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| Ghost Light; in the beginning | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 1 2008, 03:50 AM (1,837 Views) | |
| ~Scout~ | Oct 6 2008, 08:48 AM Post #11 |
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Artificial
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Rel was distressed. The station had not responded very enthusiastically to Rel’s request. Perhaps if he had changed it from “very kindly please” to “please very kindly” it would have worked…? “Send a message to the escorts and the freighters saying that we have permission to remain in the immediate area, and permission to dock,” he “said”, creating electrical signals which any Zaan in the area would be able to pick up and recognize. Rel swam toward the hangar, passing through some areas of air-filled zero-gravity corridors. Zaan ships had no real need for artificial gravity, as most of the work done by Zaan would take place in water, and Zaan could get around perfectly fine in water without artificial gravity. When he reached the hangar he was very happy to feel water on his person once again. He swam lazily toward one of the defense fighters and entered it. He maneuvered it into an airlock and waited for the water to drain out of the airlock so that he could launch and board the station. Cali and Ryys were already on the station by this point. The two freighters landed side-by-side in the hangar bay, far away from any menacing pirate ships that could threaten them. They detached the cargo pods from their freighters, and synchronously exited their ships. “Excuse me!” Cali called to the dockworkers, waving his antennae in the air. “We have some food and medical goods that we were called upon to deliver, and we have need for a group of able-bodied humanoids that can unload it here for us!” Ryys was happy for the Zalamath translators for the Zaan that had been developed. When in the presence of other species that could not read electrical currents within a creature’s body, they were still perfectly capable of communicating. Ryys watched happily, yet cautiously, as three disgruntled dockworkers approached the cargo pods. He scuttled toward them slowly and produced a credit chip from his bag, holding it with his antenna. “Here, take this and have some fun with it,” he said. One of the dockworkers took it, and upon reading the amount of money with it, immediately huddled with his friends in excited discussion. Ryys strutted back to Cali. Cali peered at him. “Exactly how much did you give them?” “Enough,” Ryys said. His eyes gleamed with smugness. “Let’s get out of here. Perhaps there’s a bar in here that’s not filled to the brim with criminals?” It was around this point that Rel’s defense fighter glided gracefully into the hangar and skillfully landed on the hangar floor in one fluid motion. There were a few moments of pause, and then the door on the bottom of the defense fighter opened and Rel fell out of it, looking a lot like a distressed roly-poly. Drops of water trickled out along the rims of the door until it closed. Rel uncurled himself and strode purposefully toward the other two Zaan. “Right, then! Shall we head to a civilized establishment in this station of ruffians? Drinks are on me, friends…” Rel herded the two Zaan out of the hangar as the three empowered dockworkers worked hard at unloading supplies from the cargo pods. Rel located an information desk and acquired the location of the nearest bar. He went back to the other two Zaan. “I have located a restaurant that we may go to and relax. The kind human at the desk informed me that I will not find a calmer bar throughout the entire station.” The other Zaan couldn’t exactly disagree with this, so they followed Rel. Upon reaching the bar, the first things that Ryys and Cali saw were a big gun, a shadowy figure in the corner, and two very intimidating looking aliens situated at the bar. “Eh… wrong bar!” Ryys said. The two traders began to retreat. “Oh, come on,” Rel said, impeding their escape with his fingers. “I am certain that we will not find a less crowded bar than this one if we were to search the entire station, so you will have to make do. Besides, I’m sure that the inhabitants are simply delightful.” Rel approached the bar with Ryys and Cali in tow. They glanced around, then up at the bar stools, which were far too high for the Zaan to be able to reach. “Could someone please help us?” Edited by Scout, Oct 6 2008, 09:33 AM.
