The Kingsbane
A long, tense moment passed. The girl, just holding her arm stupidly out to the side, crouched beneath the desk, still sniffling and blinking tears from her eyes. Her face a confused mess of terror, with a glimmer of hope that seemed to fade in and out by the second without really changing at all. Big, wide, white-ringed eyes locked on the unthinking computer-goggles of the oldest person she had ever seen. Still trembling, her entire body tense with the force of a loaded spring but having nowhere to leap, nor desire to move at all.
And then the old man burst into laughter.
It was not what she had expected – but a thoroughly pleasant surprise. Maniacal cackling? No – real, genuine, belly-shaking laughter.
Apparently she had done the wrong thing again – but this time, it worked out. She wasn’t stupid enough not to go ahead and roll with it. She couldn’t really help herself, besides the fact – the release of all that apprehension in the form of the old man’s bellowing laughter was thoroughly contagious – and though it was light and hesitant, a minute, faint smile did begin to form. She blinked more tears out of her eyes, sniffled again – still just leaving her arm stretched out pointlessly to the side in that generalized mimicry of his own gesture. Then, eventually, she let out the tiniest giggle. A cute little sound, under the breath, but audible. As if she had been subtly prodded in the hip. Then another.
She was vaguely aware that he was laughing at her – but only vaguely. She wasn’t detached enough to fail at seeing the humor in it – clearly she had not done what he was intending. Clearly what she had done was something tremendously silly. She could accept that. She had no clue what he had actually wanted her to do, but it had turned out okay. He wasn’t mocking her – at least, it didn’t seem that way to her. So she could giggle nervously, hesitantly, but genuinely along with him. At last she did retract her arm, curling back into herself, but paradoxically seeming to open up just a little, to be drawn fractionally from the terrified shell she had curled herself into. The ancient man shook his head – but she wasn’t entirely sure that it meant anything at all, and let it go ignored. She wiped her eyes with the back of one limp palm. Sniffled again.
Then, the ancient man stood again – instantly she found herself disappointed, though it showed only as a perplexity falling over her expression. The giggling stopped. She was confused. Where was he going?
He spoke to – to – to him.
She had forgotten that he was still there.
The old man had managed to focus her attention upon him so well that she had forgotten the presence of the monster that previously destroyed her.
She blinked – dismay bubbling up from within, only to be replaced with something combining a feud of fear and – what, a white-hot flash of rage? No – closer to a fierce determination, or an animal instinct to bare her fangs. The tension returned. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to spring forward and lunge at the evil man to protect the old man – or retreat further beneath the desk once again and hope the old man would protect her.
But the evil one was clearly going for him – not her!
She came so close to lunging then – a panicked, hair-trigger, muscle-reflex reaction that would have ended very poorly for everyone involved. The evil man shouted, screamed in the old man’s face, and she twitched – torn between the dual impulses to cry out, to cower, and to leap and deliver some kind of desperate, uncoordinated blow.
But the old man was unaffected by the evil man’s shouting. IT seemed to bounce off his exterior. The old man was not afraid of him – did that make him stupid? Or brave? Or did he know something that she did not?
Well, that was obvious.
She wasn’t thinking about what a shame it was that all the tension had been drained out of the moment, only to return in triplicate. She wasn’t thinking at all – only feeling – only struggling unconsciously between leaping to aid in fight or cowering and bawling in fright.
More words. Weird, nonsense words. Calm, controlled, measured words.
And the man in white began to calm down.
She hadn’t thought it possible – but obviously there was something between the two men that was strange and far beyond her scope of comprehension. She was in no position to speculate, either.
And so, for the second time, the tension began to trickle away. Slower this time, with greater hesitance, but perhaps it was over…again?
No.
He was looking at her.
Looking. at her.
The chill that ran down her spine and through her body was practically a visible, physical thing. She froze tighter and more dead-still than stone, yet almost vibrating with fear. She wasn’t breathing. Eyes wide discs, face a mask of panicked dread, of animal fear. His eyes worked over her. Then, for an instant that might have been eternity, locked on her own. Immediately, she averted them and locked them instead on the floor at his feet – as if unable to watch the blade that would quite possibly be descending on her neck any second…But there was no blade. Only more words – though that did not make it any better.
It was in immediate, hair-trigger reaction, and the first sound she had made since the tension had re-gathered in the thick Kingsbane air. A terrified yelp, a cry of negation – at once retreating again into a uselessly guarded position with arms over head and curled into a ball. But this time, she shook her head wildly, having apparently gained some sudden level of understanding as to what the gesture meant – and the yelp wasn’t the only sound she made. It was followed by a trembling, repetitive, non-verbal sound of negation more compensable than the first.
”Uh-uh! Uh-uh!!” No! Not ‘Kingsbane’! I'm not 'Kingsbane'!
It was pleading as much as it was denying. Begging and rejecting at the same time. She would not say the ‘forbidden word’ again – but she obviously did not want anyone to think she was presuming herself to be ’Kingsbane’.
Kingsbane meant them. And she was absolutely not one of them.
They didn’t want her to be one of them. And it stung deeper than a red-hot blade, but she accepted it – even understood it, to a deep extent. She didn’t blame them. She didn’t want to be herself either. Why would they possibly want her to be them? Even if the old man was nice to her, he still obviously wanted her to know that she was not one of them. She would never be one of them. And no matter how much it hurt – no matter how stupid she felt for letting her get hopes up thinking that someone might want her – she was not going to give them the wrong impression again.
She wished she had the words to say it – to beg and plead and insist that no, she wouldn’t say the forbidden word ‘Kingsbane’, no, she would not presume to be accepted as one of their own. She would behave and stay in her place like she was always supposed to and please don’t kill her again!
But she didn’t have the words, and she was far too panicked to try and pick words that wouldn’t get her executed again. One word was forbidden – one presumption was forbidden – were other words forbidden too?
So all she could muster was ”Uh-uh!” In weak and pitiful whimpers. All she could do was hope at least one of them understood what she was trying to imply with mere gestures, body language, and nonverbal sounds.
The hat hit her, instead of the blade. The dreamlike moment had broken abruptly, yet it continued. Another yelp – eyes like saucers she jumped – hitting her head on the underside of the table with a loud CRTHNK sound but appearing not to notice. She did not teleport again, only scrambling madly where she sat in an effort to throw the hat away from herself, which she did clumsily, more pushing it away than anything – not even really grabbing it. The hat went skidding unceremoniously across the floor, and quietly came to rest arbitrarily in the open. Her wide, terrified eyes glanced back and forth between the man and the hat a few times – even as he turned and left.
Then, once he was gone, she closed her eyes tightly, curled into a sitting ball, and trembled violently for a while. When she had gained enough courage, she decided to risk one frightened, pleading look up at the old man, one little shake of the head, one tiny "Uh-uh.” Again, as if to convey a whole stream of sentences that she could not possibly know the words to express.
I’m sorry I said I was like you! I’m not like you! I’ll be good! Please don’t hurt me again! I won’t say anything I’m not supposed to! Please don’t think I’m trying to be one of you! I won’t do it again! I’m an idiot! Please don’t be mad at me! I'll be good I promise I'll be good!
But the words were not there, and only the fear and regret and submission in wide, colorless eyes could hope to convey the message.
Evidently, it must have worked – to some extent. The old man didn’t go doing anything that could be construed as punishment. He didn’t seem angry at her. He had not seemed to get the wrong idea about what she was thinking.
But still she just sat there, hugging her knees, trembling, and looking fearfully, worriedly up at him with teary and reddened eyes, and hair damp and stuck to her forehead and face.
He was smiling again. A satisfied, reassuring smile. It took longer than it probably should have for the girl to realize this, and the process was sluggish. The expression meant nothing to her fear-addled mind, not at first. But it registered in stages. She realized he was smiling. It was a nice smile. A smile like before. So, clearly he must have gotten the right message from her whimpering, and her pleading eyes and cowering stance. He must have been satisfied in her show of promising to behave correctly. She must have done something right…finally.
He was taking things out of his jacket, and showing them to her. She was calming down again – though still frightened, and guarded, and hugging her knees and peering wide, teary-eyes over them beneath stray white-blonde locks. Strange things. Something mostly rectangular, something smaller and mostly cylindrical. Part of her was fascinated by them – wanted to hop to her feet and poke them and play with them – but the other part was terrified that any wrong movement might bring the evil man back, or change her “friend’s” mind about her and make him hate her again. She wanted to repeat the words back to him, to show him with a budding pride that she understood them, could say them, was reasonably sure what they meant – but she was too frightened to talk, lest she say the wrong thing. She could only guess at what he actually wanted her to do. She was like a puppy who had been kicked too many times and wasn’t sure why – who was pretty certain she was bringing it upon herself but couldn’t figure out the details or consistency. A puppy who was pretty sure that this one particular person was friendly but couldn’t be totally sure – who wanted so badly to be a puppy and do puppy things, but was too afraid at not knowing which things would get her kicked again.
So she just sat there, internally fighting between the urge to be curious or submissive, confident or frightened, verbose or silent – and defaulting to the latter just in case. A tiny, shivering mess of a “girl”.
She did almost repeat the words back to him, though – if silently, merely mouthing them. Testing the waters. Trying to show that she understood the words, while conveying that she didn’t want to break rules by speaking aloud.
What a miserable little excuse for an ancient alien intelligence.
Though, curiously, it would become apparent that the 'girl' had not been breathing.
At all.
And she didn't seem to realize it in the slightest.
The Koolest Boat U Know
”Sane? Me?” Tsuan rebuked with equal parts mock offendedness and disbelief, ”Rin my friend, honestly I am appalled at that presumption.” He punctuated the jest with a dramatic palm planted on his own chest - then let it all dissolve into his usual laid-back demeanor.
”Hey, what are friends for?” Sands chipped in cheerfully, shifting the question away from rhetoric by adding ”Making new friends, obviously. This team of yours sounds pretty great. Can’t wait to meet ‘em.”
Ty had no trouble holding the eye contact with Rin in that same, direct manner he always did. He was a curious person - sometimes trying at wisdom and sagely advice, sometimes coming off bat@#$% mad - but almost always in-control of himself and, by implication and presence alone, those around him as well. He gave the Nyran a warm, equally direct smile. ”I don’t remember asking for payment.” He said with a matching warmth in his voice, only to have Tsuan follow it up by giving Rin a rough, but playful ruffling of the top of his head from behind. ”Aagh, if you start to feel like a charity case I promise we’ll start askin’ for rent.” He growled, all smiles.
At that point, T’yzfir turned to Jet. His expression was no less warm, but the vaguely professional overtone returned - not at all unfriendly - if anything, a silent, unconscious acknowledgement that the one he was now speaking to was a new friend, instead of an old one. If there was one thing that could be said about these people, it was that they seemed incapable of making anyone seem unwelcome.
Anyone except Montagne, that is.
His words were slightly quicker now too - but only because he was making it obvious that it was time for everyone to get down to business.
”Yup. Time to strap-up and get rolling. Sandy, you get Mr. Jackson up to speed. I’ll head up to the bridge. Dal, got an estimate?”
He was already walking toward the hallway that lead to the cabin. ”Keep y’pants on, Ty.” She replied over the intercom, obviously meaning ’Not yet’. Apparently not bothered by this, Ty was off down the hall without another word.
”A’ight big guy, follow me.” Sands said, gesturing with one broad hand in a ’follow me’ motion. It was strange hearing someone as naturally large and well-built as him calling someone else ’big guy’ - but it was true that Jackson was much larger than he was. That didn’t seem to bother the blonde man, though. Bulky rifle slung lazily over one shoulder, he made down the opposite hall that Ty had gone for.
The hallways of the Koolest Boat were narrow, but not uncomfortably so. Two could walk comfortably abreast, but no more - though, with guys like Sands and Jackson, the former did have to walk slightly ahead of the latter in order to keep from pressing against each other. As a whole, the ship had an uncanny, but not unpleasant vibe. There was some sense of sterility about it, but it managed to feel lived-in as well. It was sleek and minimalist, with lots of silvery-blue colors and smooth, brushed-steel walls. The lighting was bright, and might have been harsh if not for the sources being recessed and out of direct line-of-sight. There was the vague scent of ‘new ship smell’ - the satisfying combination of plastics and oils that came with newly built interiors - but it was not overpowering, and obviously the ship was not some brand-new, state-of-the-art machine.
In reality, it was a newly constructed vessel - but it had been built within the Skadi’s construction bay rather than a dedicated, full-sized shipyard. It had been built using outdated, but fully functional designs, utilizing minimal resources and going for a cheap, but workable rig. Places like the engine room looked cobbled together because they were - made from new parts, or refurbished parts, or aftermarket parts - but not scrap or junk. Decor was almost non-existent, but the metals and plastics made for a comfortable homey feel without coming off as outmoded or tacky. An old-style ship, approaching flimsy, but new and made with at least enough care to keep it in reasonable operating condition. It felt safe, at least. Even if from the outside it looked like a ridiculous, silver phallic torpedo pocked with even-set portholes and a slightly too bulbous nose.
”So, a little context for you-” Sands began as they walked the relatively short distance, not bothering to look back as he did so ”The team and I, we’re with an organization called ’the Ningo Empire’. It’s not much of an empire yet - actually we’ve just got one big ship and a bunch of boats like this one - but the premise is pretty simple; peace and unity, everybody works together, helps each other, that sort of good stuff. Our ‘boss’ is ’Ice-Queen Cathorine’, who calls herself that because I don’t think she knows what an empire is.” He chuckled just a little, teasing the woman playfully as though she might have been able to hear - which, of course, she could not.
Continuing to talk, Sands tapped the panel and let one of the doors slide open for him. It lead into a small bunk suited for one - which was strange - at least, before he manipulated a touch-screen panel beside the door on the inside, and one wall silently raised into the ceiling. This revealed a second bunk, also suitable for one - now made into two conjoined rooms, with two sets of beds and other amenities.
