I might speak with them,” he grunted teasingly.

“Blackout,” she whined softly. “Pleeeassse?”

“I was going to tell you, no need to plead and beg,” Blackout insisted. Clearly her charm was working much better than she’d hoped for.

“And?”

“I’m going to tell him... yes. That I would be happy to accept the position, if it is agreed upon by the council that I should become a commander.”

Squealing with delight, Novastrike went to hug the first thing she could grasp. It so happened to be her seat, which although the gesture was thoughtful, gave a rather comical impression.

“Oooh I’m so proud of you!” she gushed.

“I just hope I don’t let you down,” he softly remarked.

“You could never,” Nova squeaked, snuggling against the seat. “Never ever ever. You’ll do a great job. And it’ll be good for you; you’ll see. It won’t be much different I imagine than what you’ve been doing, but whatever additional workload it places on you will be good. You enjoy keeping your servos and processor busy. And don’t you worry, Guard will still give you plenty of free time to take care of Scorponok and go out as you please.”

A light snicker escaped Blackout. “That’s good. I’d hate to have our dates cut short or out entirely because of work.”

“Like you’d let that happen,” Nova replied in a sing-song voice. “R-Right?”

“Regrettably for you, I am captivated hook, line, and sinker.”

“Boo, you make me sound like such an a terrible charmer, a deceiving siren, a divine lie, a-”

“Divine I could agree with,” he slyly cut in.

“Pss-” Nova hissed, crossing her arms in front of her chassis.

A rich spell of laughter escaped the big mech, and Novastrike couldn’t stop herself from smiling a little in return. Damn that dumb hunky mech, and his fetching good looks.

[nicholassabalos]

That’s our ship!

The crew of the United States Navy 7th Fleet flagship USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19) poses for a command photo while their ship is in dry dock. 

USS Blue Ridge is completing an extensive maintenance period in its forward-deployed homeport of Yokosuka, Japan....in order to modernize the ship, and allow it to continue to serve as a robust communications platform and fleet flagship.

                           7th Fleet flagship USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19)

                                         __________________________

>>CLICK the top photo for a much closer look....

>>Top photo: Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Jordan KirkJohnson, USN  

[defpost]

U.S. 7th Fleet Flagship USS Blue Ridge Set Underway Record

#US7thFleet Flagship USS Blue Ridge Set Underway Record. #LCC19

The U.S. 7th Fleet flagship USS Blue Ridge (LCC 19) hit a 48-year historic landmark by surpassing the ship’s underway record, marking 65 days of continuous underway operations, on May 17.

Blue Ridge’s previous record of 64 days was set during the Vietnam War when she left port April 5, 1972, and stayed at sea in and around the Gulf of Tonkin until June 2, 1972, when she moored in the Philippines.

[venusrosepetal]

Our Girl (Welcome to Hell)

Summary: (Modern!AU) Army medic, Private L/N, gets deployed on her first tour of Afghanistan. Struggling to fit in with her new comrades and adapt to the world of war, Pte L/N finds herself befriending a local, and pushing the boundaries of army regulations.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes - Reader x OC

Warnings: war, angst, blood, gore, death, PTSD, terrorism, stereotypes, sexual indications, swearing, cockney, slow-burn, a little offensive maybe? (throughout series)

Key: Pte - Private. Cpl - Corporal. Sgt - Sergeant. Skrimmed - Tassels. PT - Physical Training. TAB - Run in full kit with weight and weapons. Doris - Woman/Girl

Word Count: 2,467

A/N: I hope this is good and easy to read. Please also remember this is my first time writing. Tags are at the bottom and I’m sorry there isn’t too much of Sgt Barnes in this, but he’ll be around more and more as time goes on! & Isn’t Wanda awesome!! Sorry if you find the soldiers nicknames weird, they are the actual names from the TV show.

Camp Bastion, Afghanistan. 4:30am

The journey to Afghanistan was drab.

Soldiers lined the cold aircraft walls; kit cluttered around their feet. Most were now either asleep or conversing with their comrades. Faces wrinkled in pure joy, despite the knowledge of what’s waiting on the other side.

