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 Posted: Wed Oct 20, 2010 11:50 pm
Name: Orion Korba
Alias/Callsign: Maverick
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Rank: Captain
Birth Date: April 15th, 2296
Home World: Earth
Home City: Earth City ((Formerly New York City))
Personality: Despite what Captain Korba insists, he is remarkably similar to his heroic father Commander Niko Korba. He takes loyalty, duty and honor very seriously and betrayal can drive him mad. He can be quick to anger, because of this, he's spent most of his adult life getting his anger under control and for the most part he has. This isn't to say he's not a friendly soul, whose faster to make friends than make enemies. Though he has a bit of cockiness to him, Orion is more straight minded. Above all he takes his duty as a member of the Alliance Fleet very seriously, his duty to the people of the Sol System is first and foremost in his mind.
Biography: Orion was born to the famous hero of the Golem War, Commander Niko Korba, two years after the ceasefire was declared and the Golems vanished beyond the rim of the Kepler Asteroid Belt and disappeared into deep space. His mother was a college professor named Melissa McDonald from Earth. The youngest of two boys, Orion was always overshadowed by his older brother Joshua, 1 year his senior. Because of this, Orion spent his childhood training his mind and body to fulfill the fate his father had decided for his boys. It had entered into Nike's mind even before Joshua was born to teach his children that the military was the best thing they could do with their lives. The brother's childhood was filled with claims like, "A man isn't a man until he wears the uniform." And, "The best thing you can do with your life is die for your people." This belief can be blamed for the eventual divorce of Dr. McDonald and Commander Korba, combined with the constant moving from one military base to another following as Niko was transferred from posting to posting.
Because of their upbringing, Orion and Joshua entered the military. Both of them set out to be fighter pilots, to sit in the cockpit of a Falcon Dogfighter ((The older model)) or the Orca Starfighter ((The newer model)). During training, Joshua became romantically involved with a young woman. Despite the fact that Joshua, his girlfriend and Orion were like three best friends, Orion often felt like the third wheel when they all spent time together. Joshua was certain he was going to marry this woman, but on the day he was planning on proposing, the same day he was to earn his pilot wings, during one last bout of training he banked his Falcon to hard to the left, the a piece in the starboard engine came loose causing the engine to burst into flames. Joshua panicked and in his panic his fighter smashed into the tarmac, he was killed instantly.
At the funeral, Orion's father met Joshua's would-be fiance for the first time and specifically requested that she serve under him on board the U.S.S. Guardian, his flagship and 45 year old relic which predated the Golem War. However, at that same funeral, heated words were exchanged between Orion and Niko. Orion blamed his father for Joshua's death, and they haven't spoken since. It's been 4 years since that day. Orion has served on the U.S.S. Lincoln, the flagship of Fleet Admiral MacArthur this entire time. Despite being estranged from his father, it was no wonder when Orion was invited to the Guardian Decommissioning Ceremony, where the aging vessel, the ship which won the now famous Battle of Rhea, would be officially decommissioned from service and repurposed into the 'Museum of the Golem War', Humanity's first mobile museum as it patrols the outer rim of the solar system. Needless to say, Orion is not entirely happy to see his father, or even Joshua's ex-girlfriend again. He is hoping to go through the ceremony with the absolute bare minimum contact with his father, return to the Lincoln and continuing with his life.
Overall Appearance: Captain Orion Korba
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 160 Ilbs
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Brown
Skin Tone: Olive/Greek Descent
Distinctive Markings: A scar across the right side of his lower lip from a bar brawl. On his upper back his has a long, thin scar in his left shoulder blade from a training accident. A large, intricate Titanian ceremonial tattoo on his left arm proof of his proud Titanian heritage.
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Posted: Sat Oct 23, 2010 7:33 pm
Name: Paige Skye Hart
Alias/Callsign: Pepper
Age: Twenty-six
Gender: Female
Rank: Master Chief of Engineering
Birth Date: April 22nd, 2298
Home World: Earth
Home City: Southlands (Formerly Los Angeles, California)
Personality: Deemed as lazy and loud-mouthed, most people who don't know Paige well would believe she would be the worst worker in the history of engineers the Sol Alliance has ever seen. More often than not, people who don't know her would think she's bossy and cocky, taking her rank to a whole new level of personal power existence. She hands off jobs to others all the time, mainly sticking to napping when she's not tossing around orders. However, she knows better than anyone, that in order to get something done, you have to do it yourself. When it comes down to the serious crunch time, it'd be hard to get her to do anything other than work hard to get everything to be in top shape. She commits herself to her work when she needs to be serious. However, these times rarely happen now, and she can usually slack off and joke around as she pleases.
