Forums » Sci-Fi Roleplay » Alone -- A sci-fi story of separation (OPEN)

Alone.

Megan was... alone?

How?

Let's go back three days ago to get a glimpse of how exactly this happened.

Megan was in IPDU headquarters located hovering above the Pacific Ocean. She walked through the long, iron halls decorated with polished redwood, until finally finding a sign directing her to HQ drop bay. Once she got there, walking among the young recruits and ignoring the catcalls, she found Josh waiting.

"Going somewhere?"
"Yeah, I got sent by the Council to a retrieval mission. They said a team of... unconventional allies was stranded in a deep jungle somewhere. I'm going to get piloted out there and help extract the troops."
"Okay. They don't want me to come along?"
"Not especially. They said they had other missions for you."
"OK, baby. Just... take care, okay?"
"Sure thing, Josh."
She pecked him on the lips and ran off to the ship. It took off, and Josh was left, watching it fly away and gently touching his mouth.

The ship roared onwards, flying high over first the roaring, tumbling green-blue ocean, second across the large, rippling wheat plains next to the ocean, and slowly into the tall, firm jungle trees. The pilot was silent the whole way, and Megan found no real reason to break the silence. Suddenly, the ship dropped sharply and quickly down five or ten meters before the pilot could regain control and figure out what the heck was wrong with the craft.

"We've lost two engines, no idea how. We're losing altitude fast, but I think we can land safely."

Suddenly the ship dropped again.

Megan looked at the pilot.

"Three engines?"

"Yup. Three... of four. Imma give you a negative on that safe landing, hold on tight."

Then the ship dropped into green, leafy hell.

Megan lost consciousness, tumbling down to the jungle floor. The pilot screamed and died, a large chunk of windshield imbedded in his chest, splattering the whole of the ship's interior (and Megan) in blood.

Megan awoke suddenly in the carnage of the crash, the usually lively jungle floor now absolutely silent. She looked around, saw the dead pilot, wiped the blood off her face and took a look around.

"Where the hell am I?"

The sound of a jet engine echoed through the air above Megan.

Then came the sound of two bodies hitting the ground. Hard. They were not too far off from the crash site.

Boots slushed through the mud and lush foliage. Someone was coming, and fast. Two voices could be heard conversing- Rather angrily at that.

"...ll because you had to go and pick a fight with an officer in a bad mood! I don't care if he was a skinhead or if he was a member of the **** KKK! You suck it up and tell it to someone else!" The voice was distinctly male- It was a relatively higher toned voice.

"I don't remember hearing about you having to deal with slurs day in and day out! That's harassment, man! I wasn't about to let him start insulting my friend, too! Just be grateful you're not stuck on another damned cleanup op, okay? Those guys have it-" The man with the deeper voice was cut off.

"Shh, shhh. Shut up. There's the wreck. Let's go check it out." The voices stopped, now.

Whoever they were, Megan was about to meet them very soon.

Megan prepared herself for combat, readying a hi-power handgun. She didn't know what to expect, but Josh had always prepared for the worst possible outcome. Emulating him, she hid in a small corner of the ship and waited. While she waited, she evaluated herself. She was relatively uninjured, and her armor suit was only slightly damaged. Her blue-energy core, situated on the back of her suit, was at full capacity, and armor integrity was at approx. 95%. Not too bad for a transport crash. She heard the people walk into the ship and she hid herself in a little nook next to the door. She saw the two men walk in. Their suits said SET. Weird. What are they setting? she thought. The table?

Megan looked around, worried that they would notice a single little detail. Was there too much blood for just that pilot? She looked down, and sure enough, she was in fact slightly injured, and she was bleeding a good bit. She quietly grabbed an armor clamp and latched one end onto the upper side of the hole. An armor clamp is a device with two ends that seals itself to either side of a wound on the injured's armor. She clamped the other side, wincing as her injury closed in.

OOPS! had she been heard? The cry came out a bit louder than she had intended.

"... Look, man. All I'm saying is that I'm sick of being called names all the damned time. This is the 21st century, we should be over this." The deeper-toned man continued after a moment of silence.

"Yeah, yeah... Hold up."

