The Voyages of the Penelope and the Yydryl

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Whisper became aware of the mysterious orb in her room once again beginning to swirl with color...

Before they disappeared, the last word Whisper spoke aboard the Yydryl was: “Daddy…



[edit on 31-5-2009 by silo13]

Captain Luder had gone joyriding down to the planetary surface, and left Security Chief nenothtu in charge of the Penelope. Some folks have all the luck. He routed Security Command and Control through the Captain's station at the center of the bridge, sat down, and began going through the message that had built up. Among all the requests and requisition forms, he ran across a message from an Ensign in Supply.

To: Security Chief Nenothtu
From: Ensign Landers –Supply

Chief,
We were alerted to a stasis container in hold number three that was loaded at L2 station. It contains a crew member who was brought aboard by cold transfer. This assignment went through personnel and the onboard computer started the rescusitation cycle to fill an empty flight crew position. The container shows a status of ‘prisoner’ but the computer has him listed as a pilot. It might be some kind of mistake.
There is a letter from some Ambassador along with it which I have forwarded to you. It’s marked ‘for commanding officer’.
I called security to escort the prisoner/pilot to medical and then the brig.
Please advise.

Well. This looked interesting. Earth had long had a proud history of shipping fine young men off to war to avoid legal 'difficulties' and 'entanglements'. They weren't however, generally delivered to the military as prisoners, much less frozen, cold-stasis 'prisoner-cicles'. Or in secret, as part of a cargo manifest. That slot was generally reserved for stowaways. Neno reminded himself to check and see if Penelope had any billets for official Stowaways as part of the crew compliment.

Computer had the individual listed as a 'Pilot'? Well, computers had been known to develop code glitches over time. He'd just see about that. Prisoners generally wound up flying potato peelers in the mess hall. Since when was Personnel involved in the transfer of cargo? It was all so very confusing. Neno decided to read the Ambassador's letter in the slim hopes that it might shed some light on this mystery that had fallen in his lap. Scroggin' politicians, always tinkering with the military, and generally gumming up the works.

The Ambassador's letter read as follows:

Supplemental attachment:
Prisoner transfer documentation.
To: Commanding officer, any outbound Federation starship
From: Rear Admiral (Ret.) Ternim Chase


I am forwarding this letter of recommendation to you along with the included (i.e. incarcerated) body of Private (Formerly, Chief Warrant Officer) William "Badgerprints" Chase.
He is in stasis along with his personal effects and military records.
Private chase is a decorated and experienced flight veteran and general miscreant who has the innate ability to lose rank almost as fast as he earns it.

His latest reduction of rank is due to an interplanetary incident involving an ambassadors daughter and a penthouse in the planetary Capitol the day before her wedding.
I can not go further into detail as court rulings dictate that in the case of diplomatic dealings between planetary ambassadors dependents .........well, it wasn't technically illegal but it wasn't the smartest thing he could have done.
The ambassador has pulled diplomatic strings that make it absolutely necessary to transfer Private Chase to a new duty station. I understand that he has posted a reward for terminal sanction for purposes of retaining family honor. This is of course illegal but diplomatic immunity knows no bounds. Obviously, haste was essential in Private Chase's transfer.
He will be in stasis at L2 Station awaiting a proper berth on an outbound assignment. I understand that this type of transfer is unusual, however Private Chase's technical status of prisoner mandates stasis or internment until he has been berthed. In this case stasis is a more inconspicuous method of deployment.
If you are in possession of this document, then your ship meets the minimum deployment requirements and records of transfer will be post dated accordingly.

I am aware that this transfer comes as a surprise and may not be the most efficient fit for an established crew however the assignment is mandatory and will not be rescinded. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you or your staff.
I'll be frank with you. Badger can be somewhat tedious at times. He's belligerent, sarcastic, and can't seem to keep it in his pants. However, he has an exemplary combat record and is very reliable.
Obviously, I have a personal interest in his future. He is my sisters only son and I promised her I wouldn't let him rot in stasis on a supply scow chasing some patrol ship around the outer sectors.

So, thaw him out, make him clean toilets or put him on KP for a while. He's a good potato peeler and pot washer as he's had a lot of experience. He could use a swift kick in the can and a vigorous ass chewing as well. God knows he deserves it. Once he's completely thawed out and can use all of his digits, he'll make a worthy addition to your crew. He has been wounded on several occasions but still serves in full physical capacity with minor prosthetic enhancement. He is qualified and ready for flight duty if you see fit.

If you keep him busy he tends to stay out of trouble.


Regards,
T. Chase
Rear Admiral (Ret.)

Hmmm... created an interstellar incident? Nenothtu liked the guy already. One thing was for sure, he'd fit in rather well with the "interstellar incident-creating" rabble aboard Penelope. The relationship with a politician could prove problematic, but from the sound if things, 'prisoner' Chase (or possibly potato-peeler pilot Chase) didn't take formalities much to heart. Another plus, in neno's book - unless he was so fast and loose as to gum up the works of Penelope. An 'exemplary' combat record AND a price on his head - neno wondered breifly if this Chase might be a relative. The 'enhanced prosthetics' generated a bit of concern, however. Nenothtu had visions of loud, spectacular explosions in his head.

Chief nenothtu chewed the inside of his cheek, mulling over the possibilities. According to interstellar law, he could, as acting ship's captain, do as he pleased with this unrequisitioned individual. Anything from promoting HIM to captain, and going fishing himself, to having him executed out of hand as a stowaway. Practically, however, Federation regulations limited what he could do while on a Federation ship. But not by much. Fact was, however, that there DID just happen to be an unfilled billet for Fighter Wing Commander, a billet recently vacated in the Nimitz Debacle. If the guy could fly like the 'recommendation' letter stated, there might be a place for him. Neno wanted to review Chase's Service Record to determine the facts before he reached a final decision, and of course nothing would be done without an 'interview'. That was always nenothtu's FAVORITE part.

Reaching a partial decision, neno contacted ship's security. "Nenothtu to security: transfer the recently discovered prisoner Chase from a holding cell in the brig to an interview room. A SECURED interview room. I'm gonna want to talk to him in a while. nenothtu out."

The Chief then called up Chase's Service Record, and began to read it to see just what sort of individual he was dealing with here.

