malwareUFO
Ekibiyo Drakmord
(?)Community Member
Thirteenth Prophet
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- Posted: Tue, 23 Sep 2014 16:52:13 +0000
As the dance of flame in a darkened room… Life burned back behind his eyes. There so moved the soul to sing in wayward hymns of praise, a hushed and vital song of distant memory closing in. His lips kissed the convoluted commands into existence before he had breath to make them sound. Hummed them and spoke them and screamed them and cried out into the suffocating quiet muteness that both crushed and compelled him to return to the world. Everyone needed an anchor. Something to pull them back into the flesh of their bodies and the sight of their eyes and the business of being alive. A word was his… Any word. To speak and be heard and hear it himself. It was the trigger that fired the gun of his heart upon the gasping breath that at last broke free from the rumbling concoction of musical séance. Whispered into that inky blackness pinpricked with specs of swirling iridescent destiny. Moved with the word as it spoke… As it became… As it absorbed into the machinations of the vessel of his body from behind the walls of the world and hummed to life in his veins. The air came alive and moved and breathed within him the command upon the envoy of becoming in quickly written scrawls all around him. Here and there instructing with a thought and so, ensuring that the word took hold and came to life along with him.
Space slowed to a standstill. A freezeframe as he waked from death once again.
The word snapped him back from the brink. Growing in volume. A voice of quiet calm from the central computer of his vessel he recognized… Repeating. Urging him with a blinking strobe of red surrounding a closing object on the heads-up display within his flight helmet.
“Evade… Evade… Evade…”
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A gentle whisper spoke truths into his mind… Where he was, it was far from the reaches of his destination… He knew as much before the thought had even crossed his mind to leave it. This was the recess of his mind to bear him forth upon the unraveling road before him. Full and replete with visions from the depths of time and space. Spinning maddeningly with endless swaths of information almost impossible to understand were he not born into their understanding... Or more accurately, reborn. He knew it in the depths of himself. A Lotus, he remembered, could not afford not to know. The changes above and below the threshold of that moment spoke to him. The distance from whence he drew back with a deeping wonder seemed to stretch. To draw out and fade into some tremendous span between where he was and where he was going.. He dove through the information as it arrived… Breathing deeply the essence of what was to come and had come to pass. Taking the entire world with him into the distance of thought where he traveled to unravel his choice to be made.
To seek what words might hold the secret… First he needed a torch.
He knew what had to be done.
Priming the charge, he stepped up to the massive vault door before him.
The timer counting down from 10.
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The stars that had sat so content afield a moment before flew in jagged lines of sudden velocific contortion as he slammed the lateral thrusters to the floor with his left hand and jerked the control yoke hard right to send his vessel spinning up and away in a blistering barrel roll that cleared the incoming capital-grade fusion salvo by mere micrometers.
A second volley erupted from the distant attackers’ weapon banks, and he immediately reversed direction and plunged the nose of his ship downward while issuing a verbal command to his onboard computer through the strain of the maneuver on his spaceframe and over the scream of the thrusters roaring.
“Deploy Wild Weasel… Engage silent running… Take us beneath her.”
A small probe detached from the rear of his ship and immediately deployed a multitude of decoy hologram copies that broke off from his direction to attempt to draw the enemy’s fire. His own vessel immediately disengaged all nonessential systems and engaged a reflective filament coating across his hull. He didn’t need to read the data screen rundown of his attacker to know who or what it was. The distinctive, riveted, elongated prow of a Hedron security destroyer was unmistakable in the core systems… They protected most every interior space-lane and dispensed with draconian finality, any justice they deemed necessary to maintain the safety of the lanes.
This was not a space-lane however. This was the badland between Neptune and Pluto. Decidedly open territory and not in their jurisdiction. A destroyer of this type wasn’t designed for basic patrol or pirate protection for supply trains. This was a hunter-killer. A seeker. A long range warship laid down to ferret out the few madmen who would dare make enemies of Hedron.
Madmen like him.
A torrent of fire tore through the Wild Weasels holograms and struck the emitter probe in a brilliant ball of light…
While his vessel slid invisible beneath the imposing belly of his foes beast.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Hedron security vault lay smoldering open behind him. The distant scream of alarms rang aloud as security systems came to life and locked down the blacksite shipyard into which he had just broken… But they could not contain what he would release from this vault. He had made quite certain that nothing they could do would ever stop him once he made it this far. He composed his wayfarer from the memory of its creation… A single digicard holding the vastness of her impossibly complex design within a wire as thin as a single strand of hair. He pulled the implanted node from his scalp and dropped it into the digitizer where it was consumed in a flash of electric fire.
Those ancient wisdoms burned the air around him suddenly into form to fill as the shipwright looked on at his creation... The hologram of her gleamed to life. The manifest of her making laid out before him… Displaying scrolling numbers on and on into infinity alongside technical readouts and cost projections and authorization subroutines. Breathing forth the potency of her berth upon the sparkling reach from whence he drew the name through a drawing claw from his hand upon the interface. The code was the key to her creation… The name that broke open all of the locks upon her. The name that set her free.
“Naterlilli…”
He spoke as he wrote her name... In an instant, every trace of her record in the system disappeared. A deeply embedded code chewed through every security system designed to stop what he was about to start. The vault shuddered beneath his feet as the machinations of the hidden shipyard sparked to life and immediately went about creating what he had come here to create. Carved into her prow in layered etches of molten material burst from the shipyards holds and formed about the hologram. A shimmering gleam of coruscate ivory flashed alive into space and time with a wash of suddenly aflame consoles around the perimeter of the shipyard. Commands of cease and desist rang out… But it was far too late to stop what he had started.
His vessel forged in fire erupted from the naked air.
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“You got what you came for. You have a kill confirmation… If you vacate space now, there will be no retaliation from my end. We both go our separate ways and nobody on your ship needs to make their wives into widows today.”
The comm is quiet. He casts his message on all frequencies. He knows they’ll dial into his location eventually, but until them he gives them a chance.
“This is Captain Worester of the HSF Longbow… To whom am I speaking?”
His fingers input weapon priming commands into the Naterlilli. He knows Hedron policy… They’re stalling for time. He gives it to them.
“They told you to fire on my ship without telling you who I am?”
“My orders are to positively identify the criminal responsible for the incident that took place leading to the loss of the Antares 7 shipbuilding facility and to reacquire the- ”
“I had nothing to do with Antares being lost.”
“You facilitated a system-wide matter dematerialization that led to the death of 6000 dockworkers, Hedron security officers, their famili-”
His fist slams the comm.
“I took only what was rightfully mine. There’s plenty of blood on my hands… But not those peoples Captain. Your cleanup crews are remarkably thorough. When they don’t want the cat out of the bag they’re willing to do just about anything to see to it that nobody breathing keeps doing so so long as the secrets out between them that are alive. Up to and including ashing 6000 people.”
A long pause.
“An awful load of truther tripe from the mouth of a past-proven criminal and liar. Not a lot of people are gonna believe that spin when it’s coming from a man with a 3 million mark death warrant on his head. Most of your company would much rather shoot first and ask questions of morality later.”
“Most. Not all.” He primes the engines. Moves the ship to the proper vantage.
“That has yet to be determined, scum. You’re a dead man flying Io, you just don’t know it yet.”
“So you do know who I am? Guess I’m not the only liar in this sec.”
His fingers key in the command to disengage silent running. Bringing the gleaming hull of the Naterlilli into full view directly in front of the Longbows bridge. The armored viewport before him slides open, and he can plainly see the captain of the other ship standing behind the layered transperisteel.
He waves.
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The 6 foot thick duranium ceiling and floor of the shipyard cracked above and below with the exertion of the systems upon the creation of this marvelous vehicle. He made way for the path to be made upon the ship as it constructed itself beneath his footsteps from the purest of perfect white. Smooth as glass and pulsating with every step taken upon its surface. The hurricane of fire swirled about him… Carving the shape behind his fingers as he felt upon the glowing hull he left behind with his touch. A sharp and dagger-like point… Lengthening and narrowing and melding with the rest of the form in some perfect dance of fire and light and thought drew forward… It made from the reaches of a wide and tapered array, which formed a glowing cluster of engines tautly veiled by a netting of ivory fins for aiming and guiding the massive thrust… The whole vessel simmered with hidden potential… Multiple adornments slid from the ships skin to reveal armaments sealed behind plates of concealed hull. The weapons coursed to life and revealed themselves to him only to be hidden again in the very next moment… The Naterlilli burned as a radiant light in the dark of the shipyard. Flexing and cooling and glowing as her creator moved within her. The narrow aperture of a sliver of glass drew across the brow on the face of the vessel to reveal the pilots station, high and back from the sharp and long prow of the Naterlillis forward reaches. He came to rest upon a circular seat within the nestled confines of the cockpit as it closed about him gently… The ship interfaced with him… Connecting him with the various controls he recalled so fondly. His fingers felt upon the delicate implements of the vessels weaponry… Caressing the surfaces to feel her respond with the automatic targeting systems coming to life. The ablative-crystalline armor of the Naterlillis skin seethed alive with every segment of scaled hull moving and preparing for her departure as he commanded the pre-launch sequences to initiate. The engines roared to life… A cone of blue fire erupted from the rear of the craft as it was vented downward by the control fins to raise the ship along with hundreds of l micro-thrusters along the forward reaches of her prow. Naterlilli rose from her berth…Raising the landing apparatus and sealing the boarding ramp to close off the perfect shape of her seamless, sharpened hull to the world. The doors leading into open space opened on the far end of the shipyard presicely as he had programmed them to do. And with a flash from those mighty engines and a burst of light… Naterlilli exploded from the confines of Antares 7. Piercing the darkness as a flashing ivory sword… Stealing for the depths of what lie beyond the reaches of this empty in-between…
Making way for the beginning.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“You have 30 seconds to get out of my way before I run you through Worester.”
The Naterlilli hovered before the bridge of the Longbow… Many times smaller than the much larger warship, but she was poised to ram the command tower and bridge of the Hedron destroyer. The comparatively tiny vessel gleamed like a sliver of sharpened steel held at the throat of some massive, black monster.
