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Post by Clipse on Nov 27, 2010 22:30:59 GMT -5
Its like waking up from a bad dream...only to realize you weren't dreaming at all.
The year is 2376. For many years, humanity has been exploring the far reaches of space. Technology is booming. Colonization of new worlds is reaching a stage where it can be very profitable. Indeed, things are looking good for humanity.
But it isn't without a price. Not everyone enjoys the high standard of living that many enjoy. And colonization of new worlds never usually did go very smoothly. Unfortunately for the few alien species that have been encountered, humans were often less than friendly. Many races were subjugated due to humanity's superior numbers. To others in the galaxy, most humans are seen as a kind of intergalactic bully. While this is not true for all humans, it is on an official level and to some, thats all that really matters.
Enter your crew, a small scale salvo operation. Often operating on the fringes of human controlled space, where opinions of humanity are not very high. But its your lucky day today, because floating in a field of debris just up ahead is one of those massive super freighters, perfect for salvaging. Even better, while it appears to be abandoned it also appears to be intact, for the most part. It would take a thorough scan to know just what the damage was, however a score like this is potentially worth millions. All you need to do is make some repairs...
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Post by Clipse on Nov 27, 2010 23:29:10 GMT -5
Jamal al-Ibrahim rubbed his eyes almost by instinct, awaking to the distinct beeping noise and quiet humming of the ship. He looked around his cramped, eight by six, quarters of the freighter. He didn't mind the small private room. Jamal had slept many days in cells such as these back at the Academy over insubordination charges. He wasn't a fan of oppression and imperialism. He still had cuts on his knuckles from when he had decked his commanding officer shortly before his resignation. Thats what he thought of his own "people". Shaking off those thoughts, he glanced over at his clock. Not to check the time, as it was tuned to some location on Earth, but to see how much he had slept. The readout said a quarter after three in the afternoon; he had slept around "noon".
Not good.
Even though he disdained the army, he still lived as though his was enlisted. Sleep was vital to the next day's performance; relaxed muscles, clear mind, and a general satisfactory feeling. Now ? Burning eyes, sore back, and most irritating, grumpiness. The chime that was suppose to wake him in case of an attack was silent. He didn't doubt Helen's piloting skills; she was an expert even for her classification. She could fly her way out of an ambush without breaking a sweat.
Or blowing an oil pump.
Jamal smiled to himself. The little harmless game of bickering he had going on with the android was always funny. Well, since his sleep was now ruined, he thought it would be good to crack a few jokes. Get his spirits up. He grabbed his towel and left his room, strolling down the short hallway to the shower at the end. The rooms of his fellow crewmates, four in total including his, were all closed. Either they were awake and about or sleeping, he would soon find out.
Within ten minutes he was fully dressed. The shower only dispensed two minutes worth of water to conserve in case of emergency. None of it was warm, pure ice cold water left his skin freezing. He had donned his full battle suit, which apart from his clothes was just some body armor down to his mid thighs along with the shoulder pads and track gloves. He suspected them to still be in transition, so he wore his sneakers. His vintage sneakers were probably the most important thing to him, materialistically speaking. Jamal kept them spotless and clean and if anyone, ANYONE, even stepped on his shoes, straight bullet to their head.
Who was he fooling ? No he wouldn't. Not over shoes. He walked out of his room, closing the door. The lock didn't click. Jamal trusted his crew mates for them to not come snooping into his room. The door to the bridge was opposite the showers, around the generator and armories, and through a security locked door. One could simply enter a code to open the door, or do the lazy, more simple method. Knock. Jamal knocked twice, loudly, for whoever was inside to open. If anything, if Helen was inside alone, she would take her sweet time in opening. She loved teasing him.
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Post by Hanhan on Nov 28, 2010 2:11:16 GMT -5
"What kind of..no no no. Check again. Definitely not right. Still? How..think, think.." Helen muttered to herself as one of the holo displays in front of her indicated an alert of some kind. But it didn't make much sense to her. At the speeds they were travelling at, to still be ahead of them? The trajectory seemed like it was all wrong, it didn't make sense. They should have passed it already, if they were picking it up. And a strong signal to, it had to be -
It had to be a pretty damn powerful beacon to be coming up with this strong of a signal and still be that far away. Helen Forster - as she was known by most of the ship's crew - made a mental note of this. It was potentially something worth checking out. Helen had been up for hours. Being what she was, she didn't require nearly as much sleep as her human ship mates did. While that wasn't to say she required none at all, she made full use of this ability to run on less. She was interesting to say the least. An android, but a cursory glance gave almost no indication of that fact. Sure, advanced scanning would probably pick up on it, but other than that, it wasn't easy.