The latter was shorter than the former. They were both relatively big- Although that might be attributed somewhat to the armor they wore.

"Jesus. It's a blood-bath in here. Somebody got spliced, lemme tell ya," started the one.

"Watch your language," Corrected the other, "But I agree. There's a little too much blood in here for just the pilot- Shhh." They both suddenly took a knee and glanced around the interior of the small ship.

"It sounded like 12:30." Said the taller one, quietly.

"Agreed," spoke the shorter one, in like. The taller one slowly stood up, and removed his helmet.

His face wasn't round, but it definitely wasn't chiseled. It had that sort of soft look to it, like he was the most approachable person in the world. His skin was dark, and his hair was cut short. "Hello? Who's there?" He called out.

Megan thought through her options. She could easily step out of her cover and hand herself over to these two men, but that didn't appeal to her too much. She could step out with her handgun, and that could do it, but they would easily overpower her. The door was impossible to reach without being spotted, and it seemed that some talking was the only option. She stepped out and faced the men.

"Hello, I'm Megan with the IPDU. I was going to a retrieval mission and crashed. Do you think you could help me?"

The two men were both standing, now. They looked at each other for a brief moment, then back at Megan.

"... Who?" Spoke the shorter one. "Look, lady. I don't care who you are or who you're with- We were dropped here because your ship's flying through unauthorized airspace and crashing in the middle of the go-"

"What my partner here's trying to say is that..."

"What the hell is going on here, exactly? Who were you sent to retrieve?" The shorter one continued before the bigger one had a chance to elaborate.

"Ehh, yes. What he said." Conceded the bigger one.

Megan thought for a moment.

"You know, I don't think they told me. That's odd."

She thought about this for a moment. How would the Council not tell her? That's not supposed to happen. She needed to know. Ah well. Since the 2nd Gen Archangels had been hatched, things had been... more secretive. One of the 2nds had caught her eye. A young man of about 16 now, just earning his stripes. His name was... Jack. He chose Grayhawk as a codename. She didn't like what they were teaching the new Archangels, so she taught Jack on the top deck. She was starting to worry about the Council, and this was another sign of untrustworthiness.

"Hey, you boys think you could help me with my extraction job? I think there's something wrong with the details."

Before the shorter and somewhat scrawnier male could say anything, his companion piped up.

"Look, lady. You're very obviously injured, and you've just crashed in the middle of Alaska. You don't know what you're supposed to be doing, and you somehow want us to help? Let's get you out of here, and then we can figure this out. Okay?"

"Look, the situation is simple. Actually, I lied. The problem is I was sent to pick up a group of soldiers that I increasingly doubt are actually on my side by an organization that I share an identical doubt with, where my boyfriend is now in mortal danger and if my hunch is right so is the world. Aren't you guys from SET? Space Exploration Team? I might have need for anti-extraterrestrial combat and you guys might be just the thing. Oh, and do you happen to have a radio that can reach the mid-pacific? I need to make a call.

In the distance a red flare is seen arcing into the air followed by a series of horns. From off to the rear of the crash site the sound of something, or someone, tearing through the dense jungle growth. As the unknown object closed in on the site, additional mechanized sounds became clear before all sounds slowed then completely stop before clearing the tree line.

"Gentlemen, I think I'm gonna have to get back to you on that one."

She stepped out and gazed upon the five foot tall mechanized person.

"Interesting. I've never seen cybernetics so efficient. Are you a Biotech unit? What's your name?"

Stepping out of the shadows and cover of the tree line the armored woman looks at the wreck then the girl who addressed her. Taking a few more steps towards the crash, cooling vents opened and venting heat. There was confusion on her face "Biotech? Is that what they call my kind now? How long was I in stasis lock?" her high pitched voice carried fairly well, even though she was actually talking to herself. "Me? I'm a M-eighty nine-S. Better question though is what is your name and why are you here?"

Ladies and gentlemen: Before I (the narrator,) continue, I must name my two characters. Otherwise I'd go insane trying to find more creative ways to say "the tall, broad-shouldered, black one" and "the less-tall, skinnier, white one."