”Well a few days ago we met our friend Rin, who’s from very far away and has been looking for his other friends. He’s also been getting harassed by this Ova @#$% - who apparently wants Rin to come see her on her home planet. So our original plan was to go pick up some protection from my anonymous pal, then head over and see what she wants with him - but, obviously, now we’re getting sidetracked since apparently his buds are within sight. Which is good.”
Still talking, still tapping on the touch-screen’s changing menus, the beds began to turn and shift until they were both facing the same direction - then they curled slightly into themselves, making them into something closer to lounge-chairs than beds. The red mattresses, which appeared to be made of some kind of gel, seemed to change consistency, albeit indefinitely.
”As the newest member of our little crew, I can safely say there isn’t much in the way of rules. We’re not a strictly ‘military’ outfit, though Ty’s pretty good at taking the lead… All we ask is that you help out where you can, be nice, and don’t shoot any of us. We won’t be able to pay you but we can definitely help out with food and expenses. And obviously you’re not under any contract so you can bail whenever we get too crazy for you.”
Sands sat himself down in one of the lounge-chair-looking things, setting his rifle beside it. He sunk into the gel-like mattress, working on fitting various belts and straps to his body that would keep him anchored there in the event of an unexpected maneuver. Various compartments and buttons were built into the arms of the ‘loungers’, including a small screen that hung from a hydraulic arm behind the head which could be used to access a myriad of functions. Because most modern starships were incapable of reaching speeds which would override the artificial gravity present on all vessels, the ‘loungers’ were also largely outdated and somewhat obscure. Most well-versed galactic travelers would be familiar with them and their usage, but only very rarely find themselves faced with the necessity of using one.
It would be an uncomfortable ride - as the seats were designed simply to keep occupants alive beneath the crushing force of excessive gravitational pressure - the main reason why ships capable of such speed were almost non-existent these days. Tiny military ships tended to have them - or racers, or high-speed postal ships - but that was about the extent of their usage.
”So, any questions?” Sands asked Jet casually, once he had gotten himself comfortable in the gel-surfaced seat.
In the meantime, Tsuan had similarly beckoned RIn to follow, and headed down the same hallway as the two big men shortly behind. He lead the Nyran through identical doors on the opposite side of the hallwy, and went through the same process of converting the two neighboring rooms into a single conjoined one, and reorienting the beds to face the correct direction - the bunks were too small on their own to allow for the proper adjustment.
”You got boats like these where you come from?” Tsuan asked, flopping into one seat, and patting the surface of the one next to him. He had been hesitant to ask Rin much of anything about where he came from, on the risk of drudging up painful memories or simply harping on questions he had probably been asked a biliion times already. But this was a good excuse - and besides that, RIn was seeming uplifted and might not mind talking about how things worked in his home. ”Cause, if you’ve never sat through a high-G burn...you’re not gonna’ like it.”
Some minutes later, Dallen’s voice came over the shipwide intercom, audible to all. ”Hey asshat, you in the engine room? Everyone strapped in? We’re good up here. Set to burn soon’s Iget the go-ahead from all y’all.”
Hopefully, there would be no need for Dallen to explain that ’asshat’ was ’Laurent’, and that she wanted him in the engine room’s ‘lounger’ in case anything went wrong and they needed to stop the burn for hasty repairs. Just in case, she added after a moment ”We ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘till someone who knows the boat’s in the engine room.” Taking no chances - even if the Cat had insisted on the ship’s capability for handling the stressful maneuver, no ship was perfect - and with the speed they were planning on going, it was perfectly likely that fully-operational equipment would be overworked and malfunction. If that were the case, having someone in the engine room would likely be the difference between a small problem and a very big one...
A long, tense moment passed. The girl, just holding her arm stupidly out to the side, crouched beneath the desk, still sniffling and blinking tears from her eyes. Her face a confused mess of terror, with a glimmer of hope that seemed to fade in and out by the second without really changing at all. Big, wide, white-ringed eyes locked on the unthinking computer-goggles of the oldest person she had ever seen. Still trembling, her entire body tense with the force of a loaded spring but having nowhere to leap, nor desire to move at all.
And then the old man burst into laughter.
It was not what she had expected – but a thoroughly pleasant surprise. Maniacal cackling? No – real, genuine, belly-shaking laughter.
Apparently she had done the wrong thing again – but this time, it worked out. She wasn’t stupid enough not to go ahead and roll with it. She couldn’t really help herself, besides the fact – the release of all that apprehension in the form of the old man’s bellowing laughter was thoroughly contagious – and though it was light and hesitant, a minute, faint smile did begin to form. She blinked more tears out of her eyes, sniffled again – still just leaving her arm stretched out pointlessly to the side in that generalized mimicry of his own gesture. Then, eventually, she let out the tiniest giggle. A cute little sound, under the breath, but audible. As if she had been subtly prodded in the hip. Then another.
She was vaguely aware that he was laughing at her – but only vaguely. She wasn’t detached enough to fail at seeing the humor in it – clearly she had not done what he was intending. Clearly what she had done was something tremendously silly. She could accept that. She had no clue what he had actually wanted her to do, but it had turned out okay. He wasn’t mocking her – at least, it didn’t seem that way to her. So she could giggle nervously, hesitantly, but genuinely along with him. At last she did retract her arm, curling back into herself, but paradoxically seeming to open up just a little, to be drawn fractionally from the terrified shell she had curled herself into. The ancient man shook his head – but she wasn’t entirely sure that it meant anything at all, and let it go ignored. She wiped her eyes with the back of one limp palm. Sniffled again.
Then, the ancient man stood again – instantly she found herself disappointed, though it showed only as a perplexity falling over her expression. The giggling stopped. She was confused. Where was he going?
He spoke to – to – to him.
She had forgotten that he was still there.
The old man had managed to focus her attention upon him so well that she had forgotten the presence of the monster that previously destroyed her.
She blinked – dismay bubbling up from within, only to be replaced with something combining a feud of fear and – what, a white-hot flash of rage? No – closer to a fierce determination, or an animal instinct to bare her fangs. The tension returned. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to spring forward and lunge at the evil man to protect the old man – or retreat further beneath the desk once again and hope the old man would protect her.
But the evil one was clearly going for him – not her!
She came so close to lunging then – a panicked, hair-trigger, muscle-reflex reaction that would have ended very poorly for everyone involved. The evil man shouted, screamed in the old man’s face, and she twitched – torn between the dual impulses to cry out, to cower, and to leap and deliver some kind of desperate, uncoordinated blow.
But the old man was unaffected by the evil man’s shouting. IT seemed to bounce off his exterior. The old man was not afraid of him – did that make him stupid? Or brave? Or did he know something that she did not?
Well, that was obvious.
She wasn’t thinking about what a shame it was that all the tension had been drained out of the moment, only to return in triplicate. She wasn’t thinking at all – only feeling – only struggling unconsciously between leaping to aid in fight or cowering and bawling in fright.
More words. Weird, nonsense words. Calm, controlled, measured words.
And the man in white began to calm down.
She hadn’t thought it possible – but obviously there was something between the two men that was strange and far beyond her scope of comprehension. She was in no position to speculate, either.
And so, for the second time, the tension began to trickle away. Slower this time, with greater hesitance, but perhaps it was over…again?
No.
He was looking at her.
Looking. at her.
The chill that ran down her spine and through her body was practically a visible, physical thing. She froze tighter and more dead-still than stone, yet almost vibrating with fear. She wasn’t breathing. Eyes wide discs, face a mask of panicked dread, of animal fear. His eyes worked over her. Then, for an instant that might have been eternity, locked on her own. Immediately, she averted them and locked them instead on the floor at his feet – as if unable to watch the blade that would quite possibly be descending on her neck any second…But there was no blade. Only more words – though that did not make it any better.
It was in immediate, hair-trigger reaction, and the first sound she had made since the tension had re-gathered in the thick Kingsbane air. A terrified yelp, a cry of negation – at once retreating again into a uselessly guarded position with arms over head and curled into a ball. But this time, she shook her head wildly, having apparently gained some sudden level of understanding as to what the gesture meant – and the yelp wasn’t the only sound she made. It was followed by a trembling, repetitive, non-verbal sound of negation more compensable than the first.
”Uh-uh! Uh-uh!!” No! Not ‘Kingsbane’! I'm not 'Kingsbane'!
It was pleading as much as it was denying. Begging and rejecting at the same time. She would not say the ‘forbidden word’ again – but she obviously did not want anyone to think she was presuming herself to be ’Kingsbane’.
Kingsbane meant them. And she was absolutely not one of them.
They didn’t want her to be one of them. And it stung deeper than a red-hot blade, but she accepted it – even understood it, to a deep extent. She didn’t blame them. She didn’t want to be herself either. Why would they possibly want her to be them? Even if the old man was nice to her, he still obviously wanted her to know that she was not one of them. She would never be one of them. And no matter how much it hurt – no matter how stupid she felt for letting her get hopes up thinking that someone might want her – she was not going to give them the wrong impression again.
She wished she had the words to say it – to beg and plead and insist that no, she wouldn’t say the forbidden word ‘Kingsbane’, no, she would not presume to be accepted as one of their own. She would behave and stay in her place like she was always supposed to and please don’t kill her again!
But she didn’t have the words, and she was far too panicked to try and pick words that wouldn’t get her executed again. One word was forbidden – one presumption was forbidden – were other words forbidden too?
So all she could muster was ”Uh-uh!” In weak and pitiful whimpers. All she could do was hope at least one of them understood what she was trying to imply with mere gestures, body language, and nonverbal sounds.
The hat hit her, instead of the blade. The dreamlike moment had broken abruptly, yet it continued. Another yelp – eyes like saucers she jumped – hitting her head on the underside of the table with a loud CRTHNK sound but appearing not to notice. She did not teleport again, only scrambling madly where she sat in an effort to throw the hat away from herself, which she did clumsily, more pushing it away than anything – not even really grabbing it. The hat went skidding unceremoniously across the floor, and quietly came to rest arbitrarily in the open. Her wide, terrified eyes glanced back and forth between the man and the hat a few times – even as he turned and left.
Then, once he was gone, she closed her eyes tightly, curled into a sitting ball, and trembled violently for a while. When she had gained enough courage, she decided to risk one frightened, pleading look up at the old man, one little shake of the head, one tiny "Uh-uh.” Again, as if to convey a whole stream of sentences that she could not possibly know the words to express.
I’m sorry I said I was like you! I’m not like you! I’ll be good! Please don’t hurt me again! I won’t say anything I’m not supposed to! Please don’t think I’m trying to be one of you! I won’t do it again! I’m an idiot! Please don’t be mad at me! I'll be good I promise I'll be good!
But the words were not there, and only the fear and regret and submission in wide, colorless eyes could hope to convey the message.
Evidently, it must have worked – to some extent. The old man didn’t go doing anything that could be construed as punishment. He didn’t seem angry at her. He had not seemed to get the wrong idea about what she was thinking.
But still she just sat there, hugging her knees, trembling, and looking fearfully, worriedly up at him with teary and reddened eyes, and hair damp and stuck to her forehead and face.
He was smiling again. A satisfied, reassuring smile. It took longer than it probably should have for the girl to realize this, and the process was sluggish. The expression meant nothing to her fear-addled mind, not at first. But it registered in stages. She realized he was smiling. It was a nice smile. A smile like before. So, clearly he must have gotten the right message from her whimpering, and her pleading eyes and cowering stance. He must have been satisfied in her show of promising to behave correctly. She must have done something right…finally.
He was taking things out of his jacket, and showing them to her. She was calming down again – though still frightened, and guarded, and hugging her knees and peering wide, teary-eyes over them beneath stray white-blonde locks. Strange things. Something mostly rectangular, something smaller and mostly cylindrical. Part of her was fascinated by them – wanted to hop to her feet and poke them and play with them – but the other part was terrified that any wrong movement might bring the evil man back, or change her “friend’s” mind about her and make him hate her again. She wanted to repeat the words back to him, to show him with a budding pride that she understood them, could say them, was reasonably sure what they meant – but she was too frightened to talk, lest she say the wrong thing. She could only guess at what he actually wanted her to do. She was like a puppy who had been kicked too many times and wasn’t sure why – who was pretty certain she was bringing it upon herself but couldn’t figure out the details or consistency. A puppy who was pretty sure that this one particular person was friendly but couldn’t be totally sure – who wanted so badly to be a puppy and do puppy things, but was too afraid at not knowing which things would get her kicked again.
So she just sat there, internally fighting between the urge to be curious or submissive, confident or frightened, verbose or silent – and defaulting to the latter just in case. A tiny, shivering mess of a “girl”.
She did almost repeat the words back to him, though – if silently, merely mouthing them. Testing the waters. Trying to show that she understood the words, while conveying that she didn’t want to break rules by speaking aloud.
What a miserable little excuse for an ancient alien intelligence.
Though, curiously, it would become apparent that the 'girl' had not been breathing.
At all.
And she didn't seem to realize it in the slightest.
The Koolest Boat U Know
”Sane? Me?” Tsuan rebuked with equal parts mock offendedness and disbelief, ”Rin my friend, honestly I am appalled at that presumption.” He punctuated the jest with a dramatic palm planted on his own chest - then let it all dissolve into his usual laid-back demeanor.
”Hey, what are friends for?” Sands chipped in cheerfully, shifting the question away from rhetoric by adding ”Making new friends, obviously. This team of yours sounds pretty great. Can’t wait to meet ‘em.”