Helen looked like any ordinary human being. She even dressed like one, but that was more of a learned behavior. Clothing to her was seen as protection, never for the purpose of covering up. The constructs of shame and the like had never been drilled into her. Having never been told that being exposed was wrong, she never felt those feelings. It was simple as that.
She didn't normally bother with armor when on the ship and today wasn't an exception. She wore a simple forest green tank top undershirt, dark, comfortable pants with black boots on her feet - something you might expect an off duty soldier to wear but being that she had been created for military purposes, this didn't come as much of a surprise. The temperature on the ship was mild, so she didn't see a need for anything more than that.
By the time she heard the knock at the door Helen had already pushed aside the strange beacon anomaly that she had picked up moments before, instead focusing on her flying. They were currently travelling in FTL speeds, however, so there wasn't much she had to do. Just keep an eye out for anomalies like the one she had found. Helen hit a button on her console, and the door parted in the middle, each side sliding backward into its respective wall. She didn't bother at first to turn and see who it was, though eventually did, greeting Jamal with a small, albeit slightly concerned, smile.
"You don't look very rested. Why are you up already?" she asked curiously, turning her head toward the screen once more to set a few things in order before swivelling to face him. "It doesn't make sense to work when you're in less than optimal condition." Most people had trouble understanding when Helen was being serious and when she wasn't, which was in part the reason that some people took her as some kind of tease or jokester. While she was getting a better grip on humor than most human emotional constructs, it was annoying sometimes when she was trying to be serious.
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Post by Clipse on Nov 28, 2010 15:53:16 GMT -5
Jamal knew he shouldn't, but he just had to. He raised his eye brows in mock surprise at her concern. "Ah, Doctor Helen speaks." He said with a smile. Apart from a burning sensation behind his eyes and the black patches under them, Jamal felt tip top. He took the copilot seat beside Helen, glancing over the several displays, readouts, and LED's. "Just couldn't sleep is all." They were still moving at FTL speeds. When they transitioned back to normal space, it wasn't going to go good for Jamal. The transition tended to cause cases of nausea on those with empty stomachs. He should have grabbed something from the gallery on the way here.
"No one else is awake yet ? I figured someone would be up, training or at least here in the cockpit with you." Jamal's own rifle was in the armory, inspected and cleaned. But that was days ago. Other members of his crew tended to be more zealotry in maintaining their weapons. Helen, being the military grade android, was rated expert in any weapon they had on board. Not surprising for the little girl who in her nine years had three times the experience he had. "But you haven't found anything so I suppose there's nothing else to do. We need a high paying job and fast."
It was open knowledge that Jamal wanted out. How did Chloe talk him into this again ? He took no enjoyment in salvaging ships or data recollection or whatever jobs they took. He rarely spent the money he earned. A peaceful, simple life on some frontier world. A nice home nestled in the mountains or a farm beside a lake, those were his dreams. And in his most exaggerated dreams, a family. Jamal already had the money to get out of this outfit, but that would be against his character if he left before everyone got what they wanted.
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Post by David on Nov 28, 2010 16:34:43 GMT -5
Fire. Blood. The smell of burnt flesh. The man continued to struggle as he was left for dead. And then, a flash of light. He woke up covered in sweat. He gazed at his hands and shook his head. Why... Why do these dreams keep coming into his head. Memories? Visions? What the hell where they trying to tell him. Either way, it was time to get to work.
Trace Umber, that was one of the few things he remembered, his name. That, and the fact that for some reason, he had managed to keep some of his "skills" he had learned. Muscle memory seemed to kick in whenever he faced with a dire situation. He still couldn't believe how he came to be on this ship. The last thing he knew, he was being treated for 2 gunshot wounds to the chest, and one to the back of his head. Some miracle, had managed him to have the bullet barely miss his brain tissue. The crew was a little surprised, he was carrying some hi-tech gear; though not really. All he had on him where some knives, a handgun, and this "battle" suit, as they called it. Muscle memory quickly made him learn how to use everything like before, but everything else was a blur.
That being said, he couldn't believe that was a year and a half ago. Trace quickly headed to the shower; after Jamal had used it, and quickly washed off the sweat and stench off his body. He took a full fifteen minutes in there, before he got out to change into his suit. He had a feeling that a big job was coming up, and it didn't help to be prepared. As soon as he was changed and geared up, he moved towards the bridge. As soon as he did, he quickly watched Jamal and Helen "flirting" if he could even call it that. He blushed a little, but shook it off. He had a thing for Helen... more than a thing actually. He liked her a lot, but she wouldn't notice him, at all. He quickly approached them, waiting to see what the news was, and what they were going to be today's assignment.