[edit on 2009/6/1 by nenothtu]

As the cold statis effects began to ware off, Adilaris composed himself. It had been a long journey from the Eridius system, but chasing the Yydryl seemed worth it. It was now time to pour over the crew records and find the Med/Science Officer. A full workup would be required for Adilaris to make sure his systems were intact. More things were needed, but he need not concern himself now.

A troubling situation. The Company was very worried that their little investment would not fare too well. Given the fact they had no real orders when it took off, there were bound to be some problems. However the recent problems with the crew and the odd interactions between the Yydryl and the Penelope were cause enough to investigate.

A shame really, he had been looking forward to a vacation on a Class 7 planet known as Earth. Apparently it was quite beautiful and filled with complex life forms. Even the gravity was said to be abundant. But alas, duty calls and for one of the last surviving Q'uekdarz, duty was everything.

His memories of his own existance were, sporadic at best. His mind had been fragmented long ago during a Galactic Alignment. One tends never to forget the star cycle in which his whole galaxy is swallowed whole.

He'd been happy to survive, but the Q'uekzarz were not a loved people, and identifying himself would have led to his murder eventually. Other races never had to gull to do what was necessary, what was truly right in the eyes of existance. There was no doubt, no mercy. Trained in the most prominant of martial and cosmic arts, he was capable of great things. Or so he remembers being capable, alot of his skills were still being re-learnt so to speak. Secrecy was key. Therefore he had left his original platonic body in favor of a bio/mechanical exosuit known simple as a "watchers".

It allowed to him to interact fully with all forms of current technology as well as living organisms. The running of this current ship for example required no navigational skills at all. He simply willed it to move, and it did.

Very few had ever been in contact with such things and there were many attemps to capture and study him, but being who he was, they never succeeded. And now it was time to undertake another mission. A very important one.

His motives and objectives would need to stay secret for the time being. At least until he found a suitable being to trust.

As he approched the ship his mind opened a communication channel.

Members of the Yydryl. I have been charged with helping you navigate your ship and aid you on your mission. Please stand by to be boarded.

As the ship began it's docking sequence, suddenly everything came to a stop.

I am Yydryl, a voice spoke ever so softly in his mind. You are of the same kind I am. I must warn you that things are not what they seem. Are you truly ready for this voyage?

It had been ages since he'd encountered another bio-mechanical entity, and this intrigued him greatly.

Will you allow me to board Yydryl?

Certainly Adilaris, I know your inner workings and your motives. Take note that I am not here to do your bidding. Your investigation is important and I shall assist you. I warn you to not cross me, the outcome will be very distastefull.

Appreciated and noted, now I must begin my work

Very well

Seems this voyage would be far more interested than he previously envisioned.

[edit on 6/1/2009 by tothetenthpower]

Prisoner # P3/0023 badgerprints

Badger sat on an upside down crate hunched over a pot of peeled norkan potatoes. It had only been three hours since he’d been pulled from stasis and he was already on KP duty. No personal effects, no quarters, no meal ,not even a shower.
He’d been examined by a medic and given a bottle of electrolytes and a hypo spray. Then they gave him a box to sit on and potatoes to peel. His new assignment wasn’t starting off in stellar fashion.

He was in a corner of the kitchen next to a bank of stoves. It was the smallest mess hall in the ship and served the aft quarters on the lower deck between long term storage, reclamation engineering and the secondary brig. Many of the crew didn’t even know it was there.
He tried not to think about the noise, heat and that smarmy little twit , Abernathy, who was guarding him. Abernathy was fresh out of the cadidiot factory and, in Badgers opinion, an anal retentive over achiever. He was way too happy with his job.

Badger had been peeling potatoes for a few hours and was getting into a nice calm groove. Sweat formed in the short graying stubble on his head and ran down his face. Damp rings had formed on the back of his prisoners jumpsuit and under his arms. Calloused fingers plucked potato tentacles with an agile dexterity that made the head cook smile and shake his head. Badger hummed an old marching tune while he worked, letting his mind go blank. It was almost comfortable except for the heat. His body was accustomed to extreme cold and the heat made him dehydrate. He started getting a headache.


Abernathy sat across the room from him in a cushioned chair under a ventilation duct. Every few minutes he would take a sip of tea, topping off his glass from an ice filled pitcher on the table next to him.


Badger looked up from his potatoes, "Hey Ensign, could you adjust the environmental? It’s really hot over here."

Abernathy smiled and replied, “Keep peeling convict.”

"Come on kid, give me a break. I feel like crap."

"You will address me as ensign or Sir." Abernathy smiled a little wider.
"Keep peeling."

Badger looked back at Abernathy and narrowed his eyes. Abernathy looked back in surprise and met his gaze for a few seconds. He grabbed the glass off of the table turning away slightly.
"Keep peeling." he said as he stared into his glass.

Badger shook his head and went back to work.



Badger was on his third bucket of potatoes when Abernathy was called and told to get him up to interview room seven immediately. There was no time to put on a uniform or clean up.

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

Badger was told to sit on a stiff backed chair in a nearly empty interview room. An identical chair faced him from across a bare table. Two armed marines stood to either side of the door behind him and Abernathy stood against the opposite wall, away from the marines.
It was cool and quiet in the room. Badgers damp prisoner overalls were wrinkled and smelled of body odor and raw potatoes. He needed a shave.

"So much for first impressions." he mumbled to himself.

Badger sat back in the chair and watched the ensign fidget.

He waited.


[edit on 2-6-2009 by badgerprints]

[edit on 2-6-2009 by badgerprints]

We found the Armor to the front of the weapons depositary working behind a long bench, tools in hand, a lit magnifying eyepiece distorting one eye to the size of half his face.

And what a face.
Not unlike a horse so much as a dragon, his head and muzzle layered in small pearly scales, his eyes large with a red hue that would have been a disturbing if the shade hadn't been warmed with humility and wisdom.
Had the one eye not been magnified many times it’s size by the eyepiece I’d not have noticed the pupil, a color so close to the outer red of the orbit it was nearly undetectable.

Though he didn't look up as we arrived his one ear acknowledged us, swiveled in our direction, the other remained centered on a mechanism he worked beneath his long nimble fingers.

Years ago at LAB I’d met some young centaur like Kaylenians but never anything like this impressive adult grown into his full chest of black underbody scales, his matching mane and tail thick and flowing long silken strands.

