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Eclipse
Topic Started: Jun 8 2016, 07:56 PM (1,767 Views)
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"Mister Yuujaaf," Ryan replied pleasantly over open comms as soon as he heard. "We hold no claims. You are more than welcome to explore the planet below at your leisure. There's no atmo, though. So, I do recommend equipping some form of environmental protection for the trip."

The channel output was closed and set to listen again. Then he heard Z'gato over the comms. It sent chills up his spine as he couldn't remember if his former self had met the Chozo yet. The details got a little fuzzy after a long while. He folded his arms as he stood holding up a bulkhead on the port side of the bridge. No matter which way he thought about it, if the two were to meet, he figured the encounter might get socially awkward.

"Sir," the officer at comms gently called to his captain. Ryan's head snapped up and his eyes focused on the young man. In his consideration for how to go about meeting an old aquaintance he hadn't met yet, he thought he might have missed something.

"Do you wish to reply to the Zhokavven? It seems that their permission to dock was directed at one named Z'Gato, it did seem rather open." Ryan stared in thought as he absent-mindedly rubbed his fingers across his thumb. Eventually, his head started to swivel.

"Negative," he flatly stated with a chop of his hand, palm down. "If it wasn't clearly stated, then we don't want to be accused of imposing.

"Aww," came a quiet whine from the helm. "I really wanted to meet Starfeather."

"Thoughts, Artam?" Ryan leaned forward from the bulkhead and slowly walked over to his executive officer who was admiring (or flinching, hard to tell due to limited facial expression) the scanner readings.

"Hm, about the Zhokavven? Nothing I can think of at the moment," he mused aloud. "Though we will need to consider the potential of meeting the crew of the other ships eventually. Speaking of...." He gestured his fingers at the screen as the pointed eared individual tapped a few more keys bringing up more information.

"Look at the size of that thing," Connel nearly whistled in awe. "Practically a fortress town in space. I guess if you're going to go on a history expedition, go in class."

"Something else to point out, Sirs," Telar stated as he brought up another screen. "Perhaps you might find this fascinating." The data, as bland as it was, scrolled across the screen.

"I see nothing." Ryan looked over at Artam, who nodded in agreement. "Explain?"

"If our information is correct regarding this planet," he deadpanned as he swept a hand at the screen, "formerly a Class M, now a Class F planet as of recently, one should safely assume that there had been prior space faring traffic, of which there is no evidence for."

"All trace of vessels in transit erased?" Artam queried, this time appearing surprised. It was the Sangheili's turn to address the comms officer. "Is it possible to access this star system's communication buoy and find out the time and date of the last transmission?"

"It is possible, but..." Confident response at first, yet trailed off where the tactical officer added in,

"Negative," Yellowjacket turned in her seat to face the rest of the bridge. "We don't have the proper authorization codes, nor do we have the funds for legal access. Highly likely we'd trip security. Considering this ship's profile, where we're at, and our company, tactically speaking, let's not poke the nest."

"Long winded," Artam commented before Yellowjacket spun to face her console again to hide her grimmace, "but sound. So, we wait. At least we have a little more information to work with, as little as it is."

"Waiting it is."
Edited by transcon, Jun 24 2016, 12:13 AM.
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Beggie Golong sat quite contently with his legs on the desk, reading Terry Pratchett's Thief of Time. He liked good 'ol time travel, at least the time travel that were in story. Those were so nice. They were very neat, and could be played out in so many ways. Plus, you didn't have to get involved in them.

Time.

So much time had passed since he had managed to bring together the Albanoid Faction; and not only had it been revived like a Pheonix from the ashes, it was thriving. In over tens years, he was quite proud of how much they not only managed to research but also expand. Two other galaxy wondering ships had been created; contacts in completely far off governments that the Federation didn't even know about; and their partnership with their a certain benefactor he would not name was flourishing.

Money was not a distinct objective for the AF; but when you learned to make plenty of it, and safely, why not put it good. Like creating those oh-so lovely starships.

It didn't stop there, though. In all the hubub, the Albanoid Faction had also a aquired a smorgusbord of forbidden 'artifacts' information and technology, all of which was distinctively locked away somewhere safe. In many ways, the Albanoid Faction had literally become the floating Library of the universe while managing an incredibly diverse array of contacts.