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| ~Shin-Ra~ | Oct 7 2008, 11:07 AM Post #12 |
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The Other Guy
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There is the sound of footsteps echoing of metal from behind the bar and a few seconds later someone emerges. Any Chozo hearing this alien being described as birdlike would be insulted, but the large beak-like mouth and dark coloured quills protruding from the back of it’s head meant that it could be compared to nothing else. Tall and thin it sported a very small number of scars but from beneath it’s dark green, almost black skin, muscles like steel cables were visible, clearly a sign of natural physical strength. The alien did not look like the type of creature you would expect to be running a bar, a fight in one possibly but not serving drinks. An armoured vest made from a multitude of sources from starship hulls to strips of flack armour covered it’s chest and a number of almost tribal decorations and (apparently) trophies hung from it’s clothing. It was a species none of them had seen before or recognised but it was almost exactly the type of person you would expect to be on a station like Epsilon. It looked down at the trio of Zaan with it’s red eyes, for the moment ignoring some of the more menacing customers in it’s bar and apparently unconcerned that one was aiming a gun then asked quite clearly, surprisingly without any hisses or speech impediments, “Yes?” Seeing the return of the barman, one figure in a dark corner of the room silently backed out of one side door, apparently not wanting to be seen. Some of the hunters with better eyesight noticed that he was wearing the same uniform as most of the station’s security officers (or at least what might have once passed for a uniform anyway), along with several markings of insignia and rank noting him to be a commander. Exiting the room he signalled two other guards from one side of the hanger, who had apparently been waiting for him and headed off through the crowds in search of someone. It only took the guards a few short minutes to find their target; the figure was no less bizarre than any of the other visitors to the station and had it not been for the enhanced tracking systems, one of the stations few up to date facilities, they would have no doubt missed him altogether. Approaching the ship’s owner somewhat cautiously the commander, a heavy set man clearly in his late fifties asked very directly “Are you freelance engineer Tarsin?” --- Meanwhile back atop the watchtower, sergeant Brand was for once doing his job. With the sudden arrival of two wings of Zaan fighters, gunships and transports he had been forced to frantically try to redirect traffic to other locations, something which was proving difficult with the main comms transmitter offline. Thus far he had been able to send out messages via comm. lasers, which though short range and limited to the ships being within the hanger’s line of sight, the major problem with this was that he could only send messages and had no equipment for receiving any from the ships. With all the current engineers on station trying to keep life support and the major power cores in working order all he could do was to wait for the one the commander had called in to repair the systems. “sergeant? are you there?” A void crackled from the console’s comm. system as one of the crewmen contacted him “we have a sensor ghost bearing down on us from the nebula’s direction.” Brand frowned and sent back “can sensor ghosts even do that? are you sure it’s not a cloaked ship?” The voice paused uncertainly for a few seconds before saying “…no… from what the sensors can tell there’s no organic or metal substances on it but it’s not disappearing. Have a few of the fighters go and check it out, the experience will do the pilots some good.” A few seconds later a trio of outdated Hyperion scout fighters, designed for use in high atmosphere but modified by the station’s crew for space flight, lifted off from the ground and exited the hanger causing the bar to shake slightly as it’s reinforced walls were caught in the slipstream of the fighter’s engines. Edited by Shin-Ra, Oct 7 2008, 11:11 AM.
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| ~DarkKnightCuron~ | Oct 8 2008, 08:58 AM Post #13 |
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Starfeather
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Z'Gato cast a glare at the Zebesian's direction. It made sense now, the Esvogg's blasted smell had covered up the smell of the Zebesian, not to mention he hadn't even seen the Zebesian until he had let himself get seen. Either way, Z'Gato didn't appreciate the comment about his race being wiped out, but once again, the galaxy and nature itself had deemed the Chozo unfit for survival, and only the strongest survive, a testament to Z'Gato's will to survive and overcome through strength. Regardless, he turned away from the exchange between the Zebesian and the Esvogg, content with waiting for the barkeep until a trio of new individuals came walking in. He could hear their voices chittering away long before they entered, and Z'Gato turned his head slowly to regard them. It took a few moments to recognize him, but his mind suddenly remembered their odd structure and realized that these were Zaan. Strange that they would be this far into the galaxy, since they usually had bigger fish to fry than meddle in a random space station, but that was there business. Finally, Z'Gato recognized the barkeep emerging from the back, and Z'Gato shifted his weight. Even now, Z'Gato was never able to find out this one's race, despite his similarities with the Chozo, as insulting as it was to even try to compare. Suddenly, Z'Gato heard a shuffle behind him, and noticed someone leaving the bar. His keen, avian eyes spotted the uniform, but not the rank, and shrugged. Life moves on, it seemed... |
Marching to the Black Gates...