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Post by Hanhan on Nov 28, 2010 23:21:25 GMT -5
Helen's main focus was on the console, even though there wasn't much that needed to be done until they came out of FTL. She never had difficulty sleeping when she needed to, so it was hard for her to understand why someone might have trouble. "It must be a human issue, then," she remarked casually. "I don't know if anyone else is awake. I've been here for awhile." Her hand drifted toward the display on the far right, fingers tapping away at a few buttons to bring up the beacon she had found moments before Jamal had entered.
"I may have found something earlier. Corporate S.O.S., but more powerful than what we've ever seen. Could be a very large ship. I don't know for sure." She moved her hand aside for him to get a good look and listened for him to give his opinion, going back to monitoring other screens in the meantime. There was no way to tell from here how long the signal had been broadcasting, but with any luck it was old news and the ship sending it had since been abandoned. A great score for an outfit like theirs.
Whatever it turned out to be, the decision to investigate was there to be made. Helen looked up from the helm when she heard the door open yet again, turning to see Trace Umber this time. She gave a small wave, nothing more. He was difficult to read, and the way he sometimes acted around her she didn't understand. She had seen similar reactions to her by others a few times before in her short life span, but never truly picked up on what they were trying to accomplish.
Just another human thing, she assumed.
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Post by Clipse on Nov 28, 2010 23:52:39 GMT -5
Corporate S.O.S.
The fancy business types who usually decked out their ships and freighters for comfort and speed. If it was in distress, it didn't mean anything good. The corrupt businessmen always had entourages full of hired security guards and mercenaries, and if they were sending out a S.O.S, that obviously meant something was going wrong. The result of which was a extremely weakened and reduce security personnel, or an abandoned and deserted wreck. That of course means easy pickings for Jamal and his crew. For a ship like that, the engines alone could rack up in the thousands.
Void Asylum. The ship's registry was also limited, only stating the name and its construction site and date. For censoring like that ? It was a clear beacon that the ship was up to no good. Easily carrying banned weapons or a drug shipment or even alien slaves. Corrupt businessmen Jamal thought with a faint disgust. If they were hoarding the latter then he wouldn't hesitate to put a round or two through their fat heads.
The doors slid open to reveal Trace, who had also woke up early. The man was a mystery to Jamal, but if the other crew members trusted his judgement then Jamal saw no reason to doubt him. He waved the man over beside him and pointed the screen out to him. "What do you think about us ? A job opening or a trap ?" As Trace took in the information, Jamal turned to Helen. "I think you should wake the rest of the crew up and get them up here asap. We might get lucky." There was little excitement in Jamal's voice however. If there were still former crew members alive on that ship, or whatever had downed it was still there, it could easily mean trouble for his outfit. And trouble usually meant death would be close behind.
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Post by David on Nov 29, 2010 0:38:11 GMT -5
Another salvaging mission huh? He nodded and turned to Helen. He blushed at her once more, and then quickly turned away. He wasn't sure why, but he was always mesmerized by Helen's mysterious attitude. And the fact he had a crush on her didn't help either. He just wanted somehow... Helen to notice him; and not just as a member of the crew or a friend; if she even thought of him at that as well. He stayed by her side, and took a breath.
"How's it going Helen? You look umm... Cute as always I see. You always have a way with clothing don't you."
He wanted to kick himself in the head for saying something so stupid. How was he ever going to get Helen to like him, if he couldn't bring up the nerve to even say something or give her bigger hints about it. And from the look of the way she would always respond, it wasn't she was playing hard to get, more like she wouldn't acknowledge any emotion what so ever... He wanted to make sure, that he could at least get her to smile just once. He wanted to see that beautiful cute face of her smile at him... just once.
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Post by Hanhan on Nov 29, 2010 22:53:16 GMT -5
Helen took a moment to weigh their options, carefully considering the fact that it could be, as Jamal suggested, some kind of trap, most likely set by a pirate outfit if that was the case. Still, the readouts on the ship in question didn't seem to indicate that. "I think if it was a trap there would be more information about the ship. What it was carrying, for example. Even if it was a lie, something like that would be a better lure." She said with a small nod. Regardless, whether they decided to pursue it or not wasn't up to her, but she gave her input anyway. "Chloe should take a look at this, I think."