The Armour was a stunning creature, his body well kept, his regal bearing evident even bent over his workbench.
Trying not to stare I found myself wanting to curtsy as I took the Amour’s hand in introduction and hoped he didn’t find my reaction and curiosity offensive.

Glancing over row after row of weapon cases I was surprised not to see another Kaylenian.
It was common knowledge his kind were highly species dependant and as a rule even in the workplace they were not known for being solitary, yet here in the armory I saw no other Kaylenian.
I stored the information in my memory bank for later, for now I was here following Whispers command to find myself a weapon.

Chumley grunted the introductions between myself and Armour Deson, explaining our business being my desperate need of outfitting.
Armor Deson the love for his creations evident in his every gesture lay a cloth over the piece he’d been working before he turned his full attention our way.

Explaining the core problem I was facing seemingly intrigued the Kaylenian, who short on words was long on understanding the challenges of outfitting unique beings.

My particular handicap, which I went so far a to show Armor Deson (to Chumley's horror) was no matter what weapon I held it would drop to the ground as soon as I morphed, as always right along with anything else I was holding or wearing.

Eyes gleaming in challenge Deson held out a three fingered hand to stop me from donning my uniform that had dropped to my feet.
His attention centered on my middle Deson reached and gently prodded my belly his eyes gleaming with an inner knowledge he didn't share.
Looking me up and down critically as I dressed, and with no hesitation in his choices he began calling out names of weapons for Chumley to bring forward.

That Deson allowed Chumley to handle the weapons only proved the Armors recognizing a like kind in Chumley's love and respect for arms and though reluctant at first to allow me to touch his creations the inevitable took place, and the Armour began handing me weapons one at a time judging my compatibility with each.

It didn’t take long to realize Deson’s patience was formidable.
Many times I grasp a weapon in the wrong manner and where Chumley regaled us with a continuous stream of snorts of derision the Armor, ignoring Chumley all together, gently repositioned the weapon in my hand and with gestures, not words, showed me the proper handling of each piece presented for my trial.

Shaking his head in rejection of each projectile based weapon Deson in a decisive gesture waved Chumley away to peruse the shelves on his own and reached under his work bench for prototypes of every kind of edged weapon.

After palming a few unfinished blades Deson seemed satisfied with a final trial product, fitted it to my hand and took it away before I had a chance to examine it closer.
I was still confused how the Armor would circumvent my inability to morph holding a weapon, but I asked no questions.

After a few moments of taking measurements of my arm length, waist and inseam, some furious sketching and note taking Deson asked me to spit in a receptacle and come back the following day. I spit and thanked Deson, who’d already turned back to reworking the weapon on the bench, leaving Chumley and I to go on our way.

Before we reached the door the Armour gave a loud cough, Chumley stopped in his tracks and began depositing weapons on a table adjacent the exit, a routine apparently well rehearsed by both enthusiasts.

Where Chumley hid the armament I’d no idea but as an impressive pile of weapons grew on the table (which no doubt was positioned there for exactly that reason), Chumley sent a bashful smile at the Armour back.

Swishing his long black tail in irritation left no doubt in my mind we’d been summarily dismissed.

Deson's - The Yydryl: A guide for the readers...

[edit on 2-6-2009 by silo13]

After his brief discussion with Yydryl, the docking sequence was resumed. As he waited for final docking sequence he continued reading the crew records. A couple of members intrigued him greatly.

As the sequence and the bay doors were about to open, he willed them shut.

Why are you confining yourself? Asked the familiar voice.

It is a custom to wait until I am received by a member of the crew. My people may be seperated and spread thin, but we always follow our customs

Very Well

It seemed Yydryl was not a phase of complete trust yet. Perhaps he would sync himself with her later on in order to fully understand.

For the moment he would wait.....

Holding the sparkler over the thermite the Colonel realizes that Evans and Nathan were both behind the bar looking through the food stocks.

Studious tells them jokingly “I’m about to cause an explosion here and you’re all about to have a snack!? You can have one when we get out of here.”

They continue to work around as if not paying the Colonel any attention.
Studious was becoming concerned why the two strike team members were still shuffling around behind the small counter where the food ice and water came from. He then noticed that Nathan appeared to be taking swabs and testing the food. The Colonel hands the still burning sparkler to Ackerman and approaches the two.

“What are you doing!?” Studious asked angrily.

Nathan: “None of your concern, guard the doors.”

Studious: “NO! I’m tired of this. You’re going to tell me exactly what your doing.”

Nathan: “Colonel this isn’t the time.”

Studious: “I have a right to know!”

Nathan: “Trust me you DON’T WAN’T to know.”

Studious: “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Nathan: “Colonel, just stay away I’ll be done in a moment.”

Studious: “DONE WITH WHAT?”

Evans: “You don’t have to answer that question.”

Nathan: “I’LL ANSWER THE QUESTION….YOU WANT ANSWERS!”

Studious: “I think I’ve earned them.”

Nathan: “YOU WANT ANSWERS!”

Studious “NO, I don’t want your half answers. I WANT THE TRUTH!”

Nathan: “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!”

Studious: “OUT OF MY WAY!” Studious shoves Nathan and looks down at what the two men had been testing and observing.

It was U-Man Jerky. One of the jars had not been totally cured and still looked human.

The Colonel stood in shocked horror. After the shock wore off he began to gag and then vomit.

Nathan: “The Truth hurts doesn’t it?”

Studious whispered “Dear God.”

Ackerman and Monroe approached and upon seeing the jar backed away.

Ackerman asked “Why was I not told about this?”

Nathan: “This information is very.....sensitive.”

They all waited. Unsure of what to say to each other. They all knew the secret, but how could they console each other.

Studious broke the silence that followed. “What were you doing here, I’ve got to know.”

Nathan: “Yeah….alright. Once you know this much, it drives you mad not to know the rest. NI has been able to poison the food stocks on this ship several days ago. Not just…Nathan almost begins to cry….but everything…… It’s our little payback.” He said the pain evident in his voice.

Studious looked at the exobiologist and noticed many things he had not before. His face was sunken and his watery eyes seemed focused on something miles away. He thought “How long had he known? How could he have stayed sane? How will I?”