Smaller, but no less lethal.
Every cannon on the Longbow swiveled to train upon the Naterlilli. Their barrels seethed with potent fire ready to be breathed upon the small ship at a moments notice.
“Do you really think there will be enough left of you to threaten such a thing after I blow you out of the sky?”
“You and I both know that there will be. If you know who I am, then you know what I’m flying Captain. You know what this ship can do.”
“There’s a difference between theory and reality Io.”
He can see the face of Captain Worester. He’s a slightly overweight human male. Mid 30’s. 2 medals of distinction on his blues. Not his first command… But there is no career killer there. He see’s a bead of sweat drip down his nose.
Io speaks.
“Are you willing to bet the lives of your crew on that difference? You have 10 seconds.”
The pause goes on... The captain turns from the viewport. Io's hand is on the throttle.
Waiting.
Space slowed to a standstill. A freezeframe as he waked from death once again.
The word snapped him back from the brink. Growing in volume. A voice of quiet calm from the central computer of his vessel he recognized… Repeating. Urging him with a blinking strobe of red surrounding a closing object on the heads-up display within his flight helmet.
“Evade… Evade… Evade…”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A gentle whisper spoke truths into his mind… Where he was, it was far from the reaches of his destination… He knew as much before the thought had even crossed his mind to leave it. This was the recess of his mind to bear him forth upon the unraveling road before him. Full and replete with visions from the depths of time and space. Spinning maddeningly with endless swaths of information almost impossible to understand were he not born into their understanding... Or more accurately, reborn. He knew it in the depths of himself. A Lotus, he remembered, could not afford not to know. The changes above and below the threshold of that moment spoke to him. The distance from whence he drew back with a deeping wonder seemed to stretch. To draw out and fade into some tremendous span between where he was and where he was going.. He dove through the information as it arrived… Breathing deeply the essence of what was to come and had come to pass. Taking the entire world with him into the distance of thought where he traveled to unravel his choice to be made.
To seek what words might hold the secret… First he needed a torch.
He knew what had to be done.
Priming the charge, he stepped up to the massive vault door before him.
The timer counting down from 10.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The stars that had sat so content afield a moment before flew in jagged lines of sudden velocific contortion as he slammed the lateral thrusters to the floor with his left hand and jerked the control yoke hard right to send his vessel spinning up and away in a blistering barrel roll that cleared the incoming capital-grade fusion salvo by mere micrometers.
A second volley erupted from the distant attackers’ weapon banks, and he immediately reversed direction and plunged the nose of his ship downward while issuing a verbal command to his onboard computer through the strain of the maneuver on his spaceframe and over the scream of the thrusters roaring.
“Deploy Wild Weasel… Engage silent running… Take us beneath her.”
A small probe detached from the rear of his ship and immediately deployed a multitude of decoy hologram copies that broke off from his direction to attempt to draw the enemy’s fire. His own vessel immediately disengaged all nonessential systems and engaged a reflective filament coating across his hull. He didn’t need to read the data screen rundown of his attacker to know who or what it was. The distinctive, riveted, elongated prow of a Hedron security destroyer was unmistakable in the core systems… They protected most every interior space-lane and dispensed with draconian finality, any justice they deemed necessary to maintain the safety of the lanes.
This was not a space-lane however. This was the badland between Neptune and Pluto. Decidedly open territory and not in their jurisdiction. A destroyer of this type wasn’t designed for basic patrol or pirate protection for supply trains. This was a hunter-killer. A seeker. A long range warship laid down to ferret out the few madmen who would dare make enemies of Hedron.
Madmen like him.
A torrent of fire tore through the Wild Weasels holograms and struck the emitter probe in a brilliant ball of light…
While his vessel slid invisible beneath the imposing belly of his foes beast.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Hedron security vault lay smoldering open behind him. The distant scream of alarms rang aloud as security systems came to life and locked down the blacksite shipyard into which he had just broken… But they could not contain what he would release from this vault. He had made quite certain that nothing they could do would ever stop him once he made it this far. He composed his wayfarer from the memory of its creation… A single digicard holding the vastness of her impossibly complex design within a wire as thin as a single strand of hair. He pulled the implanted node from his scalp and dropped it into the digitizer where it was consumed in a flash of electric fire.
Those ancient wisdoms burned the air around him suddenly into form to fill as the shipwright looked on at his creation... The hologram of her gleamed to life. The manifest of her making laid out before him… Displaying scrolling numbers on and on into infinity alongside technical readouts and cost projections and authorization subroutines. Breathing forth the potency of her berth upon the sparkling reach from whence he drew the name through a drawing claw from his hand upon the interface. The code was the key to her creation… The name that broke open all of the locks upon her. The name that set her free.
“Naterlilli…”
He spoke as he wrote her name... In an instant, every trace of her record in the system disappeared. A deeply embedded code chewed through every security system designed to stop what he was about to start. The vault shuddered beneath his feet as the machinations of the hidden shipyard sparked to life and immediately went about creating what he had come here to create. Carved into her prow in layered etches of molten material burst from the shipyards holds and formed about the hologram. A shimmering gleam of coruscate ivory flashed alive into space and time with a wash of suddenly aflame consoles around the perimeter of the shipyard. Commands of cease and desist rang out… But it was far too late to stop what he had started.
His vessel forged in fire erupted from the naked air.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“You got what you came for. You have a kill confirmation… If you vacate space now, there will be no retaliation from my end. We both go our separate ways and nobody on your ship needs to make their wives into widows today.”
The comm is quiet. He casts his message on all frequencies. He knows they’ll dial into his location eventually, but until them he gives them a chance.
“This is Captain Worester of the HSF Longbow… To whom am I speaking?”
His fingers input weapon priming commands into the Naterlilli. He knows Hedron policy… They’re stalling for time. He gives it to them.
“They told you to fire on my ship without telling you who I am?”
“My orders are to positively identify the criminal responsible for the incident that took place leading to the loss of the Antares 7 shipbuilding facility and to reacquire the- ”
“I had nothing to do with Antares being lost.”
“You facilitated a system-wide matter dematerialization that led to the death of 6000 dockworkers, Hedron security officers, their famili-”
His fist slams the comm.
“I took only what was rightfully mine. There’s plenty of blood on my hands… But not those peoples Captain. Your cleanup crews are remarkably thorough. When they don’t want the cat out of the bag they’re willing to do just about anything to see to it that nobody breathing keeps doing so so long as the secrets out between them that are alive. Up to and including ashing 6000 people.”
A long pause.
“An awful load of truther tripe from the mouth of a past-proven criminal and liar. Not a lot of people are gonna believe that spin when it’s coming from a man with a 3 million mark death warrant on his head. Most of your company would much rather shoot first and ask questions of morality later.”
“Most. Not all.” He primes the engines. Moves the ship to the proper vantage.
“That has yet to be determined, scum. You’re a dead man flying Io, you just don’t know it yet.”
“So you do know who I am? Guess I’m not the only liar in this sec.”
His fingers key in the command to disengage silent running. Bringing the gleaming hull of the Naterlilli into full view directly in front of the Longbows bridge. The armored viewport before him slides open, and he can plainly see the captain of the other ship standing behind the layered transperisteel.
He waves.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The 6 foot thick duranium ceiling and floor of the shipyard cracked above and below with the exertion of the systems upon the creation of this marvelous vehicle. He made way for the path to be made upon the ship as it constructed itself beneath his footsteps from the purest of perfect white. Smooth as glass and pulsating with every step taken upon its surface. The hurricane of fire swirled about him… Carving the shape behind his fingers as he felt upon the glowing hull he left behind with his touch. A sharp and dagger-like point… Lengthening and narrowing and melding with the rest of the form in some perfect dance of fire and light and thought drew forward… It made from the reaches of a wide and tapered array, which formed a glowing cluster of engines tautly veiled by a netting of ivory fins for aiming and guiding the massive thrust… The whole vessel simmered with hidden potential… Multiple adornments slid from the ships skin to reveal armaments sealed behind plates of concealed hull. The weapons coursed to life and revealed themselves to him only to be hidden again in the very next moment… The Naterlilli burned as a radiant light in the dark of the shipyard. Flexing and cooling and glowing as her creator moved within her. The narrow aperture of a sliver of glass drew across the brow on the face of the vessel to reveal the pilots station, high and back from the sharp and long prow of the Naterlillis forward reaches. He came to rest upon a circular seat within the nestled confines of the cockpit as it closed about him gently… The ship interfaced with him… Connecting him with the various controls he recalled so fondly. His fingers felt upon the delicate implements of the vessels weaponry… Caressing the surfaces to feel her respond with the automatic targeting systems coming to life. The ablative-crystalline armor of the Naterlillis skin seethed alive with every segment of scaled hull moving and preparing for her departure as he commanded the pre-launch sequences to initiate. The engines roared to life… A cone of blue fire erupted from the rear of the craft as it was vented downward by the control fins to raise the ship along with hundreds of l micro-thrusters along the forward reaches of her prow. Naterlilli rose from her berth…Raising the landing apparatus and sealing the boarding ramp to close off the perfect shape of her seamless, sharpened hull to the world. The doors leading into open space opened on the far end of the shipyard presicely as he had programmed them to do. And with a flash from those mighty engines and a burst of light… Naterlilli exploded from the confines of Antares 7. Piercing the darkness as a flashing ivory sword… Stealing for the depths of what lie beyond the reaches of this empty in-between…
Making way for the beginning.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“You have 30 seconds to get out of my way before I run you through Worester.”
The Naterlilli hovered before the bridge of the Longbow… Many times smaller than the much larger warship, but she was poised to ram the command tower and bridge of the Hedron destroyer. The comparatively tiny vessel gleamed like a sliver of sharpened steel held at the throat of some massive, black monster.
Smaller, but no less lethal.
Every cannon on the Longbow swiveled to train upon the Naterlilli. Their barrels seethed with potent fire ready to be breathed upon the small ship at a moments notice.
“Do you really think there will be enough left of you to threaten such a thing after I blow you out of the sky?”