Helen turned her attention to Trace now, who seemed insistent on..what did Jamal call it? Flirting? Normally she wouldn't pay it any mind, even if she often found his comments far too endearing for her tastes. It hardly seemed like a good time for something like that, though. She tried to refrain from giving him an annoyed glare, keeping her eyes focused on her console instead. "Now isn't a good time to talk about how I look.. we should worry about whether or not to investigate this signal instead."
(Sorries for the short post. I've been way too distracted tonight. I'll probably introduce chloe in my next turn)
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Post by Clipse on Nov 29, 2010 23:33:01 GMT -5
Placing his hand to cover his eyes, Jamal let out a snort. Oh Trace, Trace, Trace. The poor man. He just couldn't catch a break. It opened so many doors for Jamal to crack jokes at Helen, but he didn't in front of Trace. He continued trying to garner information on the unknown freighter but kept getting denied. There was nothing in their records and nothing in the military records that his outfit had hacked into several jobs ago. In fact, it seemed to him that something was blocking his attempts to access information. Maybe Helen should look at it. She was more skilled at this then he was.
He leaned back in his seat, rubbing his eyes. The burning sensation still hasn't left. Usually being blasted with cold, icy water woke him up but it didn't. He guessed this was gonna be one of those days he thought he should have stayed in bed. Shaking his head to clear the dizziness that was about to overtake him, he turned to Helen.
"If they aren't revealing what their hiding, then I doubt its a trap. But if their going through this much trouble to stay hidden, then they must be carrying something worthwhile. If anything, I say we go after it."
Turning to Trace, trying very hard to conceal the sly smile that was about to show, he asked. "What about you ? Looks promising ?"
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Post by David on Nov 29, 2010 23:48:21 GMT -5
"Sure does... Aren't all salvaging missions like that? I mean its-"
He was cut off in mid-sentence as he clasped his head with his right hand. He didn't understand what was going on. Why was his head hurting so much? He couldn't believe the horrible sensation that kept on going through his head. A few memories began to seep back into his mind. He wasn't sure as to what they meant at all... they were bits and pieces.
"This my job?" "Yes." "What's on board?" "Classified... Should you encounter anything in your way... eliminate them." "And what about the civilians?" "I told you... Eliminate them. No survivors."
As Trace was watching this memory in black and white, and him talking to this man, who's face he couldn't see. He finished the memory by shouting out the last words.
"No survivors?! What are you thinking?! You can't keep this under wraps! What about the families!"
Trace was sweating hard now... He couldn't understand the hell just happened... But he saw Jamal's and Helen's look on his face. Guess to them, he was crazy. He couldn't help but have memory relapses like that. Especially since the memory seemed to be triggered from a similar experience... A salvaging mission. This could only mean one thing... Maybe Trace would find some answers about his past on the ship... Since something about, felt familiar.
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Post by ~L~ on Nov 30, 2010 23:53:39 GMT -5
~*Suddenly extreme heat tolerance alerts were flashing in the Mech-lab, Mach-shop, and Engineering Bay on Helens console, the display taking view-precedence immediately and furnace protocol lights were all red, an automated quarantine of the sector-pool was dropped, locking and sealing blast doors and wiping crew accesskeys to the entire area, only bypassable by the ship's commander or engineer, one of whom just happened to be the cause for the lockdown as she smacked the flashing override button merely seconds too late from her mad dash from the resonance-kiln, which she often used to bathe in lieu of the cold-water showers which her human crewmates and captain suffered through. She heaved a sigh and grabbed a chuck of sheetmetal to balance in front of her to make herself decent as she made the call in to the command deck, her skin still giving off the haze of heat-release. She punched in the calldigits and waited for the visual screen and microcomm green light before speaking to the wall monitor with an embarrassed expression on her feline face, combing fingers through Navy Blue hair with skyblue highlights nervously and not quite making eyecontact with the video-feed.*~
"Sorry!! really sorry-sorry Helen Nyah~ I wasn't quick enough... -again- I'll get it all sorted out! Pwomises!! Don't report me!! It was an just another accident!! I stowed all the lab gear in the stows and the flamables are in the floor bins... nuffin is damaged.. it's just.. umm.. kinda warm! I'll fix the codes and the trigger resets..."