Relation wise, she's guarded around everyone except Orion, Joshua's brother. She's friendly and can make friends more often than enemies, but she's afraid of getting close to anyone, love-wise. She figures it'd be easier that way...
Biography: Paige was born the second child of her father, Jaymes Hart and her mother, Zuri Skye. The only girl of her seven siblings, she grew up as a tom boy for the most part of her life. Her father worked aboard the Guardian as the Master Chief Engineer back during the first Golem War. Her mother, on the other hand, was a nurse, and worked long hours back in those days, but two years after the Golem's disappearance, she gave birth to her first son, Paige's brother, Theo. Two years after that, Paige was born, a healthy baby girl. Every year after that, the family added another boy to the family, Gerard, Adrian, Nat, Erick, Raian... Until there were seven children in all. But, it seemed her mother's body could handle no more, and shortly after giving birth to Raian, the youngest son, she died.
Having grown up with men her entire life, Paige learned to be tough and more often than not, was able to stand up for herself against her brothers. As they got older, Paige's body began to fill out and form, and people soon were not thinking of her as the little girl she once was. There were many fights fought over her by her brothers and strange men, usually ending with the Hart children as the victors. However, on one such occasion, the man had been armed, and, in an attempt to save his family, Theo took the hit, but not without striking back. They all became closer as years went on, and no one ever speaks of Theo's death, but eventually each one of them became an engineer of some sort. No one says why, but most think it's because they do it in memory of Theo's love for engineering.
It was in this line of work that she, at twenty years old, met Joshua and Orion, both who served (or would serve) as fighterpilots. From the moment she met Joshua, she was in love... Something about his fiery spirit and ease in which his charm seemed to soften her up and make her feel more like a woman. Two years later, he was going for his wings when crashed his fighter and was killed instantly. At the funeral, she met Joshua's father for the first time, and agreed to serve on his ship. However, quickly after, He and Orion got into a fight, and as such, her ties with Orion were severed as they parted ways.
It's been four years since then, and she was has, since served aboard the Guardian ever since. She'll be attending the decommissioning of the Guardian, as she served on it.
Overall Appearance: The Engineer
Height: Five feet, six inches.
Weight: One hundred and fifteen lbs.
Eye Color: Amethyst-Gray.
Hair Color: Black.
Skin Tone: Tanned, caucasian.
Distinctive Markings: Tattoo on her left shoulder (see picture).
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IAmSenpaiRawr Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2010 12:44 am
It's the same today as it is every day. At the outskirts of the Solar System, on the verge between the Kepler Asteroid Belt and Dark Space beyond are thousands of identical space stations. They are simple rectangular blocks with tall antenna sticking out the top and bottom tipped with blinking red lights. It is these stations which mark the edge of Human space and the beginning of 'Golem Territory', the border is referred to in slang as 'The Red Line'. Though in space it was silent, the stations, and their crews were communicating.
"Uh, this is Station 12, is any one else reading a couple of unknown targets on the edge of their radar? Over." Said one male voice as it rang out through space.
"This is Station 13. That's negative Station 12, could be a glitch, pretty heavy sunspot activity today." Said a second.
"This is Station 9. I'm not reading anything either, sounds like you've got yourself some phantom dots. Station 10, 11 what about you?" Said the female operator from Station 9.
"They're everywhere!" Station 10's operator yelled out, the transmission filled with static.
The communications network erupted as the other station operators attempted to determine what was going on. But they're hundreds of questions were quickly answered when Station 10 suddenly fell silent. For a few moments, a bright light filled the otherwise empty darkness of space where Station 10 had once been.
"Station 10? Station 10, this is Station 12! Station 10 do you read me? Dear God what is going on?"
"This is Station 11! We-We saw it happen. I don't believe it, but it's them. They've come back. Oh God, there's thousands of them. Oh God n-!" But Station 11's message abruptly ended as another flash of light filled the void.