Some that were, in fact, very odd. And perturbing.

And suddenly 'existing' right at the front of his desk.

"Beggie..."

The 'voice' was more like a very sense of meaning rolling across the fabric of the universe, which resonated with the very concept of who he was as a human being. It was pretty much universal no matter what language you actually spoke.

It came out long, drawn, and was very unnivering

Beggie hadn't even let out a scream. The scream had decided to escape into another dimension and leave his poor body a sprawl on his chair, his glass oddly tilted, and book laying splayed on the floor.

His brain finally managed process what was going, and who was actually at his desk.

"Archivist, what the bleeding hell - how are you even here? This isn't even your domain," he finally managed to stammer.

"Aetheric...local...conflux," the etheric singularity reverbrated across his office's local space-time domain.

Internally, Begg'e subconscious strained give the 'living-concept' an actual form. Almost every sentient being always did, out of habit. You had. it was almost instinct; mainly because the entity before literally had arms everywhere. But for Beggie, his mind pretty much conjured up the image of a giant, dark, human sized hood with an unidentifiable number of arms grasping in and out of its darkness. At the very top was a dim, blue light that represented its 'head.' Or eye. He was never sure.

It didn't help that the details were a complete blur for him. But those are etheric singularities for you. Literal, living concepts that expanded eveywhere and no where within the multi-verse.

And now he was getting a direct 'visit' from the creepiest one of ALL.

“Yes yes, so there have been more 'visitors' within our dimension as of late. Big deal. What's it got to do with you?” he blathered, incredibly annoyed at how the entity had jut 'barged' in. Or simply turned his attention to you.

Etheric...conflux...Local...Beta-934 X sector....Potential...confluence,” it said. And, just like that, in a snap, it was a gone. It was focused somewhere else now.

Beggie raised his hands in bemused frustration, his swearing confused and going off to another dimension. At least until he got complete focus of himself. Even when you're pretty much vanilla human, recent contact with Singularities had this brief...disorientation affect.

After finally calming down, and collecting himself, he groaned.

Sector Beta-934 X. He knew what the Archivist had meant – mostly. It was a section of space within Galactic Territory. To be more specific, a spot in which a planet had suddenly become dust overnight, without fanfare or warning. That wasn't what was causing his sudden headache. Planet – and one might be appauled to know if they looked through the Black Archives – got blown up quite a fair bit.

Well, at least only a handful, say, every decade. And that's only accounting for the general consensus across an entire universe. Galaxy wise, it became a bigger deal.

Not that his team within the GF weren't on it. It was definitely a mystery they were tackling.

It was the reading the wide-spread sensor net they had devise all over the galaxy were getting.

Chronoton particles.

Time travel.

Sure, interdimensional travel wasn't a hitch on Beggie's end. It happened a lot more than people thought, and was often surprisingly benign, and he knew the right people to contact if it wasn't. But as much as he loved science fiction time-travel, dealing with actual time travel was an absolute head case.

He just wanted to let some other bloke handle. That was his usual response to this. Just let it play out.

But the Archivist had come. The freakin' Archivist. It was like Death deciding to pay you a visit when it wasn't even a near death experience for you. It just didn't happen. Normally. Of course, in Beggie's line of work, 'normal' had become quite subjective as of late. And when the Archivist did indeed pay you a visit in your local space, you needed to take it seriously.

Beggie was waying his option heavily. He did not want to get involved, especially if it involved timey-wimey stuff. But if the Archivist-

No no, screwed, he's just a stupid singularity, he thought, He can barely affect me outside his own little space anyway. I'll just wait and let thing play out. Jump in when needed and all.

His mind set, he turned to grab his book and – looked all around the floor to see absolutely nothing.

The Archivist had taken his book. His book!

“That freakin' bastard!” he managed to finally yell in his own dimension.

=====================

Not too far off from the Yukon, or the other ships, a small sensor boye began sending out a signal. A signal that was pretty much like a telephone call ringing in space. It was tapping out two specific, dimensional wave frequencies: both related to each ship that had come from a different dimensions.

It was waiting for someone to pick up, and probably wasn't going to shut up.
"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death."
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Who could that be? Grace thought to herself as she heard the knock on the door. She hadn't been expecting anybody.