“You and I both know that there will be. If you know who I am, then you know what I’m flying Captain. You know what this ship can do.”
“There’s a difference between theory and reality Io.”
He can see the face of Captain Worester. He’s a slightly overweight human male. Mid 30’s. 2 medals of distinction on his blues. Not his first command… But there is no career killer there. He see’s a bead of sweat drip down his nose.
Io speaks.
“Are you willing to bet the lives of your crew on that difference? You have 10 seconds.”
The pause goes on... The captain turns from the viewport. Io's hand is on the throttle.
Waiting.
Vxce
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- Posted: Wed, 24 Sep 2014 00:05:43 +0000
Nation Prophetic
She carves her burning, blinding light across the dark canvas of endless space.
She could be a comet or a meteorite, too tiny and fleeting and inconsequential for any radar to find significant. 5'7 inches of charged, plutonian armor. Just a twinkle in a giant's eye.
A clouded, passive gaze watches the stars pass, her helmet purring with music that lulls her for her long and uncharted journey. Her lips move slowly,
~ Oh, heart
And then it falls
And then I fall
And then I know ~
She spins and the universe spins with her, the pulsing green glow of her armor matching a slow and steady heartbeat, perfectly in sync. To her it is merely an extension of herself.
For hours and hours she coasts along, closing the distance between her and the next tiny blinking dot that appears on the visor of her helmet like a lighthouse on the horizon. Coordinates jump out at her. She changes direction, weaving through a jungle of space debris with catlike grace. Sure enough, it's moving towards Neptune.
"Link, what have we got?"
Cargo files are encrypted.
"Sounds like you have work to do, then."
A few disgruntled chirps later and data streams across her vision, going from garbled nonsense to fragmented pieces of useful information. She skims through the code until a particular strand makes a greedy smile break across her face.
General Mills Inc.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
She's steering the cargo ship with her bare feet, her hands preoccupied with opening the Wheaties box in her lap. Behind her lay the wriggling, infuriated crew members, their cursing muffled by the burlap sacks over their head, each with CHEX MIX stamped into their brown fabric.
The captain, who is wearing a torn upside down cereal box on his head with a rabbit on it, is purple with rage. She wags a finger at him.
"Trix are for kids, f*****t."
Ah yes, it's all going exceedingly well...until...
WARNING. WARNING. HEDRON SHIP DETECTED.
The Wheaties almost come out her nose.
Link, who looks something like a metallic jellyfish, floats around her head, his eyes flashing red.
WARNING. WARNING. HEDRON SHIP DETECTED.
Pulling her feet off the steering wheel, she leans forward, her panicked fingers dancing across the controls of the ship.
"LINK, AUTOPILOT DISENGAGE. HOW CLOSE ARE THEY. "
She knows he's unable to detect anything at long range. Hedron ships are clever contraptions, masking their location until they're within a few miles of their target...which is usually her. By the time a Hedron ship is detected, it's almost always too late. But this time...she spots the ship before Link can even spit out it's coordinates. It's above them, far above them, and they're about to fly beneath it except...it's not alone.
"What the hell is that thing?"
"Ship is of unknown origin."
"It doesn't even look like a ship...why isn't the Hedron coming after us? He MUST see us, this cargo ship is HUGE and massively off course...I want to know what's going on up there."
"Tapping into audio feed in 3...2..."
“Do you really think there will be enough left of you to threaten such a thing after I blow you out of the sky?”
“You and I both know that there will be. If you know who I am, then you know what I’m flying Captain. You know what this ship can do.”
“There’s a difference between theory and reality Io.”
“You and I both know that there will be. If you know who I am, then you know what I’m flying Captain. You know what this ship can do.”
“There’s a difference between theory and reality Io.”
Io.
She quickly taps at her chin.
"Link, search Hedron destroyer database for 'Io'."
"Searching...."
She knows they see her by now. Either their engagement is too important for them to address her, or they're just as surprised as she is.
"I want you to download as much information as possible before we get cut off, which I imagine will be soon. We might have to abandon ship."
She's standing now, her hands moving down to the massive belt-like contraption at her waste. She interfaces with the device, which begins clicking and whirring, expanding from it's collapsed state to form itself around her body until she wears a familiar suite of armor. The sword propped on the back of her chair is secured to her waist just as her helmet forms around her face, her visor snapping shut.
Without a word, Link latches onto a small space on the back of her suite's neck, silent as he pulls data from the Hedron above as fast as his processors will let him.
"Lets hope that little ship can do what he says he can."
malwareUFO
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- Posted: Wed, 24 Sep 2014 15:02:01 +0000
Beep… beep… beep
“Caroline… wake up, there’s a beep”, her eyes opening, responding to Rangoons voice with groggy submission, lifting her head as the beep began to register in her brain, her eyes not yet adjusted, she thumbed around her console looking for the HUD command key. A bright blue hue cast upon the bridge deck as Caroline squinted, her eyes tearing in reaction from the light.
“What is it”, she muttered. Rubbing the crust and tears from her eye lids, she zoomed in with her ships camera on the object that coasted towards her ship – Regence.
A hum resonated as her vessels scanners inspected the object and whatever resources it yielded.
A green light pinged her console, signaling the scan complete. She opened a new window and reviewed the scan log and her eyes went wide.
“Uranium…”
-----------------------------------------------------------------
SCREEEEECH!!
His body oscillated up and down as he cut into the asteroid with his drill. No sound could carry into space, but his helmet resonated as the vibration climbed through his body. He could barely hear anything other than his brain rattling, trying to make sense of something that should not be.
A faint voice continued attempting to breach his attention as he drilled, not registering the warning that was blaring into his ear until he saw the shadow over him, like a leviathan rising out of the tide. He turned to look, pausing for a moment, and his comrade’s voice finally finding purchase in his consciousness, “GET THE ******** OUTTA’ THERE, SHIPMATE! THERE”S A GODDAMN WAR VESSEL APPROACHING!!” he turned the other direction and through his helmet you could see him mouth the words ooooh shiiiiit! As he bopped along the surface of the asteroid in almost zero gravity, making running a tad difficult, he had to get to his landing pod and take off from there back to Mom, his starship.
He reached his landing pod and strapped himself in. His fist smashed the big red, GTFO button and the bright luminescent glow of hadron engines lit the surface of the asteroid with a bright blue hue.
“Caroline… wake up, there’s a beep”, her eyes opening, responding to Rangoons voice with groggy submission, lifting her head as the beep began to register in her brain, her eyes not yet adjusted, she thumbed around her console looking for the HUD command key. A bright blue hue cast upon the bridge deck as Caroline squinted, her eyes tearing in reaction from the light.
“What is it”, she muttered. Rubbing the crust and tears from her eye lids, she zoomed in with her ships camera on the object that coasted towards her ship – Regence.
A hum resonated as her vessels scanners inspected the object and whatever resources it yielded.
A green light pinged her console, signaling the scan complete. She opened a new window and reviewed the scan log and her eyes went wide.
“Uranium…”
-----------------------------------------------------------------
SCREEEEECH!!
His body oscillated up and down as he cut into the asteroid with his drill. No sound could carry into space, but his helmet resonated as the vibration climbed through his body. He could barely hear anything other than his brain rattling, trying to make sense of something that should not be.
A faint voice continued attempting to breach his attention as he drilled, not registering the warning that was blaring into his ear until he saw the shadow over him, like a leviathan rising out of the tide. He turned to look, pausing for a moment, and his comrade’s voice finally finding purchase in his consciousness, “GET THE ******** OUTTA’ THERE, SHIPMATE! THERE”S A GODDAMN WAR VESSEL APPROACHING!!” he turned the other direction and through his helmet you could see him mouth the words ooooh shiiiiit! As he bopped along the surface of the asteroid in almost zero gravity, making running a tad difficult, he had to get to his landing pod and take off from there back to Mom, his starship.
He reached his landing pod and strapped himself in. His fist smashed the big red, GTFO button and the bright luminescent glow of hadron engines lit the surface of the asteroid with a bright blue hue.
Ekibiyo Drakmord
(?)Community Member
Thirteenth Prophet
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- Posted: Thu, 25 Sep 2014 01:13:40 +0000
In the academy, he'd heard stories of the bazaar of Saturn. He'd heard tell of salvagers come back from a wreck leftover after Hedron had their way with a ship. Most things they said, tended to just atomize into a fine mist after the shields crashed and those fusion cannons started cutting open hull like a scalpel to wet tissue... But some things. Usually organics... They ended up glass. Fine and thin and so fragile that you could shatter it with a breath. People and plants and animals frozen in their last moments by the frigid cold of space cooling the leftover particles after their structure just fell apart. He'd heard tell of them fetching a high price from those rich, retired spacers that got out of the game with their lives and wanted to remember how fragile that life they cashed out into really was.
He promised himself he'd get one of those glassed memorials one day... Perhaps he'd get one of Io to remember this very day.
"Open fire." Worester utters quietly.
The impact is at once jarring and deafening. In space, there wasn't so much sound to join with explosions as there was the echo of a hull after it'd been hit. In a single, solid flash of coruscate fire, the small vessel erupts in a ball of white that illuminates the surrounding space as though a supernova had been set off in front of the Longbow. The shockwave from the explosion rocks the bridge of the destroyer so violently that he is thrown to the floor while the sound of proximity detonation alarms ring aloud across the suddenly red-lit area of the command center.
"Damage report?!" He roars aloud. The firing of the fusion cannons from this close had been a risk. Exact projections of how the scaled ablative hull of the prototype would react to fusion weaponry used against it had never had the chance to go beyond theoretical discussion and computer simulations. In a way, the upper echelon of Hedron saw the loss of the prototype as an excellent way to test the limits of the ship. Even at the expense of those sent out to retrieve it.
His second in command collects herself from the explosion. Pulling herself to a console to inspect the readout. Her face is grim.
"We've lost all upper quadrant shield emitters, outer armor is down to 30 percent protective capacity, we have a minor hull breach in sector 3-7 and fusion cannons bank 8-12 are non-functional..."
