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The Voyages of the Penelope and the Yydryl
page: 1share:
[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/d378fdcf5f0c.jpg[/atsimg]
Credit: www.cfa.harvard.edu...
Date: 2320
From two distant locations in the universe, two ships depart at approximately the same time. Their destiny is to meet and an adventure awaits the brave crews stationed within their hulls.
Faster Than Light and capable of using wormholes, crammed with extensive technological advances, devastating firepower and defensive shields., they are a veritable match for each other.
Starhip Penelope
[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/87a4c44e0844.jpg[/atsimg]
Earth Federation, departs from LagrangeOne, a permanent orbital outpost situated near the home planet.
Mission
A carrier, the USS Nimitz was lost in the Alpha Centauri region of space and our mission is to take the Penelope there to try and locate any signs of the missing crew. This mission is classified High Priority.
The USS Nimitz has not reported in for nearly two months now.
We are to investigate, search for survivors, and report our findings to Earth Command.
Command Staff: 9
Navigation - Filled
Medicine - Filled
Science - OPEN
Engineering - Filled
Communciations - OPEN
Security - Filled
Supply - OPEN
Marine Commander - OPEN
Fighter Wing Commander - Filled
There should be at least 1000 - 2000 personnel attached to the Marine contingent to act as a defense/boarding force if needed.
There are a total of 72 Starfighters docked in the USS Penelope and they include the following:
1 Fighter Pilot, 5 Technicians, 5 Weapons Specialists. - - SO:
72 Pilots, 360 Techs and 360 Weapons Specs total.
The rest of the crew laydown I'll leave to my officers' discretion as to how they want to man their sections. The Total Crew number is just to provide PLENTY of leeway on number of personnel needed.
Nenothtu - as current head of security operations, you have operational control over all Marines on board until we get a proper Commander for that - you also have Security personnel.
Ship Functions
Weapons.
Seeker - I love your ideas for the weapons. Just give me some elaboration so I'll know what they do. We can incorporate them into the Penelope at any time. The following are my ideas:
Short Range: Armor Piercing Solid Projectiles
Shield Depleting Energy Rounds
Anti-Fighter Batteries
Long Range: Ship to Ship Capital Artillery Canister Guns (Heavy)
Ship to Space (Anti-Fighter) Canister Guns
Seeker, we can fit in yours wherever, just let me know something.
Defenses.
Static Repulsion Field (Anti-Projectile)
Triple Titanium amor plating
Energy dispersal fields
Anti Missle Chaff and Flak Tubes
Structure:
Six Bays capable of housing an overall total of 72 fighter craft, their support crews and their weaponry line the sides of the (design 1 picture)
The command center is locate on the top of the ship, near the center where the little round thing comes to a head. lol - sorry - I can't really elaborate better than that.
There are two primary medical facilities on board - one for normal crew operations and one for the fighter pilots/marines in case of injuries during ship to ship combat. (DJMessiah, if you have any suggestions for the medical stuff, feel free to pipe in at any time.)
The ship contains enough rooms and quarter to house all 15,510 personnel. We assume that like the Earth military of old, lower ranks equal more to a room to conserve space.
The Penelope contains two food processing and storage facilities, capable of sustaining a crew of 16,000 for 3 years without resupply. These facilities are paired with water treatment and recycling facilities capable of sustaining the same size crew for 2 years without resupply.
There is an on-board air generation facility which uses principles found in plant life to help generate oxygen and recycle it. Since this technology was discovered 100 years ago, it is able to run almost indefinitely these days.
The engines are twin Super-Quad 51J FTL "Bender" Drives. The exhaust cones are solely for sub-FTL travel, as the ship actually uses on-board wormhole generators to move about the galaxy. (JohnQ, as you are the Chief Engineer, this is your baby and I want to see you treat it as such. Chime in with any suggestions and modifications you'd like to see or make to the stock Earth design.)
Computers/Sensor Equipment
The ship has three primary computer banks.
The sensor systems work by three modes:
Passive Scan. - This mode is for detecting any upcoming threats or anomalies to the ship and is always running, regardless of alert status or any other running modes the ship may be in.
Active Scan. - This mode is for directly scanning any vessels, objects, etc. the crew would like to know more about.
Long-Range Scan. - This is high on power consumption but is capable of presenting near-real time data of the surrounding 500ly of space when used.
The ship does not carry probes.
Communications
A "Universal Translator" was a thing of fiction in the 20th century and for all practical purposes, may forever be. However, by using the knowledge amassed from all Earth languages, the Penelope's computers are able to analyze vocal and linguistic information gained from new species to attempt to build a common grounds for communication.
The ship can operate with the following limitations to communications:
Real Time for out to 50ly
Near Real time for out to 50-100ly with a delay of 5s.
Near Real time for out to 100-200lywith a delay of 10s.
Anything further is sent in a "data burst" which can take longer times depending on distance and method of receipt.
The ship has internal PA communications systems for intra-ship communications by the Captain and other ranking personnel.
The ship has an internal "personal use" system for personnel to call each other.
The ship has access to the "Galactic Interweb" - (Equivalent to the internet)
Starship Yydryl
[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/59266c0fdf55.jpg[/atsimg]
Orion Alliance, departs from the Rigellian outpost in the Orion Nebula
Their mission remains UNKNOWN
Honour Roll
Communications officer visible_villain [suicide]
Senior Celestial Navigator - Fook Gai Dan [murdered]
Navigation Officer - Skyfloating [desertion]
[edit on 3/6/09 by masqua]
Credit: www.cfa.harvard.edu...
Date: 2320
From two distant locations in the universe, two ships depart at approximately the same time. Their destiny is to meet and an adventure awaits the brave crews stationed within their hulls.
Faster Than Light and capable of using wormholes, crammed with extensive technological advances, devastating firepower and defensive shields., they are a veritable match for each other.
Starhip Penelope
[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/87a4c44e0844.jpg[/atsimg]
Earth Federation, departs from LagrangeOne, a permanent orbital outpost situated near the home planet.
Mission
A carrier, the USS Nimitz was lost in the Alpha Centauri region of space and our mission is to take the Penelope there to try and locate any signs of the missing crew. This mission is classified High Priority.
The USS Nimitz has not reported in for nearly two months now.
We are to investigate, search for survivors, and report our findings to Earth Command.
Command Staff: 9
Navigation - Filled
Medicine - Filled
Science - OPEN
Engineering - Filled
Communciations - OPEN
Security - Filled
Supply - OPEN
Marine Commander - OPEN
Fighter Wing Commander - Filled
There should be at least 1000 - 2000 personnel attached to the Marine contingent to act as a defense/boarding force if needed.
There are a total of 72 Starfighters docked in the USS Penelope and they include the following:
1 Fighter Pilot, 5 Technicians, 5 Weapons Specialists. - - SO:
72 Pilots, 360 Techs and 360 Weapons Specs total.
The rest of the crew laydown I'll leave to my officers' discretion as to how they want to man their sections. The Total Crew number is just to provide PLENTY of leeway on number of personnel needed.
Nenothtu - as current head of security operations, you have operational control over all Marines on board until we get a proper Commander for that - you also have Security personnel.
Ship Functions
Weapons.
Seeker - I love your ideas for the weapons. Just give me some elaboration so I'll know what they do. We can incorporate them into the Penelope at any time. The following are my ideas:
Short Range: Armor Piercing Solid Projectiles
Shield Depleting Energy Rounds
Anti-Fighter Batteries
Long Range: Ship to Ship Capital Artillery Canister Guns (Heavy)
Ship to Space (Anti-Fighter) Canister Guns
Seeker, we can fit in yours wherever, just let me know something.
Defenses.
Static Repulsion Field (Anti-Projectile)
Triple Titanium amor plating
Energy dispersal fields
Anti Missle Chaff and Flak Tubes
Structure:
Six Bays capable of housing an overall total of 72 fighter craft, their support crews and their weaponry line the sides of the (design 1 picture)
The command center is locate on the top of the ship, near the center where the little round thing comes to a head. lol - sorry - I can't really elaborate better than that.
There are two primary medical facilities on board - one for normal crew operations and one for the fighter pilots/marines in case of injuries during ship to ship combat. (DJMessiah, if you have any suggestions for the medical stuff, feel free to pipe in at any time.)
The ship contains enough rooms and quarter to house all 15,510 personnel. We assume that like the Earth military of old, lower ranks equal more to a room to conserve space.
The Penelope contains two food processing and storage facilities, capable of sustaining a crew of 16,000 for 3 years without resupply. These facilities are paired with water treatment and recycling facilities capable of sustaining the same size crew for 2 years without resupply.
There is an on-board air generation facility which uses principles found in plant life to help generate oxygen and recycle it. Since this technology was discovered 100 years ago, it is able to run almost indefinitely these days.
The engines are twin Super-Quad 51J FTL "Bender" Drives. The exhaust cones are solely for sub-FTL travel, as the ship actually uses on-board wormhole generators to move about the galaxy. (JohnQ, as you are the Chief Engineer, this is your baby and I want to see you treat it as such. Chime in with any suggestions and modifications you'd like to see or make to the stock Earth design.)
Computers/Sensor Equipment
The ship has three primary computer banks.
The sensor systems work by three modes:
Passive Scan. - This mode is for detecting any upcoming threats or anomalies to the ship and is always running, regardless of alert status or any other running modes the ship may be in.
Active Scan. - This mode is for directly scanning any vessels, objects, etc. the crew would like to know more about.
Long-Range Scan. - This is high on power consumption but is capable of presenting near-real time data of the surrounding 500ly of space when used.
The ship does not carry probes.
Communications
A "Universal Translator" was a thing of fiction in the 20th century and for all practical purposes, may forever be. However, by using the knowledge amassed from all Earth languages, the Penelope's computers are able to analyze vocal and linguistic information gained from new species to attempt to build a common grounds for communication.
The ship can operate with the following limitations to communications:
Real Time for out to 50ly
Near Real time for out to 50-100ly with a delay of 5s.
Near Real time for out to 100-200lywith a delay of 10s.
Anything further is sent in a "data burst" which can take longer times depending on distance and method of receipt.
The ship has internal PA communications systems for intra-ship communications by the Captain and other ranking personnel.
The ship has an internal "personal use" system for personnel to call each other.
The ship has access to the "Galactic Interweb" - (Equivalent to the internet)
Starship Yydryl
[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/59266c0fdf55.jpg[/atsimg]
Orion Alliance, departs from the Rigellian outpost in the Orion Nebula
- Captain - Cadbury [AWOL]
loam
scurvy
antar
questioningall
Whisper67
silo13
cindymars
OPEN POSITION
OPEN POSITION
Starship Yydryl
Their mission remains UNKNOWN
Honour Roll
Communications officer visible_villain [suicide]
Senior Celestial Navigator - Fook Gai Dan [murdered]
Navigation Officer - Skyfloating [desertion]
[edit on 3/6/09 by masqua]
Communications officer visible_villain, dejected to say the least about his current assignment to yet another seriousy outdated and boring starship
having the exterior appearance of, for lack of a better term, a giant pepperoni, decides he can't take it anymore, and finally removes his standard
issue hyper-vortex proton disintegrator from its burnished black leather holster at his side for the last time.
This holster had been his father's and his father's before him.
Whatever ...
Contemplating the unfair and incomprehensible nature of life in the Rigellian starfleet service, as well as the astoudingly low pay, and the ultimate meaninglesness of it all, a single teardrop trickles down his right cheek.
The villain places the muzzle of that suprisingly diminutive weapon against his right temple and pulls the trigger.
The resultant discharge disintigrates not only his head but also a rather large diameter and roughly circular section of the concrete wall of his living space, thus exposing the room to a view of the holy second-order sun Rigel, high in the deep purple afternoon sky of planet Rothbooty, financial center of the Milky Way Galaxy.
The villain's lifeless as well as now headless body collapses upon itself in a sprawling heap on his library floor. A cloud of greasy smoke then drifts out of the newly formed hole to mingle with Rothbooty's unbreathable atmosphere at a level of about 10,000 feet where it slowly dissipates and at last disappears forever ...
This holster had been his father's and his father's before him.
Whatever ...
Contemplating the unfair and incomprehensible nature of life in the Rigellian starfleet service, as well as the astoudingly low pay, and the ultimate meaninglesness of it all, a single teardrop trickles down his right cheek.
The villain places the muzzle of that suprisingly diminutive weapon against his right temple and pulls the trigger.