~*The cat-like girl spews the apology, the situation, and the promises to fix it all in a flustered and frustrated rush, biting her bottom lip sullenly after finishing. Giving the camera a childish 1/2-frown and looking into the feed with more of an accusatory scowl, as if they had been the ones getting her worked up and panicky on purpose instead of it just being her own easily distracted forgetfulness. She heave a mewlish sigh and muttered about the suggestion she'd made since the last time this had happened, her left ear giving an irritable twitch for unintentional emphasis along with a growly 'hmmph', as her catlike ears folded down against the ringing of the warning alarms.*~
"Nyah.. Woulda been easier just to have let me calibrate the ambiance and contact detectors last week.... Nrroww-hmmph! I... uh.. will get right on that... go ahead a mute the alarms please.. it's ringing my ears."
~*She adds with an all too common flush of color, knowing she had let a lil too much of her Ctarl temper show, resigning into just getting it all back to normal. Moving away from the monitor and tapping the endcall button with her tail as she turned and just let the sheet metal fall with a clang, the feed cutting out after just enough delay to catch the noise. She saunters over to a tank of water, leaning to dunk herself in it, filling the room with the hiss of steam before making her way to fix the issue.. not bothering to grab clothes yet since none could walk in on her while the lockdown was in place... besides clothes may be nice and it was fun to dress up, but it was all pomp and circumstance with humans anyway. Me-time was always nice for the young outcast and the engineer job suited her wonderfully... aside from the momentary embarrassments, and was quite good at what she did, dragging a blastbolt wrench along after her to access the main cue-wires for the lifesupprt systems, she popped it open and had the systems all winking green in less than 25 minutes, afterwhich she dressed quickly, snagging a loose white sweater that sagged down one shoulder and a baggy pair of style-torn blue jeans with a tail notch custom cut into it, and after throwing a pair of sneakers over her shoulder by the laces, she shouldered her GT-pad and toolbelt and headed toward the command deck, expecting to get an earfull for her 17th shower incident since joining the group a whole 15 months prior.. She expected more than a few laughs, since the alarms likely woke -anyone- who may have been still alseep.*~
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Post by Hanhan on Dec 1, 2010 2:19:36 GMT -5
Helen averted her eyes when Trace began to talk about..whatever he was talking about. She had seen him engage in the strange behavior only a few times before, always something similar. She never even attempted trying to understand it. Normal human behavior was difficult enough to comprehend sometimes. "You should speak to Chloe about medication for that," she said in a low voice when Trace snapped out of it. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the man that made him act so strangely.
In any case, Helen agreed with Jamal. All signs pointed to investigating the ship they had found, at least in her mind. And thats when alerts began to flash in front of her eyes. Helen took a moment, making sure she wasn't seeing things. "I think we have a--" Helen was cut off as a feed came up on screen of who else but their resident Ka'tarl-Ka'tarl Engineer Meilala. The android merely listened, her expression remaining mostly unchanged as Lala went on and on with her apology and subsequent mumbling. Helen gave a nod when she was finally through. "I won't..say anything but, Trace and Jamal are here with me. I'll take care of the alarms as well." She said with a small sigh. Helen liked Lala, despite not having even come close to understanding her. The Ka'tarl-Ka'tarl's emotions seemed to swing in every direction, much faster than what she had only begun to get used to with humans. Still, if nothing else she was fascinated by Lala, and enjoyed her company for the most part. Helen turned the alarms off, confident that Lala would be able to handle the situation this time as she had every other time.
The alarms hadn't been switched off quick enough for them to escape Chloe's notice however. The medical officer and captain had taken to napping in the med bay, resting on a clean gurney as she sometimes did. The sudden alarm going off nearly made her fall off. She stood up with a glare, grabbing her jacket from a nearby seat and throwing it on as she exited. Considering how frequently their newest crew member had caused trouble in Engineering - by accident or not - Chloe's first inclination was to head in that direction. Her suspicions were confirmed as she came upon the sealed doors, barring entry for anyone who couldn't override it. While in theory she could, she wasn't about to go in there without any special protection. "Dammit Meilala, I'm getting sick of this. Wish you'd just use a fucking shower like the rest of us." She muttered to herself as she headed toward the bridge, entering the code as she reached the door. By then the alarm had ceased, probably by Helen or whoever else was in the bridge. The door slid open as she hit the last digit. "What the hell did she do this time? The alarm is off, is the situation contained? Taken care of? Over? Someone talk to me."