Lizzie was sitting at the table, doing her math homework. She had plenty of time given the fact that she'd been sent home from school, so no excuses. Jimmy was out at the golf course, where he'd probably be for another couple of hours. That was his normal routine, play golf all day, come home and relax for a couple of hours, then go run things down at the club.

"You didn't order a pizza, did you?" she asked Lizzie, a bit sternly though she wasn't necessarily expecting a yes.

"No," her daughter said, shaking her head.

Still wondering who could be showing up, Grace looked through the peephole. Her spirits lifted as she saw a familiar face on the other side.

"Hannah!" she said as she opened the door, gently throwing her arms around her old friend. "So good to see you. Lizzie, you remember Hannah, right?"

"Hey," Lizzie said, looking up for a second, then going back to her homework.

Grace rolled her eyes, but still had to smile, showing Hannah in.

It had been years since the job on Valhalla, well before Lizzie was born. A competition among several different crews for a big prize. She and Hannah had been on opposite sides then, but it wasn't long before Grace took a liking to her, much to Jimmy's chagrin. But she knew right away that the Powells and their people needed that huge payday far more than they did. And in any case, it was all about collecting on some foolish kid's debt anyway.

These days, Hannah was doing far better than she had back then. She was back on her feet, and had been visiting Dr. Nancy Friedman, the physical therapist who'd helped Grace out after she'd shredded her knee on the Sanctuary job.

"So, how are you? What are you doing here?"
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The Vokrayan boatswain walked into the brightly lit (at least, by teolse standards; diurnal species probably found it to be only moderately so) shuttle bay once the air pressure returned to normal. If he had been surprised to see that the alien (who was just barely shorter than himself) was armed, he didn't show it. The suit was expected; he didn't know if this person could even survive in the same atmosphere, or at the same pressure, and from what his ocular implants were telling him, the cannon was part of the suit, anyway.

From what he'd seen through the internal sensors in the command hub (from what he could tell, almost every Vokrayan had been watching or listening), there were most likely humans on the Yukon, and given that there was communication between all the ships, in a human language, there was a good chance this individual wouldn't confuse him for a human. Not that that was a completely wrong answer; humans and teolke were of the same genus.

A portion of the floor about the size of a hummingbird shifted, flowing upward as if it were a liquid about to drip towards the ceiling, then separated and hovered silently between them before sweeping a beam over the alien for a moment and then merged back into the floor seamlessly.

"Processing complete," a voice stated in Teolsekost. "No contaminants remaining."

"Welcome aboard the Zhokavven," he said, using English. "That was just a routine cleaning for pathogens and hazardous materials, so we don't have to bother with a quarantine. If you like, I can give you directions to any of the various viewing lounges or the dining hall. The captain said she will meet with you shortly."

=====

Back at the command hub, Captain Ahtazem sent another transmission to the other vessels.

"Yukon, would you like to send someone over? We have plenty of room to accommodate you. Mister Yuujaaf, you may also dock with us, if you wish to do so before conducting your research."

A brief moment after the message was sent, the communications officer spoke again.

"Captain, I'm picking up a new signal. It's a repeating pattern of pulses. From the looks of it, it may be a couple of frequencies. Source appears to be a small sensor buoy."

"Ping it; someone could be trying to get our attention with it," she said, stepping back before turning to Chelnayam Sikoa, her second in command. "I have to go meet with our guest, so you have the con."

"Understood, ma'am," he said. "I'll try to keep the ship together until you get back."
Edited by Alkarii, Jun 29 2016, 01:42 AM.
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In retrospect, Beggie still wasn't entirely sure about this.

On one hand, he had lost a book. A book that, while he was quite enjoying, he could easily just grab another physical copy, and then just find out where he left off. It wasn't like Terry Pratchett's work was hard to find.

On the other hand - well, the Archivist wasn't exactly the kind of entity that just decided to pop out of the blue, say what equated to "Go here, do this" and leave like he was the boss. Which he wasn't. In fact, the only time he ever saw the entity was when he had an extremely dangerous, Apocalyptic artifact to get rid of. And hope that he would never, ever need to take it out.

He could count the number of times he had to do this on a single hand. About four, to be exact.

Trouble was, the Archivist normally didn't come to him. It was usually the other way around. That was the troubling paradox of the situation, and while he didn't know exactly much about the Archivist, he did know this: the entity was a Collector. In a lot of ways, he was reality's Curator, and occasional 'Lost and Found.'