Studious wife appears and with her hand on his back says. “You don’t have time to just sit here. You’ve got to keep going.”

Studious takes one more moment and readies himself. Then takes the sparkler from Ackerman with renewed resolve and approaches the thermite and ice once more. He throws the sparkler and backs away.

The sparkler flies through the air and strikes the thermite, creating a small but loud explosion. The organic walls of the ship quickly catch fire and begin to fill the brig with a layer of smoke. The team in an attempt to escape the inferno crouches down against a wall and tries to avoid the now intensifying dark smoke.

Evans: “Ok, now when will they open the door?”

Studious: “Any second now.”

A minute passes as the fire’s increasing heat can be felt by the team.

Evans: “When are they supposed to open the door?”

Studious: “Any second now.”

Another minutes passes as the fire heats the metal on their clothes enough to make it painful to touch.

Evans: “Ow!…. Ow!….. I’m starting not to like this plan.”

Studious: “Wait for it……wait for it.”

Nothing happens in fact the only thing that can be heard is the fire’s crackling and Evans’ occasional “Ow!”

Monroe: “Maybe they’ve decided to let us die.”

The fires burns hotter and hotter. Something on the far side of the room crashes down into the brig with an ominous crash.

Evans: “Oh…..uh…man!”

Studious’ ring begins to sting him through his pocket. Holding his heart he yells “Ahhh!”

Monroe: “Can you feel your left arm?...”

Studious: “Doc.”

Monroe: “Any Chest pain?”

Studious: “Doc! It’s the heat not my heart.”

The fire continues to spread engulfing the far side of the cell.

A computerized voice says “Fire suppression systems engaged.”

Studious: “HA! That won’t work.”

The computerized voice continues “Activating Emergency decompression system.”

Studious: “OH COME ON! Does history repeat itself this often!”

Evans says sarcastically “Now what genius!”

Studious: “Hey wait a minute maybe we want to get sucked out into space.”

Ackerman: “You’re giving up?”

Evans: “I’m not ready to check out just yet.”

Monroe: “You should see a psychiatrist. Have you had…”

Studious: “NO! That’s not what I mean. Now can you guys control your ship out there.”

Ackerman: “No.”

Evans: “So what if we could?”

Studious: “Well hypothetically we could bring it near our cell extend its shield around this ship’s hull and pressurize that space so when we get sucked out we don’t die.”

Ackerman: “That’s a good plan unfortunately we can’t control our ship from h…”

Evans: “Uh…actually we can.”

Ackerman smirking "I just love secrets."

Studious: “Do you still have whatever remote control to do that?”

Evans: “I don’t need anything like that.”

Studious’ face turns pale. “Your not an enhancer are you? Is that why you wear makeup?”

Evans: “No I may like technology but I don’t want to become a piece of it. The control mechanism is built into my clothes. You see, it reads my brain waves and I can control the ship that way. They use stuff like this in wheelchairs all the time.

Studious: “Oh……well then….uh….carry on.”

Ackerman smirking leans over and covering his mouth with his hand whispers not so quietly “And to answer your second question he’s just very vain.”

Evans begins to move the ship into position as the computerized voice counts down.

“10…9…8…7…6…”

Ackerman says nervously “Any time now Evans!”

“5…4…3…”

Evans: “Just a few more seconds.”

“2…1…”

[edit on 2-6-2009 by Studious]

No response came from Captain Luder.

Asher was filled with dread at what might have happened back on the Penelope. Just how desperate was NI to get him back? Desperate enough to kill a Captain that refused to cooperate?

He looked down at his arm and wondered if it would even matter in a few moments. The tendrils had begun to spread again, the gray material in his veins reaching past his shoulder to his neck.

The sensation was cold and numbing. Whatever the creeping darkness in his arm was, it had come from the "Zone Killer" implant that had survived even a large scale electrical discharge. Asher was becoming convinced that it wasn't just a simple weaponry device.

As the cold crept up his neck and into his face, Asher began to contemplate suicide. He had a strong hunch that he would no longer be himself when it reached his brain, and he had vowed never to be a slave again.

He was a man, forever and always, even if it meant death.

Asher deployed the Zone Killer. It popped out of his arm, the sensation as unpleasant as it always was.

He turned his arm up so that the weapon was aimed at his head, a guaranteed termination.

His life since becoming human again had been short, but he had lived like he never had before. If it had to end, it would be like this.

Before he could order the weapon to deliver a plasma package straight into his head, the creeping cold reached his brain. Asher felt the chilling wave hit his mechanically enhanced eyes and travel down his optic nerve even as the same cold shot up his spinal cord. He squeezed his eyes shut in horror of what was to come.

Long moments passed until he finally opened his eyes. He looked down at his hands. Every vein in both hand was outlined in gray, starkly contrasting with his pale skin.

All in a single instant, his implants powered back online. Every enhancement in his body booted at once, forcing a small overload.

Asher twitched violently where he stood.

The crystalline storage matrices that contained the hostile AI confluence that had enslaved him reached full operational status within four milliseconds.

At five milliseconds, the AI confluence initiated an attack on Asher's brain, specifically the neural cortex, in an attempt to regain control of his mind.

At six milliseconds, an unknown force swept through the storage crystal and obliterated every trace of the AI confluence, effectively wiping it out of existence.

Not a single program fragment remained.

With the threat neutralized, the unknown force retreated and lay dormant.

Asher reviewed the sequence of events through an optic telemetry readout. He queried the unknown force within his brain and received readouts indicating that it originated from the Zone Killer implant grafted to his arm.

It was an incredibly advanced form of nanotechnology capable of self replication within a human body. Once established, it would maintain a symbiotic relationship with the host, repairing tissue damage and defending the host without hesitation. In exchange, it utilized a manageable number of the host's red blood cells as machine factories to replicate itself.

Asher was puzzled as to why NI would implant him with the capability to throw off the controlling functions they themselves created within him.

Regardless, Asher was still Asher, and for that he was deliriously happy.

Until his newly repaired implants informed him of an interesting signature nearby. The signature was coded well, and would be totally unrecognizable to any system that didn't know what to look for.

Asher then understood that NI was indeed onboard the alien vessel.

The signature was that of a "Nyx" class covert dropship, favored and designed by NI. It was maneuvering around the alien starship on a pickup mission, engaged remotely by an NI standard issue interface tunic.