The resultant discharge disintigrates not only his head but also a rather large diameter and roughly circular section of the concrete wall of his living space, thus exposing the room to a view of the holy second-order sun Rigel, high in the deep purple afternoon sky of planet Rothbooty, financial center of the Milky Way Galaxy.
The villain's lifeless as well as now headless body collapses upon itself in a sprawling heap on his library floor. A cloud of greasy smoke then drifts out of the newly formed hole to mingle with Rothbooty's unbreathable atmosphere at a level of about 10,000 feet where it slowly dissipates and at last disappears forever ...
Security Cheif Nenothtu stalked down the gleaming corridor of the newly commissioned starship Penelope. He didn't INTEND to stalk, that was just the
way his walk had developed over the years. Most folks tended to shorten his name to "Neno", in an effort to avoid tangling their tongues up around
their eye teeth when pronuncing the full moniker. That was fine with Neno. He couldn't remember where he'd acquired the name anyhow - but it wasn't
the one he'd been born with.
Nenothtu wasn't one for spit and polish, and the shine present on EVERTHING tended to make him a bit uneasy. That's the way they did it in this organization, though, and if he hadn't learned anything else over the years, he HAD at least learned that orders was orders, and you do as the boss says. During his shipwrecked years in the jungles on Khalamzadar he'd gotten out of several habits that make a good soldier , but a poor survivor. Going into battle was one thing, but it's quite another when the battle comes to you - every day - and there isn't any re-supply or chain of command to tell you what to do.
Just the memory of Khalamzadar produced an involutary shudder. He still had nightmares about it, and expected he always would have them. It wasn't an entirely negative experience, though. It had it's moments. For example, there was that inquisitive newby in the party that rescued him. THAT memory brought an involuntary, toothy, grin. He probably shouldn't have done that, but he couldn't help himself.
It started out when he took them back to his camp, to show them what life on the wild side of Khalamzadar was like - and the whole planet was the wild side. when they got to the camp, the newby noticed an indefinable "something" hanging over the campfire, looking like a section of ribs.
"What's that?" the newby queried.
"Uktena ribs" was Neno's response.
"Could you be more specific? what's an 'uktena'?"
"Cherokee mythology, earthside, tells about a giant, horned snake called an uktena. Now, this here critter LOOKS like a snake, a really big 'un, but its got sort of 'pincers' on the sides of it's head, at the corners of it's mouth. It uses 'em to hold and rake in whatever it catches, and they look sort of like prehensile deer antlers. since it looked like a horned snake, I named the species 'uktena'. That there is a section of ribs out of one. It was gonna be supper, before you folks saved my day."
Mr Newby blanched, and replied "You were going to eat a SNAKE?"
Nenothtu studied him for a split second, and without cracking a grin replied "Why hell yeah I was gonna eat it. Scroggin' thing would've eaten me! Fair's fair, ain't it? There's enough left if you wanna try a bite. It ain't half bad."
Newby turned pale and headed back for the rescue ship at a fast pace, Neno's cackling laugh wafted after him. Good times, eh?
Nenothu's memories faded away as he approached the section of the Penelope he was heading for, the Marine berths. As he approached, an orderly was engaged in a game of chance with one of his shipmates, and didn't notice the approach.
"Hello-" at the sound of his voice, both men started.
"You ought not to sneak up on Space Marines like that, mister!" the orderly barked at Neno. To tell the truth, the fact that the marines were startled was enough to startle Nenothtu, but he knew enough not to let that show. Another thing he had learned over time was that if command of something - anything at all - was dropped on you, the only way to handle it was to HANDLE it. You can't just tap it on the shoulder or ask politely. You have to grab that bull by the horns and wrestle it to the ground, Right away. Later, after order is established, you can afford to be human. He put on a severe expression to mask his amusement.
"It's not 'mister' to you, it's 'sir' - until I die, or you die, or you get a better boss. I'm Security Chief Nenothtu, and I've been placed in charge of this miserable mob of rabble you call a 'strike force' for the time being. Don't you EVER let me sneak up on you again (covering the fact that he wasn't trying to sneak), or I'll put you on short rations for a month, while you're peeling potatoes for everybody else to eat full rats. AM I UNDERSTOOD?"
Both marines snapped to attention post haste, and shouted "YES SIR" in unison. Nenothtu successfully supressed a grin. This might turn out to be fun after all. After all these years, it was possible, just possible, that he still had "it".
"Inspection time, gents. I want BOTH battalions of the strike group assembled in the hanger bay in 10 minutes. MOVE." Neno knew that it would be impossible to assemble two full battalions - 2000 men - in 10 minutes. He was just giving them a mark to shoot for, to see how their aim was.
Both marines shouted "YES SIR! TEN MINUTES SIR!" and scurried off to see to it that the order was carried out. It wasn't until they were out of Security Chief Nenothtu's eyesight that they gave each other a "What the hell?" look.
[edit on 2009/3/18 by nenothtu]
Nenothtu wasn't one for spit and polish, and the shine present on EVERTHING tended to make him a bit uneasy. That's the way they did it in this organization, though, and if he hadn't learned anything else over the years, he HAD at least learned that orders was orders, and you do as the boss says. During his shipwrecked years in the jungles on Khalamzadar he'd gotten out of several habits that make a good soldier , but a poor survivor. Going into battle was one thing, but it's quite another when the battle comes to you - every day - and there isn't any re-supply or chain of command to tell you what to do.
Just the memory of Khalamzadar produced an involutary shudder. He still had nightmares about it, and expected he always would have them. It wasn't an entirely negative experience, though. It had it's moments. For example, there was that inquisitive newby in the party that rescued him. THAT memory brought an involuntary, toothy, grin. He probably shouldn't have done that, but he couldn't help himself.
It started out when he took them back to his camp, to show them what life on the wild side of Khalamzadar was like - and the whole planet was the wild side. when they got to the camp, the newby noticed an indefinable "something" hanging over the campfire, looking like a section of ribs.
"What's that?" the newby queried.
"Uktena ribs" was Neno's response.
"Could you be more specific? what's an 'uktena'?"
"Cherokee mythology, earthside, tells about a giant, horned snake called an uktena. Now, this here critter LOOKS like a snake, a really big 'un, but its got sort of 'pincers' on the sides of it's head, at the corners of it's mouth. It uses 'em to hold and rake in whatever it catches, and they look sort of like prehensile deer antlers. since it looked like a horned snake, I named the species 'uktena'. That there is a section of ribs out of one. It was gonna be supper, before you folks saved my day."
Mr Newby blanched, and replied "You were going to eat a SNAKE?"
Nenothtu studied him for a split second, and without cracking a grin replied "Why hell yeah I was gonna eat it. Scroggin' thing would've eaten me! Fair's fair, ain't it? There's enough left if you wanna try a bite. It ain't half bad."
Newby turned pale and headed back for the rescue ship at a fast pace, Neno's cackling laugh wafted after him. Good times, eh?
Nenothu's memories faded away as he approached the section of the Penelope he was heading for, the Marine berths. As he approached, an orderly was engaged in a game of chance with one of his shipmates, and didn't notice the approach.
"Hello-" at the sound of his voice, both men started.
"You ought not to sneak up on Space Marines like that, mister!" the orderly barked at Neno. To tell the truth, the fact that the marines were startled was enough to startle Nenothtu, but he knew enough not to let that show. Another thing he had learned over time was that if command of something - anything at all - was dropped on you, the only way to handle it was to HANDLE it. You can't just tap it on the shoulder or ask politely. You have to grab that bull by the horns and wrestle it to the ground, Right away. Later, after order is established, you can afford to be human. He put on a severe expression to mask his amusement.
"It's not 'mister' to you, it's 'sir' - until I die, or you die, or you get a better boss. I'm Security Chief Nenothtu, and I've been placed in charge of this miserable mob of rabble you call a 'strike force' for the time being. Don't you EVER let me sneak up on you again (covering the fact that he wasn't trying to sneak), or I'll put you on short rations for a month, while you're peeling potatoes for everybody else to eat full rats. AM I UNDERSTOOD?"
Both marines snapped to attention post haste, and shouted "YES SIR" in unison. Nenothtu successfully supressed a grin. This might turn out to be fun after all. After all these years, it was possible, just possible, that he still had "it".
"Inspection time, gents. I want BOTH battalions of the strike group assembled in the hanger bay in 10 minutes. MOVE." Neno knew that it would be impossible to assemble two full battalions - 2000 men - in 10 minutes. He was just giving them a mark to shoot for, to see how their aim was.
Both marines shouted "YES SIR! TEN MINUTES SIR!" and scurried off to see to it that the order was carried out. It wasn't until they were out of Security Chief Nenothtu's eyesight that they gave each other a "What the hell?" look.
[edit on 2009/3/18 by nenothtu]
Sssst Gawh Betelgeuse Ttht rrrrs!!
She sits alone in her home, all nicely furnished from the Rigellian Force having been grateful for her spying and mercenary capabilities. Enapat knows she has certainly sacrificed enough. The elaborate furnishings fit for a Grand Architect means gwark to her. The room is icy cold as her kind like.
Whisper looks forward to an opportunity for activity, a need for her rank has been all too quiet since Betelgeuse. “Betelgeuse” she repeats to herself. If only her orders had been followed, the gwarking Chancellor would have never known; so close we were, so close.
Sssst Gawh Betelgeuse Ttht rrrrs!!
No mistaking it this time. For without a doubt, that was her dear friend Antar [as much as Rigellians can have friends]. How long had it been? No mistaking her ‘voice.’ A wicked but loving smile spreads slowly across her mouth revealing silvery, sharp, pointy small teeth. That’s a funny thing about Rigellians’, a lot of species vary in color, one way we vary is in size and shape of teeth. Each race evolving on multiple planets had various food sources. Our razor sharp teeth evolved to benefit each location.
Sssst Gawh Betelgeuse Ttht rrrrs!!
Again! Even louder Whisper almost spills her thick, chalky brown beverage! Again with the teeth and she takes a moment to set her drink down, adjust her tentacles, close all of her eyelids, and replies to Antar. She sends along a vibration of warmth with a coy tease of trying to delve into Antars wealth of knowledge. …..She knows something….where we are going….our mission to which Whisper hasn’t been given full disclosure….yes….she knows….something.…GWARK! Whisper chuckles to herself. She knows better. How many hundreds of years has she been in silent awe of the abilities of Antar?
We Rigellians aren’t big on ‘feelings’, emotions. Antar makes Whisper question herself from time to time. The excessive coldness she seems to exhibit is no doubt a product of her conditioning for Special Operations. In quiet moments, reflecting on all of those close to her she’s lost, she wishes for Antars ability to FEEL. Whisper can almost get there and then, shuts down. She chooses to focus her discord, her angst, her longing to her career. She can redeem her past by becoming a silent hero of today.
Whisper continues preparing for the departure. Handling her favorite tricks of the trade, she packs them with the attendance of a mother to a child. She finishes up her last night by having another sticky, super sweet, thick chalky inebriating beverage. Her final preparation and evening ritual ensues. Using a slick, oily substance she applies this to all of her tentacles, hers being shorter and smaller then others adding to her stealth.
Dreams of returning to Betelgeuse, tantalize her. Her icy demeanor shifts for just a moment as she drifts off to sleep. “I must know the secret, we were so close, we will be again….it only takes one transition through the wormhole…one.” Again, the bone chilling toothy grin.
Her sleep being restful and undisturbed, she awakens with reserved excitement.
Whisper boards the Yddryl. Curiously, she ‘pets’ the interior wall of the ship with her short tentacles. The ship is eerily quiet, as she likes it. Slithering through the ships corridor, she picks out the most reclusive quarters. Cold, cramped, and devoid of any Rigellian art. Throughout the known universe, Rigellian art is viewed as superior, as least as far as Whisper is concerned. Even her empathic friend Antar, has contributed greatly to the quality of Rigellian art forms combining her gift of empathy fused with superior intellect, its result being some of the most thought provoking, provocative sculptures. Some even claim to receive a sense of peace and enlightenment from just viewing these works of art. Not Whisper. She can appreciate it greatly, but not feel it.
Whisper unpacks and notices one item of interest in her quarters, a floating, illuminating orb. Another of Antars beautiful pieces of sculpture or a souvenir of Captain Cadburys recent escapades to Betelgeuse?