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| ~Scout~ | Oct 8 2008, 09:28 PM Post #14 |
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Artificial
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“Ah, it is good to see another civilized soul!” Rel said, who ignored the attempts from the other two Zaan as they tried to escape. “I am Aana Rel Olan, and these are my esteemed companions, Aana Ryys Kan and Aana Cali Ren. We would all like to purchase the special beer that has been posted up, I believe it was called… the ‘Sidewinder Fang’?” Rel looked to his companions for confirmation, who nodded their heads slowly and deliberately. Rel looked up at the bartender again. “Yes, I believe that was it. Three.” Rel lifted up his right foot and rotated the fingers so that three were present on the top, with the remaining nine clustered near the bottom. “Moreover, we are incapable of ascending these bar stools by ourselves in our present state… so could we please be provided with either staircases or a lift?” Edited by Scout, Oct 8 2008, 09:30 PM.
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| ~Bloody Pom~ | Oct 8 2008, 09:50 PM Post #15 |
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Science Team has vapor for brains.
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T'kran was no mere Zebesian grunt. He certainly didn't LOOK like a giant lobster, at any rate. A closer look would reveal he seemed to be a blend of a multitude of Pirate castes; genetic engineering at it's most complex. Lowering his weapon, he smirked. The device split into three equal sections, opening up and sliding back to lock into his forearm, exposing the clawed, reptilian hand within. The hand returned to the glass it had been holding, and the ex-Pirate continued with his drink. Eyes shifted to what looked like a trio of... giant, talking woodlice? Visitors to this station came in all flavours, it seemed. The merc also noted another figure, leaving rather than entering, and in quite a hurry, he noted. Oh well, whatever was going on, it didn't involve him, so why bother looking into it? He was just here to stay for a few weeks, maybe check the job boards and see if there were any contracts. He wasn't worried about leaving his ship unguarded either; if any lowlife tried breaking in, the ship's AI would activate the shields and vaporize the unsuspecting idiot. It had happened a few times since his stay here, judging by the small pile of dust collecting on the ship's dorsal entry hatch. T'kran noticed the barkeep had returned, and decided to get a better look at him; he hadn't paid much attention when purchasing his drink. He looked vaguely bird-like... although the armor was nothing like that of the Chozo. Pieced together didn't even begein to describe the creature's 'clothing'. Edited by Bloody Pom, Oct 8 2008, 10:03 PM.