She goes on and on about the brokenness of his ship. Most of it is information he can determine just from the destroyers rundown hologram hovering above the bridge... He cuts her some slack. This is Ericsons first foray into true command. Fresh from the tactical deckstation, he'd given her a field appointment over the previous officer for her identification of the signature hull emissions of the prototype picked up by a scanning array orbiting Pluto. The previous officer wasn't aware of the unique hull signature of their quarry in sublight transit. It had been an easy choice. The man was a p***k.
"What is the status of the prototype?" Worester cuts her off and picks himself up from the floor... Searching the still-expanding ball of swirling plasma before the Longbow.
"Enemy status impossible to determine... It appears the prototypes armor had a reflective effect on the fusion munitions. Short range scanners are scrambled... Captain, It is highly inadvisable to proceed with combative action at this range so long as our armaments are fusion based. We won't survive a second salvo from this close."
"I don't need you to tell me that Ericson. I'm well aware of the effect... Pull us back to 700 and get me those emitters back online. I want full power to rearm the cannons with conventionals before we get the-"
A second explosion rocks the Longbow. Alarms ring out. The ship shudders and groans and he feels through his feet the damage even before he see's it. Before it's even happened he see's the scene unfolding before him.
The Prototype erupts from the center of the ball of swirling plasma... Hurling molten plates of ablative armor in every direction as it spins downward like some monstrous fiery drill. It pierces the body of the Longbow through the top deck as he watches... Tearing apart the hull as it goes. Using the heat of the plasmic reaction with its own hull to further it's motion.
He's screaming out commands to his staff. Ordering the sealing of decks. Damage control. Trying to contain the hope of surviving this. He can't hear what he's saying... All he can hear is the voice of Io on the comm as the Prototype passes clear through his ship and down through the bottom. Igniting it's engines and leaving havoc in its wake... All he can hear is Io.
"Don't come after me Worester. Don't chase me."
But he will. He knows he will. They both know he will.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Io's pushing the throttle to the floor. Driving the Naterlilli on even when she's screaming at him to slow. Engines burning through their cowls for all the plasma left over after that stunt he pulled... Armor depleted to the bare bones almost. He took the hit, but only barely. Spirals of damage readouts spill from his HUD but he ignores them. He's alive and that's all that matters. He needed to know that she could survive it. The whole thing. The entire journey would be pointless if she couldn't. He'd have been back at the drawing board all over again. And he hadn't the marks, the time, or the patience to make another go at this.
He see's a freighter a few clicks out from his bow. Bumbling along too slow for his taste. Odd that it's a spacelaner out in the badlands... But he'd heard of mercs boosting haulers like these and getting them to less populated space for safer taking of their stores. He opens a channel to the hull signature of the lumbering vessel.
"Breaker One Nine, This is Rubberduck. You're in my lane. I'm clear Noon and coming down with no brakes. Move you're fatass northwise or i'm running you over, over."
He's plotting a course to Pluto and he doesn't have time for lollygagging. He's taking the fastest way there, and that way isn't around the freighter.
It's through it.
He promised himself he'd get one of those glassed memorials one day... Perhaps he'd get one of Io to remember this very day.
"Open fire." Worester utters quietly.
The impact is at once jarring and deafening. In space, there wasn't so much sound to join with explosions as there was the echo of a hull after it'd been hit. In a single, solid flash of coruscate fire, the small vessel erupts in a ball of white that illuminates the surrounding space as though a supernova had been set off in front of the Longbow. The shockwave from the explosion rocks the bridge of the destroyer so violently that he is thrown to the floor while the sound of proximity detonation alarms ring aloud across the suddenly red-lit area of the command center.
"Damage report?!" He roars aloud. The firing of the fusion cannons from this close had been a risk. Exact projections of how the scaled ablative hull of the prototype would react to fusion weaponry used against it had never had the chance to go beyond theoretical discussion and computer simulations. In a way, the upper echelon of Hedron saw the loss of the prototype as an excellent way to test the limits of the ship. Even at the expense of those sent out to retrieve it.
His second in command collects herself from the explosion. Pulling herself to a console to inspect the readout. Her face is grim.
"We've lost all upper quadrant shield emitters, outer armor is down to 30 percent protective capacity, we have a minor hull breach in sector 3-7 and fusion cannons bank 8-12 are non-functional..."
She goes on and on about the brokenness of his ship. Most of it is information he can determine just from the destroyers rundown hologram hovering above the bridge... He cuts her some slack. This is Ericsons first foray into true command. Fresh from the tactical deckstation, he'd given her a field appointment over the previous officer for her identification of the signature hull emissions of the prototype picked up by a scanning array orbiting Pluto. The previous officer wasn't aware of the unique hull signature of their quarry in sublight transit. It had been an easy choice. The man was a p***k.
"What is the status of the prototype?" Worester cuts her off and picks himself up from the floor... Searching the still-expanding ball of swirling plasma before the Longbow.
"Enemy status impossible to determine... It appears the prototypes armor had a reflective effect on the fusion munitions. Short range scanners are scrambled... Captain, It is highly inadvisable to proceed with combative action at this range so long as our armaments are fusion based. We won't survive a second salvo from this close."
"I don't need you to tell me that Ericson. I'm well aware of the effect... Pull us back to 700 and get me those emitters back online. I want full power to rearm the cannons with conventionals before we get the-"
A second explosion rocks the Longbow. Alarms ring out. The ship shudders and groans and he feels through his feet the damage even before he see's it. Before it's even happened he see's the scene unfolding before him.
The Prototype erupts from the center of the ball of swirling plasma... Hurling molten plates of ablative armor in every direction as it spins downward like some monstrous fiery drill. It pierces the body of the Longbow through the top deck as he watches... Tearing apart the hull as it goes. Using the heat of the plasmic reaction with its own hull to further it's motion.
He's screaming out commands to his staff. Ordering the sealing of decks. Damage control. Trying to contain the hope of surviving this. He can't hear what he's saying... All he can hear is the voice of Io on the comm as the Prototype passes clear through his ship and down through the bottom. Igniting it's engines and leaving havoc in its wake... All he can hear is Io.
"Don't come after me Worester. Don't chase me."
But he will. He knows he will. They both know he will.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Io's pushing the throttle to the floor. Driving the Naterlilli on even when she's screaming at him to slow. Engines burning through their cowls for all the plasma left over after that stunt he pulled... Armor depleted to the bare bones almost. He took the hit, but only barely. Spirals of damage readouts spill from his HUD but he ignores them. He's alive and that's all that matters. He needed to know that she could survive it. The whole thing. The entire journey would be pointless if she couldn't. He'd have been back at the drawing board all over again. And he hadn't the marks, the time, or the patience to make another go at this.
He see's a freighter a few clicks out from his bow. Bumbling along too slow for his taste. Odd that it's a spacelaner out in the badlands... But he'd heard of mercs boosting haulers like these and getting them to less populated space for safer taking of their stores. He opens a channel to the hull signature of the lumbering vessel.
"Breaker One Nine, This is Rubberduck. You're in my lane. I'm clear Noon and coming down with no brakes. Move you're fatass northwise or i'm running you over, over."
He's plotting a course to Pluto and he doesn't have time for lollygagging. He's taking the fastest way there, and that way isn't around the freighter.
It's through it.
Vxce
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- Posted: Thu, 25 Sep 2014 03:55:11 +0000
Audio feed is lost shortly after the initial threat, and Chell is left staring up at the two ships as she coasts along below.
She sees everything.
The Hedron isn't coming after her any time soon. It's left crippled in the wake of the unknown ship that tore through it mercilessly, and that very ship is now coming for her.
"LINK, HE'S AFTER ME LUCKY--"
"INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM: SOURCE UNKNOWN"
"Breaker One Nine, This is Rubberduck. You're in my lane. I'm clear Noon and coming down with no brakes. Move you're fatass northwise or I'm running you over, over."
She quirks a brow, suddenly growing serious as she watches the red dot on her radar inch closer and closer to her hard won cargo. She has little choice...yet it feels wrong clearing the path to her home planet for a dangerous stranger.
Better her than anyone else.
There's only one place worth anyone's time on Pluto, and that's Arbor, a small and primitive village full of stubborn natives. Her people. The rest of the planet is nothing but a prison system for the worst kinds of folks in Sol, probably the kind of place he'd be sent to if a Hedron were able to stop him. Funny that he'd be in such a rush to get there...and if he were looking for a place to repair his ship, he'd be in her junkyard.
Reluctantly she steers the freighter north, but she increases her speed significantly once she's out of his way. It's not enough to keep up with him, but she doesn't want to be far behind when he lands in Arbor.
"Ten four. Just don't bring trouble to Arbor, stranger. You never saw my ship, and I never saw yours."
Ekibiyo Drakmord
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Thirteenth Prophet
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- Posted: Mon, 29 Sep 2014 22:44:37 +0000
The channel closes between him and the spacer and he drives the Naterlilli onto the glowing path of a predetermined navroute that would take him to the plotted point on Pluto. Screaming through the narrow span between his ship and the freighter, he waves out the window at the freighter as he passes... Thankful that he didn't have to chance surviving another collision.
He initiates verbal command to the ships computer, unable to take his hands off the controls.
"Mute alarms. Route all auxiliary power to the engines and whatever's left of the primary I want put into the replicators. Pull it from life-support if you have to... Just tell me if you have to first so I can get a fishbowl on."
A soft, female voice comes from the console. Relaying the orders to their respective systems immediately. He watches the power distribution hologram pop up on his HUD. Virtually every system other than the ones he indicated were immediately drained of power.
"Understood commander. I will advise you if life support will be inoperative."
"Thanks, but I'm not your commander. Just call me Io please. No superlatives, titles, or the like."
A pause. He can almost feel the computer brain burning with thought. Trying to figure out what to make of his statement. Processing his request.
"I apologize for the mistake Io. Would you like a damage report?"
He can’t help but laugh a little.
“I know how ******** we are, thanks.”
“I don’t follo-“
“End vocal interface. Visual communication only.”
He silences the computer. He doesn’t need to hear how his ship was hurt. She was telling him through the controls aplenty.