Ty had no trouble holding the eye contact with Rin in that same, direct manner he always did. He was a curious person - sometimes trying at wisdom and sagely advice, sometimes coming off bat@#$% mad - but almost always in-control of himself and, by implication and presence alone, those around him as well. He gave the Nyran a warm, equally direct smile. ”I don’t remember asking for payment.” He said with a matching warmth in his voice, only to have Tsuan follow it up by giving Rin a rough, but playful ruffling of the top of his head from behind. ”Aagh, if you start to feel like a charity case I promise we’ll start askin’ for rent.” He growled, all smiles.
At that point, T’yzfir turned to Jet. His expression was no less warm, but the vaguely professional overtone returned - not at all unfriendly - if anything, a silent, unconscious acknowledgement that the one he was now speaking to was a new friend, instead of an old one. If there was one thing that could be said about these people, it was that they seemed incapable of making anyone seem unwelcome.
Anyone except Montagne, that is.
His words were slightly quicker now too - but only because he was making it obvious that it was time for everyone to get down to business.
”Yup. Time to strap-up and get rolling. Sandy, you get Mr. Jackson up to speed. I’ll head up to the bridge. Dal, got an estimate?”
He was already walking toward the hallway that lead to the cabin. ”Keep y’pants on, Ty.” She replied over the intercom, obviously meaning ’Not yet’. Apparently not bothered by this, Ty was off down the hall without another word.
”A’ight big guy, follow me.” Sands said, gesturing with one broad hand in a ’follow me’ motion. It was strange hearing someone as naturally large and well-built as him calling someone else ’big guy’ - but it was true that Jackson was much larger than he was. That didn’t seem to bother the blonde man, though. Bulky rifle slung lazily over one shoulder, he made down the opposite hall that Ty had gone for.
The hallways of the Koolest Boat were narrow, but not uncomfortably so. Two could walk comfortably abreast, but no more - though, with guys like Sands and Jackson, the former did have to walk slightly ahead of the latter in order to keep from pressing against each other. As a whole, the ship had an uncanny, but not unpleasant vibe. There was some sense of sterility about it, but it managed to feel lived-in as well. It was sleek and minimalist, with lots of silvery-blue colors and smooth, brushed-steel walls. The lighting was bright, and might have been harsh if not for the sources being recessed and out of direct line-of-sight. There was the vague scent of ‘new ship smell’ - the satisfying combination of plastics and oils that came with newly built interiors - but it was not overpowering, and obviously the ship was not some brand-new, state-of-the-art machine.
In reality, it was a newly constructed vessel - but it had been built within the Skadi’s construction bay rather than a dedicated, full-sized shipyard. It had been built using outdated, but fully functional designs, utilizing minimal resources and going for a cheap, but workable rig. Places like the engine room looked cobbled together because they were - made from new parts, or refurbished parts, or aftermarket parts - but not scrap or junk. Decor was almost non-existent, but the metals and plastics made for a comfortable homey feel without coming off as outmoded or tacky. An old-style ship, approaching flimsy, but new and made with at least enough care to keep it in reasonable operating condition. It felt safe, at least. Even if from the outside it looked like a ridiculous, silver phallic torpedo pocked with even-set portholes and a slightly too bulbous nose.
”So, a little context for you-” Sands began as they walked the relatively short distance, not bothering to look back as he did so ”The team and I, we’re with an organization called ’the Ningo Empire’. It’s not much of an empire yet - actually we’ve just got one big ship and a bunch of boats like this one - but the premise is pretty simple; peace and unity, everybody works together, helps each other, that sort of good stuff. Our ‘boss’ is ’Ice-Queen Cathorine’, who calls herself that because I don’t think she knows what an empire is.” He chuckled just a little, teasing the woman playfully as though she might have been able to hear - which, of course, she could not.
Continuing to talk, Sands tapped the panel and let one of the doors slide open for him. It lead into a small bunk suited for one - which was strange - at least, before he manipulated a touch-screen panel beside the door on the inside, and one wall silently raised into the ceiling. This revealed a second bunk, also suitable for one - now made into two conjoined rooms, with two sets of beds and other amenities.
”Well a few days ago we met our friend Rin, who’s from very far away and has been looking for his other friends. He’s also been getting harassed by this Ova @#$% - who apparently wants Rin to come see her on her home planet. So our original plan was to go pick up some protection from my anonymous pal, then head over and see what she wants with him - but, obviously, now we’re getting sidetracked since apparently his buds are within sight. Which is good.”
Still talking, still tapping on the touch-screen’s changing menus, the beds began to turn and shift until they were both facing the same direction - then they curled slightly into themselves, making them into something closer to lounge-chairs than beds. The red mattresses, which appeared to be made of some kind of gel, seemed to change consistency, albeit indefinitely.
”As the newest member of our little crew, I can safely say there isn’t much in the way of rules. We’re not a strictly ‘military’ outfit, though Ty’s pretty good at taking the lead… All we ask is that you help out where you can, be nice, and don’t shoot any of us. We won’t be able to pay you but we can definitely help out with food and expenses. And obviously you’re not under any contract so you can bail whenever we get too crazy for you.”
Sands sat himself down in one of the lounge-chair-looking things, setting his rifle beside it. He sunk into the gel-like mattress, working on fitting various belts and straps to his body that would keep him anchored there in the event of an unexpected maneuver. Various compartments and buttons were built into the arms of the ‘loungers’, including a small screen that hung from a hydraulic arm behind the head which could be used to access a myriad of functions. Because most modern starships were incapable of reaching speeds which would override the artificial gravity present on all vessels, the ‘loungers’ were also largely outdated and somewhat obscure. Most well-versed galactic travelers would be familiar with them and their usage, but only very rarely find themselves faced with the necessity of using one.
It would be an uncomfortable ride - as the seats were designed simply to keep occupants alive beneath the crushing force of excessive gravitational pressure - the main reason why ships capable of such speed were almost non-existent these days. Tiny military ships tended to have them - or racers, or high-speed postal ships - but that was about the extent of their usage.
”So, any questions?” Sands asked Jet casually, once he had gotten himself comfortable in the gel-surfaced seat.
In the meantime, Tsuan had similarly beckoned RIn to follow, and headed down the same hallway as the two big men shortly behind. He lead the Nyran through identical doors on the opposite side of the hallwy, and went through the same process of converting the two neighboring rooms into a single conjoined one, and reorienting the beds to face the correct direction - the bunks were too small on their own to allow for the proper adjustment.
”You got boats like these where you come from?” Tsuan asked, flopping into one seat, and patting the surface of the one next to him. He had been hesitant to ask Rin much of anything about where he came from, on the risk of drudging up painful memories or simply harping on questions he had probably been asked a biliion times already. But this was a good excuse - and besides that, RIn was seeming uplifted and might not mind talking about how things worked in his home. ”Cause, if you’ve never sat through a high-G burn...you’re not gonna’ like it.”
Some minutes later, Dallen’s voice came over the shipwide intercom, audible to all. ”Hey asshat, you in the engine room? Everyone strapped in? We’re good up here. Set to burn soon’s Iget the go-ahead from all y’all.”
Hopefully, there would be no need for Dallen to explain that ’asshat’ was ’Laurent’, and that she wanted him in the engine room’s ‘lounger’ in case anything went wrong and they needed to stop the burn for hasty repairs. Just in case, she added after a moment ”We ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘till someone who knows the boat’s in the engine room.” Taking no chances - even if the Cat had insisted on the ship’s capability for handling the stressful maneuver, no ship was perfect - and with the speed they were planning on going, it was perfectly likely that fully-operational equipment would be overworked and malfunction. If that were the case, having someone in the engine room would likely be the difference between a small problem and a very big one...
Excerpt from “Nally McRand Elementary Physics Textbook, Grades 3-4, Chapter 6 - Artificial Gravity”
Artificial gravity is as old as Mankind. It is a technology so fundamental that it is better described as the reaction between elements and natural phenomena than actual mechanics. It is the reason why standing on a starship in vacuum feels no different than standing on solid ground.
The key to artificial gravity is a mineral called gravite. It is one of the most common elements in the Galaxy, with vast quantities existing in minute particles throughout open, interplanetary and interstellar space. While very little is known on the formation of graphite particles, it is believed to involve reactions between the nuclear fission of common stars and enigmatic ‘’dark matter’. An effectively renewable resource, it is harvested in large quantities via specialized startrawlers to be refined into gravite plating.
Before the refinement process, gravite particles have no detectable effects. Following the process however, the plates take on the unique property of generating gravitational pull inverse to the application of an oxygen-rich atmosphere.
Simply put, when oxygen-rich atmosphere is pressing on a face of gravite plate, that plate becomes the ‘floor’. By maintaining only one gravite surface per area, multiple decks of the same orientation are made possible. Loss of atmosphere means loss of gravity.
Rose’s First Law of Uniform Gravitation applies to gravite plating. That is, any sum of mass capable of generating more than one unit of gravity inherently trends toward a one-unit limit when exposed to atmosphere. This is why the vast majority of planets containing an atmosphere are rated at one unit of gravity, even when they are large enough to otherwise generate stronger pull. The mechanics of Rose’s Law are expanded upon in Chapter 7.
Rose’s Second Law also applies - this law states that in order for the gravitational pull of an atmosphere-positive surface to be overridden by directional momentum, that momentum must exceed 10^2 units of 1, directly proportional to total mass. The formula for determining the exact speeds necessary are outlined in Chapter 6.2, but as a rule, a starship must be traveling at a speed many orders of magnitude higher than most modern starships are today equipped to go.
Artificial gravity is as old as Mankind. It is a technology so fundamental that it is better described as the reaction between elements and natural phenomena than actual mechanics. It is the reason why standing on a starship in vacuum feels no different than standing on solid ground.
The key to artificial gravity is a mineral called gravite. It is one of the most common elements in the Galaxy, with vast quantities existing in minute particles throughout open, interplanetary and interstellar space. While very little is known on the formation of graphite particles, it is believed to involve reactions between the nuclear fission of common stars and enigmatic ‘’dark matter’. An effectively renewable resource, it is harvested in large quantities via specialized startrawlers to be refined into gravite plating.
Before the refinement process, gravite particles have no detectable effects. Following the process however, the plates take on the unique property of generating gravitational pull inverse to the application of an oxygen-rich atmosphere.
Simply put, when oxygen-rich atmosphere is pressing on a face of gravite plate, that plate becomes the ‘floor’. By maintaining only one gravite surface per area, multiple decks of the same orientation are made possible. Loss of atmosphere means loss of gravity.
Rose’s First Law of Uniform Gravitation applies to gravite plating. That is, any sum of mass capable of generating more than one unit of gravity inherently trends toward a one-unit limit when exposed to atmosphere. This is why the vast majority of planets containing an atmosphere are rated at one unit of gravity, even when they are large enough to otherwise generate stronger pull. The mechanics of Rose’s Law are expanded upon in Chapter 7.
Rose’s Second Law also applies - this law states that in order for the gravitational pull of an atmosphere-positive surface to be overridden by directional momentum, that momentum must exceed 10^2 units of 1, directly proportional to total mass. The formula for determining the exact speeds necessary are outlined in Chapter 6.2, but as a rule, a starship must be traveling at a speed many orders of magnitude higher than most modern starships are today equipped to go.
Placing his hands into his pockets and slouching his shoulder back, Ringo followed the women and Riagan. After his prior perverted observation, Ringo repeated a phrase in his head as if it was a mantra, "Riches before $&@#%es, Riches before $&@#%es". As Ringo kept thinking about the phrase, Riagan began to speak.
"Ah cool your jets Riagan, there is absolutely nothing fishy about following an obviously seductive woman and her musically inclined cohort into a secret mountain hangar, asking two men off the street, if they could go to a planet were the inhabitants want to kill everyone in the galaxy...nothing at all..." Ringo trailed off as his minuscule brain started to realize what kind of ridiculous job this was. "...but ladies...it would be preferable if you did sign a contract. Speaking of signing, just who the hell are y'all and where did you get all this money? I know the musically inclined one is Gwen but...what about you?...you seductress...", Ringo's finger outstretched and pointing towards the hooded woman.
"Ah cool your jets Riagan, there is absolutely nothing fishy about following an obviously seductive woman and her musically inclined cohort into a secret mountain hangar, asking two men off the street, if they could go to a planet were the inhabitants want to kill everyone in the galaxy...nothing at all..." Ringo trailed off as his minuscule brain started to realize what kind of ridiculous job this was. "...but ladies...it would be preferable if you did sign a contract. Speaking of signing, just who the hell are y'all and where did you get all this money? I know the musically inclined one is Gwen but...what about you?...you seductress...", Ringo's finger outstretched and pointing towards the hooded woman.
As Laurent was in his head seeing what to do, his little mouse droid began to crackle and the sound of static coming from it. He caught the cat's attention and takes the mouse droid. looking at wondering why its making such noise. He soon heard a voice coming from it. "Hello! Hello?! Anyone there?!" it came out, sounding young yet somehow disciplined, Laurent was familiar with the voice and so he took the mouse droid and calls out "Atticus?! Is that you?" the voice named by Laurent called Atticus responds "I know that voice! Laurent its me! Atticus!" Laurent's face lite up like it isn't ever since he was with the rag tag team. "Atticus! Where are you? How?" Laurent says as he looks at the droid as if looking at the man himself. "Well funny story, is that after finishing some work for the Mercon's, I wander around to find your ship and your stash of boozes...got drunk, and got on your ship and began to fiddle with your communications since you never came back onto your ship once I came too. I was trying different frequencies and here we are...my questions is where are you?" Atticus says as a few blips of static came through.