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Post by Clipse on Dec 1, 2010 23:08:08 GMT -5
"Yes it's taken care of. There is no internal damage to the ship's structure. But we found something more important then Meilala's shower binges in engineering." There were a dozen quips running through his head right now but he knew better then to piss off the captain more then she already was. The burning sensation in his eyes seemed to have grown dull by now, but he knew it wouldn't sufficiently depart until he had gotten more sleep. "Helen picked up a...what was it ? A corporate S.O.S. Its a large freighter-class vessel but other then that and its name, I can't unveal any more information on it. It's practically on lock down. We could try to access the ship via back-routing on its S.O.S signal." A straight forward hack, cause the ship didn't seem to have an indirect channel as a back door. Of course if Jamal couldn't handle whatever rudimentary firewall program they had in place, then Helen could have that role.
Void Asylum. The very ship's name enforced it's secretive purpose, whatever it may be. Usually ship's that are do not want to be detected are certainly full of danger. But the unknown element of the ship only seemed to eat away at Jamal's curiosity. Death may be an end result of a decision for further investigation, but that played little upon his mind. No family and no home, it didn't matter to-
"Come check out the screens yourself Chloe. There's potential earnings in this and we can finally upgrade the ship with those stealth elements we always wanted. Me and Trace both think its worth checking out and I'm sure Helen agrees as well." He got up out of his job and moved towards the side of the bridge, allowing Chloe to have immediate access to the copilots chair. She needed an upfront look at this.
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Post by David on Dec 1, 2010 23:43:46 GMT -5
Trace quickly got himself together and decided to head towards the armory on the Aquila. He sighed angrily and began to put up some targets on the wall. He quickly pulled out his Myrmidon Blades; his patent butterfly trench knives. He had no idea how he had come to obtain them, but in a few days, he had mastered how to use them. As if his body had quickly re-taught him how to fight like a trained soldier. Sure he had regained some fragments of his memories; his childhood and such, but the middle was still blank. As he drew out one of his knives, he quickly got about ten feet away from it, and then at once, flicked a button to the side of the handle. The blade would slowly retract a bit, and then sprout out two smaller blades at the sides. At once, he flicked his wrist, and fired a the blades with a long chain attached to them. When it struck a target, the blades would clamp down on it. He flicked his wrist back, and quickly reeled it in towards him, and sliced it in half with the other knife he had just drawn.
"Damn... I still got no clue as to how or why I got these weapons... And yet, I can use them so damn efficiently. What the hell am I anyway..."
He sighed once again and sheathed his knives. He wasn't in the mood for this mission, but the pay would help a lot with the ship, and also.. maybe clues on his past, could be found on there. That, was something he couldn't pass up. Not this time.
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Post by ~L~ on Dec 2, 2010 18:32:58 GMT -5
~*Holding her GT-pad by the handcord in her teeth as she walked in on the trails of the conversation, adjusting her graffiti'd upon toolbelt to drape stylishly crooked on her hips, buckling only the thigh straps securely, and hopping her first few steps onto the command deck on one bare foot, moving toward the navscreen after dropping her sneakers at the base of the navdeck to bring up a diagnostic readout before even staying hello to anyone, making sure she'd fixed and reset the alerts properly from the main terminal. After clicking through a few readouts and skimming a a.i.-processing troubleshooter panel, just clicking back to the default screen of flow-through starcharts. She glanced at the pilot terminal thoughfully, quietly noting those present and thankful of conversation and screen distracting the captain, avoiding eyecontact so soon after her accident, then toward the Central or "master" Console, giving Captain Chloe a sheepish smile before quickly dropping to put her shoes on to avoid the inevitable topic, humming a slow and soothing melody to herself, her eyes darting towards each crew member, hoping the incident could be overshadowed by whatever potential earnings where being mentioned. She'd stand up and sink into the navigations chair, kicking her feet idly*~
"Nyaa~ Um, C-captain? About the-errrr-the DTHL alarms... I w-would like to apologize, again.. I j-just can't take to cold showers! I... don't feel clean a-after soaking myself in a spray of freez- ermmmmrow~.. of =recycled= water. I.. will be more careful, I pwomise!"
~*She says in a rush, trying to apologize quickly while the rest of the crew was distracted with their of thoughts, keeping her voice low in the attempt to keep it for Chloe's ears alone, her ears flickering before drooping to relay her apologetic mood, the navy-hued ears perking back up as she raised her voice to be heard more easily, idly toying with a magnetic MAC-fusion drive bolt drive, the equivalent of a flare-nut wrench in size, as she changed the subject just as quickly, golden eyes on the others, giving them that familiar shy-friendly smile, hoping the captain would brush off the incident in lieu of the job her keen hearing had overheard being discussed.*~
"So, nya~, what... what is this about a high payout job possibility?"