As the other stations began frantically messaging each other, one by one they exploded. As the last station was abruptly reduced to space dust by a single small missile there appeared to be a fluctuation in the backdrop of space. Suddenly, a thousand huge battleships, resembling massive swords with what looked like six, thick legs appeared and began to move into the asteroid belt and towards the distant star that was Sol. Ready to lay waste to an unsuspecting solar system.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, a massive, and ancient warship orbited Saturn, drifting just above the edge of the rings. Though it's hull was dented and covered in scorch marks, it was a proud looking ship. A pair of massive rings rotated near the rear of the vessel in opposite directions. The entire ship looked like a massive V shaped machine with a thick center column at the tip of which was what looked like a landing strip that lead inside. Stretching up from this center column was several layers of windowed floors which eventually gave way to a large fin that stretched over the pair of rotating rings. Along the sides of the V was what looked like a series of metal honeycombs. Along the top of the huge ship, in giant black letters the words 'U.S.S. Guardian' proclaimed the ships name to the universe.
Smaller vessels had been arriving and departing for hours now, mostly small commercial space liners, but a freighter or two, bringing visitors to the Guardian.
On board, through the many hallways and passages that snaked through the vessel, hundreds of soldiers, officers and engineers were going about their morning duties. If you asked them, this was just another day, like any other. For the most part, they ignored the civilians being led around on a tour as if the ship was a museum.
One group was being led by a thin, shorter man with a buzzed hair cut. As he led his group through the halls, a clipboard in hand, he pointed out interesting things to the tour group, "You may notice that the Guardian isn't as advanced as most, if not all other warships in the fleet. Corded phones, non-automatic doors, slower computers. These were all necessary sacrifices during the Golem War. We were fighting an enemy who could access computers and hack into just about any mainframe in nanoseconds. Because of that, non-networked computers were a must." Stepping out of the way of a group of Marines he continued, "Excuse me. Knowing this, you'll see that the famous Battle of Saturn, during which the Guardian destroyed four Golem Warships by itself is an even greater achievement than it's given credit for. That battle of course was the turning point in the war, and had we lost, the Golems would have had a clear shot at our shipyards around Titan..." He continued to explain the ship as he led the civilians down the hallway.
Walking in the opposite direction and drawing a few glances from the tourists was an older man. He was dressed in a dark green dress uniform, which was basically a jumpsuit with a brown leather sash across his shoulders. His skin was a light, olive color and bore the wrinkles and signs of age. His body however was finely toned, signs of his military training which kept him physically fit. His hair was a lustrous silver and cut very short, pointed slightly in front to give it a bit of a cliff. He walked with a heavy limp and used a gold tipped cane to keep himself steady. The medals and stars on his uniform proved his incredible military history. In his hand was a piece of paper. He wore a pair of reading glasses as he walked through the halls, mumbling the lines on the paper to himself, "...Though a new age has dawned, we must never forget the horrors of the past. There comes a time when, good morning. There comes a time when we can't hide from the things we've done anymore..."
Just as he finished he stepped through the thick, octagon shaped hatch marked 'C.I.C.' and onto the main deck. The room was massive, and pentagon shaped and was made up of three platforms surrounding a crater-like structure in the center of which was a table. The walls were lined with computer, and more computer stations sat at regular intervals on each level of the hole, with 4 of each side of the pentagon. The table in the center had a backlit grid under it's clear glass surface. Hanging above the strategy table was five computer screens, each displaying a green radar screen. As the Commander entered the room, the 20 crewmen sitting at the computers all rose to their feet and saluted their commanding officer in unison. He stepped down the staircase which led to the strategy table, placed his paper on the table and looked around the room. Nodding, the crewmen all returned to their seats as he said, "Good morning everyone. No need to act any different, today is just like any other day."
As soon as he was finished one of the crewmen, a small, young dark skinned woman wearing the same, identical dark green jumpsuit with name tag and rank stars as the rest of the crew stood up and said, "If I may speak freely sir." She waited until Commander Korba nodded and continued, "On behalf of the deck crew here on the C.I.C., I would like to say, it has been an honor and a privilege to serve under you these last few years." The others immediately began applauding the sentiment and the young woman sat back down.
Commander Korba smiled as he watched his crew applaud him and reached up to remove his reading glasses, placing them on the table he looked around the room and said, "Thank you, all of you. And thank you Lieutenant Williams. As far as I'm concerned, your the best crew I could ask for and you and everyone else on this ship has earned yourselves commendations. Now, as long as we're talking about the crew, has anyone seen our X.O. this morning?"