Laurent hears the voice over the intercom and so he throws his shoe at the console shutting off the intercom in the Cargo bay, ignoring what Dallen was saying. "Uh, my glorious friend, you are in to help me...yes! Atticus, where I am is not really important, but take my ship and head to Kremlin Mall, shit is about to get down and I want out of this gig I am in! Before this crew decides to get rid of me, by killing, kicking me to the curb or even worse! Just get me out of here!!!" the cat pleads as he begins to cry. "Whoa whoa whoa! Cat in the Hat, I can tell you are in some trouble...very well, looking at these fools have the hanger open so getting there shouldn't be a hitch. Just hang on tight." Atticus responds as more static came through
"Oh I forgot to mention, you are missing that tank from you collection" the man responds. Laurent laughs and says "Guess, what? I'm sitting on it! It works Atticus! I was finally able to get the old girl work again! She works like an old Russian mother who's children was taken by the old Soviet State and works on the fields that she can't eat!" the crazy cat says. "Alright, man. I don't even understand what you are saying, but it sounds like it works. Congrats in making that old girl run again after some many millennia" Atticus replies to the cat man. "Yes, so hold hold onto those cheese wheels and meet me at Kremlin mall so I can get out of this joint" Laurent reiterates to his old friend. "Aye Aye Cat Man, Lieutenant Atticus Kingsley out" Atticus says as the little transmission communication ends.
Laurent was in a much better mood since there was this possibility in getting out of this horrible mess. "I don't think it was that important" Laurent says as he vaguely remembers what Dallen was trying to say over the intercom. He shrugs and then hopes inside the KV-2's turret so he could fiddle with some more of the stuff inside the old tank. As for the mouse droid, it just went around, scurrying all over the cargo bay floor.
Laurent hears the voice over the intercom and so he throws his shoe at the console shutting off the intercom in the Cargo bay, ignoring what Dallen was saying. "Uh, my glorious friend, you are in to help me...yes! Atticus, where I am is not really important, but take my ship and head to Kremlin Mall, shit is about to get down and I want out of this gig I am in! Before this crew decides to get rid of me, by killing, kicking me to the curb or even worse! Just get me out of here!!!" the cat pleads as he begins to cry. "Whoa whoa whoa! Cat in the Hat, I can tell you are in some trouble...very well, looking at these fools have the hanger open so getting there shouldn't be a hitch. Just hang on tight." Atticus responds as more static came through
"Oh I forgot to mention, you are missing that tank from you collection" the man responds. Laurent laughs and says "Guess, what? I'm sitting on it! It works Atticus! I was finally able to get the old girl work again! She works like an old Russian mother who's children was taken by the old Soviet State and works on the fields that she can't eat!" the crazy cat says. "Alright, man. I don't even understand what you are saying, but it sounds like it works. Congrats in making that old girl run again after some many millennia" Atticus replies to the cat man. "Yes, so hold hold onto those cheese wheels and meet me at Kremlin mall so I can get out of this joint" Laurent reiterates to his old friend. "Aye Aye Cat Man, Lieutenant Atticus Kingsley out" Atticus says as the little transmission communication ends.
Laurent was in a much better mood since there was this possibility in getting out of this horrible mess. "I don't think it was that important" Laurent says as he vaguely remembers what Dallen was trying to say over the intercom. He shrugs and then hopes inside the KV-2's turret so he could fiddle with some more of the stuff inside the old tank. As for the mouse droid, it just went around, scurrying all over the cargo bay floor.
As they enter the mountain, they can see how hollowed out it is and see how grand the mountain is inside, being supported by large thick metal beams and cables in certain areas. Within this mountain was like a city, high rises that reach all the way up into the ceiling of the mountain. One would think this was a separate city but it is still the same city. As they walked, the hooded woman led them into a slight tight alley way and towards a more unofficial hanger with a large opening the planet's mountainous terrain in the distance. They soon approach a ship that looks like it was pieced together by random junk and having this weird hunchback near the engines. As they approach the hooded woman began to laugh, as she continues to sway her hips and then stops and turns around.
"Why my handsome looking men, have you not taken the hint yet? We are doing a heist...I never heard a group of bank robbers needing to sign a contract, but more of a oath of silence" she explains to them. "What the actual job is, that we plan to bust into the Dendril Treasury which is located...in a place you would need to go to believe" Gwen says seeing that they weren't exactly trusting her hooded company. "Dendrils are known as scavengers and over since the beginning of time and through various timelines they have collected so many artifacts and plenty of them are worth a lot of money, but me and my companion are after two artifacts but the rest that we can take is for you two as well as actual credits that are in the treasury are for you" Gwen adds as she looks at them with a determine look.
"My identity isn't important and its for my and your safety that you don't know it...for people who are interested for who I am, I am considered a dead woman, but if my identity is found out then really powerful people are gonna want my head and before I reveal myself I need that artifact that's within the Dendril Treasury" the hooded woman explains as she puts her hand on her hip. "I understand this is a lot to ask for two people off the literal street and is high risk, but we both can promise you that its a high reward and we all have our necks out if this heist doesn't go well" Gwen says as she gives them both a pleading look as she gasps her hands together to her chest. She looks at Ringo and says "Imagine how famous you would be to say that the great outlaw Ringo Rodriguez was one of the very few to rob from the Dendrils, the parasitic race intent to consume all sentient life" She then turns to Riagen and says "Riagen, I'm not sure, but it seems you are a man who is conflicted with himself and may only taking this job of because of the potential death wish it in-tells, but if you look past that, maybe this job can bring you back from that frame of mind, maybe it can cheer you a little and have something proud that you did, something you can pin to your metal self"
"Plus Riagen, you are gonna get the best seat in the house, the pleasure in viewing in what very few will be able to see,do and experience" the hooded woman chimed in. "I understand if you two don't wish to come join us and are more than willing to turn around now" the rampart opens and the hooded woman walked up, swaying her hips as she glances over her shoulder and says "If you boys, wish to join, merely step inside my nice large ship, and we'll explain more and get under way" as she chuckles seductively as she went in. "Just think about it before you make a decision" Gwen says as she gives them both a bow and heads up the rampart into the shitty looking ship.
"Why my handsome looking men, have you not taken the hint yet? We are doing a heist...I never heard a group of bank robbers needing to sign a contract, but more of a oath of silence" she explains to them. "What the actual job is, that we plan to bust into the Dendril Treasury which is located...in a place you would need to go to believe" Gwen says seeing that they weren't exactly trusting her hooded company. "Dendrils are known as scavengers and over since the beginning of time and through various timelines they have collected so many artifacts and plenty of them are worth a lot of money, but me and my companion are after two artifacts but the rest that we can take is for you two as well as actual credits that are in the treasury are for you" Gwen adds as she looks at them with a determine look.
"My identity isn't important and its for my and your safety that you don't know it...for people who are interested for who I am, I am considered a dead woman, but if my identity is found out then really powerful people are gonna want my head and before I reveal myself I need that artifact that's within the Dendril Treasury" the hooded woman explains as she puts her hand on her hip. "I understand this is a lot to ask for two people off the literal street and is high risk, but we both can promise you that its a high reward and we all have our necks out if this heist doesn't go well" Gwen says as she gives them both a pleading look as she gasps her hands together to her chest. She looks at Ringo and says "Imagine how famous you would be to say that the great outlaw Ringo Rodriguez was one of the very few to rob from the Dendrils, the parasitic race intent to consume all sentient life" She then turns to Riagen and says "Riagen, I'm not sure, but it seems you are a man who is conflicted with himself and may only taking this job of because of the potential death wish it in-tells, but if you look past that, maybe this job can bring you back from that frame of mind, maybe it can cheer you a little and have something proud that you did, something you can pin to your metal self"
"Plus Riagen, you are gonna get the best seat in the house, the pleasure in viewing in what very few will be able to see,do and experience" the hooded woman chimed in. "I understand if you two don't wish to come join us and are more than willing to turn around now" the rampart opens and the hooded woman walked up, swaying her hips as she glances over her shoulder and says "If you boys, wish to join, merely step inside my nice large ship, and we'll explain more and get under way" as she chuckles seductively as she went in. "Just think about it before you make a decision" Gwen says as she gives them both a bow and heads up the rampart into the shitty looking ship.
Riagan was no stranger to the potential immensity of urban city-worlds, so the metropolis under the mountain did not entirely astonish him; it did, however, bring about a memory of long-dead sentimentality, ignorant innocence and a smiling, familiar face. For better or for worse it was a habit of the cyborg to take in little details in a place; the blue reflection in the windows that showed the pale floors beneath them, the straight line which signified the departure from outdoor light and irrelevant little quirks in the people around him. New places, regardless of how similar they were to places he'd been always did this to him. Those would be the details he'd remember; and he knew if he weren't wearing a filter at all times he'd recall the smells even more (for better or worse.)
Before they wound into the alleyway the mercenary knew to turn his attention to them; better not to walk into a trap simply because he admired the local aesthetic. He squeezed his stout form between the walls of the passageway and kept an eye on each of his cameras; switching between perspectives constantly within his helmet.Then he stopped as the hidden hangar came into sight, watching warily as the hooded woman laughed. Had she taken advantage of his desperation?
When the laughing woman explained he snorted. He wondered if he could still pull some strings to make a contract binding amongst criminals but doubted that such connections still existed. Luckily for her, the mention of a crime did not otherwise faze the cyborg; he wasn't lying when he said it wasn't his first time doing something potentially stupid. He held his tongue as the two continued, growing uncomfortable as the two were being addressed individually. She wasn't going to call him out on something, was she-- ah. There it is. How awkward...ly painful.
"I have questions." The mercenary paused.
"...The Dendril. How do they assimilate others? And secondly, does your plan require more firepower or is it so surgical you don't want more than two of us? Because if it is the latter, perhaps I could be convinced to lend Ringo some... technical assistance." He turned his head toward the outlaw, hoping as much to simply gauge his response as he was that the man would accept the offer.
Before they wound into the alleyway the mercenary knew to turn his attention to them; better not to walk into a trap simply because he admired the local aesthetic. He squeezed his stout form between the walls of the passageway and kept an eye on each of his cameras; switching between perspectives constantly within his helmet.Then he stopped as the hidden hangar came into sight, watching warily as the hooded woman laughed. Had she taken advantage of his desperation?
When the laughing woman explained he snorted. He wondered if he could still pull some strings to make a contract binding amongst criminals but doubted that such connections still existed. Luckily for her, the mention of a crime did not otherwise faze the cyborg; he wasn't lying when he said it wasn't his first time doing something potentially stupid. He held his tongue as the two continued, growing uncomfortable as the two were being addressed individually. She wasn't going to call him out on something, was she-- ah. There it is. How awkward...ly painful.
"I have questions." The mercenary paused.
"...The Dendril. How do they assimilate others? And secondly, does your plan require more firepower or is it so surgical you don't want more than two of us? Because if it is the latter, perhaps I could be convinced to lend Ringo some... technical assistance." He turned his head toward the outlaw, hoping as much to simply gauge his response as he was that the man would accept the offer.
Planet Chaka
For the little blue humaniod slime wearing black raincoat and booties, traveling from area to the next passively is something to be expected, especially if said slime doesn't own its own space ship. Of course as luck would have it, that little Dietrich ended up in a planet currently under strife. The slime has been on the planet for some time, observing as governmental forces combat rebel forces, for what reason, the slime has no idea. His disguise's in being a rebel solider and a government solider has helped traverse the land, but no actual info, since it just enjoys the sights and sounds of artillery and gunfire, seeing them as more as fireworks than a threat.
However, the constant fighting with what it seems to be going nowhere did bore the slime and it wanted out. Seeing the White Death land upon the desolate field, was a perfect opportunity for the slime to get off this planet. Seeing who came out was seeing a bot than a man clad in armor. The slime hid behind some rubble of some old brick building and so decided to see if he could get on board by using its disguise as late teen age girl. It modified itself into one,still wearing the black raincoat and booties, as a late teenage girl with shirt blue hair and blue eyes with apricot skin. The only problem is that she can't replicate dirt, so the face, arms and legs are clean, but she hoped that the man and the bot would over look that simple detail. So without saying anything, she turns out with hands raised up as if ready to surrender as she gives Kovacs and his little bot a sad upsetting look to her face.
For the little blue humaniod slime wearing black raincoat and booties, traveling from area to the next passively is something to be expected, especially if said slime doesn't own its own space ship. Of course as luck would have it, that little Dietrich ended up in a planet currently under strife. The slime has been on the planet for some time, observing as governmental forces combat rebel forces, for what reason, the slime has no idea. His disguise's in being a rebel solider and a government solider has helped traverse the land, but no actual info, since it just enjoys the sights and sounds of artillery and gunfire, seeing them as more as fireworks than a threat.
However, the constant fighting with what it seems to be going nowhere did bore the slime and it wanted out. Seeing the White Death land upon the desolate field, was a perfect opportunity for the slime to get off this planet. Seeing who came out was seeing a bot than a man clad in armor. The slime hid behind some rubble of some old brick building and so decided to see if he could get on board by using its disguise as late teen age girl. It modified itself into one,still wearing the black raincoat and booties, as a late teenage girl with shirt blue hair and blue eyes with apricot skin. The only problem is that she can't replicate dirt, so the face, arms and legs are clean, but she hoped that the man and the bot would over look that simple detail. So without saying anything, she turns out with hands raised up as if ready to surrender as she gives Kovacs and his little bot a sad upsetting look to her face.
There was the Fencer, alone, with his entrails hanging out his chest cavity. Opposite to the shootout victims, security appeared to completely ignore the Man. As harder as the Eoclu did right before storming off. And that was ridiculously hilarious. It instantly reminded the Fencer his teenager years. His first time asking someone out. It ended up with his crush turning half a circle and darting off the room. He couldn't help but let a low chuckle... With made his small intestines completely fall off his body.
A comical situation. If it wasn't by the moaning wounded.
Then, as fast one could blink an eye, he was whole. No one had the vaguest opportunity to witness when. How it happened. But his splattered organs were now gone. Bones in place, guts inside, cyan skin smooth as it always been. But, something yet troubled the heart of this strange being. His regal coat, produced by hyper-silk weaved from genetically enhanced, mutant silkworms now were laid in unrecoverable tatters. Hole up much like a chunk of delicious swiss cheese. You could only guess that it once costed over 15.000 Standard.