Captain Cadbury, the most respected and fearless of his rank. Having never served under him, Whisper intends to live up to her reputation. Captain Cadbury and Whisper share the obsession with Betelgeuse. Not knowing the objective of this mission, she can only hope for a return…
Refocusing, she suits up in her favorite blacker then black uniform and slithers towards the central command center, curiously again sliding her tentacle along the interior wall of the ship.
[edit on 3/18/2009 by Whisper67]
She sits alone in her home, all nicely furnished from the Rigellian Force having been grateful for her spying and mercenary capabilities. Enapat knows she has certainly sacrificed enough. The elaborate furnishings fit for a Grand Architect means gwark to her. The room is icy cold as her kind like.
Whisper looks forward to an opportunity for activity, a need for her rank has been all too quiet since Betelgeuse. “Betelgeuse” she repeats to herself. If only her orders had been followed, the gwarking Chancellor would have never known; so close we were, so close.
Sssst Gawh Betelgeuse Ttht rrrrs!!
No mistaking it this time. For without a doubt, that was her dear friend Antar [as much as Rigellians can have friends]. How long had it been? No mistaking her ‘voice.’ A wicked but loving smile spreads slowly across her mouth revealing silvery, sharp, pointy small teeth. That’s a funny thing about Rigellians’, a lot of species vary in color, one way we vary is in size and shape of teeth. Each race evolving on multiple planets had various food sources. Our razor sharp teeth evolved to benefit each location.
Sssst Gawh Betelgeuse Ttht rrrrs!!
Again! Even louder Whisper almost spills her thick, chalky brown beverage! Again with the teeth and she takes a moment to set her drink down, adjust her tentacles, close all of her eyelids, and replies to Antar. She sends along a vibration of warmth with a coy tease of trying to delve into Antars wealth of knowledge. …..She knows something….where we are going….our mission to which Whisper hasn’t been given full disclosure….yes….she knows….something.…GWARK! Whisper chuckles to herself. She knows better. How many hundreds of years has she been in silent awe of the abilities of Antar?
We Rigellians aren’t big on ‘feelings’, emotions. Antar makes Whisper question herself from time to time. The excessive coldness she seems to exhibit is no doubt a product of her conditioning for Special Operations. In quiet moments, reflecting on all of those close to her she’s lost, she wishes for Antars ability to FEEL. Whisper can almost get there and then, shuts down. She chooses to focus her discord, her angst, her longing to her career. She can redeem her past by becoming a silent hero of today.
Whisper continues preparing for the departure. Handling her favorite tricks of the trade, she packs them with the attendance of a mother to a child. She finishes up her last night by having another sticky, super sweet, thick chalky inebriating beverage. Her final preparation and evening ritual ensues. Using a slick, oily substance she applies this to all of her tentacles, hers being shorter and smaller then others adding to her stealth.
Dreams of returning to Betelgeuse, tantalize her. Her icy demeanor shifts for just a moment as she drifts off to sleep. “I must know the secret, we were so close, we will be again….it only takes one transition through the wormhole…one.” Again, the bone chilling toothy grin.
Her sleep being restful and undisturbed, she awakens with reserved excitement.
Whisper boards the Yddryl. Curiously, she ‘pets’ the interior wall of the ship with her short tentacles. The ship is eerily quiet, as she likes it. Slithering through the ships corridor, she picks out the most reclusive quarters. Cold, cramped, and devoid of any Rigellian art. Throughout the known universe, Rigellian art is viewed as superior, as least as far as Whisper is concerned. Even her empathic friend Antar, has contributed greatly to the quality of Rigellian art forms combining her gift of empathy fused with superior intellect, its result being some of the most thought provoking, provocative sculptures. Some even claim to receive a sense of peace and enlightenment from just viewing these works of art. Not Whisper. She can appreciate it greatly, but not feel it.
Whisper unpacks and notices one item of interest in her quarters, a floating, illuminating orb. Another of Antars beautiful pieces of sculpture or a souvenir of Captain Cadburys recent escapades to Betelgeuse?
Captain Cadbury, the most respected and fearless of his rank. Having never served under him, Whisper intends to live up to her reputation. Captain Cadbury and Whisper share the obsession with Betelgeuse. Not knowing the objective of this mission, she can only hope for a return…
Refocusing, she suits up in her favorite blacker then black uniform and slithers towards the central command center, curiously again sliding her tentacle along the interior wall of the ship.
[edit on 3/18/2009 by Whisper67]
The USS Penelope.
Penelope.....
He wasn't fond of the name, but it wasn't really his decision to name the fleet's ships, just to command them.
Mf_luder sat down in the command center of the "Penelope" or the "Peno" as he thought of it. "God I really hate this name." He thought to himself. He shook his head sligthly and looked around the center. The most glaring aspect of the ship was how new everything was. Luder likened the scent of the ship almost to that of a new car. There was even plastic coverings and wrap on a lot of the components and some of the stations. He assumed these would have come away if time allowed, but the mission to Alpha Centauri was one of utmost importance and as luck would have it, the Penelope was the only ship within reponse distance.
The mission to find the USS Nimitz was one of a more personal nature to him as well. His ex-girlfriend from the academy, Theresa Jackson was the commanding officer of that carrier and the two had maintained sporadic contact up until the disappearance. Luder knew space well enough not to hope for too much, but a carrier with 15,510 personnel isn't the type of thing to just vanish without a trace.
Luder spent his first few hours reading through reports in the seat on the command center, not leaving it. He was getting a feel for the way the ship 'felt.' Many people would never understand the connection a Captain could feel for a vessel. The way it moved while the engines were at various speeds, the way she shook when taking damage, the way she almost had a personality just like the crew... Someone once told Luder the ship would tell you before she would keel, that love kept her afloat, love and care... Luder wasn't the mushy type but those words made sense to him.
When he felt the time was right, Luder grabbed the intercom from his station and spoke.
(FORGIVE ME - I DON'T KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT ORANGE!!!!)
[Color=orange]All hands prepare for immediate departure. Engine room, spin up the drives. Helm, lay in a direct course for Alpha Centauri.
[edit on 18-3-2009 by mf_luder]
[edit on 19-3-2009 by mf_luder]
Penelope.....
He wasn't fond of the name, but it wasn't really his decision to name the fleet's ships, just to command them.
Mf_luder sat down in the command center of the "Penelope" or the "Peno" as he thought of it. "God I really hate this name." He thought to himself. He shook his head sligthly and looked around the center. The most glaring aspect of the ship was how new everything was. Luder likened the scent of the ship almost to that of a new car. There was even plastic coverings and wrap on a lot of the components and some of the stations. He assumed these would have come away if time allowed, but the mission to Alpha Centauri was one of utmost importance and as luck would have it, the Penelope was the only ship within reponse distance.
The mission to find the USS Nimitz was one of a more personal nature to him as well. His ex-girlfriend from the academy, Theresa Jackson was the commanding officer of that carrier and the two had maintained sporadic contact up until the disappearance. Luder knew space well enough not to hope for too much, but a carrier with 15,510 personnel isn't the type of thing to just vanish without a trace.
Luder spent his first few hours reading through reports in the seat on the command center, not leaving it. He was getting a feel for the way the ship 'felt.' Many people would never understand the connection a Captain could feel for a vessel. The way it moved while the engines were at various speeds, the way she shook when taking damage, the way she almost had a personality just like the crew... Someone once told Luder the ship would tell you before she would keel, that love kept her afloat, love and care... Luder wasn't the mushy type but those words made sense to him.
When he felt the time was right, Luder grabbed the intercom from his station and spoke.
(FORGIVE ME - I DON'T KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT ORANGE!!!!)
[Color=orange]All hands prepare for immediate departure. Engine room, spin up the drives. Helm, lay in a direct course for Alpha Centauri.
[edit on 18-3-2009 by mf_luder]
[edit on 19-3-2009 by mf_luder]
The Captain's voice echoed in his head like uncaring footsteps in a desecrated tomb as the broadcast message was relayed through his neural network.
Before his eyes even had time to snap open, Seeker's neural network was blazing through it's status updates and review protocols. With an ease unknown to most of the human race, he began to interface with the Penelope's incredibly extensive onboard computer system. Within milliseconds, Seeker had initiated an emergency boot up drill for the newly commissioned Penelope's weaponry program.
It queried his neural network, asking for a pass phrase, something Seeker had expected. An instant later his reply was "Asher".
Asher had once been his name and Seeker had used it for the weapons system key out of an unusual sense of nostalgia. When he was Asher, he had been human. Less and less did his meat and bones body concern him as time went on and it became easier for him to interface with network systems.
After he volunteered for the Enhancer program, Asher had vanished and he had become something less than human...
Or maybe, something more than human.
He had become Seeker8243. He experienced pleasure for a moment, as his crystalline storage matrices recalled the scourge he had become to the pirates and thieves of the inter-networks of humanity. He had done so well that many had come to fear his name.
No one had known Asher, but they will not forget Seeker.
The directors of the Enhancer project had chosen him for an special experiment. His brain had been further enhanced with state of the art and 10-class Top Secret neural implants. Crystalline storage lacunae and enhanced wet-wire nanotechnology was added to his already upgraded brain. He was to be a replacement for the combat AI programs that were so prevalent at the time.
Seeker got off the fresh bed in his stark and sterile cabin aboard the Penelope. He had been assigned the position of Weapons Control Officer aboard the most advanced warship in human history and his Captain had called him to work.
The crew regarded him with expressions of unease as he made his way to the command cabin. His eyes never failed to meet theirs, the biometric irises focusing with raptor vision on each face as he passed.
When he made it to the Command Cabin, he calmly made his way to the weapons station, a piece of full immersion hardware that he was positively shuddering to try out. It had never before been tested on a human Enhancer. On the exterior, he was cool as ice as he snapped a salute to Captain Luder at Helm1.
As he sat at his station, the Penelope's AI network feverishly sent interface requests with his own neural net. Without hesitation, he allowed them.
It was like falling into rapture.
His human body fell away into a warm abyss and his mind was finally free. Only then did Seeker truly understand the limitations of the human brain. He was everywhere and everything within the Penelope's network. The various AI regarded him with absolute submission as he queried all of them and received 100% green readiness from each of within a microsecond.
He had become more than human. He was Uncarnate.
Many of the ship's networks were restricted to him but it was of no matter to him. He was here to do exactly what he had been created to do.
With awe equivalent to a man facing his god at the end of his days, Seeker flooded his consciousness into the Penelope's weapons systems. Readouts cascaded into his brain as he analyzed the arsenal at his disposal:
Close Range:
Cluster fragmentation pods "Grapeshot" (to overwhelm enemy boarders)
Mobile Displacement Sinks "D-Sink Shot" (absorbs tremendous amount of energy to defeat shield systems)
Plasma Lance Turrents "Zone Killers" (sweeps target with high energy plasma in a constant beam)
Long Range:
50 MagRail Magnetic Propulsion Turrents on both Port and Starboard "Broadside System" (pounds target with Iron bricks magnetically accelerated to incredible speeds)
Smart-Core Fusion Warheads "Manhattans" (fusion missiles capable of speeds up to 25 G-forces)
Heavy Destructor Missile Propulsion Pods "Quantum Busters" (built to overwhelm and irradiate, QBs have been tested on remote moons, resulting in shattered belts of debris)
Mini-Wormhole Equipped Kinetic Projectiles "Luminals" (tiny missiles fitted with miniature wormhole generators designed to enter a FTL state and revert to real-space at close to the speed of light to strike intended target. Maximum destruction guaranteed. *by human standards*)
Defensive:
Anti-Incoming Laser Bulbs "AILBs" (to liquefy incoming boarders or space debris)
Reverse Inertia Pulse Fields "Repulsors" (bursts reflective Inertia fields to halt or reverse incoming kinetic projectiles, vulnerable to course correcting warheads)
Anti-Warhead Close Range Chaff Pods "Chaff" (deploys and releases swarms of homing quartzite shards near to enemy missiles to shred fast moving, course correcting warheads)
All were at 100% green status.
At his disposal, Seeker had his own personal Armageddon, his Ragnarok. It all came together in a symphony of destruction that had Seeker in a state of giddiness he hadn't felt since Asher.
From his Uncarnate state, Seeker broadcast his voice across the bridge so his Captain and crew mates could hear him.
"WCO reporting 100% weapons system readiness, Captain. Deployment packages awaiting your order."