Trailing ribbons of fiery plasma and shedding scales of ablative plating in its wake, the hull of the Naterlilli was stripped nearly bare of its armor down into the blackened superstructure beneath. Its regenerative systems were in triple-red overload status and the reactor was at 350 percent output beyond maximum… It was straining to meet the demand of the multitude of repair systems active across the vessel along with the extra load of the vessels engines at maximum thrust. He hoped she'd hold together... Believed it even… Yet faith wasn't the thing that would carry him to his destination. His ship was designed to survive above all else... But the reaches of space were deadly to the blind faithful in their equipment. In his experience, one must prepare for the eventuality of obliteration. Out here, death on the wrong side of a coin flip was simply a fact of life. A thin layer of metal was all that separated everyone who chanced the stars from the vacuum. So, he made sure that his metal was the best.
And he wasn’t afraid to test how good it actually was.
Naterlilli: Sacred Stone Under Rushing Water. It's what the word of her name meant in his native tongue.
She flew like her name especially now it seemed. The ship was sluggish at the controls and about as nimble as a rock rolling through a river as he struggled to reign her in straying from the course. The ablative scales across her hull had served more of a purpose than to simply protect the ship from harm. They were each banked with micro-thrusters that could operate in concert to give her astonishing maneuverability and functioned to stabilize the vessel when in sublight travel... Without them, Io needed to direct the ship with nothing but the rear maneuvering vanes and a pair of control thrusters usually used for emergency braking and atmospheric flight in the nose of the ship.
The Naterlilli was capable of self-repair and regeneration of damaged components to a degree. He could do the work much more efficiently at a shipyard, but in a pinch, her internal microreplicators could produce enough nano-robotic repair units to reappropriate reactor material into the necessary components for reproducing entire missing or damaged subsystems. The rub was that this action consumed tremendous amounts of fuel from the reactor and with the degree of damage sustained, he'd need to make a fillup before moving on to his next objective after the repairs were made.
He'd heard mention of Arbor from the spacer on the freighter and pulled up a file on the place. Some shanty town on the edge of nowhere filled his HUD with images of plutonian wood markets run dry in distant ages past… A once-proud wayfarers paradise that ushered in the golden age of extra-Sol spaceflight and served as a kicking off point to the long ago space-race that led to today’s most powerful factions now filled the role of the farthest afield prison colony in all of Sol. The place was a dump… Even by his standards. And he’d visited his share of dumps.
But they had the closest gas… So there he went.
Io saw the distant speck of blue grow slowly marble sized in the viewport. He keyed in the command to the ships central computer to rescramble the hull signature code with another registered name and number. A hull scrambler was strictly illegal on any vessel operating within IA space, and to be caught with one was considered a sure and straight walk to the gallows. But no spacer, merc, pirate, smuggler or scoundrel from here to dead ole Earth flew the lanes or the badlands without one. His was integrated into the superstructure in such a way that it could only be discovered with an arclight welding torch and a shipyard grade gravity claw. It would essentially destroy the ship to find it… Most cursory searches at even the most secure inner-ring systems never got anywhere close to that point. Especially when they saw who they were keeping waiting.
His signature went from Rubberduck 2524-00, a Chevrolet Astroliner common light freighter with some patched on bodywork, to Juliet 00-022… A Fiat Firespear turned rice racer. Running food and water to starving outer rim territories for the rich politicofolks to look like nice people near election day. They hired the fastest ships with the flashiest captains to schmooze their way into the newspapers and sing the praises of their contractors from atop great big barrels of rice and water… Only to leave the very next day and move on to the next starving town for the next big propaganda stunt.
He doesn’t think he’ll need too sticky of an alibi out here. Most that come through Arbor were destitute, deranged and depraved at best… You had to be to actually want to come here in the first place. Only the nuttiest ended up this far out on purpose… Folks that didn’t fit in with the rest of the crowd who also happened to not mind living in the shadow of Sol’s nastiest prisons.
His comm sparks up as Pluto grows basketball sized. He’s come in range of the long-distance scanners.
“Juliet double ought. This is Cleweston tower of Arbor. Weall got you charted to make surface at our field, but no manifest or shipping requests… What’s your business in Arbor?”
He puts on his best sleezevoice for the 50something sounding female operator. Sounded like a Marge. He’d bet his bones she was. Rice racers were notorious for talking their way into high-sec locations with ease… Of course with the promise of food and water for free, there were few that denied them.
“I come bearing gifts sweetheart. A kilo of rice and water for the fine folks of Arbor. Courtesy of the Fine Senator Spurier of the Mercury elected council for the furtherment of Sol. Just dropping by to deliver the foodstuffs and refuel. Shouldn’t be more than a moment, but I got poached by peglegs on my way from Neptune to here… Need some repairs as well I’m afraid. Nothing serious.”
“Oh you poor thing!”
“It was nothing hun. Just some scumsuckers. I kept the grub safe for ya’ll.”
“Such a nice young man… You get outta that cold and come straight to the tower. Marge’ll cook you up some of that cargo right away for thanks.”
“Much oblidged. Juliet out.”
He cuts the comm as the planet nearly fills the viewport. Driving the nose of the Naterlilli into the thin atmosphere and flipping the ship on its back to put the most hull between him and the heat. He didn’t have any warning of hull breaches, but one could never be too careful on reentry.
He smiles to himself.
“I knew she’d be a Marge.”
Fire fills the view outside briefly before the armored canopy closes shut about the glass...
He closes his eyes… And feels gravity grip him for the first time in a long time.
He initiates verbal command to the ships computer, unable to take his hands off the controls.
"Mute alarms. Route all auxiliary power to the engines and whatever's left of the primary I want put into the replicators. Pull it from life-support if you have to... Just tell me if you have to first so I can get a fishbowl on."
A soft, female voice comes from the console. Relaying the orders to their respective systems immediately. He watches the power distribution hologram pop up on his HUD. Virtually every system other than the ones he indicated were immediately drained of power.
"Understood commander. I will advise you if life support will be inoperative."
"Thanks, but I'm not your commander. Just call me Io please. No superlatives, titles, or the like."
A pause. He can almost feel the computer brain burning with thought. Trying to figure out what to make of his statement. Processing his request.
"I apologize for the mistake Io. Would you like a damage report?"
He can’t help but laugh a little.
“I know how ******** we are, thanks.”
“I don’t follo-“
“End vocal interface. Visual communication only.”
He silences the computer. He doesn’t need to hear how his ship was hurt. She was telling him through the controls aplenty.
Trailing ribbons of fiery plasma and shedding scales of ablative plating in its wake, the hull of the Naterlilli was stripped nearly bare of its armor down into the blackened superstructure beneath. Its regenerative systems were in triple-red overload status and the reactor was at 350 percent output beyond maximum… It was straining to meet the demand of the multitude of repair systems active across the vessel along with the extra load of the vessels engines at maximum thrust. He hoped she'd hold together... Believed it even… Yet faith wasn't the thing that would carry him to his destination. His ship was designed to survive above all else... But the reaches of space were deadly to the blind faithful in their equipment. In his experience, one must prepare for the eventuality of obliteration. Out here, death on the wrong side of a coin flip was simply a fact of life. A thin layer of metal was all that separated everyone who chanced the stars from the vacuum. So, he made sure that his metal was the best.
And he wasn’t afraid to test how good it actually was.
Naterlilli: Sacred Stone Under Rushing Water. It's what the word of her name meant in his native tongue.
She flew like her name especially now it seemed. The ship was sluggish at the controls and about as nimble as a rock rolling through a river as he struggled to reign her in straying from the course. The ablative scales across her hull had served more of a purpose than to simply protect the ship from harm. They were each banked with micro-thrusters that could operate in concert to give her astonishing maneuverability and functioned to stabilize the vessel when in sublight travel... Without them, Io needed to direct the ship with nothing but the rear maneuvering vanes and a pair of control thrusters usually used for emergency braking and atmospheric flight in the nose of the ship.
The Naterlilli was capable of self-repair and regeneration of damaged components to a degree. He could do the work much more efficiently at a shipyard, but in a pinch, her internal microreplicators could produce enough nano-robotic repair units to reappropriate reactor material into the necessary components for reproducing entire missing or damaged subsystems. The rub was that this action consumed tremendous amounts of fuel from the reactor and with the degree of damage sustained, he'd need to make a fillup before moving on to his next objective after the repairs were made.
He'd heard mention of Arbor from the spacer on the freighter and pulled up a file on the place. Some shanty town on the edge of nowhere filled his HUD with images of plutonian wood markets run dry in distant ages past… A once-proud wayfarers paradise that ushered in the golden age of extra-Sol spaceflight and served as a kicking off point to the long ago space-race that led to today’s most powerful factions now filled the role of the farthest afield prison colony in all of Sol. The place was a dump… Even by his standards. And he’d visited his share of dumps.
But they had the closest gas… So there he went.
Io saw the distant speck of blue grow slowly marble sized in the viewport. He keyed in the command to the ships central computer to rescramble the hull signature code with another registered name and number. A hull scrambler was strictly illegal on any vessel operating within IA space, and to be caught with one was considered a sure and straight walk to the gallows. But no spacer, merc, pirate, smuggler or scoundrel from here to dead ole Earth flew the lanes or the badlands without one. His was integrated into the superstructure in such a way that it could only be discovered with an arclight welding torch and a shipyard grade gravity claw. It would essentially destroy the ship to find it… Most cursory searches at even the most secure inner-ring systems never got anywhere close to that point. Especially when they saw who they were keeping waiting.
His signature went from Rubberduck 2524-00, a Chevrolet Astroliner common light freighter with some patched on bodywork, to Juliet 00-022… A Fiat Firespear turned rice racer. Running food and water to starving outer rim territories for the rich politicofolks to look like nice people near election day. They hired the fastest ships with the flashiest captains to schmooze their way into the newspapers and sing the praises of their contractors from atop great big barrels of rice and water… Only to leave the very next day and move on to the next starving town for the next big propaganda stunt.