— Ah, forgive me, Mother! That Cesare~! I should've let him live! Where will I find such a rare piece again~?! — This 'man' was one of rather exquisite priorities.
He couldn't even distract his mind for too long. The grim presence of Ova still permeated around, albeit weakly. It was not in that room anymore, he felt it, but it's sure that this Evil was still around the Perrygold. Worst of it, chasing the Fox Boy.
Even though the Fencer had a mission to accomplish and purpose to fulfill, he did not abandon his personal virtues. Looking around, he took the agony of those humans as his own. No matter how universal-changing his mission and purpose ultimately was, people were suffering in his 'watch'.
For that, he could not bear to stray his presence away.
The Security Team were not aware of the circumstances, but none of them had the permission to interfere with the Angelic Being's doings. Whoever was aware of that, it could only vaguely theorize of the purposes of such orders. But it was for a very good reason. The emergency response medical team would be met with a curious being for help. While not trained to offer specialized medical services, the Fencer knew most aspects of first-aid and emergency care. Not that he needed any. His smile alone irradiated a divine sense of security. As if one would feel the watch of what some may call A God upon them. And, eventually, all of the room would have come in contact with the Fencer.
Wick, on the other hand, merely was 'bumped' by the Angelic Being. On which he promptly left the room. — O-Oh~! I'm sorry, buddy! See 'ya around~!
All gravely injured eventually stabilized at an impressive rate. Nobody suffered from permanent and, in a week from now, all of that people would be as healthy as they had never been. Nobody died in the lobby due to consequences of their wounds.
It was unseen, but it was a true miracle.
As distance thinned between the Fencer and Room 76, Evil started to take its effects on his being. His body shivered and stung as true terror and malice enveloped his self. Corpses lined Room 76's door. Shot, burnt, sliced. Even though those were members of what was once Garofalo's mob. The Fencer's smile slowly faded away. Even though, those were lives. Human lives under the sinister influence of Evil incarnate. Much like Cesare, they once held the loving gift of Life to them.
No living being in existence deserved death for carnal, selfish reasons.
Door 76 then was slammed open. A security officer desperately crawled away from it, limping towards the Fencer. He could feel the terror on the guard's eyes as he gasped for air. His suffering would be brief, however, as a mere divine palm on his shoulder seemed to wash all the anguish and pain away from the honest, hard working officer. Then he could think of calling backup.
Then, as suddenly as it came, the Evil haunting was gone.
— Gentlemen, please~!
The Fox Hybrid his Eoclu partner would be met with a familiar voice as the guards darted into the room. Security appeared to ignore him as he casually walked inside, standing next the galactic adventurers as handcuffs were presented to them. — My good man, don't worry. I have this under control. — This strange being had solid confidence. To talk to the security like that, thinking he could stop Ketin and Nirix from being arrested. - B-But we cannot open this exception. - The leading officer replied nervously, not afraid of the Fencer but angry instead.
— Oh, hoh, hoh~ Is that so? Did you forgot he's The Hero~?
Curiously, that was enough to cast all guards away from Room 76.
— Now, now, now... Who told you two to storm off like that~??? — It was evident that the Fencer ignored how stressed the duo was. — That's no way of behaving like A Hero~!
A comical situation. If it wasn't by the moaning wounded.
Then, as fast one could blink an eye, he was whole. No one had the vaguest opportunity to witness when. How it happened. But his splattered organs were now gone. Bones in place, guts inside, cyan skin smooth as it always been. But, something yet troubled the heart of this strange being. His regal coat, produced by hyper-silk weaved from genetically enhanced, mutant silkworms now were laid in unrecoverable tatters. Hole up much like a chunk of delicious swiss cheese. You could only guess that it once costed over 15.000 Standard.
— Ah, forgive me, Mother! That Cesare~! I should've let him live! Where will I find such a rare piece again~?! — This 'man' was one of rather exquisite priorities.
He couldn't even distract his mind for too long. The grim presence of Ova still permeated around, albeit weakly. It was not in that room anymore, he felt it, but it's sure that this Evil was still around the Perrygold. Worst of it, chasing the Fox Boy.
Even though the Fencer had a mission to accomplish and purpose to fulfill, he did not abandon his personal virtues. Looking around, he took the agony of those humans as his own. No matter how universal-changing his mission and purpose ultimately was, people were suffering in his 'watch'.
For that, he could not bear to stray his presence away.
The Security Team were not aware of the circumstances, but none of them had the permission to interfere with the Angelic Being's doings. Whoever was aware of that, it could only vaguely theorize of the purposes of such orders. But it was for a very good reason. The emergency response medical team would be met with a curious being for help. While not trained to offer specialized medical services, the Fencer knew most aspects of first-aid and emergency care. Not that he needed any. His smile alone irradiated a divine sense of security. As if one would feel the watch of what some may call A God upon them. And, eventually, all of the room would have come in contact with the Fencer.
Wick, on the other hand, merely was 'bumped' by the Angelic Being. On which he promptly left the room. — O-Oh~! I'm sorry, buddy! See 'ya around~!
All gravely injured eventually stabilized at an impressive rate. Nobody suffered from permanent and, in a week from now, all of that people would be as healthy as they had never been. Nobody died in the lobby due to consequences of their wounds.
It was unseen, but it was a true miracle.
As distance thinned between the Fencer and Room 76, Evil started to take its effects on his being. His body shivered and stung as true terror and malice enveloped his self. Corpses lined Room 76's door. Shot, burnt, sliced. Even though those were members of what was once Garofalo's mob. The Fencer's smile slowly faded away. Even though, those were lives. Human lives under the sinister influence of Evil incarnate. Much like Cesare, they once held the loving gift of Life to them.
No living being in existence deserved death for carnal, selfish reasons.
Door 76 then was slammed open. A security officer desperately crawled away from it, limping towards the Fencer. He could feel the terror on the guard's eyes as he gasped for air. His suffering would be brief, however, as a mere divine palm on his shoulder seemed to wash all the anguish and pain away from the honest, hard working officer. Then he could think of calling backup.
Then, as suddenly as it came, the Evil haunting was gone.
— Gentlemen, please~!
The Fox Hybrid his Eoclu partner would be met with a familiar voice as the guards darted into the room. Security appeared to ignore him as he casually walked inside, standing next the galactic adventurers as handcuffs were presented to them. — My good man, don't worry. I have this under control. — This strange being had solid confidence. To talk to the security like that, thinking he could stop Ketin and Nirix from being arrested. - B-But we cannot open this exception. - The leading officer replied nervously, not afraid of the Fencer but angry instead.
— Oh, hoh, hoh~ Is that so? Did you forgot he's The Hero~?
Curiously, that was enough to cast all guards away from Room 76.
— Now, now, now... Who told you two to storm off like that~??? — It was evident that the Fencer ignored how stressed the duo was. — That's no way of behaving like A Hero~!
The Perrygold
Strange how, despite the clearly tense scenario they were still in, it did not have a real sense of apprehension. To Ketin, at least, it felt more like waking up from a bad dream. In a way, it was. Sure, the security officers shifted uneasily, preparing themselves, steeling themselves for the possibility of this unpredictable half-breed doing something violent - but there was a sense of calmness over the orange-haired kid. He was deflated - and it didn’t seem to matter much to him that everyone else was tense - so his subdued air might have been contagious. Though, he did always seem to be the center of attention in any given room - and so how he acted would often define the feel of the situation as a whole.
So, Nirix wanted to go along with Kete when he was taken to the brig? FIne. Good, even - Kete was glad for it. Already he was imagining himself curling up next to her, passing out contentedly on her shoulder. Distantly, he recognized this as a very unfamiliar sensation - and all the better for it.
He was just about to offer forth his wrists to be bound - when the ease was dashed away abruptly. Kete bristled, his whole body going tense, jaw clenching, eyes a little too wide and a little too intensely focused on the doorway. It was that guy.
Ketin Clarke positively despised being sneaked up on. Mostly because it was all but impossible to do. Moreso because it was almost always intentional - it meant that someone was blocking his mind-sight, and that meant danger. It didn’t matter that Kete’s attempts to look in this man’s ‘mind-direction’ were met with a warm, fuzzy sensation of security - he simply could not bring himself to trust someone whose mind he could not access.
But there was more to it than that - Kete found himself defensive in the presence of this man, who was simply too good. Too perfect. It gave the impression of a pompous, high-and-mighty crusader of justice and it made him want to react with obstinence. This divine being, whose very presence made him, in contrast, look disgusting and evil. As long as this guy was around, Kete was sure he would never feel like anything more than the lowest of the low. That was already how he always felt, of course - but this man was just a smack-in-the-face reminder. A showoff - Look at me, I’m what you wish you could be~! He resented him for it, even though the man had no such mindset. He was pretty sure the man had killed the mobster, else he likely wouldn’t have been standing there. And he still radiated purity and goodness - even after doing the most evil, unforgivable thing a person could do. He resented that, too.
And now, here he was, screwing everything up when he’d been all ready to go off to some quiet, secluded, safe little cell and pass out on his best friend’s shoulder. Going on about this hero nonsense, trying to rub it in. Part of him felt the man’s words were intended as sarcasm, to tease him and gloat over his obvious moral superiority - despite no such inflection in the man’s voice. He resented him for that, too.
And the sudden appearance, totally unexpected, made him suddenly want to lash out. To strike like a cornered animal who assumed that it was under siege.
”I’ll be a ’hero’ when ~you~ bring those men back to life!” The foxkin barked, throwing one arm out to point in the general direction of where the corpses were strewn. He let his arm hang there in the air for a moment, gritting his teeth, the fur on his ears and tail bristled into rutty spikes, eyes narrowed and fierce. It was as close to openly-hostile as one could get without making threats. The resentment and defensiveness in his voice was clear.
The security men had all disappeared, apparently. Something about the way this holier-than-thou guy’s voice had made them just give up. He resented that, too. He resented everything about this man.
And then, he started to actually realize that
This guy had done nothing but good. Wasn’t that what Kete always wanted of people? Nirix had been the one to actually kill the men outside rom 76 - her and that other guy, anyway. But the cognative dissonence there was enough to glaze that over in his mind. Even as Nirix admitted to being the killer, he just didn't hear it - selective hearing - the bain failing to register those particular words een while they were scribed to unconscious memory.
He got the feeling that the man had been administering first-aid to injured people in the bar - a notion unconsciously snagged from someone down the hall - he hadn’t even done that much. He was just as capable of delivering effective treatment as this guy was - but he had just stormed off. Another reason he resented the man - but vaguely, indirectly and distantly, he recognized that the resentment was all in his head.
That didn’t make it any better, obviously. He couldn’t just make it go away. But he could acknowledge the feeling, and not take it out on the guy who was only trying to help.
Kete’s pointing arm fell back to his side. The fur on his ears and tail went smooth again, and his shoulders slumped as the tension again drained out of him like pulling a stopper. He looked bitterly to the floor, unable to meet the man’s obscured gaze even if he wanted to. There was a twinge of shame at his own bitterness, and the fact that he could make neither feeling simply cease. That he felt so in the first place.
Exhaustedly, Kete let himself half-stumble backwards and sit himself down heavily on the only chair in the little room. Room 76 didn’t have a table and chair, but this one was bigger. He leaned slightly on the table, still watching the floor. An ear flicked.
”Sorry about your coat.” He said. And while the animosity he held for this man was still obvious, it was equally apparent that he was making his best efforts not to let it show. He did sound honest in his apology though. It was the only thing he felt he could connect on with the man - if his coat ever got ruined like that, Kete would probably bawl for days and certainly mourn the loss almost indefinitely. Mostly it was just something to say, when he had no other words that weren’t frustrated or hostile.
The fact that it was a spray of buckshot that had rendered the coat into tatters did not occur to Kete, even as he sat there with a curious mixture of thoughtfulness and vacancy - trending toward the latter - staring at the floor. He seemed for a long moment as if he had more to say - that happened a lot, with him. After some time, he shook his head slightly, as if disagreeing with his own thoughts. His words were soft, restrained with care, still not totally friendly, but an effort was being made.
”Hey, guy, don’t take this the wrong way, but...What do you want?”
He did look up to meet the man’s gasses-obscured eyes, looking sad and tired and a little bit irritated - but he found that the sensation of looking someone in the eye and not being able to simultaneously see himself from their eyes was too uncomfortable for him, so he again averted his eyes to an arbitrarily chosen spot on the floor.
Strange how, despite the clearly tense scenario they were still in, it did not have a real sense of apprehension. To Ketin, at least, it felt more like waking up from a bad dream. In a way, it was. Sure, the security officers shifted uneasily, preparing themselves, steeling themselves for the possibility of this unpredictable half-breed doing something violent - but there was a sense of calmness over the orange-haired kid. He was deflated - and it didn’t seem to matter much to him that everyone else was tense - so his subdued air might have been contagious. Though, he did always seem to be the center of attention in any given room - and so how he acted would often define the feel of the situation as a whole.
So, Nirix wanted to go along with Kete when he was taken to the brig? FIne. Good, even - Kete was glad for it. Already he was imagining himself curling up next to her, passing out contentedly on her shoulder. Distantly, he recognized this as a very unfamiliar sensation - and all the better for it.
He was just about to offer forth his wrists to be bound - when the ease was dashed away abruptly. Kete bristled, his whole body going tense, jaw clenching, eyes a little too wide and a little too intensely focused on the doorway. It was that guy.
Ketin Clarke positively despised being sneaked up on. Mostly because it was all but impossible to do. Moreso because it was almost always intentional - it meant that someone was blocking his mind-sight, and that meant danger. It didn’t matter that Kete’s attempts to look in this man’s ‘mind-direction’ were met with a warm, fuzzy sensation of security - he simply could not bring himself to trust someone whose mind he could not access.