[edit on 18-3-2009 by SeekerOfAUTMN]
Before his eyes even had time to snap open, Seeker's neural network was blazing through it's status updates and review protocols. With an ease unknown to most of the human race, he began to interface with the Penelope's incredibly extensive onboard computer system. Within milliseconds, Seeker had initiated an emergency boot up drill for the newly commissioned Penelope's weaponry program.
It queried his neural network, asking for a pass phrase, something Seeker had expected. An instant later his reply was "Asher".
Asher had once been his name and Seeker had used it for the weapons system key out of an unusual sense of nostalgia. When he was Asher, he had been human. Less and less did his meat and bones body concern him as time went on and it became easier for him to interface with network systems.
After he volunteered for the Enhancer program, Asher had vanished and he had become something less than human...
Or maybe, something more than human.
He had become Seeker8243. He experienced pleasure for a moment, as his crystalline storage matrices recalled the scourge he had become to the pirates and thieves of the inter-networks of humanity. He had done so well that many had come to fear his name.
No one had known Asher, but they will not forget Seeker.
The directors of the Enhancer project had chosen him for an special experiment. His brain had been further enhanced with state of the art and 10-class Top Secret neural implants. Crystalline storage lacunae and enhanced wet-wire nanotechnology was added to his already upgraded brain. He was to be a replacement for the combat AI programs that were so prevalent at the time.
Seeker got off the fresh bed in his stark and sterile cabin aboard the Penelope. He had been assigned the position of Weapons Control Officer aboard the most advanced warship in human history and his Captain had called him to work.
The crew regarded him with expressions of unease as he made his way to the command cabin. His eyes never failed to meet theirs, the biometric irises focusing with raptor vision on each face as he passed.
When he made it to the Command Cabin, he calmly made his way to the weapons station, a piece of full immersion hardware that he was positively shuddering to try out. It had never before been tested on a human Enhancer. On the exterior, he was cool as ice as he snapped a salute to Captain Luder at Helm1.
As he sat at his station, the Penelope's AI network feverishly sent interface requests with his own neural net. Without hesitation, he allowed them.
It was like falling into rapture.
His human body fell away into a warm abyss and his mind was finally free. Only then did Seeker truly understand the limitations of the human brain. He was everywhere and everything within the Penelope's network. The various AI regarded him with absolute submission as he queried all of them and received 100% green readiness from each of within a microsecond.
He had become more than human. He was Uncarnate.
Many of the ship's networks were restricted to him but it was of no matter to him. He was here to do exactly what he had been created to do.
With awe equivalent to a man facing his god at the end of his days, Seeker flooded his consciousness into the Penelope's weapons systems. Readouts cascaded into his brain as he analyzed the arsenal at his disposal:
Close Range:
Cluster fragmentation pods "Grapeshot" (to overwhelm enemy boarders)
Mobile Displacement Sinks "D-Sink Shot" (absorbs tremendous amount of energy to defeat shield systems)
Plasma Lance Turrents "Zone Killers" (sweeps target with high energy plasma in a constant beam)
Long Range:
50 MagRail Magnetic Propulsion Turrents on both Port and Starboard "Broadside System" (pounds target with Iron bricks magnetically accelerated to incredible speeds)
Smart-Core Fusion Warheads "Manhattans" (fusion missiles capable of speeds up to 25 G-forces)
Heavy Destructor Missile Propulsion Pods "Quantum Busters" (built to overwhelm and irradiate, QBs have been tested on remote moons, resulting in shattered belts of debris)
Mini-Wormhole Equipped Kinetic Projectiles "Luminals" (tiny missiles fitted with miniature wormhole generators designed to enter a FTL state and revert to real-space at close to the speed of light to strike intended target. Maximum destruction guaranteed. *by human standards*)
Defensive:
Anti-Incoming Laser Bulbs "AILBs" (to liquefy incoming boarders or space debris)
Reverse Inertia Pulse Fields "Repulsors" (bursts reflective Inertia fields to halt or reverse incoming kinetic projectiles, vulnerable to course correcting warheads)
Anti-Warhead Close Range Chaff Pods "Chaff" (deploys and releases swarms of homing quartzite shards near to enemy missiles to shred fast moving, course correcting warheads)
All were at 100% green status.
At his disposal, Seeker had his own personal Armageddon, his Ragnarok. It all came together in a symphony of destruction that had Seeker in a state of giddiness he hadn't felt since Asher.
From his Uncarnate state, Seeker broadcast his voice across the bridge so his Captain and crew mates could hear him.
"WCO reporting 100% weapons system readiness, Captain. Deployment packages awaiting your order."
[edit on 18-3-2009 by SeekerOfAUTMN]
Having studied under the Ancient and Secret sect of female warriors called the Zzonyaz, antar is trained in the warrior arts, perfecting both the
healing and killing arts, the power to heal is the power to kill she learned early on in her studies.
Having been born on one of the 13 free floating planets in the Trapezium Cluster in the orion Nebula, Lordham was her peaceful home for the first 80 years of her existence. Both of her parents were Scientists and were ruthlessly murdered for their discovery of the Plantis Inmatus which sparked controversy throughout the galaxy for its ability to be fused into advanced nanotechnology and to serve as the prime source for leading edge spacecraft design.
Her Father was a native Rigellian and Mother was a hybrid of several species with the ability to morph into her surroundings a trait antar also developed during her early years.
After witnessing the cruel and merciless death of her parents she moved off world to the Horsehead Nebula to study the dark arts, magic and sorcery. Here she took part in one of the most brutal and deadly battles in known history. Having learned the old traditional uses of hand to hand laser weaponry, she was soon sought after for her reputation as a fierce and merciless warrior.
Yet something changed after the battle of Valkyrie, to save her own life she was thrust into having to kill the species she had always admired and respected. The memories of their winged black blooded death will haunt her for always.
It was at this turning point she moved again to another of the smaller of the 13 floating planets in the Trapezium Cluster and while living in the wilds of the new Forrest, was discovered by the Zzonyaz.
A highly spiritual race of women, that taught her how to use the elements within and without for healing and vitality, antar became one of them and never regretted a single day in this Utopian lifestyle. When she was not in studies or meditation, she loved to make sculptures, it was a way of freeing her mind and allowing her energy to be transferred into otherwise inadament objects. She would always sense what others needed and place that energy into a piece which would become a healing talisman for those who received the object.
Learning languages always came easy for her and by the time she was 160 years old, she was accomplished in well over 150 languages. Perhaps her ability stemmed from the natural telepathic abilities passed down from her Mother as well as the empathic qualities of her Father. antar could easily listen to another species communicating and at first sense what it was they were saying and before long the vibration actually opened centers in her brain which enabled her to comprehend and store the information.
But in the final analysis as with all of her other paths, the time came and one day she bid farewell to the Zzonyaz and took a star skipper to Rigel where she lived and worked as a Galactic interface specialist traveling off world to train others in her parents discovery of the Plantis Inmatus.
Finding herself more at home in a lab than among people she soon started practicing the healing arts she had learned from the Zzonyaz, and opened a small wellness center for the smaller communities on the far side of Rigel Prime.
Here she was contacted to train as an empath and ship medical specialist for interstellar warships. She did not like the idea of being close to battle, but the funding was enough that in a few short years she could buy her own small planet to retire and raise a family of her own. Most of the trips were short and close to home, nothing that ever required more than a few quick patchups with her energy frequencies or herbs.
********************
A communication arrived and was hand delivered by courier...
Antar... Captain Cadbury requests your Tjhsst on SS Yydryl for unspecified duration to unknown location to non disclosed mission. Scheduled immediately.
"Oh, Cadbury Huh?" A little smile spread out across her lips and she licked them hard and took off running to her small domicile to pack.
Having been born on one of the 13 free floating planets in the Trapezium Cluster in the orion Nebula, Lordham was her peaceful home for the first 80 years of her existence. Both of her parents were Scientists and were ruthlessly murdered for their discovery of the Plantis Inmatus which sparked controversy throughout the galaxy for its ability to be fused into advanced nanotechnology and to serve as the prime source for leading edge spacecraft design.
Her Father was a native Rigellian and Mother was a hybrid of several species with the ability to morph into her surroundings a trait antar also developed during her early years.
After witnessing the cruel and merciless death of her parents she moved off world to the Horsehead Nebula to study the dark arts, magic and sorcery. Here she took part in one of the most brutal and deadly battles in known history. Having learned the old traditional uses of hand to hand laser weaponry, she was soon sought after for her reputation as a fierce and merciless warrior.
Yet something changed after the battle of Valkyrie, to save her own life she was thrust into having to kill the species she had always admired and respected. The memories of their winged black blooded death will haunt her for always.
It was at this turning point she moved again to another of the smaller of the 13 floating planets in the Trapezium Cluster and while living in the wilds of the new Forrest, was discovered by the Zzonyaz.
A highly spiritual race of women, that taught her how to use the elements within and without for healing and vitality, antar became one of them and never regretted a single day in this Utopian lifestyle. When she was not in studies or meditation, she loved to make sculptures, it was a way of freeing her mind and allowing her energy to be transferred into otherwise inadament objects. She would always sense what others needed and place that energy into a piece which would become a healing talisman for those who received the object.
Learning languages always came easy for her and by the time she was 160 years old, she was accomplished in well over 150 languages. Perhaps her ability stemmed from the natural telepathic abilities passed down from her Mother as well as the empathic qualities of her Father. antar could easily listen to another species communicating and at first sense what it was they were saying and before long the vibration actually opened centers in her brain which enabled her to comprehend and store the information.
But in the final analysis as with all of her other paths, the time came and one day she bid farewell to the Zzonyaz and took a star skipper to Rigel where she lived and worked as a Galactic interface specialist traveling off world to train others in her parents discovery of the Plantis Inmatus.
Finding herself more at home in a lab than among people she soon started practicing the healing arts she had learned from the Zzonyaz, and opened a small wellness center for the smaller communities on the far side of Rigel Prime.
Here she was contacted to train as an empath and ship medical specialist for interstellar warships. She did not like the idea of being close to battle, but the funding was enough that in a few short years she could buy her own small planet to retire and raise a family of her own. Most of the trips were short and close to home, nothing that ever required more than a few quick patchups with her energy frequencies or herbs.
********************
A communication arrived and was hand delivered by courier...
Antar... Captain Cadbury requests your Tjhsst on SS Yydryl for unspecified duration to unknown location to non disclosed mission. Scheduled immediately.
"Oh, Cadbury Huh?" A little smile spread out across her lips and she licked them hard and took off running to her small domicile to pack.
"Chief Medical Officer," she says.
I stand in front of the the panel, in disbelief. My knees feel weak...my heart beats with the intensity of a thousand super novas. My eyes have shifted to my hands - these tired and worn hands. When did they ever get so old?
No longer am I in sync with reality. My mind runs through so many thoughts and images. Which of these are real and which of these am I forcing myself to believe is my past?
I braced the handles of the bike, with knees feeling week and my heart beating like a thousand clasps of thunder. I remember my father teaching me how to first ride a bike. His first lesson - "keep your eyes on your destination," and that's what I did. Never did I look back. Did his words carry me through all these years, or did I carry them? I now remember...a man standing at my graduation ceremony. Among the other people, he stood out the most. Garbed in the a simple suit, with attire that has seen the interior of a cold empty closet for many years. The colors fading, but he still wears it, saving it for that special time in his life he had most looked forward to. I looked at the suit and could see it change color. Not the type of color one could see with their eyes open. This color, was pouring from every thread, soaking every inch of the suit with something I had not seen before. The suit transforms and the man is no longer wearing a simple faded suit. He is now cloaked in joy.
Tears are forming and are ready to burst through, but I can feel him holding them back like a dam. What has he been holding them back for? As I heard my name being called, the man stands up and opens his mouth. His lips quiver with each step I take, ready to speak as if on que. I approach the podium and wonder why he is here. A sheet of paper is placed in my hand by a woman. It feels heavy. Has the weight of my life has been placed within this roll of paper? There is a an essence of fear embedded into it. Fear of the unknown. What is my final destination in life? The woman then says "Congratulations. You are now a doctor."
I turn back to man in the simple suit, and see a river form from his eyes. His mouth no longer quivers, and he speaks. He says, "That's my son!" This man...is my father. Why did I not recognize him? His face told the tale of a man who no longer had a son. He now sees his equal. I tell him, "I never looked back from my destination."