Unique, incredibly distinct objects of a multifarious sort could be found within its 'domain' like it were museum, and on visit, Beggie could get a slight peek. But whoever actually looked at these objects, was, well, beyond him.

At this point, Beggie could only come up with one theory: something about this particular point in time held interest to the Archivist. Beyond that, he could think of million things for what it was. Fact of the matter was, if the multi-dimensional entity had poked his head at him, something serious was going on that warranted his attention of one smoked planet. Even if it involved freaky dicky time travel.

Besides, he probably just lose the new book. Again.
============


Right at the moment the communications officer managed to answer the pinging, his mind became briefly aware of...something. It was like it was always there, but you ignored like it were absolute background noise, right up until it decided to not ignore you. Its attention was suddenly on him.

For at least a brief, flickering second. It might as well been a camera flare, if a flare was a shadow intead of light, and the shadow was an amalgamation of your worst nightmares. It was there, and it wasn't. But its brief 'gaze' might as well as have applied led weights to the brain.

Nobody else probably would have seen, since it had never really gazed at the rest of them. But the memory might as well have remained fresh in the person's mind – even if that memory was very fuzzy, and very difficult to make out.

Then Beggie's voice spoke up, “Ahh, finally, yes. Someone actually answered. So which timey-whimy ship am I talking to. The big one or the small one? And what year are you from – no, no, don't answer that one. I hate spoilers.”
"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death."
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"Yukon, would you like to send someone over? We have plenty of room to accommodate you. Mister Yuujaaf, you may also dock with us, if you wish to do so before conducting your research." The communications officer looked over his shoulder at the captain. Upon receiving a nod, he opened the commline.

"This is Captain Ryan Connel of the Yukon," he introduced himself. At this point, he figured it would have been rude to turn down an invitation like that. "It would be a privilege to join you. Please send location coordinates for where you would like us to board your vessel when you're ready."

After nodding once more to the comm officer to key off the line, he rubbed at his temples for a moment. That headache wasn't getting any easier to cope with.

"Mister Dodds," he began as he strode towards the hatch at the back of the bridge, "as soon as you get those coordinates, forward them to the teleporter room for confirmation. Miss Angerona, break orbit and take us within teleporter range. Mister Artam, you have the bridge."

"Captain," Artam barked and wheeled on his heel. Ryan paused at the door, looked over his own shoulder with brow raised. "I know you would insist on going, but you're not going alone. I insist you take Yellowjacket."

"This is likely a First Contact scenario," the captain said as he raised his hand. "Security is one thing. Intimidating our host is something else, and is not a part of that scenario." With that, the metal door opened to the hallway leading along the spine of the Nesasio class cruiser, and sealed shut after the captain passed through.

"Hmph," Orpo grumbled. "I did consider that. Otherwise, I'd have suggested taking Mortis."

------------------------------------------

The medbay worked as the clinic and science center of the Yukon. It was extended for the chief science officer, Mortis. She was a ten feet tall metal monster, plates and facads covering her interior form colored in blues and blacks. A pair of red lighted eyes peered over the data she collected off of the sample from Aiko's shuttle. She could hear someone come in through the main doors from her crouched position at the computer terminal she was using.

"The captain wanted to meet me here." Another female, six-foot-two athlete dressed in the ship's style of uniform. Instead of navy blues, her's were a deep olive green that rivaled her skin color, and that was marred by the occasional patch of violet stripes apparent on the backs of her hands. There was one stripe that crossed the bridge of her nose and beneath red-underlined solid blue eyes.

"Sit," Mortis directed with a metallic raspy voice. A hand with seven long and thin pointed fingers sliced through the air as she mindlessly waved. "He'll be down in a minute."

"Do you know what this is about?" the black-haired woman asked curiously. "I know we're going to the other vessel. But, why here?"

"Immunization boosters," the living machine put simply.

"I'm not prone to sickness," the woman pointed out.

"There's always a first." Mortis lost the staring contest with the computer terminal as she stood up and hulked over to a counter that already had a hypospray and two small vials prepared. "Hernandez, arm."