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"A battle for supremacy against many foes is a battle of the best kind. There are few considerations, only those concerning where to place your next shot. It is war in its purest form." - Commander Karziel, Ultramarines 5th Company![]() ![]()
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| ~The Boss~ | Oct 10 2008, 06:09 PM Post #16 |
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Native Son
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Captain Berkowitz carefully sterred the Tacoma into Docking Bay 12, easing the ship in between a spiffy-looking yacht and an alien vessel he could not identify. That was no surprise. This station in particular was a hub for all kinds of people from all across the galaxy, so much so that people from the mother planet sometimes called it "Ellis Island." While Agent Donovan had a job to do, the crew didn't really have anything pressing at the moment. So they would resupply and refuel, then stay in port for a couple of days until they received new orders from HQ. Berkowitz could only hope his crew didn't cause any trouble during their downtime, as sailors were prone to do. Especially way out on the rim. The captain and a couple of his crew found themselves a little bar not far from the hangar. There were a couple of xenos having themselves a discussion. Best stay out of their business. You could never trust zenos... especially when they were armed to the teeth like these guys here. ........................... "Ms. Fox," Agent Donovan said, opening the door to the prisoner's cell. "Time to go." The girl lay there on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She ignored him completely. "Ms. Fox!" he repeated. This time, she slowly turned her head and acknowledged him. "That's not my name," she said. "Well whatever your name is." He knew of her laundry list of aliases, and didn't feel like having to sort through them right now. "Come on, time to go." To his surprise, Grey Fox acquiesced and got up. Donovan expected some glib remark to come his way, or perhaps have her flash some sultry, vaguely threatening look at him, just to keep him on his guard. But nothing ever came. Instead, she remained stone faced and silent as she followed him out of the room. She was puzzling him, no doubt about it. He had been briefed on the Grey Fox both by his superiors and by friends and associates who had encountered her before, and they all told him what to expect. She'll insult you, crack jokes, spin wild stories, and in general wouldn't shut up. She'd attempt escape at every opportunity, and might even escape only to return to her cell, just to demonstrate to her captors what she was capable of. And yet, she hadn't done any of that. Rather, she'd been quiet and cooperative, to the point where if she didn't have those gray eyes, he would seriously question whether or not he had the right person here. As he lead her out of the ship though, he started to wonder whether it was all calculated, if it was all a part of some game of hers to throw him off guard. Given her reputation for schemes and trickery, it was not only plausible, but likely. Edited by The Boss, Oct 12 2008, 10:02 PM.
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| +CEMP+ | Oct 12 2008, 09:45 PM Post #17 |
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Clockwork Master
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(OOC: Not really much, but I don't have lot to work on either.) As Tarsin walked through the station, he noticed even more how severely broken down it was. It looked to be a rather hazardous place to live in, he thought. As if replying to his current thoughts, a small voice arose from a part of his conscious to particularly conscious of any dangers laying about the place. He took it as another part of his mind simply trying to keep his eyes open, although it strangely felt like those little thoughts didn't even belong to him; it was almost like a message. Still, you could never get to reckless when working with equipment, and he knew all too well what had happened to him due to his carelessness. “Are you freelance engineer Tarsin?” asked a heavy set man clearly in his late fifties. "Checkrum Diazgram," Tarsin spoke in his mother tongue, the words obviously showing his relief. It was sort of a slang term that had several but similar meanings; often, it was a form of greeting or to show relief. "I was beginning to wonder if I was not needed here, or if this might be the wrong place...assuming you wanted me for mechanical business," the big lizard ended, giving him a small eye of caution. |
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"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." — Monty Oum | |
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| ~The Boss~ | Oct 12 2008, 10:01 PM Post #18 |