Once again, my mind wanders, showing me images of a man bloodied and dying. I see myself standing over his body, telling him to "stay relaxed." His face has become so bloodied that I can no longer see the paleness of his skin. The nurses and I push him into a bright room interlaced with the grandeur of a blinding whiteness. This room seems all to familiar to me. This has been my second home. My guests always enter and leave happy, but they never come back to see me. Am I a good host for wanting them to never come back to my home? The injured man pleads with me to hold his hand, but I can't. Blood escapes his finger tips and dyes the floor with the brilliance of a ruby red. This room changes often, from white to red. Once again the man raises his hand and asks me to hold it, but once again, I cannot. I place a mask over his mouth. This mask has become his new face. He breathes into the mask, accepting each breath as a step towards his destiny. The nurse tells me that the injured man was hit with a vehicle, while riding his bike. I look at the injured man and tell him that I will save him. I will be his light. I see the glimmer in his eyes, as I speak. He reminds me of someone, I knew when I graduated and became a doctor. Slowly, his eye lids drag their weight down on him, allowing a single tear to escape. He speaks once more and says “Never...look...ba.” “Ba?” I did not understand him. I tell the nurse to ready the scalpel. The damage to his body became apparent, when the nurse opened his shirt. Large open wounds riddle his chest. I think, “How is this man even still alive?” This man knew what his fate was, but it was up to me to change it. In this room, I play the role of god. I decide how to cure the sick, how to heal the disabled, how to save the dying. I decide this man's fate.
The scalpel slices through his chest. What I see in this man is his soul. This feeling I have...is humbling. His organs have become punctured by broken ribs. His heart no longer becomes a vessel for his life, flooding his body with the same luster of ruby that adorns the floors. I immediately close his heart, only to find that he has stopped breathing. What do I do? If I place pressure on his heart to do CPR, the wound will open again. There is no time, I place my hands over his heart and push down. Again and again, my hands push down, hoping to feel his heart beat. I look at my hands - these tired and blood stained hands. These are not the hands of a god. These are the hands a man who no longer controlled fate.
I tried. I tried so hard to make this man see this world as his home, once again, but I failed. He dies. Time of death, 17:56. I failed at 17:56. The nurse places a sheet over his body. I pick up his open wallet that has dropped on the floor and see this man's life. His family pictures, his greatest joys, his meager earnings of wealth. This man... is my father. Why did I not recognize him? His face told the tale of a man who no longer had a son. He now sees his fate. I failed to save my father at 17:56.
I hear clapping. Loud clapping that awakens me from the grasp of my mind. Once again, "Chief Medical Officer," she says. Her mouth breaks into a smile. “Congratulations, Doctor DJMessiah! Welcome to the Penelope crew.” My legs are no longer trembling. My heart is no longer pounding. I remember my father teaching me how to first ride a bike. His first lesson - "keep your eyes on your destination," and that's what I did. Never did I look back.
I stand in front of the the panel, in disbelief. My knees feel weak...my heart beats with the intensity of a thousand super novas. My eyes have shifted to my hands - these tired and worn hands. When did they ever get so old?
No longer am I in sync with reality. My mind runs through so many thoughts and images. Which of these are real and which of these am I forcing myself to believe is my past?
I braced the handles of the bike, with knees feeling week and my heart beating like a thousand clasps of thunder. I remember my father teaching me how to first ride a bike. His first lesson - "keep your eyes on your destination," and that's what I did. Never did I look back. Did his words carry me through all these years, or did I carry them? I now remember...a man standing at my graduation ceremony. Among the other people, he stood out the most. Garbed in the a simple suit, with attire that has seen the interior of a cold empty closet for many years. The colors fading, but he still wears it, saving it for that special time in his life he had most looked forward to. I looked at the suit and could see it change color. Not the type of color one could see with their eyes open. This color, was pouring from every thread, soaking every inch of the suit with something I had not seen before. The suit transforms and the man is no longer wearing a simple faded suit. He is now cloaked in joy.
Tears are forming and are ready to burst through, but I can feel him holding them back like a dam. What has he been holding them back for? As I heard my name being called, the man stands up and opens his mouth. His lips quiver with each step I take, ready to speak as if on que. I approach the podium and wonder why he is here. A sheet of paper is placed in my hand by a woman. It feels heavy. Has the weight of my life has been placed within this roll of paper? There is a an essence of fear embedded into it. Fear of the unknown. What is my final destination in life? The woman then says "Congratulations. You are now a doctor."
I turn back to man in the simple suit, and see a river form from his eyes. His mouth no longer quivers, and he speaks. He says, "That's my son!" This man...is my father. Why did I not recognize him? His face told the tale of a man who no longer had a son. He now sees his equal. I tell him, "I never looked back from my destination."
Once again, my mind wanders, showing me images of a man bloodied and dying. I see myself standing over his body, telling him to "stay relaxed." His face has become so bloodied that I can no longer see the paleness of his skin. The nurses and I push him into a bright room interlaced with the grandeur of a blinding whiteness. This room seems all to familiar to me. This has been my second home. My guests always enter and leave happy, but they never come back to see me. Am I a good host for wanting them to never come back to my home? The injured man pleads with me to hold his hand, but I can't. Blood escapes his finger tips and dyes the floor with the brilliance of a ruby red. This room changes often, from white to red. Once again the man raises his hand and asks me to hold it, but once again, I cannot. I place a mask over his mouth. This mask has become his new face. He breathes into the mask, accepting each breath as a step towards his destiny. The nurse tells me that the injured man was hit with a vehicle, while riding his bike. I look at the injured man and tell him that I will save him. I will be his light. I see the glimmer in his eyes, as I speak. He reminds me of someone, I knew when I graduated and became a doctor. Slowly, his eye lids drag their weight down on him, allowing a single tear to escape. He speaks once more and says “Never...look...ba.” “Ba?” I did not understand him. I tell the nurse to ready the scalpel. The damage to his body became apparent, when the nurse opened his shirt. Large open wounds riddle his chest. I think, “How is this man even still alive?” This man knew what his fate was, but it was up to me to change it. In this room, I play the role of god. I decide how to cure the sick, how to heal the disabled, how to save the dying. I decide this man's fate.
The scalpel slices through his chest. What I see in this man is his soul. This feeling I have...is humbling. His organs have become punctured by broken ribs. His heart no longer becomes a vessel for his life, flooding his body with the same luster of ruby that adorns the floors. I immediately close his heart, only to find that he has stopped breathing. What do I do? If I place pressure on his heart to do CPR, the wound will open again. There is no time, I place my hands over his heart and push down. Again and again, my hands push down, hoping to feel his heart beat. I look at my hands - these tired and blood stained hands. These are not the hands of a god. These are the hands a man who no longer controlled fate.
I tried. I tried so hard to make this man see this world as his home, once again, but I failed. He dies. Time of death, 17:56. I failed at 17:56. The nurse places a sheet over his body. I pick up his open wallet that has dropped on the floor and see this man's life. His family pictures, his greatest joys, his meager earnings of wealth. This man... is my father. Why did I not recognize him? His face told the tale of a man who no longer had a son. He now sees his fate. I failed to save my father at 17:56.
I hear clapping. Loud clapping that awakens me from the grasp of my mind. Once again, "Chief Medical Officer," she says. Her mouth breaks into a smile. “Congratulations, Doctor DJMessiah! Welcome to the Penelope crew.” My legs are no longer trembling. My heart is no longer pounding. I remember my father teaching me how to first ride a bike. His first lesson - "keep your eyes on your destination," and that's what I did. Never did I look back.
Originally posted by mf_luder
The USS Penelope.
[Color=orange]All hands prepare for immediate departure. Engine room, spin up the drives. Helm, lay in a direct course for Alpha Centauri.
[edit on 18-3-2009 by mf_luder]
[edit on 19-3-2009 by mf_luder]
Aye! Alpha Centauri layed in! Ready to shove off, Capt'n!
[edit on 19-3-2009 by fooks]
[edit on 19-3-2009 by fooks]
As WhiteRabbit left his quarters and walked down the polished, sterile corridors of the Penelope, he was filled with both a feeling of relief, and one
of uncertainty. The former because he was finally back doing what he loved to do, and the latter… well he couldn’t quite place where that was
coming from.
Perhaps it was a combination of things. For one, he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about working along side some of these “Enhanced” men. It was one thing to rely on computers, but to try to become one… “Not this guy” he murmured to himself. He couldn’t imagine gut instinct being replaced by cold, uncaring calculation.
Mostly though, he just had an uneasy feeling about this mission as a whole. The federation had assembled the finest crew that he had ever been a part of… for a search and rescue mission. He had earned his moniker by being a pioneer in wormhole navigation; daring to put his own life, and those of the men with whom he served in danger, often basing his decisions more on intuition than on computation. Never afraid to venture down the rabbit hole, and see where it took him And now he was being told that this mission required someone of his capability to be successful. This had made him feel proud until be heard the captain come over the intercom. Alpha Centauri? Any pencil necked amateur astronomer could tell you ten different ways to get you to Alpha Centauri in a matter of hours. There had to be more to this mission than the federation was letting on.
[edit on 19-3-2009 by whiterabbit85]
Perhaps it was a combination of things. For one, he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about working along side some of these “Enhanced” men. It was one thing to rely on computers, but to try to become one… “Not this guy” he murmured to himself. He couldn’t imagine gut instinct being replaced by cold, uncaring calculation.
Mostly though, he just had an uneasy feeling about this mission as a whole. The federation had assembled the finest crew that he had ever been a part of… for a search and rescue mission. He had earned his moniker by being a pioneer in wormhole navigation; daring to put his own life, and those of the men with whom he served in danger, often basing his decisions more on intuition than on computation. Never afraid to venture down the rabbit hole, and see where it took him And now he was being told that this mission required someone of his capability to be successful. This had made him feel proud until be heard the captain come over the intercom. Alpha Centauri? Any pencil necked amateur astronomer could tell you ten different ways to get you to Alpha Centauri in a matter of hours. There had to be more to this mission than the federation was letting on.
[edit on 19-3-2009 by whiterabbit85]
Captain Luder watched as his new weapons officer walked across the command center. The "enhanced man" as some were calling them rendered a smart
salute, which Luder smiled and returned.
"Salutes aren't necessary in the command center." Luder said, still smiling.
He thought to himself, "God. A salute? Am I really getting to be old enough in this navy to have people salute me like this or is it this Captain's rank? Hell, I'm only 30." Luder recognized the significance. Originally started during ancient Roman times on Earth, the salute was used to show people that there were no daggers or other assassination weapons present and over the years had morphed into what it had become in the military.
A salute.
He watched Seeker climb into the "chamber" as the other crewmembers were calling it and stared, fascinated, as seeker "plugged in." He didn't know just how effective actually interfacing the ship was going to pan out to be, but from the reports he'd seen, he heard it was nearly a 200% increase in efficiency. If that was the case, let the man salute to his heart's content.
Luder stood up and stretched. He sat his datapads on the command chair and walked over to the navigation stations.
Whenever you are ready, fooks. Take us out.
Luder watched his navigators work and stood back. He bowed his head and folded his arms across his chest. Theresa's image was ever-present on his mind, especially once he learned it was her carrier he was searching for. After receipt of the initial order, Luder pondered what the brains at fleet command were thinking. The Penelope wasn't exactly what you would consider a search and rescue ship. While she was more than capable, the fleet usually kept a contingent of vessels on hand to do just that.
Luder supposed the reason for the use of the Penelope was because of the size of the ship and the potential for an equal number of survivors, if any. But still. This ship? This was the newest design on the carrier fleet and was supposed to be used to explore a vastly untouched region of space near the Betelgeuse star system. Hell, Alpha Centauri was basically in Earth's backyard. There was something the Federation wasn't telling him.
Thinking back to recent reports, Luder recalled hearing of a dispute brewing between the Alpha Centaurians and Earth over a trade route. The thought of that made Luder bristle. The Alpha Centaurians weren't a bad bunch of people, but if they even so much as laid a finger on Theresa.... but - no. There was no way they took down a fully loaded carrier themselves. They were still using a slightly improved version of the old "flying triangles" they used to visit Earth in. Those were like shooting skeet for a carrier.
He chewed the inside of his cheek and thought of Theresa again.
[edit on 19-3-2009 by mf_luder]
"Salutes aren't necessary in the command center." Luder said, still smiling.