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Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2010 6:29 pm
"That's complete shite, Macon, and you know it!" came the rough voice of the woman who sat across the table from Colonel Alan Macon. Her hair was wound in a ponytail on her head, a raven black in color, her eyes, a strange amethyst-gray that most around her commented on. She was not dressed in the usual dark green uniform, but instead, it seemed half-assed and messy, the dark green pants paired with a white tank top, on which smudged oil and grease revealed her profession. The jacket rested on the back of her chair, which was pushed away from her in disarray, her fists clenched, having pounded on the table.
Her eyes watched as the bet she had thrown down was taken away.
"Y'know, losing distastefully worsens the wound," came the retort from Colonel Alan Macon, a sly grin spread across his face, though his voice was very serious. The dark skin of the man contrasted his hair, which was short and beginning to gray. The wrinkles on his face revealed the old age and the wear... The many days he had seen of the Golem War, and what he had lived through. An eye patch covered his right eye, a "token of appreciation", he liked to call it, that the Golems had given him after wrecking their ships. As he spoke, he pulled in his winnings, looking away from the girl who was now yelling at him. Picking the money up, he glanced at her almost daringly, smelling it a moment before beginning to count it, deliberately slow, before her.
A growl escaped her lips. He was just taunting her, and although she could usually bite her tongue and take it, today was a little different. Although most were happy that the USS Guardian was retiring, she felt slightly on edge. She would have to find work away from the place that had become her home. The old walls, the people, the smell of oil on her shirt... It would all be gone soon. And she would certainly miss it. Oh, but Macon... He was just waving it in her face... The money that she had made in the past week was now in his fingers, and he was asking for it.
"Oh, don't throw that kind of crap around as if you're better than everyone else," she said as she leaned in closer, her eyes narrowed at him. People around them began to back away, feeling the tension that had formed around the two. For a moment, her eyes locked with his, the heat and intensity of her annoyance at him growing with every passing moment. She watched as the grin became wider, taunting her even more now, as he took the money, folded it in half, and stuck it in the breast pocket of his jacket, patting it happily. Quickly, the two who had been playing with them got up and walked away, sensing that something would definitely happen between Macon and Hart.
Another growl escaped her lips.
"And it also exemplifies weakness," he added in a nonchalant way, looking away from her and to the people surrounding them. Seeing someone who worked in the mess hall, he waved over to them, casually ordering himself another drink. His breath, as did Paige's wreaked of whiskey, as the two had casually begun drinking together. Of course, that casual drinking had now turned into a stand-off, as Paige continued to glare and Alan continued to stare back. Paige's fist clenched up more as she watched him order the drink, take hold, and sip from it. The man who had brought it for him scurried quickly away, as if afraid to be caught in the cross fire.
Understandable, as both Alan and Paige were rather... Hot-headed.
Suddenly, a mischievous smirk spread across her features, and she signaled for a drink of her own, still standing across the table from him, though her stance had relaxed. "Ha. Speaking of weakness, how's the wife, Colonel? Seen her around recently?" she asked as she took hold of her own drink, taking a moment to gulp it down before setting the glass on the table. "I know some people who have..." she added slyly, her body, now cautious, her eyes waiting for a sign of him to snap. It was no real secret that the Colonel's wife got around to doing things he didn't quite agree with... And to bring that up... Well...
Most didn't because they knew the consequences.
Almost immediately, the Colonel stood up, his hands beneath the table, flipping it up, the glasses and cards flying up into the air. Angrily, he kicked it aside, the alcohol influencing his already short temper. Just as quickly, however, Paige moved away from the table, her stance stable, though it was apparent she was slightly tipsy. With a grin on her face, she laughed a little, cocking her head to the side. "Now who's exemplifying weakness, hm?" she said mockingly as Alan lunged at her, a great roar echoing in his throat.
Paige, though she was small, was not someone to fight with. After years of "training" with her brothers, she knew how to take down men twice her size. It was simple. Leverage. Dipping down at the right moment, she used her shoulder (and the Colonel's weight), to flip him upside-down. Being small and younger was also a plus, and she quickly straddled him, throwing a couple of punches to his face before being roughly pushed off. Paige rolled into her chair, her head hitting the leg of it. For a moment, she felt dizzy, and soon, Macon was lunging at her once more, his fist colliding with her face.
Had he hit her any harder, she was sure she would have heard her cheek crack.