But there was more to it than that - Kete found himself defensive in the presence of this man, who was simply too good. Too perfect. It gave the impression of a pompous, high-and-mighty crusader of justice and it made him want to react with obstinence. This divine being, whose very presence made him, in contrast, look disgusting and evil. As long as this guy was around, Kete was sure he would never feel like anything more than the lowest of the low. That was already how he always felt, of course - but this man was just a smack-in-the-face reminder. A showoff - Look at me, I’m what you wish you could be~! He resented him for it, even though the man had no such mindset. He was pretty sure the man had killed the mobster, else he likely wouldn’t have been standing there. And he still radiated purity and goodness - even after doing the most evil, unforgivable thing a person could do. He resented that, too.
And now, here he was, screwing everything up when he’d been all ready to go off to some quiet, secluded, safe little cell and pass out on his best friend’s shoulder. Going on about this hero nonsense, trying to rub it in. Part of him felt the man’s words were intended as sarcasm, to tease him and gloat over his obvious moral superiority - despite no such inflection in the man’s voice. He resented him for that, too.
And the sudden appearance, totally unexpected, made him suddenly want to lash out. To strike like a cornered animal who assumed that it was under siege.
”I’ll be a ’hero’ when ~you~ bring those men back to life!” The foxkin barked, throwing one arm out to point in the general direction of where the corpses were strewn. He let his arm hang there in the air for a moment, gritting his teeth, the fur on his ears and tail bristled into rutty spikes, eyes narrowed and fierce. It was as close to openly-hostile as one could get without making threats. The resentment and defensiveness in his voice was clear.
The security men had all disappeared, apparently. Something about the way this holier-than-thou guy’s voice had made them just give up. He resented that, too. He resented everything about this man.
And then, he started to actually realize that
This guy had done nothing but good. Wasn’t that what Kete always wanted of people? Nirix had been the one to actually kill the men outside rom 76 - her and that other guy, anyway. But the cognative dissonence there was enough to glaze that over in his mind. Even as Nirix admitted to being the killer, he just didn't hear it - selective hearing - the bain failing to register those particular words een while they were scribed to unconscious memory.
He got the feeling that the man had been administering first-aid to injured people in the bar - a notion unconsciously snagged from someone down the hall - he hadn’t even done that much. He was just as capable of delivering effective treatment as this guy was - but he had just stormed off. Another reason he resented the man - but vaguely, indirectly and distantly, he recognized that the resentment was all in his head.
That didn’t make it any better, obviously. He couldn’t just make it go away. But he could acknowledge the feeling, and not take it out on the guy who was only trying to help.
Kete’s pointing arm fell back to his side. The fur on his ears and tail went smooth again, and his shoulders slumped as the tension again drained out of him like pulling a stopper. He looked bitterly to the floor, unable to meet the man’s obscured gaze even if he wanted to. There was a twinge of shame at his own bitterness, and the fact that he could make neither feeling simply cease. That he felt so in the first place.
Exhaustedly, Kete let himself half-stumble backwards and sit himself down heavily on the only chair in the little room. Room 76 didn’t have a table and chair, but this one was bigger. He leaned slightly on the table, still watching the floor. An ear flicked.
”Sorry about your coat.” He said. And while the animosity he held for this man was still obvious, it was equally apparent that he was making his best efforts not to let it show. He did sound honest in his apology though. It was the only thing he felt he could connect on with the man - if his coat ever got ruined like that, Kete would probably bawl for days and certainly mourn the loss almost indefinitely. Mostly it was just something to say, when he had no other words that weren’t frustrated or hostile.
The fact that it was a spray of buckshot that had rendered the coat into tatters did not occur to Kete, even as he sat there with a curious mixture of thoughtfulness and vacancy - trending toward the latter - staring at the floor. He seemed for a long moment as if he had more to say - that happened a lot, with him. After some time, he shook his head slightly, as if disagreeing with his own thoughts. His words were soft, restrained with care, still not totally friendly, but an effort was being made.
”Hey, guy, don’t take this the wrong way, but...What do you want?”
He did look up to meet the man’s gasses-obscured eyes, looking sad and tired and a little bit irritated - but he found that the sensation of looking someone in the eye and not being able to simultaneously see himself from their eyes was too uncomfortable for him, so he again averted his eyes to an arbitrarily chosen spot on the floor.
Rin eyed the... odd chair... with some amount of trepadition before shrugging slightly and sinking into the seat next to Tsuan. He winced- it felt so... weird.
... Wait.
"W-wait, what?" he stuttered, hoping that what Tsuan said was just an exaggeration- that what Dal said was more of a reassurance then a mere afterthought. "Aren't the inertial dampeners enough to counter the G-forces?" He paused, grimaced, then squinted at the man next to him. "This ship... does have inertial dampeners... right?" he asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.
Because if the answer was no...
He inwardly sighed, leaning back and bracing for the inevitable answer. Of course, the fighters he used to pilot were definitely not 100% covered when it came to G-forces, so he was somewhat used to the backlash. But... for hours...
Not to mention the from a whole other universe part. Was the science behind everything, from g-forces to exotic particles, even the same? Would he be able to even handle it at all?
Or was it all the same?
... His brain kind of hurt just thinking about it. Ah, Vaxur always did say that he thought too much. One could easily guess Rin's answer to that.
The trail of thought managed to nudge out a tired, absent smile from his lips.
... Wait.
"W-wait, what?" he stuttered, hoping that what Tsuan said was just an exaggeration- that what Dal said was more of a reassurance then a mere afterthought. "Aren't the inertial dampeners enough to counter the G-forces?" He paused, grimaced, then squinted at the man next to him. "This ship... does have inertial dampeners... right?" he asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.
Because if the answer was no...
He inwardly sighed, leaning back and bracing for the inevitable answer. Of course, the fighters he used to pilot were definitely not 100% covered when it came to G-forces, so he was somewhat used to the backlash. But... for hours...
Not to mention the from a whole other universe part. Was the science behind everything, from g-forces to exotic particles, even the same? Would he be able to even handle it at all?
Or was it all the same?
... His brain kind of hurt just thinking about it. Ah, Vaxur always did say that he thought too much. One could easily guess Rin's answer to that.
The trail of thought managed to nudge out a tired, absent smile from his lips.
Tsuan gave Rin a blank, seemingly uncomprehending look. ”Inertial whatnow?”
Apparently that had become an inside joke while nobody was looking. He followed up by shifting into a more open, but perplexed expression. ”Y’mean the things that keep a boat from getting too shook-up if they get hit? Yeah, we got those. At least, I’m pretty sure Sandy wouldn’t have let us take off if we didn't.” He seemed earnest now, letting the deadpan from seconds earlier wear off. He was looking thoughtful now, something new on his mind.
Clearly there was a discrepancy here. That fact was likely backed up by a similarly wary look from Rin.
He let a moment of awkward - to him, at least - silence hang there as he debated whether or not the question he was about to ask was as stupid as it sounded in his head. Then he asked it anyway, likely prodding the Nyran from his private thoughts.
”Hey, uh, do Physics work the same way in your universe?” The way he said it made it clear that he was actually asking, rather than trying to tease his friend or anything like that. But it did sound about as stupid of a question as he’d thought it would. If only because of the obvious factor of Rin having no reason at all to know - no context for which to compare. So, after a second, he tacked on ”...Rose’s Law?” To get a feel for whether or not the phrase meant anything to him.
Of course it didn’t. Even if Rin’s “universe” did work under the same laws, they wouldn’t be named after the same person.
Tsuan shifted in his seat, the gel thick enough that it maintained a constant surface, but with enough give to let him sink in. ”Okay, I’m not a physicist or anything so...stop me if I say something stupid. Or...really obvious.” He began, the preamble serving as a moment for him to recollect his elementary school physics class, which he had all wasted between shooting spitballs at the board-screen and expertly framing his classmates for inappropriate sounds.
”So y’know how all planets grav-force is really close to one? And how ships are all at one-G even when they’re not moving? That’s Rose’s Law. One-G is like...the ‘standard’, right? So even if a planet is big enough to have waaay more G-force, for some reason it caps out at one. Same with ships - even though they fly fast enough to splat us all over the back wall, it’s still always just one-G. Rose’s other Law is all about how it’s possible to overcome that limit using thrust momentum, as long as you’re going really @#$%ing fast. Over ten times as fast as the maximum speed stardrives are supposed to go.”
Either he stopped to give Rin a moment to process this, or he was interrupted because he sounded crazy by talking about things he had taken for granted his whole life...Not to mention the implication in his last couple of words - that this ship was not ’supposed’ to go as fast as they were going to make it go.
”You need special aftermarket mods to a stardrive to make a boat go fast enough to do that. Gotta’ really overclock the works, y’know? And any boat bigger than this one just couldn’t do it. It’s...also not too safe a thing t’do too much. But with Whatshisface in the engine room it’ll be fine. I hate to admit that that jerk knows anything but he’s obviously got a good grasp of the boat.”
Minutes passed, and nothing happened. It felt like sitting on the runway waiting for a flight.
”Y’know, some people believe that whole ’one-G limit’ thing is a leftover from the Gods.” Tsuan said, mostly just looking for something to say. He sounded thoughtful, ponderous. ”That like, there used to be Gods who controlled how everything worked in the Universe, and when they went away, Rose’s Law was left behind like a sort of mark.” It was strange to hear the usually goofy Tsuan musing about religious philosophy with a sense of skeptical reverence. The grin he cracked was a clear indication of how ridiculous he found the concept to be - but it still seemed like a slightly more intellectual topic than he would usually muse upon. But, then, sitting in anticipatory silence will do that to a person. He gave a little chuckle, and shot his friend a sidelong glance paired with a wider grin. ”Maybe when they left, they went to your universe. And started poking holes.”
At the controls, Dallen Armston was cursing to herself, and Leng T’yzfir was looking on with a frown. Both were strapped into seats that matched the others - Dallen’s pilot’s chair having been converted to the gel-style ‘lounger’ - and Ty’s offset to the side where a navigator or communications officer might have sat. ”Why the @#$% isn’t that @#$%head responding!” She barked, mashing the button again that would connect her to the cargo bay and engine room. ”Are you listening or not! I need confirmation that we got someone in the ER!”
But no response came.
”He can’t be that stupid, can he?” Ty said, leaning forward in his lounger. It shifted slightly beneath him with the motion - the bearings beneath designed to compensate for shifts in gravitation while under excessive stress. Dallen just gave a harsh shrug and slammed her hands down on the edge of the console again. ”I dunno, I wouldn’t put it past ‘im.” Then, appearing to come to a sudden conclusion, infuriated that the Cat was refusing to acknowledge her even on this simple and vital matter, she pointedly flipped the red toggle that would begin the process of acceleration.
”@#$% it. He knows how these things work. If he’s stupid enough not t’be in his couch startin’ a tenner-high then @#$%’im.” Ty, looking suddenly quite concerned, objected - but his words were lost in the noise. All over the ship, three loud tones went off. Not an alarm, but a warning that the stardrive was now entering an otherwise restricted state of operation. Anyone who knew anything about aftermarket ships would know what it meant. But as a final gesture of goodwill toward the Cat, she did make the announcement over the general intercom; ”Alright, we’re movin’. Hold on tight kids.”
If Montagne wasn’t seated in the engine room’s couch soon, he would be splattered into a thin red paste all over the back wall.
The others would feel a slight shift in their weight, that grew slowly, but noticeably in severity. Within five minutes, the whole crew would feel as if they were laying on their backs - as if the nose-end of the ship was the ceiling, and they were laying on the floor, looking up at it. It was disorienting, but likely not sudden enough to cause vertigo.
And as the acceleration increased - the stardrive in the butt-end of the ship raising in pitch and frequency until it reached a distant howl - there was no sensation of movement. Only the sensation of being very, very heavy. Sluggish. It did not become hard to breathe, but talking was not so easy. Nevertheless, Tsuan shot Rin a pained look.
”@#$% this, amiright?”
Apparently that had become an inside joke while nobody was looking. He followed up by shifting into a more open, but perplexed expression. ”Y’mean the things that keep a boat from getting too shook-up if they get hit? Yeah, we got those. At least, I’m pretty sure Sandy wouldn’t have let us take off if we didn't.” He seemed earnest now, letting the deadpan from seconds earlier wear off. He was looking thoughtful now, something new on his mind.
Clearly there was a discrepancy here. That fact was likely backed up by a similarly wary look from Rin.
He let a moment of awkward - to him, at least - silence hang there as he debated whether or not the question he was about to ask was as stupid as it sounded in his head. Then he asked it anyway, likely prodding the Nyran from his private thoughts.
”Hey, uh, do Physics work the same way in your universe?” The way he said it made it clear that he was actually asking, rather than trying to tease his friend or anything like that. But it did sound about as stupid of a question as he’d thought it would. If only because of the obvious factor of Rin having no reason at all to know - no context for which to compare. So, after a second, he tacked on ”...Rose’s Law?” To get a feel for whether or not the phrase meant anything to him.
Of course it didn’t. Even if Rin’s “universe” did work under the same laws, they wouldn’t be named after the same person.
Tsuan shifted in his seat, the gel thick enough that it maintained a constant surface, but with enough give to let him sink in. ”Okay, I’m not a physicist or anything so...stop me if I say something stupid. Or...really obvious.” He began, the preamble serving as a moment for him to recollect his elementary school physics class, which he had all wasted between shooting spitballs at the board-screen and expertly framing his classmates for inappropriate sounds.
”So y’know how all planets grav-force is really close to one? And how ships are all at one-G even when they’re not moving? That’s Rose’s Law. One-G is like...the ‘standard’, right? So even if a planet is big enough to have waaay more G-force, for some reason it caps out at one. Same with ships - even though they fly fast enough to splat us all over the back wall, it’s still always just one-G. Rose’s other Law is all about how it’s possible to overcome that limit using thrust momentum, as long as you’re going really @#$%ing fast. Over ten times as fast as the maximum speed stardrives are supposed to go.”