He thought to himself, "God. A salute? Am I really getting to be old enough in this navy to have people salute me like this or is it this Captain's rank? Hell, I'm only 30." Luder recognized the significance. Originally started during ancient Roman times on Earth, the salute was used to show people that there were no daggers or other assassination weapons present and over the years had morphed into what it had become in the military.
A salute.
He watched Seeker climb into the "chamber" as the other crewmembers were calling it and stared, fascinated, as seeker "plugged in." He didn't know just how effective actually interfacing the ship was going to pan out to be, but from the reports he'd seen, he heard it was nearly a 200% increase in efficiency. If that was the case, let the man salute to his heart's content.
Luder stood up and stretched. He sat his datapads on the command chair and walked over to the navigation stations.
Whenever you are ready, fooks. Take us out.
Luder watched his navigators work and stood back. He bowed his head and folded his arms across his chest. Theresa's image was ever-present on his mind, especially once he learned it was her carrier he was searching for. After receipt of the initial order, Luder pondered what the brains at fleet command were thinking. The Penelope wasn't exactly what you would consider a search and rescue ship. While she was more than capable, the fleet usually kept a contingent of vessels on hand to do just that.
Luder supposed the reason for the use of the Penelope was because of the size of the ship and the potential for an equal number of survivors, if any. But still. This ship? This was the newest design on the carrier fleet and was supposed to be used to explore a vastly untouched region of space near the Betelgeuse star system. Hell, Alpha Centauri was basically in Earth's backyard. There was something the Federation wasn't telling him.
Thinking back to recent reports, Luder recalled hearing of a dispute brewing between the Alpha Centaurians and Earth over a trade route. The thought of that made Luder bristle. The Alpha Centaurians weren't a bad bunch of people, but if they even so much as laid a finger on Theresa.... but - no. There was no way they took down a fully loaded carrier themselves. They were still using a slightly improved version of the old "flying triangles" they used to visit Earth in. Those were like shooting skeet for a carrier.
He chewed the inside of his cheek and thought of Theresa again.
[edit on 19-3-2009 by mf_luder]
It looked like a whisp of fog but actually contained billions of worlds. As my gaze rests on that nebula I fondly look back at what originally
inspired me to go into Celestial-Nav. Go out there, see a new world, meet exotic people...and kill them? No. Learn from them. Whether this is possible
in apparent times of war remains to be seen.
I was born on planet of æxløsis, which tour-guides dismiss in one sentence: "Lonely outskirt planet, population 30 000".
[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/0b20de4b317e.jpg[/atsimg]
[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/c14c98a01b7f.jpg[/atsimg]
Signing up for the Yddril (this is the way its spelled in my tongue) does hold the promise of a free ride to Wonderland. At the cost of participating in violence. A cost I am obviously willing to pay.
They call me "Sky" because thats what attracted my stare on æxløsis. Im male, 33, dark hair, blue eyes.
"You look like one of those humans" my captain said. I met him yesterday as he approved of me taking my aquarium along. He made the impression of a strong-willed, yet unpredictable personality. He handed me a code of files to study. I have not shaken hands with any of the other crew members yet.
There's been a suicide. Apparently someone decided to blow his brains out, before the enemy does or that this ship is a particularly good place to splatter ones brains all over the wall.
[edit on 19-3-2009 by Skyfloating]
I was born on planet of æxløsis, which tour-guides dismiss in one sentence: "Lonely outskirt planet, population 30 000".
[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/0b20de4b317e.jpg[/atsimg]
[atsimg]http://files.abovetopsecret.com/images/member/c14c98a01b7f.jpg[/atsimg]
Signing up for the Yddril (this is the way its spelled in my tongue) does hold the promise of a free ride to Wonderland. At the cost of participating in violence. A cost I am obviously willing to pay.
They call me "Sky" because thats what attracted my stare on æxløsis. Im male, 33, dark hair, blue eyes.
"You look like one of those humans" my captain said. I met him yesterday as he approved of me taking my aquarium along. He made the impression of a strong-willed, yet unpredictable personality. He handed me a code of files to study. I have not shaken hands with any of the other crew members yet.
There's been a suicide. Apparently someone decided to blow his brains out, before the enemy does or that this ship is a particularly good place to splatter ones brains all over the wall.
[edit on 19-3-2009 by Skyfloating]
Approaching the Penelope as she leaves LagrangeOne in a shuttle. Studious glances at the new ship. He knows he has far more time to become acquainted
with her in the future. Right now his task is clear however, and he does not have time for gawking. Having just received word that the carrier Nimitz
has not reported in for over 2 months now. Studious was going through everything on the Nimitz, from where she was built, to the amount of tea the
crew requisitioned in port. He felt nothing was unimportant.
As the ship was getting underway there was no one to greet Studious when he boarded, as all members of the crew were preparing for departure. After having read the initial information on the Nimitz and the circumstances surrounding her disappearance. He decided to take a walk down every corridor into every alcove. No one truly knows how important this information is until a ship is boarded or damaged.
As he walked he thought he saw something. Most would have dismissed it but Studious was the thorough type. He approached the area as if he had seen nothing so as not to arouse suspicion. Then, he saw someone. This figure was lurking. Yes, lurking around the ship. This strange figure had unshined shoes and was not properly uniformed. Still Studious acted as if he had seen nothing and did not head toward the figure. He knew something was amiss with this shadowy figure. Perhaps espionage was afoot. After having left the area he headed back stealthily, already using his newfound knowledge of the ship’s layout to his advantage. When Studious got close enough he seized the figure and turned him around…
[edit on 19-3-2009 by Studious]
Originally posted by Studious.
A message from Admiral James Gordon:
To: Captain mf_luder
Studious is a fine officer but he has an insubordinate streak. Not that he’s a ruffian or a thug, but he just will not follow orders when he feels they conflict with his concept of honor. He just does not understand that orders must be followed. He’s the most disciplined man I have ever had the pleasure of commanding but he is a headache to give orders to. His men admire him, not because they’re friends with him, but for the compassion he shows them. It’s odd, he seems so simple to understand. So rigid, seemingly so predictable. But, In fact few people really know him.
Even his Personnel file is a little lacking in personal information and if you ask him about it he’ll probably tell you nothing. He even looks older than his record states. Already some say his hair is graying. Though it’s probably because of the weight of command. It weighs more heavily on him then the rest of us. His military record is exemplary. Every order, that he choose to follow, was completed meticulously but yet seemingly effortlessly. He has been passed over for promotion time and time again because of his insubordination. He is effective but my colleagues cannot see past his disobedient behavior.
Your probably wondering why I would even assign such a person to your command. After all he does not respect the chain of command, he’s an enigma and he’s not one you can easily have a drink with. Well, on a mission like this, a search mission, methodical tactics may just bring our people home.
As the ship was getting underway there was no one to greet Studious when he boarded, as all members of the crew were preparing for departure. After having read the initial information on the Nimitz and the circumstances surrounding her disappearance. He decided to take a walk down every corridor into every alcove. No one truly knows how important this information is until a ship is boarded or damaged.
As he walked he thought he saw something. Most would have dismissed it but Studious was the thorough type. He approached the area as if he had seen nothing so as not to arouse suspicion. Then, he saw someone. This figure was lurking. Yes, lurking around the ship. This strange figure had unshined shoes and was not properly uniformed. Still Studious acted as if he had seen nothing and did not head toward the figure. He knew something was amiss with this shadowy figure. Perhaps espionage was afoot. After having left the area he headed back stealthily, already using his newfound knowledge of the ship’s layout to his advantage. When Studious got close enough he seized the figure and turned him around…
[edit on 19-3-2009 by Studious]
reply to post by mf_luder
Seeker watched passively through the multitudes of onboard viewing devices as the Penelope began her Exodus from Lagrange 1. In his current state, he felt more alive than he ever had. Perhaps it was this euphoria that motivated him to broadcast to across the bridge once more.
"Formal Query, Captain. I have reviewed the weapon load outs aboard the vessel. They are very extensive. Is combat anticipated?"
Seeker watched passively through the multitudes of onboard viewing devices as the Penelope began her Exodus from Lagrange 1. In his current state, he felt more alive than he ever had. Perhaps it was this euphoria that motivated him to broadcast to across the bridge once more.
"Formal Query, Captain. I have reviewed the weapon load outs aboard the vessel. They are very extensive. Is combat anticipated?"
Originally posted by Skyfloating
There's been a suicide. Apparently someone decided to blow his brains out, before the enemy does or that this ship is a particularly good place to splatter ones brains all over the wall.
Mess Fhall (Enter The Cadbury)
Vagueness of a particular objective. That, amongst other concerns, was the cause of the foul mood.
A mission? A mission to install a mission? What? A Captain–whom we shall call 'Cadbury'–knew
not, as his final preparations were undertaken to undock from the Regellian out base in Orion's
Nebula and depart aboard the Yydryl. A new crew awaited, encased safely inside the hull of this
newly constructed and more than sufficiently armed and manoeuvrable ship of the line. A
predominantly Regellian ship of the vast, expansionary Orion Alliance... it would also have speed.
“Such short notice...”
And words equatable only in part to 'Swine' or 'Bastard' were muttered through sharp fang in the
general direction of a Supreme Commander, despite its non-presence.
A short while ago in most perceptions of the passing of “time,” it had been threatened by
Commander Zogby-Poll that Captain Cadbury be eaten by creatures of a larger and more predatory
size than he, for the near ruination of certain diplomatic relations in and around the vicinity of
Betelgeuse during an unauthorised excursion to there. For the mission that now lay ahead, it had
been mandated clearly to not make such detours again, or suffer directly the consequences of
'extreme indiscretion.'
Hmm.
“Why, I ought to sodding well abrogate! Casus Belli! I ought to f...” his communicator cut him
off mid-sentence with sounds, reporting to him of a tragedy aboard the Yydryl. New crew members
already aboard, Spec-Ops technician Whisper67, Empathic Chief Medical Officer Antar, and
Navigation Officer Sky(floating) have discovered the body of their Communications Officer, who
has apparently zapped himself in the cranial mass. “What? Another suicide? Are you sure?” It
would be the 27,000th reported across the Orion Alliance in the spacing of one Regellian
monthhood.
“Yes, Captain. He's evaporated himself with a standard issue Hyper-Vortex Proton Disintegrator
in a small library in his quarters. There is not much of a remainder for Antar to autopsy, but the
general consensus among us so far is that this is a suicide. We're almost certain that it is.” informed
Skyfloating. “He was the first on board and we have not been able to find a trace of any assailant
through any available detection apparatus, only traces Visible_Villain left before he took his own
life.” Sky's accent was carefully attenuated so the 70% Regellian Captain could properly understand
his dialect, which was similar in nature but also very different at times.
“Thank you. I trust your judgement. Hold all non-crucial investigation until the rest of the crew
is aboard. I'll be joining you all shortly.”
“Yessir.”
Would the death of a crewman before even undocking cause to further ill-omen this already far
too egregious mission? he wondered to himself. And then he wandered back to his original
forebodings.
“You've been assigned a new crew since most of your last were eaten as punishment for your
own mistakes. Prepare. Board. Undock, then await further instruction” is all command had told him.
But they forgot to say “And brace yourselves!”
more]
Added .pdf text
[edit on 24/7/09 by masqua]
The ship was magnificent. Scurvy would never comprehend how these plantlike organisms worked themselves into such intricate patterns. How anyone had
ever learned to manipulate the things in the first place was fascinating but far beyond him. Thoughts for another time, work for another gellian.
There were much more important things to accomplish.
Slithering around his new room he observes the simple yet eye catching decorations. Rigellian art was hailed for its value on the galactic market. No other species seemed able to manifest emotions into a physical representation. No big surprise there though, he had yet to encounter another highly intellectual race despite having visited just about every corner of the Milky Way. Well there were the humans, those filthy primitives that popped up from time to time. Rumour had it that the humans had highly developed emotions and potential to be some of the greatest minds in the 'verse. Laughing aloud at such an absurd notion Scurvy continues his inspection. Satisfying his curiosity surrounding the foreign objects in his bunk Scurvy wriggles into his jet black uniform and prepares for his inspection of the weapons array.
Making his way across the ship took longer than expected. The labyrinth of hallways and decks was foreign to one so accustomed to the much smaller scavenging vessels he'd spent years commanding. Arriving at the statistical terminal he had been assigned he slips a tentacle into the reader that would detect his freshly implanted "Galactichip".