"Break it up! Break it up!" came voices over the roar of the crowd that was now surrounding them, cheering on the fight between the two. As she was about to leap at him, she felt arms wrap around her, pulling her back. "Lay off!" she yelled in protest, getting them off her a moment in order to run at Alan, who was also being held back. Another crack echoed in the air as her fist met his jaw, dislocating it before being pulled back again. A cheer rang through the crowd as she was pulled away once more, a smirk on her face.
"Throw her in the brig," came another voice as she was hauled away, no longer fussing. Her amethyst eyes watched as Alan was being checked on, a ship medic kneeling next to him in order to reset his jaw. She had won the battle... And although she was being taken to the brig, she went with pride, her head held high.
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IAmSenpaiRawr Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Oct 25, 2010 11:48 pm
"Guardian, this is Maverick, requesting permission to land." The voice of Orion Korba rang out across the communication network, his black and white Orca fighter skirted the very edge of Saturn's icy rings. As he approached the massive U.S.S. Guardian, he pulled up so he would have enough height to land safely on the landing deck. A series of green flashing lights along the edges of the landing strip kept him flying straight as he approached.
An enthusiastic young man's voice responded, "Roger that Maverick, permission granted. Let me be the first to welcome you aboard the Guardian, it's an honor to have you flying with us. You can land on Pad 4, hands on all the way in."
Orion didn't respond. Instead he flew his fighter into the cavernous mouth of the Guardian's landing strip. With the small pushes and nudges of the dozens of tiny thrusters that covered the surface of his fighter he was able to stabilize his fighter above the pad and gently let it drop down onto it. The fighter didn't have tires on it's three landing legs, wheels were of little use in space, instead it just had pads. Slowly it began to lower the fighter down a shaft which led into the hanger bay, a thick metal door closed above the fighter, shutting the airlock tight.
As the massive piston that held the elevator up finally came to a halt the fighter was in a gargantuan room. It probably ran the length of half the vessel. It was most likely the busiest room on the entire ship, filled with several dozen fighter craft almost all older model Falcon-class fighters and hundreds of engineers maintaining the fighters. The left wall was covered in large honeycomb structures filled with fighters that weren't being serviced. Each line of honeycombs had a large hanging conveyor claw dedicated to it. On the right wall were identical honeycomb structures, though these were all airlocks, magnetic catapults which launched the fighters out into space so they could save on fuel and ride the inertia. In the exact center of the hanger was what looked like an upside-down flight tower, where the airlocks were managed. This tower connected with an identical chamber up in the landing bay, where landings were managed.
The opposite side of the Guardian had a second, identical hanger and launching bay, however this one was no longer used as it had already been converted into a museum, the eventual fate of the entire ship.
Once the landing pad was locked into the floor, the cockpit released a long hiss as interior and exterior pressure equalized. As it was swinging open, a bear of a young man in the same orange jumpsuit with yellow reflective shoulders stepped up. He had short, curly black hair and a square jaw line. Though he wasn't ripped or fat, he was physically large. He was a youthful looking, clean shaven young man with features that betrayed his Russian heritage, small deep set eyes, a short, straight nose. As Orion pulled himself out of the seat and unlocked his flight helmet from the metal ring around his neck that kept it in place, the engineer raised a hand in salute and said in a clearly Midwestern Earth accent, "Welcome aboard Captain Korba. I'm Gunnery Chief Alexei Fortunatov. I have to say, it's an honor having you with us. We're all very fond of your father here."
As Orion pulled his helmet from his head, he stuffed it beneath his arm and climbed down the steps that had been pushed up to the side of his fighter. He wore a light gray, shiny jumpsuit and a thick kevlar vest over that with all the traditional tubes that hooked his helmet up to his air supply. He was a young, handsome man with obvious Mediterranian features, olive skin, a slightly hooked nose, a round face and short, black hair. As he finally touched his boots to the metal floor of the hanger he sighed and said, "Yeah well, I guess someone has to be. Listen Chief, is your auto landing system down? I was hands on all the way in." He held his helmet in his gloved hands and flipped it around a bit, as if it was a basketball.
Alexei was flabbergasted, this is not at all how he imagined the commander's son, the captain of the U.S.S. Lincoln's air group. Lowering his salute, Alexei folded his hands behind his back and, trying very difficult to keep his anger in check he said, "Everything is hands on here sir. That's COMMANDER Korba's orders." He said the title with such venom, to let the Captain know just how he felt about him already.
Orion let out an exasperated sigh and looked around the room, either oblivious or ignoring Alexei's clear anger before saying, "That's just great. Alright, where's Master Chief Hart?" He said, looking back at Alexei.