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Post by SarzieBeara~ on Dec 3, 2010 12:27:11 GMT -5
"You gotta protect yourself. By no means do you let anyone into your head. Ever." Those were the last words her mother had said to her...
Snapping herself out of her depressive thoughts, she glared at the floor. Mackenzie Veillion was idly toying with her gift, expanding it and retracting it like a rubber band. She enjoyed zoning in and out of people's minds. Found that it was almost like she was flipping through TV stations. She was wearing her hair up into a bun, loose, baggy sweats riding low at her hips, and an old jersey hanging loosely on her upper body. The noisy alarm had woken her up, and she suspected that Lala had been taking one of her showers again. "God forbid us to get just a little sleep around here." She snorted, dragging her fingertips down the sides of her arms, trying to pay attention to their conversation.
Listening intently for a few more minutes, she had picked up very quickly on the fact that Trace was being awfully silent, or he had left. Chuckling under her breathe, she pushed off the wall she was leaning on. Strolling towards the entrance, she entered a few digits, stepping through the door and already grinning at Jamal. Waving at Chloe and Helen she resisted the urge to throw a comment at the man. Holding her tongue she averted her attention to the screens. Folding her arms across her chest, she stepped closer to them, peering closely at the ship, seeming slightly irritated that it was locked down. "So...what...does this mean? Are we going to act?"
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Post by Hanhan on Dec 3, 2010 13:24:25 GMT -5
Chloe frowned, tapping her index finger to her chin. It certainly seemed like a nice score for them, but the veil of secrecy was hovering over this freighter like a black curtain, and she was reasonably concerned. "How far out are we?" She asked in a concerned tone of voice, waving her hand dismissively toward the Ka'tarl-Ka'tarl engineer. She would deal with that later. Securing a mission was far more important right now. She could tell the crew was getting a bit angsty, and she was too, even if it was for different reasons. "Exiting FTL..now." Helen responded, right as the ship's forward speed came to a grinding halt. The gravity on the ship kept its occupants from flying forward, but it was hard not to feel the sudden loss of speed in the pit of one's stomach. "There it is."
It was truly a massive freighter. Its rear thrusters alone easily dwarfed the Aquila. There were several obvious places to board, though they were still a few minutes away from actually doing so. Chloe raised an eyebrow. This was a bigger score than she could have ever imagined. And from the look of things, it was abandoned. She had seen mostly intact wrecks like this before. There were a few gaping holes in the side of it but it was very likely that those sections had been sealed off completely. "Power readings..it seems like much of the ship is down, but life support is active in all sealed areas of the ship. No readouts on security measures or personnel." said Helen in a cool tone of voice. Chloe looked pleased, for the first time this morning.
"There's no way we can pass this up. This could be worth millions if not more. We'll worry about how we'll handle transporting it later, right now I want everyone to go get suited up and ready to board. I want everyone armed. We aren't taking any chances. Helen, bring us in to dock with them as soon as we get close." "I'll tap into their docking systems. Shouldn't be too much trouble." Helen went to work on that while Chloe left the bridge to proceed to her own quarters, then the med bay and finally the armory to get what she needed. She gave a nod to Mackenzie on her way out.
They had a few heavy lifters, most notably Meilala and Helen, and Chloe had a feeling they might be necessary to bring along given the condition that some areas of the ship were in. She didn't feel that good about leaving their own ship unmanned once they docked but with a freighter this big she knew she needed the manpower. Chloe suited up once she reached her quarters, a gray form fitting full suit with sheets of ablative ceramic over less flexible areas of the body and a red cross on her right shoulder indicating her role as a first aid technician. She dropped by the med bay to procure additional supplies which she fitted to her belt, as well as grabbing a good amount of doses of desoxyrall after taking one. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the amphetamine kicking in after only a few minutes and giving her a nice boost in focus and attitude. "Better.." She muttered, finally heading to the armory to grab her gear. She noticed that Trace was still there, looking over the tech he had brought with him about a year and a half ago. "Hey. Go suit up, because we're taking this job. Massive freighter, and I mean massive. We're not passing this up."
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Post by David on Dec 3, 2010 14:23:00 GMT -5
Trace turned to Chloe and nodded. Truth be told, he was already suited up and ready to leave for the mission. All he needed was his face mask; so he could activate both his cloaking and sensors. He quickly went to his own room to retrieve it, and then put it on. The mask had three "green" scope eyes, and the mask had a re-breather that could filter "toxins" in the air. He wasn't sure who had come up with this design, but it would seriously help. As he made his way to the bridge again, he saw Mackenzie, Helen, Jamal, and Chloe all bunched up together. Everyone could hear how he would breathe through that mask. In a way... he was like Darth Vader right now, accept he didn't have prosthetic limbs. His armor did have a few "pockets" on the front of the chassis, so he could use his throwing knives, for those pesky idiots who didn't like to get hit by bullets so easily.