Either he stopped to give Rin a moment to process this, or he was interrupted because he sounded crazy by talking about things he had taken for granted his whole life...Not to mention the implication in his last couple of words - that this ship was not ’supposed’ to go as fast as they were going to make it go.
”You need special aftermarket mods to a stardrive to make a boat go fast enough to do that. Gotta’ really overclock the works, y’know? And any boat bigger than this one just couldn’t do it. It’s...also not too safe a thing t’do too much. But with Whatshisface in the engine room it’ll be fine. I hate to admit that that jerk knows anything but he’s obviously got a good grasp of the boat.”
Minutes passed, and nothing happened. It felt like sitting on the runway waiting for a flight.
”Y’know, some people believe that whole ’one-G limit’ thing is a leftover from the Gods.” Tsuan said, mostly just looking for something to say. He sounded thoughtful, ponderous. ”That like, there used to be Gods who controlled how everything worked in the Universe, and when they went away, Rose’s Law was left behind like a sort of mark.” It was strange to hear the usually goofy Tsuan musing about religious philosophy with a sense of skeptical reverence. The grin he cracked was a clear indication of how ridiculous he found the concept to be - but it still seemed like a slightly more intellectual topic than he would usually muse upon. But, then, sitting in anticipatory silence will do that to a person. He gave a little chuckle, and shot his friend a sidelong glance paired with a wider grin. ”Maybe when they left, they went to your universe. And started poking holes.”
At the controls, Dallen Armston was cursing to herself, and Leng T’yzfir was looking on with a frown. Both were strapped into seats that matched the others - Dallen’s pilot’s chair having been converted to the gel-style ‘lounger’ - and Ty’s offset to the side where a navigator or communications officer might have sat. ”Why the @#$% isn’t that @#$%head responding!” She barked, mashing the button again that would connect her to the cargo bay and engine room. ”Are you listening or not! I need confirmation that we got someone in the ER!”
But no response came.
”He can’t be that stupid, can he?” Ty said, leaning forward in his lounger. It shifted slightly beneath him with the motion - the bearings beneath designed to compensate for shifts in gravitation while under excessive stress. Dallen just gave a harsh shrug and slammed her hands down on the edge of the console again. ”I dunno, I wouldn’t put it past ‘im.” Then, appearing to come to a sudden conclusion, infuriated that the Cat was refusing to acknowledge her even on this simple and vital matter, she pointedly flipped the red toggle that would begin the process of acceleration.
”@#$% it. He knows how these things work. If he’s stupid enough not t’be in his couch startin’ a tenner-high then @#$%’im.” Ty, looking suddenly quite concerned, objected - but his words were lost in the noise. All over the ship, three loud tones went off. Not an alarm, but a warning that the stardrive was now entering an otherwise restricted state of operation. Anyone who knew anything about aftermarket ships would know what it meant. But as a final gesture of goodwill toward the Cat, she did make the announcement over the general intercom; ”Alright, we’re movin’. Hold on tight kids.”
If Montagne wasn’t seated in the engine room’s couch soon, he would be splattered into a thin red paste all over the back wall.
The others would feel a slight shift in their weight, that grew slowly, but noticeably in severity. Within five minutes, the whole crew would feel as if they were laying on their backs - as if the nose-end of the ship was the ceiling, and they were laying on the floor, looking up at it. It was disorienting, but likely not sudden enough to cause vertigo.
And as the acceleration increased - the stardrive in the butt-end of the ship raising in pitch and frequency until it reached a distant howl - there was no sensation of movement. Only the sensation of being very, very heavy. Sluggish. It did not become hard to breathe, but talking was not so easy. Nevertheless, Tsuan shot Rin a pained look.
”@#$% this, amiright?”
For Laurent, apparently talking to Atticus was a very big mistake and using its very small communication module on the mouse droid, Ova attacked Laurent's mind once more. The cat gripped his head in pain as he felt the indescribable pain that she was conducting it through. His vision darken into a purple haze as her voice finally came through. "Oh...how I am excited to see you soon...be nice to have my favorite domestic kitty back" she states as Laurent curls into a fetal position in pain. "What an interesting group you are in...I wonder what will happen to them, beware what is to come, Laurent!" she comments as she shows the poor merchant nightmarish images that could barely be describe. Laurent was very fearful, so fearful, he whimpers and cries as he closes his eyes, wishing it to go away. The intensity of the physiological attack only increased inside of his head, only causing him to be scared even more. He was afraid so much, he turned back into his cat form.
As he turned into his cat form, he could then hear a slight laughter and Ova spoke up once again saying "Ah that's much better...I like you in take form, see you soon" she coos in before ending her attack on his mind and the nightmarish images and sounds ceased. He opens his eyes and see's his paws as he looks around underneath his hat once more. He whimpered slightly and can see that she won't quite till Rin is given to Lord Ova. However, he was...scared and so hearing the drives come up, he panics and dashed out of the cargo bay after turning the droid off, not preventing anyone else using it a relay or transmit communications anymore. He was running quite quickly hearing the drives being turn on for the groups little stunt. He soon turns the corner and see's Rin on the chair, without saying a word as tears fill his golden eyes, he jumps into the Nyan's chair and tucking himself against Rin's body in a ball of fur, shivering in fear, his white tipped ears down. He was very afraid and the only one he could be somewhat comfortable was with Rin as they make the jump to the station.
Laurent wants out of this group.
As he turned into his cat form, he could then hear a slight laughter and Ova spoke up once again saying "Ah that's much better...I like you in take form, see you soon" she coos in before ending her attack on his mind and the nightmarish images and sounds ceased. He opens his eyes and see's his paws as he looks around underneath his hat once more. He whimpered slightly and can see that she won't quite till Rin is given to Lord Ova. However, he was...scared and so hearing the drives come up, he panics and dashed out of the cargo bay after turning the droid off, not preventing anyone else using it a relay or transmit communications anymore. He was running quite quickly hearing the drives being turn on for the groups little stunt. He soon turns the corner and see's Rin on the chair, without saying a word as tears fill his golden eyes, he jumps into the Nyan's chair and tucking himself against Rin's body in a ball of fur, shivering in fear, his white tipped ears down. He was very afraid and the only one he could be somewhat comfortable was with Rin as they make the jump to the station.
Laurent wants out of this group.
"Goop beds? What in the hell is this goddamned new-fangled garbage. I'm used to the good ol' stick a shit ton of morphine in your arm and tape pillows technique and survive the 1/1000000000 odds." Jackson bellowed as he tapped the jelly bed, making the slime jiggle a bit. All of this was immediately followed by overly-dramatic laughter and the wiping of nonexistent tear from his face. He eased himself into the foreign space, barely fitting.
Before dozing off, Jet had listened in on Tsuan and Rin's conversation, reading into the way Tsuan spoke with a curious tone, as if Rin really was from another universe. Could he be from a different universe? How does that even work? If the physics where different then wouldn't Rin just explode or something? How did he even get here? Why is everyone from outside of this universe? How the hell does any of this even work? Jet's mind raced with questions, none of which he could answer before the tenner nor would he want them to be answered. He was content with the fact that he didn't know, in this instance, his curiosity was nonexistent, and for good reason. Jet had been thinking, if he was to try and help these people, he was going to do it his way. His way being, getting out by the skin of your teeth. In his mind, his flawed logic worked perfectly, he wasn't used to planning ahead for events, he was used to just jumping in and jumping out, and that is what he is comfortable with. So if some random crazy event were to occur, he would be more useful in that situation then in a planned out ambush.
Jet kept thinking about his place within this new group, and where he stood in the old one. Well in this new group he basically had no purpose, the only reason he joined this new group was to experience new things and be free of curfews. To be brutally honest, he had no purpose at all in any of these groups. He is just another drifter. Man, what a way to be remembered. Well if his goal of helping people and changing himself were to come true, then at least he would get remembered for that.
Before dozing off, Jet had listened in on Tsuan and Rin's conversation, reading into the way Tsuan spoke with a curious tone, as if Rin really was from another universe. Could he be from a different universe? How does that even work? If the physics where different then wouldn't Rin just explode or something? How did he even get here? Why is everyone from outside of this universe? How the hell does any of this even work? Jet's mind raced with questions, none of which he could answer before the tenner nor would he want them to be answered. He was content with the fact that he didn't know, in this instance, his curiosity was nonexistent, and for good reason. Jet had been thinking, if he was to try and help these people, he was going to do it his way. His way being, getting out by the skin of your teeth. In his mind, his flawed logic worked perfectly, he wasn't used to planning ahead for events, he was used to just jumping in and jumping out, and that is what he is comfortable with. So if some random crazy event were to occur, he would be more useful in that situation then in a planned out ambush.
Jet kept thinking about his place within this new group, and where he stood in the old one. Well in this new group he basically had no purpose, the only reason he joined this new group was to experience new things and be free of curfews. To be brutally honest, he had no purpose at all in any of these groups. He is just another drifter. Man, what a way to be remembered. Well if his goal of helping people and changing himself were to come true, then at least he would get remembered for that.
Arnaldo hobbled into his room, right over the dead bodies that were being examined and pulled away. At this point in Arnaldo's life, stuff like this didn't effect him. The things that did effect him were much smaller, almost insignificant. One prime example was his badge with the word 'decomissioned' embossed on it. Arnaldo flopped on to his bed and flipped the small metal badge in his hand, as if it was a coin. It had been modeled after archaic badges of old, being made completely of brass. Unlike its lighter, newer, plastic holocard counterpart that the agencies of now use, his PI badge brought a sense of intimidation.
"Pfft intimidation, who needs that if you can't even protect people" murmured Arnaldo. He had become a PI so that he could help people, people who couldn't turn to the police or the police wouldn't help. He tried helping the everyman that couldn't normally be helped. "I guess I forgot all of my training, helping ordinary people in extraordinary situations was my forte, but I guess in an extraordinary situation with extraordinary people, I revert to my logical analytic side. I didn't even pay attention to Ketin's peace attempt and fought like a mad dog, jeez, maybe I really am an intergalactic terrorist..."
Arnaldo slung his foot onto the metal posts of his bed, placed his arms behind his back, and began to sleep. As soon as he started to relax, his mind flooded with all of his troubles. What about his foot? What about Ketin? Nirix? The boy and girl next door? What of them? Arnaldo woke up with a gasp and tried standing up out of bed. In his moment of rapid movement, he'd forgotten he had lost one of his feet. He tripped and fell on what seemed like nothing and somewhat hopped around the ship, looking for anyone of these people. Then he saw him, the angelic man. He hobbled after him as fast as his one leg and stump could. Then, he heard the slight flutter of feathers. "One at a time, one at a time" said Arnaldo, focusing back onto the man who seemed to evade death.
"Pfft intimidation, who needs that if you can't even protect people" murmured Arnaldo. He had become a PI so that he could help people, people who couldn't turn to the police or the police wouldn't help. He tried helping the everyman that couldn't normally be helped. "I guess I forgot all of my training, helping ordinary people in extraordinary situations was my forte, but I guess in an extraordinary situation with extraordinary people, I revert to my logical analytic side. I didn't even pay attention to Ketin's peace attempt and fought like a mad dog, jeez, maybe I really am an intergalactic terrorist..."
Arnaldo slung his foot onto the metal posts of his bed, placed his arms behind his back, and began to sleep. As soon as he started to relax, his mind flooded with all of his troubles. What about his foot? What about Ketin? Nirix? The boy and girl next door? What of them? Arnaldo woke up with a gasp and tried standing up out of bed. In his moment of rapid movement, he'd forgotten he had lost one of his feet. He tripped and fell on what seemed like nothing and somewhat hopped around the ship, looking for anyone of these people. Then he saw him, the angelic man. He hobbled after him as fast as his one leg and stump could. Then, he heard the slight flutter of feathers. "One at a time, one at a time" said Arnaldo, focusing back onto the man who seemed to evade death.
The White Death, Planet Chaka
As BN-33 sprinted off into the damaged city, Kovacs heard his motion tracker bleep distressedly, alerting him to an unknown individual nearby. Said individual now had a primed energy weapon pointed in her direction. A cursory glance at her body demonstrated an odd cleanliness when compared to her surroundings, especially when taking into account the White Death's landing.
"Halt! Identify yourself, or I will open fire," he said it loudly, not quite yelling, though it could easily be confused as such. This being a world in turmoil, escalation of force was preferable to shooting first and asking questions later, at least until he knew whose side to take.
Lewell's Crater, Westside Ruins
BN-33 enjoyed the rain, the way it patterned ripples into the pools at his feet. He wished that he could smell it like ANDE was able to, enjoy it like his mother, but that was a thought for another time. Now, information and local technology were to be acquired for further dissertation, and a smoking crash site would be a good place to start. There were even people; maybe they could help-!
Nope. They were shooting. Helpful people don't shoot at you. The ingrained combat protocols swiftly took over Barney’s processors, his lights turning a vicious orange, like the flames of the burning wreck before him. Seven targets scattered in loose formation, sweeping for objects of interest. Origin unknown, weapons were ballistic, confirmed hostilities.
BN-33 sprang into action, his energy weapon spewing blue plasma bolts at three times the speed of sound, carving smoking craters of blood and slagging armor plates as the X-96 Volt chewed them up like gum. Three down, four in cover. Jumpkick, his clawed foot wrapping around the enemy's exposed face before the two hundred kilogram machine slammed the organic's head into the ground.
He leapt away once more, bouncing off the wreckage of the dropship before landing between the fifth and sixth targets. A left hook from One was dodged as he kicked Two in the knee. Two was lamed as his leg shattered, the wounded man falling to ground in agony as One finds a serrated knife in his brain. He stared dumbly at the hilt before falling over, dead from eight inches of monomolecular titanium carbide to the dome.