Alexei looked down at his feet and said, "She's been thrown in the brig for slugging the X.O.." Alexei was good friends with Paige, they had worked together for years, but he knew full well how she butt heads with the Colonel and that Macon would love nothing more than to court marshal her.
Orion let out yet another sigh and said, "Yup. Home sweet home. Thanks Chief." He angrily shoved his helmet into Alexei's arms and started walking off calling out, "Can someone point me to the locker room please?!" As he walked off. Alexei watched as he went and shook his head, certain he was going to hate this man.
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Meanwhile a civilian vessel was slowly approaching the Guardian, the highest ranking guest to the ceremony was onboard. It looked like an orange, black and silver airplane with it's wings folded against it's hull. The colors it was painted with were the colors of the Sol Alliance, whose background was black with a large, orange dot in the center and 9 rings around it, each with silver dots in a line, indicating the many worlds of the Sol Alliance. It read 'Sol Fleet 16' along the side, this was a government transport.
Inside looked like a luxury airplane, with leather arm chairs with plenty of leg room, a large television screen at one end of the cabin and computer terminals every few feet. There was also a desk at one end, where a woman in her mid to late 40's sat with paperwork and dossiers on the Guardian and her command staff.
A small, young Indian man, no older than 26 wearing a black suit and red tie walked up to the desk. Though his features were thin and his skin was dark, he had flaming red hair and his name suggested he was Half Indian and Half Irish, though in this day and age this wasn't very rare. Tommy Ghazali was his name and he wore large, round eye glasses. Placing yet another file on the Minister of Culture's desk he said seemingly breathlessly, "Madam Minister, I have some more information on the Guardian's history. Just don't want you going in there blind or anything." Tommy loved his job, and in the 2 years he had served as the Minister's secretary, he had grown into something of her confidant, she told him things that nobody else knew, because she trusted him, and he was loyal to her. The President of the Alliance, President Jackson had assigned him to her when he first ran for office and she joined his campaign, and Tommy has stuck by her through thick and thin. They were less like boss and employee now and more of best friends or even mother and son in some ways.
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Meanwhile, just outside of the megalopolis of Southlands on Earth, in the area once known as 'Malibu, California' was a massive mansion, resting on a bluff over the beautiful, crystal clear ocean below. The owner of this mansion owned enough land around his mansion that an entire forest was located within the grounds. Simple robots with rudimentary strictly programmed brains managed the massive grounds. The mansion itself looked like it only had one floor, though in truth it had three floors that went down into the cliff it sat on. It's entire west side looked like one massive glass window with a balcony.
A sports car, hovering close to the ground like all ground vehicles was driving quickly towards the house from the main gate of the compound. As it was, this was the home and the car of the billionaire computer programmer and owner of the largest high technology corporation in the Solar System, HoloTech, Alastar Ward. He had a reputation as a playboy and the looks and money to back it up. He was also a computer genius and single handedly modernized the Sol Alliance's defense network. Every major city had personal defense cannons protecting them and all were networked together to quicken their reaction times.
As the red sports car pulled up in front of the house, out stepped a man. He was rather short, only 5'6" at tops and wore a black, pinstripe suit with a crimson button-up undershirt. His black hair, which reached the base of his neck was slicked back, and he looked intentionally unshaven, with five o'clock shadow covering his face. He carried a brown, leather briefcase in his hand and wore a pair of dark, sunglasses with a built in computer screen as he walked quickly up to the large, bullet proof, tinted glass double doors of his house.
The doors opened automatically as he approached and a pair of small robots came up to him. A slender body with a single, large green eye in the center and sitting on a large ball-wheel which made up their entire bodies. As they approached, he handed one his briefcase and shrugged off his coat and handed it to the other. With a sigh he said with a suave, British accent, "Turn on the channel 87 news please." A beep let him know the command was received. The window and the view of the blue ocean was suddenly obscured by a pretty young female reporter, who was doing a story on some new bill before Parliament. Taking a seat in his large, plush arm chair, he pulled out a high quality cigarette and stuck it in his mouth, a servant robot quickly came over to light it for him before speeding off. As he relaxed he said at last, "Good afternoon Aiha, I hope your afternoon was enjoyable." He was of course speaking to his automated assistant whose physical body was the entire house. Though it was illegal to develop artificial intelligence now, Alastar had done so anyway. Why? Well because he was the richest man in the universe, and that meant he could do whatever he pleased of course.
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