Something on that ship.... It's so familiar... And yet, it also haunts me. I don't know why, but somehow, I know that on that ship, i'll find some answer to my past. I know I will. Something is telling me to go there. I want to know the truth. And I WILL find it.
It was clear in Trace's mind, that this was something he was going to do, ordered or not. Even it the mission went from dangerous to suicidal, he wasn't going to abandon that ship, until he found out one single clue, about his past, and what had he done, that had made him sick to his stomach. He thought he was a good man... but that last memory... It just taunted him. He wanted answer... No, what he wanted more than answers, was a reason. A reason why, someone would tell him to commit such atrocities. Standing around here, he wasn't going to get them. As soon as they were docked, and everyone was geared up, he was going to take point; since he always lead, being that he was the one who could always get up close and "personal" with any obstacles in their way. He would just have to be extra cautious, as to what he should kill... and what should be kept alive or recorded, so that he could piece them together, in his memories; which he so very badly wanted to solve.
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Post by Clipse on Dec 3, 2010 19:49:40 GMT -5
After Chloe had departed, Jamal sat back in the copilot seat. "Let me try to access their docking systems." Reaching over Helen's lap and tapping the button, transferring the action to his console. The freighter ahead was steadily growing larger as they approached. Jamal began tapping buttons at his console. Ship schematics and weapons data began to scroll across his screen. They weren't being targeted at least, but they weren't being hailed either. He opened a direct channel and sent a simple hail signal. Nothing came back on the line. "I'm not getting anything from this ship Helen. Most of its primary channels are locked down hard-" A sudden ping sounded from his console. A Nav marker had been dropped near the rear of the ship. A hanger dock.
They were being invited in.
Jamal didn't note the feeling in his gut as the sudden leap of the ship's increase in speed. At maximum speed, Helen pushed the ship in the direction of the marker. It sounded reasonable. If you were sending out a S.O.S call, then why attempt to block out help when it arrived ? But he still didn't understand why they weren't hailing, or accepting theirs at least. Perhaps they were being silent due to the mission or the secrecy behind. Whatever, they'll find out when they docked hopefully. But first he needed to strap up. His Pulse Rifle was in the armory and he needed to be equipped and ready. Giving Helen a slight nod, he rises out of the copilot chair and right into the Devil himself. Of course, it was only Trace. Raising his eyebrow for a second, he stares into the man's visor, wondering if it wasn't Trace at all but some other man out to kill him. Then he shouldered his way past quietly, passing an already suited up Chloe, Mackenzie and Meilala. He needed to make a quick detour to his room.
He didn't want his precious spotless white shoes to be caught up in whatever might be waiting on that freighter. They were practically one of the few pieces of fashion he owned. He switches them out for his durable, black boots. He adjusts his armor vest, somewhat rough but durable after years of use, and dusts off his exposed forearms. The tattoo on his right arm seemed to itch at him strangely, but he attempted to pay it no mind. Hurrying back up to the main level, he arms himself with his small and humble arsenal of weapons. His Heavy Barreled BR16 Pulse Rifle. Slinging that over his back, he places his low-calibur pistol at the holster on his hip. His knife he places into a slot over his upper left chest and extra ammo and utility slots along his belt. He strolls back to the bridge, nonchalantly carrying his rifle single handed, aimed at the deck.
Everyone was still bunched around the bridge. Helen was finishing docking procedures. They had landed safely and without being challenged. Whatever feelings Jamal had of impending danger was about to be expelled, until a sudden clamp was heard from the Aquila's hull. The ship seemed to lurch in one direction but was stilled almost instantly. The occupants however, were thrown slightly to the side. No awkward collisions thankfully. "What the hell was that ? Did their just grab us with a repair crane ?" So it was a trap, or artificial gravity had been deactivated aboard in the ship, and perhaps the crew was only trying- Never mind, he was just thinking bullshit now. But this is what his crew was trained for. Enter and eliminate. Helen and Meilala were their heavy hitters and could be thought of as walking tanks. Trace and Mackenize were their specialists, either on point or attempting some covert maneuver. Him and Chloe served as support, backing up the heavy hitters or simply removing "bulk" resistance. Now he was criminal minded. This mission was going to be interesting.
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