Asher wasted no time remotely accessing the operational core of the Nyx class dropship. Within seconds, his well trained enhancements had hacked the core and issued control of the spec ops vessel to Asher.

He ordered it to continue its pickup mission, but hold steady and lockdown once its NI crew was back onboard.

It was time for some answers...

What is taking so long? Adilaris thought to himself as he sit, alone in his ship awaiting somebody, anybody to welcome him aboard.

At least he'd used his time wisely. He'd managed to incorporate all of the ships data for weapons, defense and infrastructure within his core memory blocks. He'd also managed to link up to the security system in order to keep a watchful eye on everything.

He'd just witnessed the stunt by Studious, Evans and Monroe and made a note to investigate them thoroughly once aquainted properly. Yydryl had been eerily quiet during this time, but then again, she was probably busy keeping an eye on her burning parts.

He wished to leave and explore things on his own, but Q'uekzarz customs prevented him from doing so. Always remember the code he'd tell himself, over and over again. There was a time where he would have disregarded all of ancient rites, but this was not the time to be a rebel.

It was time to report to his superiors. He silently opened a communications channel.

Company Broadcast Code 886428-AA9, reporting

Nothing.

Company Broadcast Code 886428-AA9, reporting

Again, nothing.

This was not the way Company operated. In 500 years of working with them, they had always responded. Something wasn't right.

Yydryl, have you blocked my com link?

No, I see no communication barriers. A scanning of your instruments reveal they are working properly. Extended scans of your coms destination suggests they are offline.

Impossible, we are not talking about a backwater system here. It rivals the Confederacy's. They've never been offline, I dont' even think they understand the meaning of the word

My calculations are not wrong, you know how advanced I am, I have no reason to lie to you. Perhaps they've decided your services are no longer required?

He detected a hint of sarcasm within her words, something he had never liked.

I need to get to the bridge and sync with the remaining instruments, can you alert the crew of my arrival?

No need, someone will be along shortly.

Very well.

[edit on 6/2/2009 by tothetenthpower]

[edit on 6/2/2009 by tothetenthpower]

“Chumley, what were you thinking! Trying to sneak weapons out from under Deson's nose like that! Have you gone completely mental!" I shrieked under my breath as we exited the armory.

“I wasn’t going to keep them, just use them...” Chumley whined after we were out of earshot of the Armour.

“A flamethrower Chumley? How do you *just use* a flamethrower?” I scoffed and trudged up the hall towards Ships Center.

“I dunno...” The hulk replied sniffling and hanging his head miserably.

“Oh stop sulking! You’re no more ashamed of taking those weapons than you are of getting caught!” Looking at Chumley's pitiful sad sack face I couldn't help but laugh, the big Rigellian brightening at the sound, taking it as a sign of forgiveness which it was.

“Look, Chum, I have to check on Ship. Why don’t you go play somewhere?”

I tried to soften the impact of my words with a smile, the last thing I wanted was to hurt Chumley's feeling, but facts were, being followed around by a lumbering mountain of flesh was cramping my style.
I’d not once had a chance to talk to Carpet since this fiasco of a day began and I just wanted to get back to my cabin and out of my uniform.

“I don’t play, I guard Silo. Master Whisper told me to guard Silo, I guard Silo.” He rumbled in a pretty matter of fact way for a being with the IQ of a lug nut.

“Yes, well, then why don’t you go ask ‘Master’ if you can stop guarding me now, I’ve got things to do.” I fired back on little on the snotty side.

“Ask Whisper?” Chumley stopped dead in his tracks, looking over my head at something I couldn’t see, his head cocked, his eyes squinting like he couldn't quite make out what he was hearing. Repeating the Security Officers name Chumley visibly paled, his heaps of flesh began to quake.

“What? What’s wrong? Chumley!?” Instantly on alert I scanned the hall eyes one way, antenna the other, expecting to see U-Mans, but there was nothing, the hall was empty besides us two. I reached out to pat the Rigellians tentacle, but he pulled away abruptly.

“Whisper." He choked, "Gone!” Shouting the last word, his eyes fogged over with pain, his thick rubber lips began to tremble.

“What do you mean Whisper ’gone‘? She’s in her cabin, or on the bridge, or, well, somewhere, she’s not gone.” I tried to reassure him.

Whisper-is-gone!” Chumley's voice cracked, his tentacles flew to his head as his mouth gaped wide. Emitting a gut wrenching howl Chumley took off at a dead run.

Surprisingly fast for such a huge creature it was all I could do to keep up with the hulking guard.
Yelling at him to stop was useless, if anything he increased his pace, crying out in a remorse so profound it raised bumps on my skin and sent fear oiling up my spine.

Coming to a halt before Whisper’s quarters Chumley moaned his Master's name in rhythm with pounding on her door, but it remained closed, Whisper did not respond. All I could do to help was check her verbalizer stationed alongside her portal. Nothing, no message, no word to the crew, her verbalizer was empty.

A sickening feeling in my gut flowered into something vile watching Chumley begin probing at the portal straining the tips of his tentacles so thin and fine until he purchased a slim hold in the doors seam.

Prying at the tiny crack with all his strength I watched in fascinated horror as a sickening green liquid spurt from the tips of his tentacles - He was shredding his own skin trying to gain entrance to the Security Officers room.

It was a sight almost too gruesome to behold, poor Chumley's face covered in slime, his big mouth a gaping hole, eyes pouring an oily fluid, his tentacles torn and bleeding from the brutalizing they suffered.

I stood by helplessly, my heart aching for the display of love and loyalty the Regalian showed for his revered Whisper.
I’d grossly misunderstood the ability and capacity of the Rigellians emotions and for that I felt shame.
One thing was obvious, Chumley wouldn’t stop until he gained entrance to Whispers room, even if he died in the trying.
Powerless to help I stayed as witness to this beings depth of devotion.

Sooner than I expected he succeeded.
The moment the door gave way the Rigellian stopped howling and entered his Masters quarters, I followed as close behind as I dared.

It was dark and chill, like entering a tomb.

A softly glowing sphere was the only sign of any movement in the room, where there was no sign of Whisper at all.