Taking the order, she rolled up her left sleeve and offered Mortis the arm. Routine injection from a hypospray of course had little to no effect on the soldier. Mortis unplugged the vial that was already in the injector and replaced it with one of the other two that were already on the counter. Just as Ryan walked through the door to the medbay, he was within easy reach of the living machine. Her right hand snaked out and jabbed the captain with the hypospray.

"Hey, Mortis! I - dyauuuh." The effects of the drug took immediate effect, though it wasn't impairing him despite his knees nearly buckling. He was just shocked at the alacrity of the administration. "Fer cryin' out loud!"

"Your accent slipped," she calmly stated as she loaded the second vial. "Since I didn't receive an emergency call since we Slipped indicating you'd passed out, I figured that you'd at least be in a lot of pain. This one's immunization." Ryan took the second injection in the neck where the previous one got him.

"Get anything from the chancellor's shuttle," Connel said with a sigh rubbing his neck.

"Carbon." Mortis pointed at the terminal she was working at.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Not any kind of isotope or anything?"

"Just plain carbon. No molecular recombinations. No isotopes. No radiometric decay." She then picked up a thin data card and handed it off to him. "This is all the data we accumulated from scanners and tests." The captain took it, tapped it against his opposite hand, then pocketed it.

"No more sneak attacks," he reminded with a smirk. Ryan quickly shook his head and sighed with relief that the headache was fading quickly.

"Need to stay sharp," the metal doctor replied. "Good luck."

-----------------------------------------------------

"Escort mission," Hernandez echoed. "Understood." The two walked down the main corridor with Ryan ahead and to the left of her. They were making their way to the teleporter room.

"First Contact situation, Samantha," he said. Ryan wished she could walk by his side, but supposing the corridor was a little narrow for that, and she was merely following officer etiquette. "Keep sharp, but I want you to relax. You're just escorting me, not rescuing me from a firefight."

"Understood, Sir."

"At ease," he quickly reminded. "Protocols are going to be a bit relaxed here. Remain professional, yes. But, just remain at ease." He could hear her take a slow breath.

"Very well," she began. "Commander Artam insisted you not go alone, didn't he?"

"Oh, look! Timing!" A door to the right opened up as the two rounded towards their destination. "All set, Rookie?"

"Coordinates received and confirmed," came the reply. Standing at a terminal on the wall of the teleporter room was a young looking gaunt human with faded blonde hair. Crisp blue eyes turned to look over the shoulder to eye the captain and first lieutenant. He finally turned around. "I think. Well, if we miss, you'll land among the stars."

"Very funny, Alex," Hernandez groused as she and her captain stepped onto the platform. It was a small metal platform with two hexagon patterns meant for an individual each to teleport at long range. "Ready."

"See ya when ya get back!" And Alex activated the teleporter....
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"Mister Yuujaaf," A male voice (at least, from what Yuujaaf could assume) replied pleasantly over open comms. "You may also dock with us, if you wish to do so before conducting your research."

"I am much appreciative of your looking into my well-being, but for now I must go down." Yuujaaf replied lucidly as he glanced down uneasily. "I shall descend to the surface to begin the task asked of me. I shall have an opened speaking line while I am upon the surface should you need to find me."

Yuuj stopped speaking set the comms to recieve as he slipped on the customized helmet over his head, taking a moment to accommodate to the metal shell set over his scales as he heard the steady hollow hissing of his breathing through the suit's system. The rebreather system built into the armor would protect Yuuj for an awfully long time, but that did little to assuage the tension building within him as he looked upon the surface. Yuuj began to pour over the galactic Federation's files of K-79B, and it only further made his scales feel rigid and tight. Having been raised on the wild world of Hylanao, he knew what a healthy planet was supposed to look like... but compared to the reference file, this... all of this made his heart speed up and filed his skin with a sense of great unease.

Saurmaa, teach me to be courageous with your wisdom, I feel as though I must step into Bholgaan's domain.

=======================

Bholgaan was, according to Saurmayan spirit tradition, the guardian spirit that governed the forces of death and destruction in the cosmos, along with being he that punished the wicked. He was described as a terrible force, clad in black scale and wreathed in both unholy violet lights emanating from his two eyes and flames that lashed from the membranes of his four great wings upon his back, his teeth and talons glowing with the red-orange-yellow-white fury of a molten volcano. Bholgaan had always been depicted as a fair but terrifying harbinger of death and destruction who would not come until his time to do his duty.