He doesn’t think he’ll need too sticky of an alibi out here. Most that come through Arbor were destitute, deranged and depraved at best… You had to be to actually want to come here in the first place. Only the nuttiest ended up this far out on purpose… Folks that didn’t fit in with the rest of the crowd who also happened to not mind living in the shadow of Sol’s nastiest prisons.
His comm sparks up as Pluto grows basketball sized. He’s come in range of the long-distance scanners.
“Juliet double ought. This is Cleweston tower of Arbor. Weall got you charted to make surface at our field, but no manifest or shipping requests… What’s your business in Arbor?”
He puts on his best sleezevoice for the 50something sounding female operator. Sounded like a Marge. He’d bet his bones she was. Rice racers were notorious for talking their way into high-sec locations with ease… Of course with the promise of food and water for free, there were few that denied them.
“I come bearing gifts sweetheart. A kilo of rice and water for the fine folks of Arbor. Courtesy of the Fine Senator Spurier of the Mercury elected council for the furtherment of Sol. Just dropping by to deliver the foodstuffs and refuel. Shouldn’t be more than a moment, but I got poached by peglegs on my way from Neptune to here… Need some repairs as well I’m afraid. Nothing serious.”
“Oh you poor thing!”
“It was nothing hun. Just some scumsuckers. I kept the grub safe for ya’ll.”
“Such a nice young man… You get outta that cold and come straight to the tower. Marge’ll cook you up some of that cargo right away for thanks.”
“Much oblidged. Juliet out.”
He cuts the comm as the planet nearly fills the viewport. Driving the nose of the Naterlilli into the thin atmosphere and flipping the ship on its back to put the most hull between him and the heat. He didn’t have any warning of hull breaches, but one could never be too careful on reentry.
He smiles to himself.
“I knew she’d be a Marge.”
Fire fills the view outside briefly before the armored canopy closes shut about the glass...
He closes his eyes… And feels gravity grip him for the first time in a long time.
Vxce
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- Posted: Fri, 03 Oct 2014 04:17:24 +0000
She steps out of the shower, pulling a towel off the rack beside her and bringing it to her face first, then up into her hair. Steam rolls off her skin, trailing after her as she makes her way to the curtain that serves as a door, pulling the towel around herself and securing it with a careful tuck. She leaves a wet trail from the swollen wood on her bathroom floor to the fur carpet of her bedroom where cloths lay waiting on her bed.
A sleeveless turtleneck, a skirt with leather and fur lining, leggings, gloves that ran up to her elbows, a hooded shawl and a pair of thick, sturdy boots. They're ruddy in color, all blacks and browns, oranges and dull blue-grays, and they seem to match the rest of the room. Everything from the headboard on the bed to the desk on in the corner appears to be salvaged or hand made, but painted and arranged with care, all sporting the same small intricate earthy patterns that coordinate with the rest of the room. Beautifully embroidered quilts hang on every wall, patched with animal skins and feathers on their fringes that work to tell small and simple stories of the villagers that raised her.
Books lay stacked on the floor, more than can fit on the shelves she has built herself from carefully worked scrapmetal, brushed clean and painted to her liking. Antlers hold the jewelry on the nightstand by her bed, and after she is dressed, it is from here that she selects a pair of dangly earrings made from beads, bones, and twisted wire.
THANK YOU, MATANA! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!
She crosses the room and hooks her finger into the wooden blinds in front of her window, pulling them down to peek out into her junkyard. A huge freighter sits with its loading dock wide open, bursting with colorful crates, boxes, and sacks of food. There are possibly hundreds of people gathered around the entrance, picking through the cargo with smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes as they take only what they need.
The side of the freighter reads GENERAL MILLS CO.
MATANA! MATANA! THANK YOU!
She lifts her gaze to the artificial sky above and watches it for a long time.
Watches it like she's waiting for something unstoppable.
They can't go on like this forever, living off stolen cargo on the fringes of civilization. She knows they can't, but it's all she can do to help them for now.
As she finally steps away from the window, it is only to address the small levitating companion which she calls Link as he comes to life from his perch on her nightstand.
You have 48 new messages, miss Chell.
"That's alright Link...initiate voice-to-text for each message so I can skim over them. Probably just a lot of thank you's."
Yes, I'm registering quite a few in translation.
She presses her thumb against a small scanner on the wall and a blue light scans her fingerprint slowly, then turns green and blinks as a hidden door opens. Unlike the rest of her bedroom, the walk-in-closet-type-room is all smooth brushed steel on solid foundation.
There is nothing organic here, the back wall is lined with monitors rather than quilts, and to the left is her utility belt -- or rather, her collapsed armor -- suspended behind a thick wall of glass. There are metallic arms whirring all around the belt, probing and scanning, collecting data and searching for any signs of damage from her previous journey.
This time, it reads her retina.
Access granted.
The glass door lifts and the arms recede into the surrounding walls to allow her to collect the utility belt, the final piece to her fresh wardrobe. She clasps it snug around her waist and exits the closet, the door sealing shut behind her and appearing to be nothing more than part of the wall.
Heading out to meet the masses?
"Yup."
She approaches the front door, collecting her sword on the way out and tapping her shoulder.
"Hop on...and hold tight."
Ebag The II
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Dangerous Sex Symbol
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- Posted: Sat, 04 Oct 2014 01:54:49 +0000
Hartia Raye Pendragon
Darkest Silver
arrow The Past
+++It was as simple as that. He had convinced the people around him to take to the stars from the slums of Gaia Primus. As simple as offering a beggar a million dollars if they just did one minor thing. As he walked through the bridge of the faux freighter he felt the power of hundreds of people behind him. They came from all walks of life and with their own abilities. These were the disgruntled of Gaia Primus. The people that had somehow been effected by the momentum of his own passing. These people had been effected by a multitude of organizations that the he ran or had ran at some point; be it The Front of Armament, The Caduceus Corporation, The Rave Club, or even the Pilgrims of the Bloody Hand. These were the malcontents that flocked to him the second that he stated the few words among his sources. 'There is money to be taken from the stars.'
+++Dzan grinned his sadistic grin upon his tattooed and pierced face. He had brought a small army by Gaian standards to his own personal freighter take on the general chaos of the stars. A small army to become the pirates that the system that Gaia Primus was a resident would quickly and immediately begin to feel. That sadistic grin grew all the more. There would be bloodshed on such a massive scale that it would bring him back into the limelight of Khorne. And then all of this sudden his thoughts of bloodshed and money would be yanked back to the present.
+++"Sir! When do you want to start translation?"
+++Dzan's bronze eyes turned towards the person. It was some punk that had been a freight hauler for the long run. Tattoos ran down his arms and he had the bulk of a prison inductee. This was a man that did nothing but long hauls that were, most likely, illegal and worked out so he wouldn't be killed. The guy was probably more massive than Dzan himself. Dzan stood at a raw six foot even with lean muscles draped across his body. Pants that had long since seen their day as they were covered with giant blotches of stained blood. A tank top that show that everything about him was either covered in ink or piercings; except for his right arm. His face held the lightning bolt that extended below his eye and the piercings that adorned his face, but it wasn't any of this that intimidated people. It was the sheer hostility and hatred that flowed off Dzan.
+++"Th' gak ya thin', grox-reamer? As soo' as possible. There is sta's ta plunda." Dzan's accent was thick as gak. He had just returned back from the Hive City he was raised in to raise this army to span the stars.
+++The man's face blanched slightly at the thought of pissing off the infamous Champion of Khorne. "Yes sir. We'll translate in ten. Better strap yourself in."
+++Dzan merely nodded his head and walked off the bridge. The ship he was in was unnamed. A scrambler merely changed the name of the faux freighter. All the cannons along the broadsides were hidden behind removeable blast shields that would move as the cannons were rolled out. The torpedoes were hidden underneath the bridge in the shape of massive roaring lions. Yet, all of it was just decoration to the pirates whose true fury was in the boarding actions that would no doubt take place with Dzan leading the charge.
+++Eventually, he'd get to his "suite". Though, to Dzan it was merely a hole in some random passage way that held a caught and weapon rack. The second he stepped in Dzan began smiling all the more. The very caress of the daemon reaching out from his axe stroking the hatred within his soul. The axe looked like a snarling creature ready to maul someone. The chain weapon was in pristine condition. The only thing about Dzan that ever was. The gore was even removed for the translation. Underneath that was the kraken tooth dagger. The dagger that had felled a Space Marine in a boarding action years ago. A blade from the almost mythical space faring creature whose tooth could just tear through ships like they were paper. Underneath that? The multitude of guns that Dzan had in his collection. He'd sit down in the Warp chair and begin strapping himself in as the loud speakers blared out.
+++"Translation to Warp will happen in ten...
Nine...
Eight...
Seven...
Six...o
Five...
Four...
Three...
Two...
One...
NOW!"
arrow Now
Jupiter. 165,947km from Io
+++Dzan awoke with blood streaming down his face. The last thing he remembered was the translation starting and then slith hit the fan. Slith hit the fan hardcore. He unbuckled himself and went to stand. Only to hit his head all the harder on pipes that had broken free from the overhead. Liquids has completely ruined his cot, but it didn't matter as he reached up and yanked his chainaxe down from its mooring. From there the kraken tooth dagger was removed and attached to his belt. Then the guns in case of long range slith needed to go down. He'd stretch what he could. Gak, everything hurt so bad. Then he began to walk out. The daemon caressing his anger as he snarled and left the room and from there all hell broke loose.
+++Flames and smoke were competing with refrigeration pipes and steam. Bulkheads had completely buckled and the floor was gone in places. As Dzan looked to his left he'd notice what looked like a cannon shoved through part of the hull. He'd scrunched his eyes up slightly before moving towards the bridge to find what the gak had happened. He'd crawl through spaces and over beams and pipes. Flames would bite at his clothes and skin, but he'd continue unabated. He had been through worse. He had traversed the stars on multitude of occasions and as long as he didn't have to fight daemons again to survive it was a good day.
+++Eventually, Dzan would reach the bridge. Bodies were strewn about. Cries of pain and the echoes of the dying were rampant about, but that wasn't what had actually caused Dzan Streea to pause. It was the site out of the bridge that stopped him. He was floating through space he had never seen...floating through space slammed into a hunk of rock, ships, and other materials that had become intertwined by the Warp. He was officially on a Space Hulk and that meant a few things. They had to make sure their areas were free of alien and daemon corruption and how the gak they were going to survive. Let alone navigate this thing.