[edit on 3-6-2009 by silo13]

Nenothtu looked over the Service record of Badger. As he scanned down the page, he hit an item tha caused a sharp intake of breath, followed by a low whistle. Black Rock. What a mess that was. It was the last campaign he'd participated in before his unscheduled stop at Khalamzadar, on his way back home from that very campaign.

It had been an outpost colony out towards Ophiuchi, actually a cluster of colonies, with an on site military presence to guarantee the safety and security of the colonials. Everything went sideways when the colony cluster came under attack by Ophiuchi Out Marauders. During the campaign, a group of relatives of one of the Central Federation administrators had become cut off and stranded on a relatively unexplored planet in the colonial sphere, and Neno's team had been hired to mount a rescue mission for them, as the military units stationed there had their hands full with the hit-and-git raids of the Ophiuchis. No one really knew what had stirred the Ophiuchis up, but they came on with a vengeance. None were ever captured alive to gain intelligence of their reasons.

During the rescue raid, nenothtu's men came under attack by an Ophiuchi raiding party, and it looked pretty grim. They had weapons that would melt solid rock into slag, and a man didn't stand much of a chance. It was so terrifying that nenothtu had to actually draw down on a squad of his own men who were panicked into a full retreat. He had drawn a bead on the squad leader with his rifle and told him " TURN AROUND AND FACE THAT ENEMY, RIGHT NOW! IF YOU DON'T FIGHT, WE'RE LOST. YOU CAN'T SHOOT 'EM FACING AWAY FROM 'EM, AND SO HELP ME IF YOU DON'T TURN AROUND, THEY'LL EITHER SHOOT YOU IN THE BACK LIKE A RUNNING COWARD, OR I'LL DAMN WELL DROP YOU FROM THE FRONT!". The men knew him well enough to know he'd do it, and did an about face. They fought like demons after that.

After the loss of nearly 10% of his men, and all of his escape ships, neno made a decision to call in the big boys for help. They sent 3 fighter wings for air support, and a transport for extraction. Fighting had been so close that neno had to call in air strikes practically on his own position, but he knew it was better to die by friendly fire than to be captured by the Ophiuchis. Those flyboys saved his bacon. In the end, the Federation forces had to wipe out the entire Ophiuchi raiding party. That was one fighting bunch of aliens. they'd die before they'd break off the attack, and die they did. Neno's charges had to be some mighty important VIPs. They were restored to Colonial Control, and neno's group recieved their pay and headed back home. Khalamzadar got in their way.

The fighting was like that all through the Black Rock Sector, for a long time. Neno couldn't imagine being stuck in that for any length of time. Badger had been.

The rest of his record reflected highs and lows. He had 10 high-level citations listed, one of which was so high level that it was classified. His service record also reflected a disciplinary problem, in that he would climb the rank ladder only to be busted all the way back down to private in a precipitous drop. Strangely, all disciplinary records had been expunged. But the rank records told their own story. For all of that, his promotions invariably led up the Warrant Officer ladder, indication that most of them had been battlefield promotions.

Nenothtu was impressed, in spite of himself. This was a hell of a man. He appeared to be a problem to handle, but a hell of a man all the same. After deciding how to handle this unexpected gift, nenothtu headed for the brig, and Badger's 'interview'.

Entering the interview room, neno was greeted by the sight of a sweaty, unkempt soldier slightly younger than himself, in an orange jumpsuit. Badger sat on the far side of the table from the door, practically in a corner. He just regarded neno with a non-comittal, level gaze.

"Private Chase" neno began, then switched to the nickname reflected in the service records. "Badger. You look like hell, and your razor appears to have a gap in the blade. I'm Security Cheif nenothtu, acting in capacity of Captain of this vessel for the interim. I've reviewed your service records, and frankly, I'm not sure what to do with you. You seem like a bright fella, and a fighter. But it looks like you're also something of a problem child." neno paused to let that sink in, and then said "I DON'T TOLERATE PROBLEM CHILDREN. To be honest, I don't know whether to let you rot in the brig, jettison you out a torpedo tube and be rid of you, or slap a star on you chest and call you 'sir'." Badger just gazed at him with a curious look, and made no comments.

Nenothtu waited for what seemed like 5 minutes or more, both men looking at the other, no comments passing between them. Neno drummed his fingers on the table, and Badger just started to look bored. That would never do. Abruptly, nenothtu stood up, and spoke. "Whatever you did to get here, you didn't do it HERE, so I've got not call to prolong your punishment. I don't even care what it was. I saw a couple of things in your service record that piqued my interest. One, you were in the Black Rock Campaign. Anyone that could survive that HAS to have something going for them. I know that because I was there too, a few times, working freelance on the ground running raids and Commando Ops. I'm not sure what all you participated in, but the whole thing was one giant hairball, so it doesn't really matter. Two, I saw where you can drive a plane. It just so happens that we have a recently vacated slot for a Fighter Wing Commander, and you're it. Consider yourself tagged. It's not open to negotiation, that's your job now. Either that... or a torpedo tube. This is NOT a battlefield" neno paused and gave the man a lopsided grin "... most of the time. Your rank will not be a Warrant Officer's battlefield promotion. The minimum rank for a Flight Wing Commander is Major, and that's your rank as of this instant, pending Captain Luder's approval upon his return from the planet surface. He may raise it up, lower it down or leave it, but for the time being, you are Major "Badger" Chase, Flight Wing Commander, USS Penelope."

Nenothtu placed his hands on the table, leaned towards Badger, and spoke in a low voice. "You need to understand that if you step out of line, I WILL, without fail, EAT your firstborn child, uncooked and without salt. If said child is unavailable, YOU are next in line. Furthermore, I gave you that rank, and if you EVER try to make me call you 'sir', or salute you, I WILL gut you, with my bare hands. Same result if you 'sir' me or salute me. I'm NOT a 'sir', I work for a living. Officially, I'm 'Chief' nenothtu, and that will do in a pinch. Salutes just mark you as someone to be eliminated, and I don't care to be eliminated. HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR? If I have, and you have no questions, get your slack fanny to work. Abernathy will show you to your workstation, MAJOR." Without waiting for a response, nenothtu turned to Abernathy. "If the Major has any negative reports for your smartass self, that'll be your third strike, and I'll hang you by your thumbs. You WILL get with the program with a professional military mind, or peel norkan potatoes for the rest of the cruise, after I let you down from the thumb hanging. If EITHER of you have any doubts, just try me. Once. Please."