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Native Son
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While the crew busied themselves having drinks in the bar near the hangar, Donovan escorted the Grey Fox through the crowded corridors of the station. While he wasn't wild about the idea of transporting a prisoner, especially one as dangerous as this, right in the middle of the public, it didn't make sense to get into a transport since the elevator was just a little ways away from the hangar. When the lift arrived, Donovan hung back at first, allowing the other people gathered to board saying he would catch the next one. It wasn't just that he didn't want to have the Grey Fox in the middle of a bunch of civilians any longer than he had to. He didn't want anyone getting nosy once they reached their destination. When the next elevator arrived, they boarded. Donovan hit 9D, a little-travelled sector of the station. The Grey Fox slouched against the back wall as they rode up in silence. She briefly contemplated strangling the Agent with the chain of her handcuffs, but decided against it. With their enhanced abilities, Agents were not to be trifled with, and despite her reputation she was only human. Before long, the elevator stopped and its doors slid open. They emerged in a sterile white hallway, reminiscent of a hospital, with a dead end to their left and a pair of glass double doors secured with an electronic lock to their right. Donovan swiped his card to open the doors, and he led his prisoner around the corner into a large office area. They were in a local Section 6 station, the only tenant in this sector of the station. That this was a Section 6 office, or even a government office period, wasn't exactly well known, and in fact the Feds took great care to keep it that way. The agency was by far the most secretive in the Federation, and their offices were often disguised as small businesses. The same held true for this office, officially listed as "Lydon Enterprises." There was only one problem: the office was completely empty. The large receptionist desk that stood before them was unmanned, which Donovan knew never should be. Even if she had gone to the bathroom, there should have been someone watching the door, but there wasn't anyone around. He looked around, walking towards the back where the actual offices and other facilities were, but there wasn't a soul to be seen. It wasn't just that the place was empty, though. All of the equipment was gone too. There were no phones, no computers, no consoles, not even any pictures on the walls or personal items on peoples' desks. It was as if the office had never been occupied in the first place. In Section 6 parlance, this was called "scrubbing," when a facility was suddenly abandoned. It only happened when either their cover was blown, or - more ominously - something very, very bad was about to happen and the agency didn't want to take a big hit. Either way, it wasn't good. Donovan quickly whipped his phone out of his pocket and dialed up his contact at this office. "Wu... Donovan. I just got to Eplosion with the package, and the place has been completely scrubbed. What the hell's going on down here?" "It's not good," came Wu's reply on the other end. "The brass got some bad vibes and decided to bail. I suggest that you do the same." "What do you mean, bad vibes?" "Sorry, Donovan. Need to know. And right now, all you need to know is your ass needs to get off that station. Pronto." It took everything Donovan had not to scream and chuck the phone across the room. He'd been in the agency long enough to know that this kind of vagueness and stonewalling was par for the course. Hell, he did it himself on a regular basis. But sometimes... sometimes it was so infuriating. Still, there was no point in arguing about it. Section 6 always knew what was going on. When they sensed danger, they were usually right. Something was about to go down, and whatever it was it was bad enough to panic the agency into scrubbing one of it's few outposts in this corner of space. Now was not the time to ask questions... now was the time to heed their advice and get the hell out of Dodge. "Well what am I supposed to do about the girl?" "Drake says drop her off at the nearest cop shop once you get clear," Wu said. "But the important is to get clear first. Sorry, that's all I can tell you." A click on the other end signaled the end of the conversation. Donovan slid the phone back into his pocket and ran his hands through his hair, exasperated. "What's going on?" the Grey Fox asked. "Your government buddies sell you out?" He answered her with an indecipherable glare. Panic was starting to creep up his spine, but on the outside he held his cool. "We have to leave," he said. "Right now." |