Andrew is the name of the former. Jared is the name of the latter. That is all.

~~~~

The two companions looked at each other, and Andrew stepped forward to speak once more before a giant signal flare nearly blinded them.

"What the--?!" Jared cried out. And just like that, Megan had walked around them... Straight into a cross between a Transformer robot and an anime chick. "This is why I prefer clean-up duty." Continued the shorter one, while Andrew just stared.

"Gimme a sec to call this in." He slowly put his helmet back on. "Keep your suit ready in case either of them try anything- I'm getting lots of signals that they aren't exactly average humans."

"You can say that again. Holy sh-"

"And watch your language, too."

Ignoring the two soldiers, Megan looked at the girl.

"Biotech is a subdivision of a large corporation called Militech Enterprises. How long were you in stasis? Militech started in 2104. Biotech does bioengineering, microorganism fabrication and Cybernetics. There are other devisions like Spacetech, which does... space."

She then turned to the soldiers.

"And no, neither of us are really all that human."

(((The Great Sir Mustache is now AFK till further notice)))

The only thing that would come over the radio would be intense localized multichannel jamming "I am sorry but I cannot allow you to report in on me until your intentions are known. I cannot take that risk." Lydia say this very bluntly while looking at the two men sternly.

Shaking her head she addresses the girl "I do not know. Though I can tell you that I went online on September 30th, 2103 at Military Technology Corporation as Unit One and fired the opening shots of Operation Flashpoint in December of the same year." scratching at the side of her head she continues "I was also involved in Operation British. It is possible that the name was changed since stasis lock was engaged. What year is this?" Over all the mechanized parts and armor looked as if they had been exposed to the elements for many years.

((Careful there, Lydia. You're walking on thin ice.))

If Jared was drinking something when Megan was speaking, he would've choked on it. "Did you say 2104?" He said, watching the two girls talk like they were mad.

Andrew, upon hearing static and realizing who was to blame, materialized an assault rifle instantly and pointed it at the offending party.

"This is a secure channel," he began, slowly. "Now, I don't care how the hell you jammed it, or why, but I'm going to give you exactly thirty seconds before I turn whatever organic material you have left to ash. You understand? Or do I need to write it out in binary?"

Megan threw herself in.

"Hold on, gentlemen. Yes, this is the year 2613, five hundred years after Militech was started and about six hundred after the first Archangel Initiative batch was completed, among that batch being me. Don't you know that? I can understand how our bionic friend doesn't know, having been in stasis. I still don't know your name by the way. My name is Megan. anyway, this is getting weirder and weirder, what with none of you knowing the year, me not knowing what the heck I'm supposed to evac, and the strange circumstances of the crash. How, for instance, do you explain this? I noticed it in one of the trashed engines a bit before I met you."

She held up a screwdriver.

"And why was SET sent here? And why are you here? What is the connection?"

Staring at the assault rifle pointed her way Lydia shrugs "Is it wrong to want to protect yourself in the face of unknown forces? I may be more machine then girl...but I'm a living being...so put that thing away."

Glancing at Megan she nods "Lydia Asimov, I guess I've been asleep for a very long time. But what do you mean you are here for a evac? SET?" reaching up Lydia bangs on the side of her head "No...that's not right. I have not found them yet. SET? Who are they? Why was stasis lock activated?" shaking her head she begins to talk to herself, asking the same questions, as if trying to remember. That or her cyberized brain was hanging up, as the shutters for her heat vents all along her armor began to open and close randomly.

"Yeah, SET is the organization they work for. I was sent here to evacuate 'allies' of the IPDU, or Inter Planetary Defense Unit, without knowledge of the nature of said allies. And you... how did you get here?"

Groans as she bangs o her head some more before settling down, all heat vents closing fully "I was...sent to find Cyclops team and retrieve them...or destroy their remains. But stasis lock engaged. You know the rest." Looking down at herself she begins to attempt brushing some of the grime off of herself.

Mental self diagnostics's told her that half of her shoulder mounted missiles warhead did not respond at all though they still could be fired, and her cooling systems had degraded severely and joint mobility was hindered. Over all she was at or below fifty percent combat efficiency. Considering the actions of the taller of the two SET members this concerned her.