BN-33 stomped on Two's head, adding yet more bloody strips of brain matter and bone to the growing layers of sludge. The Spectre effortlessly yanked the knife from the corpse, chucking it at the fleeing seventh man. He died soon after the weapon sank into his heart from behind. Only once the area was confirmed clear of hostiles, then did the lights return to their normal azure tone.
As BN-33 sprinted off into the damaged city, Kovacs heard his motion tracker bleep distressedly, alerting him to an unknown individual nearby. Said individual now had a primed energy weapon pointed in her direction. A cursory glance at her body demonstrated an odd cleanliness when compared to her surroundings, especially when taking into account the White Death's landing.
"Halt! Identify yourself, or I will open fire," he said it loudly, not quite yelling, though it could easily be confused as such. This being a world in turmoil, escalation of force was preferable to shooting first and asking questions later, at least until he knew whose side to take.
Lewell's Crater, Westside Ruins
BN-33 enjoyed the rain, the way it patterned ripples into the pools at his feet. He wished that he could smell it like ANDE was able to, enjoy it like his mother, but that was a thought for another time. Now, information and local technology were to be acquired for further dissertation, and a smoking crash site would be a good place to start. There were even people; maybe they could help-!
Nope. They were shooting. Helpful people don't shoot at you. The ingrained combat protocols swiftly took over Barney’s processors, his lights turning a vicious orange, like the flames of the burning wreck before him. Seven targets scattered in loose formation, sweeping for objects of interest. Origin unknown, weapons were ballistic, confirmed hostilities.
BN-33 sprang into action, his energy weapon spewing blue plasma bolts at three times the speed of sound, carving smoking craters of blood and slagging armor plates as the X-96 Volt chewed them up like gum. Three down, four in cover. Jumpkick, his clawed foot wrapping around the enemy's exposed face before the two hundred kilogram machine slammed the organic's head into the ground.
He leapt away once more, bouncing off the wreckage of the dropship before landing between the fifth and sixth targets. A left hook from One was dodged as he kicked Two in the knee. Two was lamed as his leg shattered, the wounded man falling to ground in agony as One finds a serrated knife in his brain. He stared dumbly at the hilt before falling over, dead from eight inches of monomolecular titanium carbide to the dome.
BN-33 stomped on Two's head, adding yet more bloody strips of brain matter and bone to the growing layers of sludge. The Spectre effortlessly yanked the knife from the corpse, chucking it at the fleeing seventh man. He died soon after the weapon sank into his heart from behind. Only once the area was confirmed clear of hostiles, then did the lights return to their normal azure tone.
Planet Chaka
The girl began to tear up as she sees the engery weapon pointed at her. She began to sniffle and says in sobbing yet soft tone "I just want to get off this planet...can I please join you?" She pleads as she looks at him, her face becoming slightly red. She stood where he could look at her clearly with her arms raised. "I'm ended up here, I'm just a simple girl who's lost her parents to this turmoil and just want off! Please let me join you" she pleads seeing if he would buy the old war orphan thing...
The girl began to tear up as she sees the engery weapon pointed at her. She began to sniffle and says in sobbing yet soft tone "I just want to get off this planet...can I please join you?" She pleads as she looks at him, her face becoming slightly red. She stood where he could look at her clearly with her arms raised. "I'm ended up here, I'm just a simple girl who's lost her parents to this turmoil and just want off! Please let me join you" she pleads seeing if he would buy the old war orphan thing...
Luwell's Crater had turned into a war zone, the result of many fleeing Union troops attempting to lay low or flee from the new Alliance hoping to get flights out of Niven space. Asya's team dropship being shot down over the city and the subsequent search for them lit the fuse on a powder keg between Alliance search teams combing the city and Union hideouts with nowhere to go. The powder keg finally blew a short hour before the White Death had arrived, though the heaviest fighting had been mostly contained to the western sectors away from the spaceport.
Lewell's Crater, Westside Ruins
Asya's squad had been running since the fighting had started. While still in the western section of the city, they did not have much farther to go before hitting the sections closer to the spaceport where the fighting was considerably light, mainly consisting of short across the street firefights. Once there it would be a straight shot to the spaceport where they had seen a ship landing. Or that had been the plan before a enemy dropship had been knocked from the sky directly into their path, striking several rooftops before burying itself into a street cross section. They had been pinned down.
"How bad?" Asya asked between the groans of her squad mate Jin and the rattling of gunfire from the surviving troops from the dropship. They had taken shelter inside the entrance of one of the ruined buildings. Jack was farther inside, leaned over Jin shaking a spray can with white foam dripping from the tip. Beside the two of them lay three bloody metal spikes roughly six inches long "She got hit by a spike carbine, glad it wasn't like your rifle or she'd already be gone. The foam is keeping her together but that's it. She needs proper medical attention soon."
Asya was about to reply when the sound of incoming fire stopped. She looks back at Jack with a questioning look. He shrugs before going back to work on getting Jin ready to move. Reaching into one of her belt pouches, Asya takes out a small mirror that she cautiously holds just outside of the doorway she was using for cover. She's just in time to witness Bn-33's attack on the dropship crash site. As she continues to watch Bn using the mirror, Asya says to Jack "Some kind of tincan just tore through the guys at the crash site. Not sure if it's friendly or something else...get ready to move. Now"
Lewell's Crater, Westside Ruins
Asya's squad had been running since the fighting had started. While still in the western section of the city, they did not have much farther to go before hitting the sections closer to the spaceport where the fighting was considerably light, mainly consisting of short across the street firefights. Once there it would be a straight shot to the spaceport where they had seen a ship landing. Or that had been the plan before a enemy dropship had been knocked from the sky directly into their path, striking several rooftops before burying itself into a street cross section. They had been pinned down.
"How bad?" Asya asked between the groans of her squad mate Jin and the rattling of gunfire from the surviving troops from the dropship. They had taken shelter inside the entrance of one of the ruined buildings. Jack was farther inside, leaned over Jin shaking a spray can with white foam dripping from the tip. Beside the two of them lay three bloody metal spikes roughly six inches long "She got hit by a spike carbine, glad it wasn't like your rifle or she'd already be gone. The foam is keeping her together but that's it. She needs proper medical attention soon."
Asya was about to reply when the sound of incoming fire stopped. She looks back at Jack with a questioning look. He shrugs before going back to work on getting Jin ready to move. Reaching into one of her belt pouches, Asya takes out a small mirror that she cautiously holds just outside of the doorway she was using for cover. She's just in time to witness Bn-33's attack on the dropship crash site. As she continues to watch Bn using the mirror, Asya says to Jack "Some kind of tincan just tore through the guys at the crash site. Not sure if it's friendly or something else...get ready to move. Now"
White Death Landing Site
Kovacs paused at the girl's explanation, and having been orphaned himself, it struck a chord. But that part of him swiftly closed off once his prosthetic eyes emitted an active radar pulse, even though it was more of an X-ray/EMF detection pulse. Instead of the skeleton he should have seen, the girl was a solid outline resembling a human, much like a SPECTRE.
"Bullshit," Kovacs sounded calm, but as anybody knows, if a guy sounds calm in a war zone, they're either in shock or highly dangerous. He did not have time for an infiltrator, and she was very clearly not human. "What are you, really? Answer."
The commander listened to BN-33's brief about who the hostiles are in the area, and he instructed the Spectre to search for friendly forces.
Lewell's Crater, Westside Ruins
Barney gazed at the wasted lives at his feet, and were he capable of sadness, might have shed a tear or spared a prayer, has he been Faithful. But no, he was neither, and so he carried on, regretting the loss of life. Then he met more people, hiding in one of the destroyed buildings overlooking the crash.
They did not look like the hostiles from.before, and they had been there for some time. And were being shot at? Hmm, they must surely be friendly! Barney perked up at this, bleeping cheerfully while be waved at the small group beyond.
Kovacs paused at the girl's explanation, and having been orphaned himself, it struck a chord. But that part of him swiftly closed off once his prosthetic eyes emitted an active radar pulse, even though it was more of an X-ray/EMF detection pulse. Instead of the skeleton he should have seen, the girl was a solid outline resembling a human, much like a SPECTRE.
"Bullshit," Kovacs sounded calm, but as anybody knows, if a guy sounds calm in a war zone, they're either in shock or highly dangerous. He did not have time for an infiltrator, and she was very clearly not human. "What are you, really? Answer."
The commander listened to BN-33's brief about who the hostiles are in the area, and he instructed the Spectre to search for friendly forces.
Lewell's Crater, Westside Ruins
Barney gazed at the wasted lives at his feet, and were he capable of sadness, might have shed a tear or spared a prayer, has he been Faithful. But no, he was neither, and so he carried on, regretting the loss of life. Then he met more people, hiding in one of the destroyed buildings overlooking the crash.
They did not look like the hostiles from.before, and they had been there for some time. And were being shot at? Hmm, they must surely be friendly! Barney perked up at this, bleeping cheerfully while be waved at the small group beyond.
White Death landing site
When she heard him say "Bullshit", Dietrich metaphorical heart sank. Did he know that she was a slime? Impossible, even hitting her he made sure to make sure she was as solid as she can be. Hearing his command, she busted into tears and says "What do you mean by what I'm I? I told you who I was" she then collapses on her knees and then prostrates towards the gun toting man and says "Please! All I want is off this planet! Please find it in your heart to take me, please!" she begs towards him, obviously at mercy to Kovacs at this point. She kinda hopped that Kovacs could see that an infiltrator would no be on her knees and begging to come aboard, but instead would have give other reasons to come aboard or come aboard without his knowledge.
Even the appearance was fake, Dietrich genuinely wanted off this planet and so the slime in disguised adds "I understand your distrust, but please, let me on! I'll do anything you want, I just want off!" she continues to plead to him as she was face down onto the dirt and her arms raised as if giving an offer to a god. "Please..." she whimpers as she continues to be face down not looking at Kovac's only hoping he would let her own.
When she heard him say "Bullshit", Dietrich metaphorical heart sank. Did he know that she was a slime? Impossible, even hitting her he made sure to make sure she was as solid as she can be. Hearing his command, she busted into tears and says "What do you mean by what I'm I? I told you who I was" she then collapses on her knees and then prostrates towards the gun toting man and says "Please! All I want is off this planet! Please find it in your heart to take me, please!" she begs towards him, obviously at mercy to Kovacs at this point. She kinda hopped that Kovacs could see that an infiltrator would no be on her knees and begging to come aboard, but instead would have give other reasons to come aboard or come aboard without his knowledge.
Even the appearance was fake, Dietrich genuinely wanted off this planet and so the slime in disguised adds "I understand your distrust, but please, let me on! I'll do anything you want, I just want off!" she continues to plead to him as she was face down onto the dirt and her arms raised as if giving an offer to a god. "Please..." she whimpers as she continues to be face down not looking at Kovac's only hoping he would let her own.
Asya was not entirely sure how to react since she had just witnessed the machines slaughter of the group that had been pinning them down just moments before. She waited several moments before deciding to go with it. Turning to look back at her squad, she coldly "Jack, tincan looks friendly or at least not hostile towards us. You stay ready to move, I'm going down to check it out and see what I can get from the dropship since that was our last can of biofoam. Five minutes. If I don't signal before then, you take Jin and go. That's an order." She had preemptively made it an order because otherwise Jack would have continued to wait. He turned around and gave her a hurt look before simply nodding. Jin had finally gone quiet thanks to the sedative effect biofoam had when used internally.
Taking a deep breathe, Asya steps out of cover with her rifle aimed at the ground. Quickly making her way down the street, she stops short the machine. Close enough to talk, but far enough to not be in striking range. Clearing her throat Asya as she takes a closer look at the machine, she comments "Thanks for the save. Never seen one like you before. You must be from the ship that landed not too long ago. If you are...do you have a med bay? I have injured that badly need treatment."
Taking a deep breathe, Asya steps out of cover with her rifle aimed at the ground. Quickly making her way down the street, she stops short the machine. Close enough to talk, but far enough to not be in striking range. Clearing her throat Asya as she takes a closer look at the machine, she comments "Thanks for the save. Never seen one like you before. You must be from the ship that landed not too long ago. If you are...do you have a med bay? I have injured that badly need treatment."
"What's the point in waiting around! Time is money!" Ringo yelled, speedwalking his way onto the ship. "Also, that whole bit about 'my identity doesn't need to be known because it is dangerous' is bull@%$&. You are flying us bums into potentially the most hostile planet in the galaxy. I want some answers ma'am". From this point on, Ringo began thinking about he presents himself. He slumped onto the nearest chair and stuck out his feet. He then crossed em and tipped his hat over his face. In a sort of mumbling accent, Ringo started to prod at his new partners. "Riagan...whats your deal...to be brutally honest...I most likely going to die on this trip. But at least Ill die doing something cool. *holographic tumbleweed floats by*.
Nailed it. Ringo thought he had nailed it. He was playing the crazy, sleezy, and jovial character he had always wanted to be. At least he thought so. Every human interaction Ringo has had since he...cracked...was played off as if it was a movie. Ringo felt as if he was an actor, but unbeknownst to him, he had become the character he was emulating. All of his quips and quirks were now his, and not the character.
Nailed it. Ringo thought he had nailed it. He was playing the crazy, sleezy, and jovial character he had always wanted to be. At least he thought so. Every human interaction Ringo has had since he...cracked...was played off as if it was a movie. Ringo felt as if he was an actor, but unbeknownst to him, he had become the character he was emulating. All of his quips and quirks were now his, and not the character.
You are on: Forums » Sci-Fi Roleplay » The Galaxy Wide
Moderators: Mina, Keke, Cass, Claine, Sanne, Dragonfire, Ilmarinen, Darth_Angelus