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| ~TobiasBrahms~ | Oct 13 2008, 07:10 PM Post #19 |
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Phantasmagoria
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UEO Venture DSV-4800 Bridge Lt Tran sat at his communications console with a video disk playing on the secondary screen, the whole crew was winding down getting ready for shore leave on some tropical resort planet. Suddenly the main screen of his console began displaying a strange message format. He looked quizically at the numbers scrolling across his screen for a moment before saying, "Ummm Captain, would you come have a look at this? I'm getting a really strange readout here." Brahms stood from his command chair and walked to the port side of the bridge. He stepped up a small series of stairs and stood behind the chair that Lt Tran was seated in. They stared at the numbers on the screen. 26.29.14.113.27/213.212.14.26.26.18.15/BREAK/213.111./:/11.16.111./ 21.16.210.213.11.212.16./-/4800/BREAK/26.212.111.110./:/11.16.111./ 26.29.16.16.213.15.111.110./BREAK/BREAK/21.16.210.213.11.212.16/ 27.16.212.16.24.13./111.212.25.16.212.16.25./213.111./ 212.16.211.111.212.213./213.111./26.16.25.16.212.14.213.18.111.210./ 113.211.14.15.16./113.213.14.213.18.111.210./ 16.211.29.111.212.18.111.210./-/22.18.18./GAP/212.16.211.111.212.213.113./ 111.26./18.210.15.212.16.14.113.16.25./211.18.212.14.213.16./ 14.15.213.18.21.18.213.13./18.210./213.27.16./212.16.17.18.111.210./ 210.16.14.212./213.27.16./113.213.14.213.18.111.210./GAP/29.111.210.17./ 212.14.210.17.16./113.16.210.113.111.212./211.111.113.213.113./ 14.29.113.111./212.16.211.111.212.213./14.210./18.210.15.212.16.14.212.16./ 111.26./113.211.14.15.16./213.212.14.26.26.18.15./111.26./ 21.14.212.13.18.210.17./21.16.113.113.16.29./213.13.211.16.113./,/ 113.111.110.16./113.211.16.15.18.16.113./11.210.19.210.111.12.210./GAP/ 14.213.213.16.110.211.213./26.18.212.113.213./15.111.210.213.14.15.213./ 18.26./211.111.113.113.18.24.29.16./12.18.213.27./14.210.13./ 11.210.19.111.12.210./113.211.16.15.18.16.113./,/29.111.17./14.210.13./ 210.16.12./21.16.113.113.16.29./15.111.210.26.18.17.212.11.14.213.28.111.210./ 26.212.111.110./19.210.111.12.210./113.211.16.15.18.16.113./ 18.210.213.111./213.27.16./11.16.111./25.14.213.14.24.14.210.19./GAP/ 26.16.25.16.212.14.213.18.111.210./26.111.212.15.16.113./14.212.16./ 14.213.213.16.110.211.213.18.210.17./213.11./212.18.25./213.27.16./ 14.212.16.14./111.26./211.18.212.14.213.16./26.111.212.15.16.113./GAP/ 21.16.210.213.11.212.16./111.212.25.16.212.16.25./213.111./ 14.113.113.18.113.213./18.210./213.27.16./16.26.26.111.212.213./ 12.27.16.212.16./212.16.14.113.111.210.14.24.29.13./ 211.111.113.113.18.24.29.16./GAP/12.16./12.14.210.213./213.111./ 211.212.111.21.16./213.111./213.27.16./26.16.25.16.212.14.213.18.111.210./ 26.29.16.16.213./111.26.26.18.15.18.14.29.113./213.27.14.213./ 213.27.16./11.16.111./18.113./15.14.211.14.24.29.16./14.210.25./ 212.16.14.113.111.210.14.24.29.13./16.112.11.18.211.211.16.25./ 213.111./25.16.14.29./12.18.213.27./113.16.15.11.212.18.213.13./ 18.113.113.11.16.113./GAP/15.14.211.213.14.18.210./ 14.11.213.27.111.212.18.23.16.25./213.111./113.213.111.211./14.213./ 113.213.14.213.18.111.210./14.210.25./14.29.29.111.12./14.113./ 110.11.15.27./14.113./48/27.111.11.212.113./113.17.111.212.16./ 29.16.14.21.16./26.111.212./15.212.16.12./24.16.26.111.212.16./ 24.16.17.18.210.210.18.210.17./110.18.113.113.18.111.210./BREAK/ 26.29.16.16.213.15.111.110./111.11.213./END Brahms saw a pattern and spoke to the ship's AI. "Natalie, decode this using standard UEO cleartext alphadrop patterns." The bridge's holoprojectors clicked on with a hum and Natalie materialized out of nowhere. "Working Captain." she said. "Got it, displaying now." They looked at the screen, the numbers were replaced with words. flash traffic to: ueo venture dsv-4800 from: ueo fleetcom venture hereby ordered to report to Federation Space Station Eplosion-XII. Reports of increased pirate activity in the region near the station. Long range sensor posts also report an increase of space traffic of varying vessel types, some species unknown. Attempt first contact if possible with any unknown species, log any new vessel configurations from known species into the UEO databank. Federation forces are attempting to rid the area of pirate forces. venture ordered to assist in the effort where reasonably possible. we want to prove to the federation fleet officials that the ueo is capable and reasonably equipped to deal with security issues. captain authorized to stop at station and allow as much as 48 hours shore leave for crew before beginning mission. fleetcom out Brahms nodded and turned away from Tran's console. "Helm plot a course for Federation Space Station Eplosion-XII, best speed." Edited by TobiasBrahms, Oct 13 2008, 07:13 PM.