He scrolls through some of the personnel lists. It seems the ship's Communication officer is no longer accompanying this mission. Says here he removed the protons from his own brain. Coward. Most of the crew he had never heard of, though a few names jumped off the page at him. He had known he would be serving under Captain Cadbury, it was the reason he had asked for this assignment in the first place. The fact that it would be "dangerous and risky" just added to the pot. Now he saw just how dangerous this could be. Whisper, the infamous agent whose name was feared by all who were not of Rigellian ancestry; even many our own kind shuddered at the name. An empath on board as well. If a sorceress was needed then this mission was definitely going to give him an opportunity to play with the "toys" under his command.
He continues searching the terminal for the weapon system information he requires. He pulls the information to the screen and reads:
Satisfied that he would be able to take on anything with this kind of armament Scurvy closes his terminal and begins searching for other officers. He spies a very attractive, if petite, pure bred Rigellian at the other end of the hallway he occupied and altered his course to follow her. Someone would announce when his "professional" services were required. This really was going to be a fun mission.
Slithering around his new room he observes the simple yet eye catching decorations. Rigellian art was hailed for its value on the galactic market. No other species seemed able to manifest emotions into a physical representation. No big surprise there though, he had yet to encounter another highly intellectual race despite having visited just about every corner of the Milky Way. Well there were the humans, those filthy primitives that popped up from time to time. Rumour had it that the humans had highly developed emotions and potential to be some of the greatest minds in the 'verse. Laughing aloud at such an absurd notion Scurvy continues his inspection. Satisfying his curiosity surrounding the foreign objects in his bunk Scurvy wriggles into his jet black uniform and prepares for his inspection of the weapons array.
Making his way across the ship took longer than expected. The labyrinth of hallways and decks was foreign to one so accustomed to the much smaller scavenging vessels he'd spent years commanding. Arriving at the statistical terminal he had been assigned he slips a tentacle into the reader that would detect his freshly implanted "Galactichip".
He scrolls through some of the personnel lists. It seems the ship's Communication officer is no longer accompanying this mission. Says here he removed the protons from his own brain. Coward. Most of the crew he had never heard of, though a few names jumped off the page at him. He had known he would be serving under Captain Cadbury, it was the reason he had asked for this assignment in the first place. The fact that it would be "dangerous and risky" just added to the pot. Now he saw just how dangerous this could be. Whisper, the infamous agent whose name was feared by all who were not of Rigellian ancestry; even many our own kind shuddered at the name. An empath on board as well. If a sorceress was needed then this mission was definitely going to give him an opportunity to play with the "toys" under his command.
He continues searching the terminal for the weapon system information he requires. He pulls the information to the screen and reads:
Weapon System Technical Data:
Deep Range:
- High-Intensity Proton Demolisher - A large scale weapon based on the technology found in standard issue Proton Disintegrator pistols. Fires highly concentrated bursts of energy that seek out the co-ordinates of programmed target. Once contact is made the concentrated energy is released causing overstimulation of protons to the point that they burst. Has a large area of effect. Can fire 1 round every 30 seconds due to charging cooldown times.
- Thorn Charges - 2000 Yggdrasil Pods have been grown on the Yddril. These pods produce balls of corrosive acid that are discharged from the pod at the speed of sound. Pods self supply and will store 10 charges. After impact the charges splatter, depositing a highly corrosive acid on anything in the vicinity.
- Pinpoint Annihilator - Mainly used for attacking small targets. The annihilator launches a cluster of 3 homing missiles that will follow the target until they or the target are destroyed.
Short Range:
- The Yddryl was formed from a plant species native to Rigel. The particular species itself is vine-like. The tendrils of the ship will grab, entangle, and crush any vessels within their reach. These cannot be controlled.
- "Galactichip" readers are positioned around every doorway on the Yddril. Any being who passes throught the readers without a chip present in their body will be targetted by the ship's interior tentacles and crew will be alerted.
Defense Systems:
- The plant species that forms the Yddryl has been genetically modified in many ways. The "skin" of the ship has been altered so that its density is 3 times that of diamond. This makes the ship's body near indestructible.
- The ship is equipped with a repellent magnetic field that can be activated to stop metal projectiles fired at the ship.
- The ship is made of organic material and is thus vulnerable to combustion. However, with a lack of oxygen in most areas of the universe the risk of fire is minimal.
Satisfied that he would be able to take on anything with this kind of armament Scurvy closes his terminal and begins searching for other officers. He spies a very attractive, if petite, pure bred Rigellian at the other end of the hallway he occupied and altered his course to follow her. Someone would announce when his "professional" services were required. This really was going to be a fun mission.
Originally posted by SeekerOfAUTMN
reply to post by mf_luder
"Formal Query, Captain. I have reviewed the weapon load outs aboard the vessel. They are very extensive. Is combat anticipated?"
"Not necessarily, but it pays to be ready for anything."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Seeker's question got him thinking. There was a small armada's worth of weaponry on board. More so than a normal carrier. Was the Federation telling them everything or was it just that the ship was meant for a new purpose?
[edit on 19-3-2009 by mf_luder]
Neno was sitting at his desk in his berth, rereading the memo informing him that a Commander had been located for the Marine contingent in the nick of
time. He heaved a sigh of relief. Nenothtu hadn't signed on to command two full battalions, 2000 men, of Marines. In the first place, he wasn't of
the Marine mindset, and in the second, he really had no urge to "command" anyone, much less a huge mob of anyones. His mind, of it's own volition
it seemed, drifted back to Khalamzadar, that experience that had so damaged his psyche...
... The Captain of the survey ship had indicated it was time to go... to go HOME. As the contingent turned to take him back to the ship - and HOME - Nenothtu spoke up.
"Cap'n, I've got some cargo that needs to go back with me."
"What could you have accumulated in 7 years on nowhere?" the captain responded.
"Walk this way, sir" Nenothtu replied, leading the captain to a damaged chunk of what used to be starship, the one that he had been aboard when it crashed on Khalamzadar. In the cargo hold area, he presented 7 large, oblong metal cargo boxes to the captain. "This is what I have to take back, cap'n. These 7 boxes are all that's left of the 9 men serving under me when we crashed. I'm taking them home, too."
"You want to carry CORPSE CRATES on my boat?. Not a chance. We haven't room on the shuttle to get them aboard ship anyway."
Nenothtu's eyes reddened around the rim, but turned black in the center. Water welled up in them, but never spilled over.
"Alright Cap'n. it's your boat. Be seeing you", and Nenothtu sat down right there in the gloom of the damaged cargo bay.
"Are you trying to tell me that you won't go if I don't carry these bodies back?" the captain asked in a state of wonder.
"Yessir" Nenothtu replied. "That's exactly what I'm telling you." His voice broke slightly, but he cleared his throat and went on. "These was my boys. I couldn't keep 'em alive through 7 years on this rock, but I'll damn well see 'em home, or wait here on the next boat, however long that takes. I've survived this long, I reckon I can make it a little longer. I ain't leaving nobody behind. Least nobody that wasn't eaten by the jungle".
The captain was astonished. "I'm offering you a ride HOME, away from this mess, and you're going to pass that up on a matter of principle?" He simply couldn't understand it.
"Yessir. I might have to make this home, but I ain't leaving without them. Nobody stays behind."
The Captain mulled this over, and finally, in exasperation, announced his decision. "Oh for the love of whatever gods you hold! Alright, I'll take these crates too. ENSIGN! Make room for these cargo crates on the shuttle. I want to be off this rock inside of an hour."
"Thankee, Cap'n. Whatever gods YOU hold will surely bless you fer this." Nenothtu slunk out of the hulk to assist the ensign in finding a place for the crates.
It took two trips to get everyone back aboard ship, but at last they were on their way home. In that instant, Nenothtu swore he'd never lead men into combat again. He wasn't cut out for it anymore.
Now, aboard Penelope, he heaved a sigh of relief for the umpteenth time that he was no longer in charge of those Marines. It lightened his load considerably. Nenothtu neatly folded the letter (well, "neatly" for nenothtu) and placed it in a cubbyhole at the back of the desk for safekeeping. He arose from the desk, and skulked into the corrridor, in his normal mode of skulking locomotion, toward the mess hall.
As Nenothtu rounded a corner, he was suddenly siezed by an assailant or assailants unknown, and spun around. Normally, he'd have an automatic response for such encounters, but a Marine officer's insignia flashed into his vision just before he lowered the boom, and he immediately checked his response, pending further investigation.
"'Scuse me, Boss, but Jus' who in the HELL are you, WHY have you got your furry mitts on my humble person, and by the way, MOVE 'EM OR LOSE 'EM"
Nenothu glared at his assailant, and braced for the response.
... The Captain of the survey ship had indicated it was time to go... to go HOME. As the contingent turned to take him back to the ship - and HOME - Nenothtu spoke up.
"Cap'n, I've got some cargo that needs to go back with me."
"What could you have accumulated in 7 years on nowhere?" the captain responded.
"Walk this way, sir" Nenothtu replied, leading the captain to a damaged chunk of what used to be starship, the one that he had been aboard when it crashed on Khalamzadar. In the cargo hold area, he presented 7 large, oblong metal cargo boxes to the captain. "This is what I have to take back, cap'n. These 7 boxes are all that's left of the 9 men serving under me when we crashed. I'm taking them home, too."
"You want to carry CORPSE CRATES on my boat?. Not a chance. We haven't room on the shuttle to get them aboard ship anyway."
Nenothtu's eyes reddened around the rim, but turned black in the center. Water welled up in them, but never spilled over.
"Alright Cap'n. it's your boat. Be seeing you", and Nenothtu sat down right there in the gloom of the damaged cargo bay.
"Are you trying to tell me that you won't go if I don't carry these bodies back?" the captain asked in a state of wonder.
"Yessir" Nenothtu replied. "That's exactly what I'm telling you." His voice broke slightly, but he cleared his throat and went on. "These was my boys. I couldn't keep 'em alive through 7 years on this rock, but I'll damn well see 'em home, or wait here on the next boat, however long that takes. I've survived this long, I reckon I can make it a little longer. I ain't leaving nobody behind. Least nobody that wasn't eaten by the jungle".
The captain was astonished. "I'm offering you a ride HOME, away from this mess, and you're going to pass that up on a matter of principle?" He simply couldn't understand it.
"Yessir. I might have to make this home, but I ain't leaving without them. Nobody stays behind."
The Captain mulled this over, and finally, in exasperation, announced his decision. "Oh for the love of whatever gods you hold! Alright, I'll take these crates too. ENSIGN! Make room for these cargo crates on the shuttle. I want to be off this rock inside of an hour."
"Thankee, Cap'n. Whatever gods YOU hold will surely bless you fer this." Nenothtu slunk out of the hulk to assist the ensign in finding a place for the crates.
It took two trips to get everyone back aboard ship, but at last they were on their way home. In that instant, Nenothtu swore he'd never lead men into combat again. He wasn't cut out for it anymore.
Now, aboard Penelope, he heaved a sigh of relief for the umpteenth time that he was no longer in charge of those Marines. It lightened his load considerably. Nenothtu neatly folded the letter (well, "neatly" for nenothtu) and placed it in a cubbyhole at the back of the desk for safekeeping. He arose from the desk, and skulked into the corrridor, in his normal mode of skulking locomotion, toward the mess hall.
As Nenothtu rounded a corner, he was suddenly siezed by an assailant or assailants unknown, and spun around. Normally, he'd have an automatic response for such encounters, but a Marine officer's insignia flashed into his vision just before he lowered the boom, and he immediately checked his response, pending further investigation.
"'Scuse me, Boss, but Jus' who in the HELL are you, WHY have you got your furry mitts on my humble person, and by the way, MOVE 'EM OR LOSE 'EM"
Nenothu glared at his assailant, and braced for the response.
It seemed to take eons to climb from the hole of nothing I found myself in.
Slowly my senses came to me, some refusing to appreciate the situation I was in less than others, true, but reluctantly my consciousness became clearer rather than the dull mud that had been my brain.
“I won’t open my eyes, I won’t - I won’t!” I told myself firmly while trying to stamp out any tendrils of curiosity I may feel before they sprang to life.
I’d a habit of letting curiosity get the best of me, a habit that had gotten me into trouble more than once.
Lots in fact.