As he stepped onto the surface K-79B, where the city of Karadine Crossing used to be, Yuujaaf felt as though he had just intruded upon Bholgaan's domain. There was no air, so what little sound there was echoed from inside of his suit and helm as he stepped onto the ashen surface, flexing his digit-grade legs and wrapping his tail around himself apprehensively as he craned his neck around to survey the awesome ruin. The voice from the Yukon had been right about there being little to no atmosphere whatsoever, and the awesome expanse of death and destruction was daunting to Yuujaaf as one armored foot met ashen, charred soils. He felt his second row of teeth slowly rise, his nostrils beginning to flare as he felt a hissing noise begin to rise within them as he looked around. There were… signs that that this had been an inhabited world, but from their charred and state, one wouldn’t have presumed that it was fairly recent that five billion people lived here.

His unease at seeing this world from the stars had proven correct. This world was dead. As dead as the ancient and fabled Mudeemuudan himself.

Still, it was still striking to Yuujaaf that the place he had landed in Saurmaa’s Voice was the charred ruins of some sort of market square. If there had been buildings there, most of them were gone, and only the sturdiest structures barely stood. All around town there were deep gashes in the earth, each venting a variety of different gasses into the vacuum; though the dusty atmosphere gave the illusion of wind rolling across an ashen plain, Yuujaaf dared not hazard if there were pockets of breathable air on the surface. If there was atmosphere, it was far too thin and far too gone to allow for breathing. Curtains of ash rolled over the skyline as he walked through the ruins of the city, hollowed ruins of skyscrapers decorating the horizon, and as he turned the corner he was met with a wide, ruinous expanse in the ashen earth filled with steaming gashes in the firmament, as though a legion of corpses had arisen from deep within the bowels of the earth.

The red sun only made the whole scene feel more eerie as Yuujaaf stuck a sensor into the ridge near one of the gashes, and began to procure soil and rock samples. And he only had to do this six more times in different locations on the planet!

I feel as though the rage of Bholgaan might bare down on me at any moment for intruding in his domain. Saurmaa speed my claws!
Edited by Deadly Aim, Jul 4 2016, 11:10 PM.
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The communications officer didn't really know what to make of the transmission. Something was just... Not strange, but certainly not normal, either. And given the way whoever was sending the transmission was acting, they didn't seem too happy that someone had entered this particular reality at this particular moment in time.

<Looks like we weren't the only ones, were we?> Gauro sent to him.

<That might account for some of the extra spatial distortions we detected upon arrival,> Sikoa added, sending the coordinates for the shuttle bay to the Yukon. Well, he could have. One of them did, and because the crew in the command hub were so well connected, it was hard to care, as long as it was done. It almost felt like it had been done as a reflex, and it wasn't until after somebody sent the coordinates that the thought went around that the other ship could have had some sort of instantaneous transport technology.

"This is Commander Chelnayam Sikoa, First Officer of the Vokrayan Collective transreality ship Zhokavven. We're the larger ship, and we came to this version of reality for research purposes," he explained.

<Does anyone else get the suspicion that this person doesn't want anyone here?> He sent to the rest, making sure to keep his mind disconnected from the communications array. Granted, the most likely probability was that the buoy being used as a comm relay wasn't even configured to decode teolse thought signals, but he didn't want to risk getting into a fight without knowing anything about the other side of the equation.

The fact that whoever it was knew right away that they (and, apparently the Yukon; neither of the other ships looked big enough to have that kind of equipment) were not native to this point in time (as "parallel" does not mean "coincide") meant that it was a good bet that either this person was at least on par with them, technologically speaking, or was watching from somewhere nearby and was able to scan them without being detected.

"Is there something with which we can help you, sir?" He asked, still speaking politely, in spite of his misgivings.

=====

Using the ship's internal warp gate network, Ahtazem reached the shuttle bay only a moment before the Yukon's captain and his escort arrived.

They were both considerably shorter than her, but the other guest aboard her ship was closer to her own height, which was a relief. She wasn't fond of talking with an adult the size of an adolescent teolse, because she felt that she had to appear to be using her height for intimidation, which was definitely not what she wanted to do.