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| ~Shin-Ra~ | Oct 27 2008, 12:21 PM Post #20 |
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The Other Guy
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((Sorry for the delay but i’m back at long last, I’ll do my best to keep posting in this thread from now on. Also I’m not sure how to respond to some of your posts I.E. Boss’ characters but feel free to post various plot development in here and I’ll do my best to work around them. If there’s anyone wants to continue after such a long hiatus that is.)) It didn’t take long but both the Agent and Grey Fox began to realize something, the temperature of the room was rapidly dropping, steadily at first but now defiantly below normal. And there were no ventilation ducts in the room. Just as frost was beginning to appear in some of the corners of the room, the temperature began to quickly rise again and within seconds it was back to normal. The man frowned at the remark, clearly not fluent in Tarsin’s language but understood their meaning and continued “I am S'dan, commander of this facility and yes, we have a job for you” The two guards behind him quickly relaxed, realizing that this WAS the person they had hired and was less likely to try and kill them. Most of the aliens and crewmen had ignored Tarsin since his arrival but a small number of people had shown signs of trying to avoid him, or avoid attracting his attention. Looking about as if trying to remember something S’dan eventually said “ah, yes. We need you to repair one of the main comm. units, it gave out this morning and since then we’ve been forced to use alternative means to contact ships. Here, I’ll lead you to it“ He began to walk across to an entrance on one side of the hanger gesturing for Tarsin to follow. The barman looked down at the three Zaans, his face was currently expressionless but from his body language it was clear that he was unsure how to respond to this. He had encountered many people entering his bar in the past usually those who chose not to enter some of the better known ones for good reason, but the Zaan… he honestly had no idea how someone could be so naïve to voluntarily enter a place like this. What else was noticeable was that he kept occasionally glancing at T’kran as if he perceived the Space Pirate as a threat, something which was quite understandable even in a place like this. The barman was about to reply to Rel when the ground shook and the bar began to fall apart, as something impacted into the station’s side not far from the hanger. The impact was felt by Tarsin, the occupants of the bar, both Fox and Donovan and almost everyone on the station was shaken from their feet as metal shrieked and was torn apart, and the entire facility buckled under the impact sending the station slowly out of it’s designated position for the first time since it’s creation. A few minutes before this, Brand had been frowning looking for any and all signs of the ‘sensor ghost’ which had recently disappeared from all sight and expecting some from of reply from fighters they had sent out. And now was on his back bleeding from a blow to the head, thrown from the crashing watchtower as it’s hastily built structure collapsed from the sudden movement of the station. By some small miracle parts of the equipment were still working, including the link to the command station. But from what he could hear most of the operators were just as confused as he was and a babble of voices were clamoring through the speakers. From another consol, monitoring the endurance and stability of this section of the station he saw a number of sectors outlined in red as if something had collided with them. As he slowly fell into unconsciousness it dawned on him, the sectors had been directly in the path of the ‘ghost.’ The long range scanners of the Venture ‘saw’ this, detecting the explosions and fleeing ships, along with a major energy spike from the station. And then everything turned black as the power on the station, the Venture, and the nearby ships gave out. Edited by Shin-Ra, Oct 28 2008, 06:57 AM.
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"You can live forever or die trying." | |
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4:14 AM Jul 11