+++The Space Hulk was a giant of a thing. Spanning multiple hundred of kilometers in the least. A multitude of ships were smashed and melded together. Those of human origin and those of very alien origin residing within and next to one another. Let alone the meteors and asteroids that were no doubt fused amid all of the unnatural creations of man. Power was obviously on in some of them, but not all. He'd think quickly to be able to render his area safe and able to certainly support life, but first he'd wait on two partners.
Darkest Silver
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- Posted: Sat, 04 Oct 2014 21:00:37 +0000
Jay ~ The new venture.
It had been years since she had seen the monster of a man known as Dzan, long since had she moved up in the world of Sigil and just about ended her life numerous times. It had become such a daily thing that it had also become mundane and boring, Jay had never been one to admit she needed chaos in her life, always striving to be 'normal' by gaian standards... But when contacted and offered a one way trip into the blackness known as space she had found herself trembling with excitement.
There was nothing left for her on gaia... So why not extend her reach to space, find new lives to ruin and plunder others hard earned money and weapons?
It had been an easy decision in the end, even when boarding the ship and waving goodbye to everything she had known and loved including skittles, since space was no place for a giant gryphon after all. The woman was smiling through the whole process, the greed within was far greater than her sense of 'duty'.
On the ship she had mostly avoided everyone, the people Dzan had assembled had been for the most part beneath her, in her opinion of course, but regardless of that fact Jay was more or less forced to play the part of an bystander while others scurried about doing various odd jobs on the ship.
This was foreign to her, having no knowledge about space ships or space in general other than there was a very large opportunity to become wealthy and somewhat feared, so all the brawler could do was relax in her designated area. A simple nook in the ship with a chair and space for her bag of goodies that she had crammed under the chair itself so she could better defend it if the other 'crooks' on the ship decided to try their luck.
The speakers blared and the countdown began, buckles clicked and Jay gripped the chair she had strapped into tightly..........
~~
Some time after the screams of the injured woke her, the brawler groaned as her straps loosened and allowed her body to flop out of the chair onto the metal floor, "The ******** just happened.... " Words formed although she could barely hear herself speak over the throbbing pain in her skull, ears ringing a bit also didn't help even as the sickening moans and cries of those around her filled the air. Blood coated fingers searched the area around her for the bag she had brought, It meant more to her than the strangers lives and was of course her first priority.
After what felt like minutes her fingers wrapped about the soft material of the rather large backpack, the woman tugging it free from under the busted up chair which she could now see as being almost upside down, so much for safety. If she had been any taller she may of broken her neck during the turmoil.
Being 5'4" was a blessing in disguise at times.
"What the ******** is going on?..."
Again Jay questioned what had happened, dragging herself up onto her feet and stumbling through the broken bodies of those who had no names, dragging the back pack along the ground as she navigated through the torn up ship. Avoiding any open flames she managed to squeeze her frame through a partially open door to the bridge.
There she saw Dzan staring out into space...wait no, not space... As the woman followed his gaze she found herself stunned into silence, body frozen as the sight of the monstrosity took her breath away.
It was safe to say Jay had never seen anything like it, various ships molded together like some twisted form of playdough being pressed into one another...
"Dzan..."
It was the only word that would be said as her body finally began to function again, dragging her heels as she neared the monster who had brought her along on this 'adventure'.
Jay was only mildly hurt, a few surface cuts which had coated most of one arm in her own blood, but the rest was simple bruising that would eventually show up on the exposed flesh of her legs and shoulders.
The attire was nothing short of the usual for the brawler, short shorts, thigh high stockings, knee high reinforced combat boots with an added surprise care of her old bartender and of course the simple black singlet that was now a little worse for wear. the clothing covered what she needed and that was all it was for, having had a name tattooed along her side meant she needed to keep it covered when not with those who shared it.
Not that it would really matter out here anyway...
It had been years since she had seen the monster of a man known as Dzan, long since had she moved up in the world of Sigil and just about ended her life numerous times. It had become such a daily thing that it had also become mundane and boring, Jay had never been one to admit she needed chaos in her life, always striving to be 'normal' by gaian standards... But when contacted and offered a one way trip into the blackness known as space she had found herself trembling with excitement.
There was nothing left for her on gaia... So why not extend her reach to space, find new lives to ruin and plunder others hard earned money and weapons?
It had been an easy decision in the end, even when boarding the ship and waving goodbye to everything she had known and loved including skittles, since space was no place for a giant gryphon after all. The woman was smiling through the whole process, the greed within was far greater than her sense of 'duty'.
On the ship she had mostly avoided everyone, the people Dzan had assembled had been for the most part beneath her, in her opinion of course, but regardless of that fact Jay was more or less forced to play the part of an bystander while others scurried about doing various odd jobs on the ship.
This was foreign to her, having no knowledge about space ships or space in general other than there was a very large opportunity to become wealthy and somewhat feared, so all the brawler could do was relax in her designated area. A simple nook in the ship with a chair and space for her bag of goodies that she had crammed under the chair itself so she could better defend it if the other 'crooks' on the ship decided to try their luck.
The speakers blared and the countdown began, buckles clicked and Jay gripped the chair she had strapped into tightly..........
~~
Some time after the screams of the injured woke her, the brawler groaned as her straps loosened and allowed her body to flop out of the chair onto the metal floor, "The ******** just happened.... " Words formed although she could barely hear herself speak over the throbbing pain in her skull, ears ringing a bit also didn't help even as the sickening moans and cries of those around her filled the air. Blood coated fingers searched the area around her for the bag she had brought, It meant more to her than the strangers lives and was of course her first priority.
After what felt like minutes her fingers wrapped about the soft material of the rather large backpack, the woman tugging it free from under the busted up chair which she could now see as being almost upside down, so much for safety. If she had been any taller she may of broken her neck during the turmoil.
Being 5'4" was a blessing in disguise at times.
"What the ******** is going on?..."
Again Jay questioned what had happened, dragging herself up onto her feet and stumbling through the broken bodies of those who had no names, dragging the back pack along the ground as she navigated through the torn up ship. Avoiding any open flames she managed to squeeze her frame through a partially open door to the bridge.
There she saw Dzan staring out into space...wait no, not space... As the woman followed his gaze she found herself stunned into silence, body frozen as the sight of the monstrosity took her breath away.
It was safe to say Jay had never seen anything like it, various ships molded together like some twisted form of playdough being pressed into one another...
"Dzan..."
It was the only word that would be said as her body finally began to function again, dragging her heels as she neared the monster who had brought her along on this 'adventure'.
Jay was only mildly hurt, a few surface cuts which had coated most of one arm in her own blood, but the rest was simple bruising that would eventually show up on the exposed flesh of her legs and shoulders.
The attire was nothing short of the usual for the brawler, short shorts, thigh high stockings, knee high reinforced combat boots with an added surprise care of her old bartender and of course the simple black singlet that was now a little worse for wear. the clothing covered what she needed and that was all it was for, having had a name tattooed along her side meant she needed to keep it covered when not with those who shared it.
Not that it would really matter out here anyway...
malwareUFO
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- Posted: Sat, 04 Oct 2014 22:30:56 +0000
No one would have expected this, he was just minding his business drilling for anti-matter pockets within an asteroid when that war vessel showed up. He hadn't seen one hint of military this far out of the solar system. He was way past the Oort cloud, the fact that the hulking war vessel made its way past all those damn comets was astounding.
He didn't have time to think about it, he had to get his ship as far away as possible. He and his shipmate manned the helm, his medium sized frigate equipped with stolen hadron engines acquired from some unsavory diplomats a few years back alit in the vast darkness of space beyond the safety of the solar system, subject to the whim of shadowy devils lurking in the darkness of open space.
He watched his radar, the war vessel pinging as an orange dot. He became suspicious when he realized that the war vessel was not trailing him. In fact, it hadn't even moved from the asteroid he'd been drilling on. "What the...", he pulled up a HUD of a rear visual, zooming in on the asteroid that war vessel orbited.
-----------------------------
Rangoon licked his chops. "Tasty uranium...", Caroline glared, "You're not eating this batch! You keep your grubby little pig hooves off this. We need it to make back through the Oort cloud." Rangoon snickered and hopped into the co-pilot seat, "Well then, activate the Maw, my lady..."
-----------------------------
A seam slid across the hull of the Regence like lips opening for a bite, gas escaping in an orange hue. The Regence expanded, opening its jaws to consume the 2 mile wide asteroid, unhinging like a snakes head devouring its prey. It didn't take long, only a moment and then the asteroid was gone, and so was the Regence.
-----------------------------
"What.... Just.... Happened......" Visibly shaken, Turk looked up from his HUD display at his co-pilot, "That was freakin'.... AWESOME!"
He didn't have time to think about it, he had to get his ship as far away as possible. He and his shipmate manned the helm, his medium sized frigate equipped with stolen hadron engines acquired from some unsavory diplomats a few years back alit in the vast darkness of space beyond the safety of the solar system, subject to the whim of shadowy devils lurking in the darkness of open space.
He watched his radar, the war vessel pinging as an orange dot. He became suspicious when he realized that the war vessel was not trailing him. In fact, it hadn't even moved from the asteroid he'd been drilling on. "What the...", he pulled up a HUD of a rear visual, zooming in on the asteroid that war vessel orbited.
-----------------------------
Rangoon licked his chops. "Tasty uranium...", Caroline glared, "You're not eating this batch! You keep your grubby little pig hooves off this. We need it to make back through the Oort cloud." Rangoon snickered and hopped into the co-pilot seat, "Well then, activate the Maw, my lady..."
-----------------------------
A seam slid across the hull of the Regence like lips opening for a bite, gas escaping in an orange hue. The Regence expanded, opening its jaws to consume the 2 mile wide asteroid, unhinging like a snakes head devouring its prey. It didn't take long, only a moment and then the asteroid was gone, and so was the Regence.