But since I’d no idea where I was, what time of day or night, or more importantly why my brain felt like it had been jettisoned out my ears then right back in again, I preferred to stay still, blissfully still, even if that meant remaining ignorant of my surroundings. I’d deal with them later when I could breath without my hair follicles turning into straight pins sticking clear through to gray matter.
Think again, I told myself! I might be in the dark as to my whereabouts, but my make-up I knew like the back of my hand, and there wasn’t a bio-inch of cowardness or back-down in me.
Which meant keeping my eyes rooted in their sockets and pretending the world would go away just wasn’t how to carry on.
A hysterical bubble of laughter shook the rest of the fog from my brain.
“What world?” I asked myself and chuckled again. Who knew? HA! I didn’t!
Peering out from under my flap my eyes nearly broke from their stems, the combination of pain and wonderment that sent them rolling back to their base now sent them traveling up their antenna again to peer about for a second look.
Large room, one door, no windows, no verbalizer, oh hell...
“Creator help me, I am on a ship!“ I moaned to myself rolling my eyes back to my head, letting it fall to my chest in disbelief.
Then it hit me.
Shanghaied!
That had to be it!
I’d fallen victim to the Shanghai.
My head snapped up as I began to pace in small circles, the impressions made by my feet growing back up before I could even step forward.
Shanghaied.
There was no other explanation, and the Creator knew it was shanghai when your head felt like something from a very heavy planet had used it as a landing pad.
Now, how it happened was a lop sided question, last I knew I'd been sitting in at Spacebar watching mud wrestling and now this!
Wait, last I knew I was mud wrestling, and now this!
Shutting down that particularly nasty memory I stretched again still feeling tight from the ball position I’d been in, my arms and legs moving long, the muscles singing blood before relaxing back against my sides.
It seemed my head was the only injured part of my body but I began a thorough check for damage.
My fingers worked in a symbiosis of sight and touch searching my arms, long and finely haired, flecked lightly with gray.
No damage there.
To my middle my body not unlike the pictures I’d seen of earthlings, rounded gently in front below the neck bones, then going to flat and firm in the middle.
Not like humans my color was a nice soft shade of lumini that changed with my mood.
Thankfully my two-skin hid any color emotions, I didn’t need to be flashing bright reds and neon's at a moment like this!
My fingers continued their search over lean hips dropping to legs, long from the floor up.
Where the two-skin left off it exposed strong limbs covered in soft downy hair gleaming more gray spots as they tapered down to meet small long toed feet hinged gracefully to their ends.
Bare, long toed feet.
Whoever or whatever had left me there had taken my footwear.
Strange that, but no hardship, I’d gone most of my S.I.L.O life bare foot. My toes were as nimble as fingers, so much so I used them often when I was alone, which was most of the time.
Being a S.I.L.O had it’s advantages.
Even if Lot #13 was a mistake (and a monumental one at that) at least I didn’t have to worry about footwear.
So, as things stood my body was in one piece, I'd not had my two belongings stolen, at least I knew I was on a ship having been cruelly shanghaied, the down side being my head hurt like it's going to split open and give birth to Palladian twins.
Not bad!
Nestling my eyes back in their sockets I removed my flap and felt the back of my head, my fingers finding a lump the size of a horts egg but not seeing any blood.
I’d have to fix that up soon but now it was time to get out, and get out fast...
The ship around me began to hum and pulsate startling me out of my thoughts.
Gawk! Only one means of egress and the light above that door began to spin, slowly at first then faster, it’s yellow glow universal for *stand aside* blinking its warning.
Quickly backing up against the wall I gave a low sigh and let my body go.
It spread out fluid and fine matching the color and texture of the walls, my two-skin falling to the floor where my feet had just been.
Swearing sharply I reformed my leg, stuck it out from the wall and stretching it forward grabbed the cloth with my toes, and yanked.
The rug yanked back.
Half emerging from the wall I braced myself for added strength, slapped the floor with one hand, pulled at my two-piece with my toes and growled lowly in the back of my throat.
With a small “Eek!” and a tiny *pop* the rug released my two-piece, the momentum flinging it to lay hidden at the rear of the container I’d woken behind, right where I’d intended to hide it from the start.
Just in time I sunk back into the wall the pile of the rug reaching up tentatively searching for my foot before giving up and lying flat again.
The portal opened and something came into view, then stopped to look in.
If I hadn’t of already been a wall I’d of frozen like one.
Ok, so, there might not have been a cowardly microbe in my make-up but something in my make-up most definitely did not like tentacles!
And tentacles were all I saw from where I now felt trapped in the wall.
Falling on the floor in a dead faint I didn’t make a sound.
Or so I hoped, just before it all went dark again.
[edit on 19-3-2009 by silo13]
Slowly my senses came to me, some refusing to appreciate the situation I was in less than others, true, but reluctantly my consciousness became clearer rather than the dull mud that had been my brain.
“I won’t open my eyes, I won’t - I won’t!” I told myself firmly while trying to stamp out any tendrils of curiosity I may feel before they sprang to life.
I’d a habit of letting curiosity get the best of me, a habit that had gotten me into trouble more than once.
Lots in fact.
But since I’d no idea where I was, what time of day or night, or more importantly why my brain felt like it had been jettisoned out my ears then right back in again, I preferred to stay still, blissfully still, even if that meant remaining ignorant of my surroundings. I’d deal with them later when I could breath without my hair follicles turning into straight pins sticking clear through to gray matter.
Think again, I told myself! I might be in the dark as to my whereabouts, but my make-up I knew like the back of my hand, and there wasn’t a bio-inch of cowardness or back-down in me.
Which meant keeping my eyes rooted in their sockets and pretending the world would go away just wasn’t how to carry on.
A hysterical bubble of laughter shook the rest of the fog from my brain.
“What world?” I asked myself and chuckled again. Who knew? HA! I didn’t!
Peering out from under my flap my eyes nearly broke from their stems, the combination of pain and wonderment that sent them rolling back to their base now sent them traveling up their antenna again to peer about for a second look.
Large room, one door, no windows, no verbalizer, oh hell...
“Creator help me, I am on a ship!“ I moaned to myself rolling my eyes back to my head, letting it fall to my chest in disbelief.
Then it hit me.
Shanghaied!
That had to be it!
I’d fallen victim to the Shanghai.
My head snapped up as I began to pace in small circles, the impressions made by my feet growing back up before I could even step forward.
Shanghaied.
There was no other explanation, and the Creator knew it was shanghai when your head felt like something from a very heavy planet had used it as a landing pad.
Now, how it happened was a lop sided question, last I knew I'd been sitting in at Spacebar watching mud wrestling and now this!
Wait, last I knew I was mud wrestling, and now this!
Shutting down that particularly nasty memory I stretched again still feeling tight from the ball position I’d been in, my arms and legs moving long, the muscles singing blood before relaxing back against my sides.
It seemed my head was the only injured part of my body but I began a thorough check for damage.
My fingers worked in a symbiosis of sight and touch searching my arms, long and finely haired, flecked lightly with gray.
No damage there.
To my middle my body not unlike the pictures I’d seen of earthlings, rounded gently in front below the neck bones, then going to flat and firm in the middle.
Not like humans my color was a nice soft shade of lumini that changed with my mood.
Thankfully my two-skin hid any color emotions, I didn’t need to be flashing bright reds and neon's at a moment like this!
My fingers continued their search over lean hips dropping to legs, long from the floor up.
Where the two-skin left off it exposed strong limbs covered in soft downy hair gleaming more gray spots as they tapered down to meet small long toed feet hinged gracefully to their ends.
Bare, long toed feet.
Whoever or whatever had left me there had taken my footwear.
Strange that, but no hardship, I’d gone most of my S.I.L.O life bare foot. My toes were as nimble as fingers, so much so I used them often when I was alone, which was most of the time.
Being a S.I.L.O had it’s advantages.
Even if Lot #13 was a mistake (and a monumental one at that) at least I didn’t have to worry about footwear.
So, as things stood my body was in one piece, I'd not had my two belongings stolen, at least I knew I was on a ship having been cruelly shanghaied, the down side being my head hurt like it's going to split open and give birth to Palladian twins.
Not bad!
Nestling my eyes back in their sockets I removed my flap and felt the back of my head, my fingers finding a lump the size of a horts egg but not seeing any blood.
I’d have to fix that up soon but now it was time to get out, and get out fast...
The ship around me began to hum and pulsate startling me out of my thoughts.
Gawk! Only one means of egress and the light above that door began to spin, slowly at first then faster, it’s yellow glow universal for *stand aside* blinking its warning.
Quickly backing up against the wall I gave a low sigh and let my body go.
It spread out fluid and fine matching the color and texture of the walls, my two-skin falling to the floor where my feet had just been.
Swearing sharply I reformed my leg, stuck it out from the wall and stretching it forward grabbed the cloth with my toes, and yanked.
The rug yanked back.
Half emerging from the wall I braced myself for added strength, slapped the floor with one hand, pulled at my two-piece with my toes and growled lowly in the back of my throat.
With a small “Eek!” and a tiny *pop* the rug released my two-piece, the momentum flinging it to lay hidden at the rear of the container I’d woken behind, right where I’d intended to hide it from the start.
Just in time I sunk back into the wall the pile of the rug reaching up tentatively searching for my foot before giving up and lying flat again.
The portal opened and something came into view, then stopped to look in.
If I hadn’t of already been a wall I’d of frozen like one.
Ok, so, there might not have been a cowardly microbe in my make-up but something in my make-up most definitely did not like tentacles!
And tentacles were all I saw from where I now felt trapped in the wall.
Falling on the floor in a dead faint I didn’t make a sound.
Or so I hoped, just before it all went dark again.
[edit on 19-3-2009 by silo13]
Studious pulled back, a closer inspection of the mysterious figure's uniform revealed he was the Chief of Security. Which meant the mysterious figure
he had just attacked was actually of equivalent rank.
Being very rigid about proper procedure, Studious gave a salute and responded to the question with,
“Colonel Studious, new commandant of the Marine contingent.”
Most men would have apologized and gone about their business, but Studious was not the type to allow himself to be kept in the dark.
“What were you doing sneaking around the ship like this?”
“Is there a threat I should be aware of?
The Chief's uniform did not display his name but to the trained eye rank could be distinguished. Someone of less experience could have mistaken this Chief to have been just a regular security staff member, but not Studious.
“Should you not be formally dressed sir? You could be mistaken as an intruder.”…
Studious was not one to apologize when he felt his actions were justified, any strange figure prowling around the ship had to be dealt with quickly.
After hearing the Chief’s responses he departed examining the ships layout once again.
But following this encounter Studious felt it was definitely time to look over the personnel files on the entire crew. After all, one of this man’s motto's is “All intellection in the understanding has consequence.”
“The understanding” he thought to himself “Everything that exists, is now, or ever will be. All knowledge whether it can ever be learned or not.”
Someone had once taught him that lesson. But that was a long time ago.
Studious had always felt that some pieces of information, certain thoughts or ideas “intellection” could never be discovered. However, if they could be discovered, it would be able to be understood. Whether the information could be discovered or not it still effected everything.
[edit on 19-3-2009 by Studious]
[edit on 19-3-2009 by Studious]
Being very rigid about proper procedure, Studious gave a salute and responded to the question with,
“Colonel Studious, new commandant of the Marine contingent.”
Most men would have apologized and gone about their business, but Studious was not the type to allow himself to be kept in the dark.
“What were you doing sneaking around the ship like this?”
“Is there a threat I should be aware of?
The Chief's uniform did not display his name but to the trained eye rank could be distinguished. Someone of less experience could have mistaken this Chief to have been just a regular security staff member, but not Studious.
“Should you not be formally dressed sir? You could be mistaken as an intruder.”…
Studious was not one to apologize when he felt his actions were justified, any strange figure prowling around the ship had to be dealt with quickly.
After hearing the Chief’s responses he departed examining the ships layout once again.
But following this encounter Studious felt it was definitely time to look over the personnel files on the entire crew. After all, one of this man’s motto's is “All intellection in the understanding has consequence.”
“The understanding” he thought to himself “Everything that exists, is now, or ever will be. All knowledge whether it can ever be learned or not.”
Someone had once taught him that lesson. But that was a long time ago.
Studious had always felt that some pieces of information, certain thoughts or ideas “intellection” could never be discovered. However, if they could be discovered, it would be able to be understood. Whether the information could be discovered or not it still effected everything.
[edit on 19-3-2009 by Studious]
[edit on 19-3-2009 by Studious]
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