"Welcome aboard, Captain," she said, using the ship's computer to translate into English. I really should download this language... As soon as I can get a few bittekke to do so.. "So... Where should we begin?"
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Starfeather
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The moderate lights were only a momentary disruption--the power armor he wore, of Chozo make, was more than capable of enhancing his helmet's systems in order to compensate for the lower lighting, though due to the peaceful connotations of the meeting, Z'Gato hardly found it necessary, but he allowed the suit to adjust the visor all the same, noticing that darker areas were indicated and highlighted in green, allowing for a more complete view of the shuttle bay he now stood within. However, the one to welcome him did not seem perturbed by the Chozo's armored visage, perhaps he had been expecting an armed passenger this entire time--which spoke to this one's level of cynacism, logic, or just plain resilience to shocking scenes.

What surprised Z'Gato, however, was the person that came to welcome him aboard the foreign vessel seemed, for all intents and purposes, human. The suit's scanners were quick to analyze the individual however, noting the subtle--and in some cases, not-so-subtle--differences between the two species. He was definitely dealing with something both foreign and familiar, but that hardly mattered to the Chozo warrior. He wanted to get to the bottom of the situation on the planet, not go for a forensics lecture.

The floors and walls started to shift, revealing some sort of system to scan and eliminate contaminates--a wise precaution, given everything that was happening, but the Chozo found himself assuming a combative stance for a moment, at least until the devices did not appear hostile. It seemed the Chozo was quick to startle, or perhaps he had seen a few too many battles in his time. Either way, Z'Gato didn't apologize--it was rather healthy to have a cautious attitude, even if his body had reacted before his mind could catch up with what was going on. Perhaps that was what his Ta'ahn had spoken about getting older--the body just started doing things that the brain didn't expressly request. At least his battle-hardened senses were still sharp as ever.

When the processing was complete, Z'Gato allowed himself to relax, nodding towards the alien. The choice of English was strange, but the Avian soldier accepted it all the same. It had already been established as the common denominator between all ships, so it was natural to use that language with official visitors. He rather preferred his native tongue, but Z'Gato had accepted the fact that not very many outside of his own race had ever mastered it.

When told about the Captain visiting with him 'shortly', Z'Gato made a sound between a snort and a scoff. The job of a Captain was important, truth be told, but he very much hated having to wait around for someone else. One would think the Captain would make every attempt to meet with guests on such an important--and pressing--situation. Regardless, Z'Gato gestured towards his host and spoke. "Lead on, wherever we are to gather and discuss. I would rather not waste time on a tour," the bird-man said gruffly. He wasn't in the mood to go exploring or learning anything about the ship--the only objective on his mind at the moment was the planet.

Suddenly, there was a wash of... something. He didn't know what it was, but like a lightning bolt, his cannon was raised up in a ready position, the avian's head on a swivel as he looked around. He felt something... off for a moment, but as quickly as the feeling had been, it had passed. He hadn't even realized his breath had quickened to match his increased movements, but when he realized there was no danger nearby, he lowered his weapon and shook his head. What was that feeling just now--something hideous causing every feather to stand on end? "D--Don't mind me, I thought I had--nevermind, just lead on," he said, brushing off the incident as quickly as possible. He'd rather put that behind him and look forward towards the meeting with the Captain, rather than linger on a sixth sense that was clearly misinterpreting the situation.

Thank goodness Tisiphone wasn't here to see that. She wouldn't stop making veiled teases about it.
Marching to the Black Gates...
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~Alissa~
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Hannah grinned as she returned her friends hug and smirked at the lack of interest from Lizzy, it was not unexpected after all given the age, and the fact that she was home this time of day doing homework.

“I’m good, wrapping up school” she said, Hannah’s recovery had necessitated staying close to her doctors for a while which had actually had her stuck planet side for a time, she applied too and was accepted by MIT, by the time she was “as good as she was likely to get” she was on track for a PHD and so remained to finish. “Alex is meeting a client with the Persephone and then I get to go do some field work.”

at the prospect of being back on her ship, in her home, Hannah looked positively ecstatic “I have some experiments to run...so I hired my own ship” she said with a grin. But I’ve got hours till I have to be at the space port so I thought I would drop by and see whats going on with you!” at that point she paused, checked her watch and looked back to the strangely studious Liz “it is a school day right?”
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