Sleep seemed to evade you as your eyes wandered over the many faces littered within the shuttle. Not everyone here will make it home. Your chest tightened at the thought of losing a peer, especially one in your section. The five guys whose lives you’re responsible for saving.

Fingers, Mansfield, Dangleberries, Baz-vegas and Smurf. Your brothers in green. 

To your left, Captain Rogers absently fiddled with his radio. His perfectly styled blonde hair no longer hidden under his navy beret. Was this guy immune to hat hair?

You let your focus wander down from his hair, taking in his strong jaw, crystal blue eyes, and inhuman physique. Seriously, did they all look like this in America? “Right. We’re thirty minutes outside Bastion, put on all protective clothing including helmets.” The Captain ordered. Forcing yourself out of your trance, you began to attach your armor. A bullet-proof vest covered your torso while pads protected your knees and elbows. Hard-knuckled gloves shielded your hands as you strap your skrimmed-helmet under your chin and swung your duffel bag onto your back. Nervous butterflies spew in your stomach when the plane begins to drop.  Your fingers gripped tightly onto metal ridges of the bench as your eyes squeeze closed; trying desperately to free yourself from this new-found anxiety. 

Until now you had been undoubtedly excited to get to Afghan. Excited to do your job and help the Afghan people dismantle the Taliban and regain their home.

However, at this moment, you’re terrified.

Sand bags and shipping containers made up the four-mile walls surrounding Camp Bastion, with the inside absolutely brimming with flat-pack tin buildings, tents, vehicles and large weaponry. 

Marching with your section, you made your way over to a large, green tent. Perfectly lined up US soldiers stood straight just outside.

“Section halt! Right turn!” Captain Rogers commanded. You stomp your right foot closely to your left with your back straight. Sharply turning right and stomping again, your sections stood to attention alongside the US soldiers.

“Under five’s, Welcome to Afghanistan. This ugly bunch here,”  He signaled towards the US soldiers. “like to call themselves The Avengers. ” You snorted at the name. 

Modest much? 

The Captain ignored your little disruption and began introducing his team. There was Sam - a gorgeous, dark-skinned, well-built man,  with a  gap tooth and killer smirk. Clint – A slim, dirty blonde with a face that said ‘I seriously couldn’t give a fuck’ and Tony – A cocksure engineer with ridiculously trimmed facial hair.

Within minutes, tears were streaming freely down your face. Sam was attempting to impersonate your South-Eastern accent causing you to double over laughing. You covered your face with both hands and attempt to hide the ugly-laugh-face you pulled when something really set you off.

Your laughter started to slow as you straightened up, only to notice the whole platoon was now braced and facing towards the front. Copying your comrades, you quickly stood-to-attention, facing forward.

Next to the Captain stood an equally beefy brunette. His dark hair was definitely longer than army regulation usually allowed; falling just below his ears. A few strands fell around his face as he ran his finger through the tousled locks. Dark stubble surrounded his pink lips and a long, straight nose stood proudly between two captivating blue eyes, that just so happened to be scowling at you through the bodies of your peers. 

You were definitely sporting some serious heart eyes right now. How come the US got all the male models and the UK got a smurf and a knock-off Prince Harry?  

Standing up straighter, you mumble a quick apology to the sour-faced brunette and averted your gaze to Captain Rogers.

“ This is Sergeant Barnes.” The Captain motioned Mr blue-eyes. “He will be leading you through your two-day simulation here in Bastion, as well as joining you on your first mission. Barnes here is on his fourth tour of Afghanistan, there’s no one I trust more than him.” He placed a firm hand on the Sergeants shoulder, smiling fondly in the process.

The sight of the smiling sergeant was enough to make you go weak in the knees. The way his eyes almost completely closed and his nose scrunched up above his wide toothy smile.

If you weren’t drooling before, you definitely are now.