Nenothtu started for the door, then abruptly stopped and turned. "Any Questions? If there aren't, you have jobs to do, and you're burning daylight" He grinned inwardly. He could afford to be human later, once he'd instilled the fear of Thor into these two. He paused long enough to see if they had any questions.

What now? Cim thought to herself seeing another incoming communication.

"Members of the Yydryl. I have been charged with helping you navigate your ship and aid you on your mission. Please stand by to be boarded. "


"Ensign Swarg, would you please send out a ship wide comm that we have another suprise crew member and I am heading down to greet him now. Please locate Captain Scurvy and Security Officer Whisper, you have the bridge, good luck!"

As Cim did not want to go through the Yydryl in a conventional manner considering all the intruders, she steps into the lift and engages her energetic vehicle and transports herself to the docking bay. Interesting ship, she thinks, what might this bring her now intriging adventure.

[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/3fa1693c20c9.jpg[/atsimg]



[edit on 3-6-2009 by cindymars]

“Nenothtu started for the door, then abruptly stopped and turned.”Any Questions? If there aren't, you have jobs to do, and you're burning daylight" He grinned inwardly. He could afford to be human later, once he'd instilled the fear of Thor into these two. He paused long enough to see if they had any questions. “

Badger looked at the chief for a moment and took a deep breath. He looked down at the table as he exhaled slowly for a ten count.
The room was quiet. Nobody said a word.
Badger slid the chair back and stood at attention facing Neno.

“No, chief.” He said.
“I’ve got no questions, and you won’t be getting any ‘sniper checks’ from me.”

Neno locked eyes with Badger, gave him one short nod, and left the room.
The two marines followed.
The door slid shut behind them.
Badger continued to stand facing the door for a few minutes.
The room was quiet except for the hum of ventilation.
He sighed and rubbed his face feeling the stubble, reflecting on everything chief had said.
He scratched at his chin and took a moment to think.

Officer.

Damn.

Major.

Double damn.

Flight Wing commander.

“That guy is outta his tree.” he thought to himself.

He couldn’t begin to dream of how much paperwork and politics he was in for. Not to mention being in charge of an entire wing, plus full support contingent of air, ground and maintenance personnel. He’d be babysitting hundreds of post pubescent maladroits and snot jockeys until he shot himself out of a torpedo tube to escape.

He shook his head.

A freaking commission.

Crap.

Badger stared at the closed door wondering if he had any chance of getting out of this.
His gut said “No.”

“Oh well,” he thought looking down at his damp prisoner overalls.
“Might as well make the best of it.”

Slowly, Badger turned around and looked at Ensign Abernathy who still stood against the wall.

Abernathy was standing at rigid attention.
Heels together, thumbs along the crease of his trousers. His chest was out, chin up and eyes locked on a stationary spot on the far wall.
His face was pale.
He stood and waited.
A bead of sweat slid down his left temple.


Badger slowly,

very slowly,

began to smile.


[edit on 3-6-2009 by badgerprints]

[edit on 3-6-2009 by badgerprints]

Growing ever impatient, Adilaris began to pace back and forth within his ship. Somehow agrevation had crept up on him, another detail to deal with. It would require a long Astral walk later on.

How he longed for the silly Class 7 planet.

The whispering thoughts not his own, woke him from his daze.

" Finally."

As the whispers became voices, edging forward, Adilaris looked beyond the closed bay doors. He saw time bend every so slightly, the wavelenth disrupted by a type of being he'd had the pleasure of working with on several ocasions.

" Hmm...this one wasn't in the crew logs, seemingly they all share the same respect for privacy."

DTST's he'd worked with in the past were cunning, calculating and carefull. Ever so interested in documenting their environments. They did so with incredible accuracy and professionalism, all the while remaining as ghosts to most who encounter them.

He enjoyed her thoughts, her memories. They were of a good life. Pink Floyd was something new to him. Five-hundred years ago, he might he might have liked it.

"More day dreams?" Adilaris began to wonder what has befallen him. Emotion and distraction were not his forte. Perhaps his meeting with the Med/Science officer was a bit more urgent than he anticipated.

As Cim approached the ship, Adilaris willed the walls and personal items around him back within his being, and in an instant, he and Cim were left standing, face to face. Alone in the docking bay.



[edit on 6/4/2009 by tothetenthpower]

Standing infront of Cim was this rather imposing man with the most amazing eye's, they reminder her of blown glass marbles she had on Earth, a beautiful azure blue with flecks of gold. She bowed slightly with a nod of her head. One could get lost in these eye's.

[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/c7e2fe67f5af.jpg[/atsimg]

"Hello, I am Cim, I am not at aware of why you are here, nor is it any of my concern. I am also unaware of how much you know about the strange events on the Yydryl but, it is crazy, that I can tell you. Do you mind traveling in an unconventional manner as there are intruders on the ship?
I am a DTST but that is only for crew on a need to know basis. There is lots I would like to tell you, lets stop by my bar and have some Rigellian brandy,I will freeze time a moment if neccessary, you game?"

Finally stopping to take a breath she waits for him to speak.

“So what happened to Chumley?” Carpet asked the minute I walked into my cabin.

“I left him in Whisper’s quarters, he's too upset to leave, maybe he thinks she'll come back, who knows..." I didn't want to talk about the disappearance of Whisper and Carpet picked up on my mood without a falter.

“So, what now?” Carpet queried while buffing his fibers over my boots bringing back the shine they'd lost throughout the day.

“I dunno, I couldn’t find the Captain on the bridge, so I figured I’d look for him down with the U-Mans.“ I mumbled from under a clean shirt caught on my antenna.

“What you been up to anyway, I haven't seen you since this morning.” I asked, the shirt finally in place. “I hoped you go to the armory with me.”

“Been cleaning up the mess from the fight. Blood, guts...body parts.” Carpet sighed with relish. “It’s been a long time since I got to tidy up after an invasion.” His voice went absolutely wistful, my stomach absolutely turned, he didn’t make it sound so much a chore as a smorgasbord.

Absentminded at best I stuffed a handful of pretzels in my mouth, chewed and grabbed another handful for the road before heading out the door to find the Captain.