-----------------------------
"What.... Just.... Happened......" Visibly shaken, Turk looked up from his HUD display at his co-pilot, "That was freakin'.... AWESOME!"
ImNoHero
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- Posted: Sun, 05 Oct 2014 01:29:46 +0000
It had been years since Bishop so called left the game. Though those close to him knew that the game would never truly leave him be. You don't just go balls deep in a raunchy broad and expect to come out without the burn or the itch. Bishop got too hungry, too powerful, too fast. And when he tried to let it go, it refused to release him. As such, he separated his wife and his son from himself. The money that would always keep flowing for the foreseeable future would keep going into accounts for them, back home. Meanwhile, if he had to remain in the game, he might as well make the best of it.
Many people have mentioned in many places, that history repeats itself, and so here it rang true. Dzan Streea approached Bishop sometime ago and made mention of heading to some new places. Immediately he was down. Though he also understood it meant he might never return home. He might never see his family again. He had already dealt with this grief, and he knew that they were safest without him in their lives. They would never be found, and they would never be harmed. Meanwhile, he literally, dropped off the face of the planet. He didn't carry near as much gear as he use to, though he surely managed to keep a small arsenal ready for any heated occasion. To hell with the old ways. He never put it past himself to use guns of any sort at this point in his life.
43. He was now 43 years old. His appearance having changed some over the years. His skin was fair, no longer so pale, but a peachy tone almost. Healthy. He no longer suffered from his dreaded feral mind. His heart condition no longer an issue. He was more in his prime that he was 15 years ago. Best part was now, he was over all the need and want to throw down in any respective form or fashion. Now, he was nothing more than a straight up killer. A criminal with no redemption possible in this life. The things he had done were but a petty precursor to what he would commit in the future. In respect to his family, it should be noted that his faithful companion Dzul died, roughly 8 years ago. He hasn't even thought of getting another pet since then. For what?
Despite his previous relationship with Dzan, as a whole, they seemed to be rapidly making quite the friendship or at least comradery. And despite his past with Jay, even now they were a little distant than they were a decade ago. His life struggles and ups and downs cause much strife in his life, and he was just now really beginning to feel in control again. His heart wasn't too long, still auburn and still kept just long enough to style. As for his eyebrows, they were gone. His face being completely hairless. His same old hazel eyes were testament to his remaining human. Regardless of the past in it's own respect, it was time to more forward.
~
Bishop awoke strapped into a seat, much like Jay. His exposed chest and arms had gotten bruised and burned from the force against the straps, a few spots even breaking the skin. His nose dripped with blood, as did his left ear. The whites of his eyes showing signs of few popped blood vessels in each. Grunting, The Russian Meta released the belts which were apprently too loose. For when he dropped free, he could feel that a couple of ribs were broken, and he was certain the opposing sides collar bone was fractured. He coughed a couple times as he grunted more, suddenly clinching his jaw as he grit his teeth through the pain and pushed himself up. He looked around at the man struggling crew members, and the many more dead. Knowing there was nothing he could do for them, he began to work his way to the bridge. Hopefully Dzan was already there when he made it. Fortunately, his survival ensure that if there was nobody else left capable, thanks to his Omnitools, Bishop was more than capable of making repairs to the damaged ship. Granted to do it all by himself would take quite a long while.
Many people have mentioned in many places, that history repeats itself, and so here it rang true. Dzan Streea approached Bishop sometime ago and made mention of heading to some new places. Immediately he was down. Though he also understood it meant he might never return home. He might never see his family again. He had already dealt with this grief, and he knew that they were safest without him in their lives. They would never be found, and they would never be harmed. Meanwhile, he literally, dropped off the face of the planet. He didn't carry near as much gear as he use to, though he surely managed to keep a small arsenal ready for any heated occasion. To hell with the old ways. He never put it past himself to use guns of any sort at this point in his life.
43. He was now 43 years old. His appearance having changed some over the years. His skin was fair, no longer so pale, but a peachy tone almost. Healthy. He no longer suffered from his dreaded feral mind. His heart condition no longer an issue. He was more in his prime that he was 15 years ago. Best part was now, he was over all the need and want to throw down in any respective form or fashion. Now, he was nothing more than a straight up killer. A criminal with no redemption possible in this life. The things he had done were but a petty precursor to what he would commit in the future. In respect to his family, it should be noted that his faithful companion Dzul died, roughly 8 years ago. He hasn't even thought of getting another pet since then. For what?
Despite his previous relationship with Dzan, as a whole, they seemed to be rapidly making quite the friendship or at least comradery. And despite his past with Jay, even now they were a little distant than they were a decade ago. His life struggles and ups and downs cause much strife in his life, and he was just now really beginning to feel in control again. His heart wasn't too long, still auburn and still kept just long enough to style. As for his eyebrows, they were gone. His face being completely hairless. His same old hazel eyes were testament to his remaining human. Regardless of the past in it's own respect, it was time to more forward.
~
Bishop awoke strapped into a seat, much like Jay. His exposed chest and arms had gotten bruised and burned from the force against the straps, a few spots even breaking the skin. His nose dripped with blood, as did his left ear. The whites of his eyes showing signs of few popped blood vessels in each. Grunting, The Russian Meta released the belts which were apprently too loose. For when he dropped free, he could feel that a couple of ribs were broken, and he was certain the opposing sides collar bone was fractured. He coughed a couple times as he grunted more, suddenly clinching his jaw as he grit his teeth through the pain and pushed himself up. He looked around at the man struggling crew members, and the many more dead. Knowing there was nothing he could do for them, he began to work his way to the bridge. Hopefully Dzan was already there when he made it. Fortunately, his survival ensure that if there was nobody else left capable, thanks to his Omnitools, Bishop was more than capable of making repairs to the damaged ship. Granted to do it all by himself would take quite a long while.
Ebag The II
Darkest Silver
Ebag The II
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- Posted: Sun, 05 Oct 2014 02:00:27 +0000
+++Dzan merely stood there. His arms crossing over his chest and he surveyed the scene about him. Well, this was a conundrum he had certainly found himself in. His minions would already be calling the shots for him. Blast doors would be shut permanently from venting into space. Others would be shut so that anything from the outside of his would have to cut their way through, but of course that wouldn't stop all the rents and tears about his ship, but it'd certainly be a start as salvage crews would expand outward from the bridge and the berthing areas.
"Dzan..."
+++Dzan's head would turn and he'd smile all the more. The sight itself would be pretty grizzly as his face was covered in blood from the wound that he sustained. It'd drip to the deck as he'd realize who was directly speaking to him, and the man that had appeared behind her shortly after that short word was spoken. He'd merely nod his head slightly before he'd force himself to speak in Low Gothic. "So, yeah, the Warp trip didn't really...do what it was gakkin' supposed to, eh?" He'd turn around and open his arms wide.
+++"But! What I do know is this...at the very least it isn't some daemons scampering around wearing the crews' skins as robes." He'd pause for a second and survey his people. "YOU!" He'd point at some random gakker. "Are th' scannas workin'? An' iffin' they are betta star' scannin' local and far." He'd then look back at his team mates. "Well, welcome to the adventure of a life time. Already the doors have been sealed where needed and salvage crews are heading outwards from the bridge and berthing areas to spider web around the worse damage areas. However, we'll need to span outwards ourselves into whatever this is and see if we can divert power from old cores to here and make sure there isn't some infestation of genestealers, orks, or even gakkin' daemons on those other ships. Sounds easy, yeah?"
+++Dzan would smile all the more. The blood running into his mouth as his Healing Cell would work to clog what was being ripped open by his movements. The chainaxe would be straining at its leash towards Dzan's mind, but he seemed clearer than the years of both Bishop's and Jay's past would rely. Dzan had found a peace of sorts between the bloodshed and slaughter, but when he released his hold on reality and became the killer than there would be no turning back until sated. He'd turn on his heel and begin to walk towards the doors of the bridge before stopping a guy and taking a pack of lho-sticks from him. Instantly he'd plop one into his mouth and light it up.
+++"Well, ya goin' to join me? What their nuts can handle the menial work. It's their ship after all. I'm just the rockstar that chartered it." Without even waiting for a word he'd step into what was, in essence, unknown.
"Dzan..."
+++Dzan's head would turn and he'd smile all the more. The sight itself would be pretty grizzly as his face was covered in blood from the wound that he sustained. It'd drip to the deck as he'd realize who was directly speaking to him, and the man that had appeared behind her shortly after that short word was spoken. He'd merely nod his head slightly before he'd force himself to speak in Low Gothic. "So, yeah, the Warp trip didn't really...do what it was gakkin' supposed to, eh?" He'd turn around and open his arms wide.
+++"But! What I do know is this...at the very least it isn't some daemons scampering around wearing the crews' skins as robes." He'd pause for a second and survey his people. "YOU!" He'd point at some random gakker. "Are th' scannas workin'? An' iffin' they are betta star' scannin' local and far." He'd then look back at his team mates. "Well, welcome to the adventure of a life time. Already the doors have been sealed where needed and salvage crews are heading outwards from the bridge and berthing areas to spider web around the worse damage areas. However, we'll need to span outwards ourselves into whatever this is and see if we can divert power from old cores to here and make sure there isn't some infestation of genestealers, orks, or even gakkin' daemons on those other ships. Sounds easy, yeah?"
+++Dzan would smile all the more. The blood running into his mouth as his Healing Cell would work to clog what was being ripped open by his movements. The chainaxe would be straining at its leash towards Dzan's mind, but he seemed clearer than the years of both Bishop's and Jay's past would rely. Dzan had found a peace of sorts between the bloodshed and slaughter, but when he released his hold on reality and became the killer than there would be no turning back until sated. He'd turn on his heel and begin to walk towards the doors of the bridge before stopping a guy and taking a pack of lho-sticks from him. Instantly he'd plop one into his mouth and light it up.
+++"Well, ya goin' to join me? What their nuts can handle the menial work. It's their ship after all. I'm just the rockstar that chartered it." Without even waiting for a word he'd step into what was, in essence, unknown.
ImNoHero
Darkest Silver