After leaving the boys their tent to get situated, you found yourself wandering the sandy base trying to find the female quarters. Sergeant Barnes had made it abundantly clear you would not be bunking alongside your male associates. Instead, sending you out alone with a side-eye and a snide remark along the lines of ’ did you even pass geography in school?‘ 

Now both the Captain and the Sergeant seem to dislike you. All you did was giggle a little bit and try to lighten the heavy mood. Maybe these guys were just all work and no play, if so, you sure as hell weren’t going to get along. You were well known in training for being disobedient and a joker.

Footsteps were gaining behind you causing you to snap your head in their direction. Your dust-filled eyes found those of the only prick who could make your mood fifty percent better or one-hundred percent worse: Smurf.

“Barnes sent me to help you find your way. He thought our little Doris would get lost on her own.” He shook his head towards the floor, walking along side you. “Why’d he send you? Sam said this is his second tour, surely he’d know exactly where they are.” you quipped. “Because he loves me, everyone loves me. I’m the life and soul pal.” “Oh fuck off Smurf.I don’t know if I can put up with six months of your bullshit..”

“Are you really that pissed off that Barnes likes me?”

”Well. maybe I don’t want that rude prick to like me!” You defended. “ You know what Y/N, find your own way. Sergeant Barnes is a better person than you’ll ever be.” With that he stormed off in the direction he’d come from, once again leaving you to find your own way. “Are you looking for the female quarters?” Voiced the petite brunette just a few steps ahead. You nodded at her question causing her to reach over and take one of your bags. “ I’ll show you. Don’t worry about Smurf,” she assured as she led you into another large tent. “Dump your kit, the bed next to mine is free. I’m Wanda.” she outstretched her hand after dropping your bag on the empty bed. You shook her small hand briefly stating your name and a thank you. “You know Smurf.” You asked as you put your kit under the bed. “Not really, but I knew his twin brother, he was killed in Area Fifteen.” 

“You’re joking?”

“Barnes was his Sergeant too, that's why Smurf won’t hear a bad word about him.” 

“I just called him a rude prick.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

 “Geraint was shot in the neck on patrol. Sergeant Barnes crawled about two hundred meters on his stomach to retrieve his body. He wasn’t leaving him as a trophy for the Taliban.” She smiled sympathetically. “He’d do the same for you.” She continued.

You widen your eyes as the words spill from Wanda’s mouth. Not for a second did you expect that to be the reason behind Smurfs sudden outburst.

”Let’s hope he doesn’t have too.” You mumbled. “He’s just come across so snotty and rude like I’m not good enough for his platoon.” 

“It’s ok. He can come across that way sometimes, but he’s a good guy and an even better soldier.” She smiled reassuringly. “Why don’t we get dinner later, they have a pizza hut here?” “That would be great, thanks, Wanda. Can I ask you one question?” She smiled and nodded to you, urging you to continue. “ Does it always feel like you’re walking through treacle here?” At this Wanda let out a full belly laugh, throwing her head back nodding in the process.

“You did what!?” Wanda gasped, Staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“I gave a recruit a lap dance in basic.” You laughed, taking a bite of your greasy pizza, while she stared at you in bewilderment.

“Where? Why? H-how?” Holding your hands up in surrender, she paused with her questions and picked up her slice again; raising her eyebrows for you to explain.

“Well first off, it was a dare. We were going home for a long weekend the next day so we had a couple of games. I had let slip a few weeks before that I had taken a six-week lap dancing class, as part of a bridal party, so they just picked a guy and I gave him a lap-dance. It was either that or streak round the quarters.” you huffed a laugh as you recited the vivid memory. Basic training truly was the best time of your life.

Brushing your fingers over your trouser legs, you interlock your fingers and use them to rest your chin as you continued.

“ We went into the storage locker where they kept the rations and I gave him a lap dance. It was mortifying really. I couldn’t look him in the eye again.” Wanda was staring as if you had grown two heads. 

She opened her mouth to speak when a loud alarm rang through the air. To you, it sounded like a nuke warning, but one look at Wanda and you knew that wasn’t the case.

She scrambled off the bench, quickly tossing the pizza in the bin a few feet away. Another woman ran up to her, rambling something you couldn’t make out.