Trotting down the passageway I couldn‘t help but notice Carpet was looking rather lush and more vibrant than ever.

“Hey, have you grown or something” I hadn’t remembered him being able to reach above my ankles before.

“Yeah, it happens after fights. All that blood and gore.” My friend replied, the visual in his response made me rethink eating my pretzels. But not for long.

“Remind me not to ask next time." I laughed, popping the last few treats, talking with my mouth full, "Come on, let’s get to the brig.”

Not a few steps farther Carpet stopped in a ball of fibers, a few long tentacle like appendages rose in the air and swiveled around like so many snakes. “Whoa, what’s that stink!” Carpet began to quiver in alarm under my feet.

I don’t smell anything, why, what‘s wrong?“ My olfactory abilities were as good as the next but I didn’t catch any strange smells.

“Silo, the brig! It’s on fire!” The terror in Carpets voice caused my hackles to raise, I began looking for a fire-alert station randomly placed throughout the corridors.

“Forget the alarm, Ship will trigger her own defense! Get to the Brig!” Following his order I hurled myself forward, toward not away from trouble for the second time that day. I only hoped the U-Mans were ok.

Reaching the brig I reared back from the door, heat rolling from the room so intense it singed my hair.
Forcing my antenna around the corner causing them to weep a protective layer of slime I shielded my face as best I could while my upper eyes took in the chaos of the brig.
What had they done to Ship! It looked like a bomb had gone off!
Through the smoke I could just make out U-Mans crouched in a far corner of the room.
“Hey!, You guys ok?“ I yelled, hoping they could hear me. “Hey!” I called again, “You ok? What’re you doing in there!”



edit by request

[edit on 7/6/09 by masqua]

As she spoke, Adilaris was captivated by her looks. He'd never before met a species quite like this one. DTST yes, but humanoid Acturians, this was something new.

Nevertheless he scanned her thoughts and as the words flowed from her mouth, and sure enough, they were sincere. No fear or anxiety either, which was strange considering the events that were unfolding.

He did sense that she was in a hurry. He caught a flash of a blue planet, beautiful yet ominous.

Now he wanted to visit more than ever, but there were other matters at hand. As she finished her prolonged sentence, he weighted his options. Go for a much needed drink, or immediatly step up to the bridge in order to begin his mission.

"I would love to take you up on that offer."

He said to her extending his arm forward so they may begin walking. Her eyes widened a bit as she realized that he spoke directly into her mind.

"However, there are more pressing matters that I need to attend to. Can you take me to the bridge? I must sync with all available technologies in order to assess the situation. A glimpse into your mind has suggested you also have matters to attend to on Earth. "

"I would rather not keep you."

As they walked towards the transporter he again saw time shift ever so slightly. It was a beautiful sight he'd never been able to forget.

"By the way, my name is Adilaris."


[edit on 6/6/2009 by tothetenthpower]

“…1…Engaged”

Several door size openings in the wall slide appear but nothing else happens.

Studious: “Thanks Evans, I owe you one. It looks like the pressurizing worked.”

Evans: "It was your idea."

Suddenly the alien they had talked to before could be heard through the solid door.

The team froze.

Studious was the first to think of a reply “Oh, nothing just…uh…killin’ time.”

Studious smiles thinking he didn’t really lie as “killin’ time” and “stalling” are very similar.

Then walking away from the openings he readies himself.

Then he starts a long running jump. Leaping right at the edge of the ship’s hull flying through the air he grabs onto the dropship and yells back to the team

“HA! I'm the only one over here! Now you have to tell me how to open it.”

The others looked at each other but since no one else wanted to take the risk of jumping across and floating in space. Ackerman went to the edge of
the opening and told him. “It’s kind of embarrassing but you have to kiss it.”

Studious: “Kiss wha…”

Ackerman: “It reads the composition of it and determines who you are.”

Wife: “Go ahead. I can’t be jealous of a machine now can I?”

Studious highly confused “O…K?”

As he kisses the machine the door opens and he steps inside to see the countdown to the ship’s destruction still ticking. After kissing the controls the countdown stops. He takes the controls and angles the ship’s large door toward the team. They jump on with little difficulty.

After closing the door Studious turns in his chair and asks “It’s not a mafia Don so why the kiss? Is it the saliva?”

Ackerman: “Yes, you stop producing it once you die and the computer can determine whether it’s dried or not. Therefore it’s better than a thumb or retinal scan that can be used long after death.”

Studious: “Wow, that’s…..interesting.”

Ackerman takes the pilot's chair and tries to fly but suddenly they receive a message. "Is the pickup operation complete Naval Intelligence Team 7?"

Ackerman thinking it must be from an NI message types in "Yes, NI-7 has completed escape. However the Enhancer is still in enemy hands."

The computer system answers in a soft female voice “Transfer of controls to undisclosed external source….now.”

Ackerman: “What!?"

Monroe: "Oh this can't be good."

[edit on 6-6-2009 by Studious]

Captain's Log, UEF Standard Date 23200607. Upon reaching the surface of a world known to us now as Kelvax, we were approached by people from the Eastern continent of this world who call themselves the Beronans. The Beronans are a peaceful people with a societal structure very similar to many democracies of Earth's past. The Beronans have been at war for nearly 760 Earth years with a people from the Southern continents known as the Toknorians. The Toknorians believe they have a religious right to the lands the Beronans occupy and are willing to fight continually to the brink of utter destruction to obtain what they feel are their divine rights.

When the Penelope reached this system, the Toknorians opened fire on the ship with old-style nuclear warheads. Their attack damaged the ship but was largely unsuccessful in causing major systems failures to the ship. To my knowledge, Slayer and his crews were handling the situation after I left.

At a delegation between diplomats of both Toknoria and Berona, it was decided they would consider laying their differences aside in order to attempt to join the UEF. I am returning to the Penelope to facilitate two of their diplomats' travel to Earth. Accompanying me are Prime Ambassador Darlnoria Venadiss of Toknoria and Ambassador Shesalla Poraa of Berona. Hopefully we can resolve our situation with the Yydryl and continue with our normal operations. Luder out.

USS Penelope, this is Captain Luder. I am returning within the next 48 hours. Please have state quarters prepared for guests.


[edit on 7-6-2009 by mf_luder]