“ Six injured, they’re bringing them in now. All medical personal report to the hospital.” She shouts to you as she begins to run backward.

“Me!?”

“ You’re medical aren’t you?” you run towards the hospital, rounding onto the main dirt road within the camp.  Your legs are burning as you run up behind the ambulance. Wanda jumps on the nearest stretcher, ready to wheel it into the hospital.

Your panicking eyes ghost over the quivering body that occupied the stretcher.  A man, no older than twenty-five. The skin around his eyes was clean from tears when the rest of his body was covered in soot, dirt, and blood.

“Y/N! GET ON THE STRETCHER!” Wanda’s voice snapped through your trance, and look at her. You force your shaking hands to grasp the end of the stretcher and push it forward through the hospital doors.

Looking back over the crying male, you finally notice his injuries. Legs completely blown below the knees. Blood was oozing from around the shattered bones as bits of flesh hung on to the red wound by threads.

He’s not going to make it.

Pulling up to the bed, a team of surgeons moves in, sticking the soldier full of needles and IVs, preparing for theater. You take a step back as the room begins to spin. Adrenaline was pumping through you by the bucket load as more soldiers with similar injuries begin coming into the room.

You’re still stumbling backward as you hit the shoulder of another medic.

“Pull yourself together medic.”

“Private L/N?”

“Private L/N!”

You knotted your running shoes and straightened out your shorts and t-shirt. Sergeant Barnes had requested yesterday that your section do a PT session this morning to help your bodies acclimatize to the warmer conditions. By this morning he meant four-thirty am, and by PT he meant a tab which became apparent when you stepped outside the tent to find all nine men dressed in their full uniform.

“I suppose I should be glad you’re not wearing your stilettos,” Barnes mocked as the guys wolf-whistled. “It’s full kit L/N.”

“Yes, boss.” You replied as you ducked back into the tent to get changed.

Thirty minutes into the tab and you were breathing out of your arse. The images from the hospital kept you from sleep last night, every time you shut your eyes all you saw was blood, bones, and flesh. So not only did it feel as though you were inhaling golden syrup with every breath, you were a majorly sleep deprived.

You ran in the back. Sergeant Barnes ran ahead of the section, leading the way around his makeshift course. He doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat, let alone about to keel over like you.

“Is everyone acclimatizing to the conditions?” He yelled. His voice completely gasp free. A chorus of ‘yes’ or 'boss’ was answered back, all coming out slightly breathy. “Alright, sprint the last fifty meters. GO!” They all took off running. Totally distancing themselves from you.

“Smurf! Drop to the floor!” following commands, Smurf hurriedly fell to the sand, laying flat on his back. Everyone stopped by him.

“ Medic! Man down! Left arm blown off above the elbow! What are you going to do?” The boss shouted at you, walking to you as you try to jog to Smurf without passing out. Slowing down, even more, you suppress the urge to vomit as you slowly squat before the 'injured’ soldier. Panting furiously, your shaking fingers fumbled with the tourniquet.

“ Come on medic! You gonna let him bleed out while you gasp for air like a puffer fish?!” You give the Sgt the angriest look you could muster while still gasping for air. Your fingers would not separate the Velcro tourniquet no matter how hard you tried.

“L/N! Come! On! This isn’t Call of Duty. If someone stands on an IUD, there’s a life to save!” Smurf was staring at you with a pitiful look, while the others looked terrified at the fact the person in charge of saving them, can’t open a bloody tourniquet.

“Smurf get up! Get yourselves showered!” Smurf jumped up and the section took off running again. You slowly stand, jogging after them with Barnes at your side. You were right. He hadn’t broken a sweat.

“He could’ve died just then L/N.” He was speaking quieter now, but you could still her the enmity in his tone. “Now please don’t tell me we’ve got the only medic who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

You didn’t answer. You just gave him a look that said 'please can you fuck yourself’ and carried on running. Barnes stayed running beside you for a few seconds more before sighing and running off to the showers.

What a fucking asshole.

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