((Feel free to make a post and jump right in! I wanted to make a thread that people could have fun with. You have the whole universe to draw from in terms of character origins, so be as creative as you want. World background-- hmm. At some undisclosed future date, the Great Human Imperium stretches across our galaxy and has ushered in a period of peace and prosperity-- perhaps at the cost of some individual freedom, but these things tend to happen in the pursuit of progress. Also, maybe some aliens got mowed down with lasers at a few inconvenient points in the past, but things are peaceful *now*, and that's really what matters when you think about it, right? Of course, there might be certain humans who for some reason or other just don't mesh with the Great Cause of Galactic Harmony, and there are probably quite a few aliens who view the human race as either villainous oppressors or yucky cockroach-like pests. The Imperium would prefer to avoid mentioning such people, if only because their lives are infinitely more interesting than the life of Imperial Recorder #3629.F2, who would be responsible for disseminating such information, and he's a little bitter and just in it for his pension.))
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"I can't believe this. Stupid, stupid thing!" In utter frustration, Kat kicked the landing gear, then stumbled backward with a curse as she accomplished nothing beyond stubbing her toe. The gear was stuck down, again, which meant that she couldn't go anywhere because if it wouldn't retract it wouldn't last through re-entry, and if it didn't last through re-entry she had a ninety percent chance of severely damaging the ship when she tried to land and marooning herself wherever she wound up, and about a ten percent chance of things going really badly and managing to kill herself. It served her right, of course. Kat hardly knew anything about maintenance-- that hadn't been her area of expertise back in her prior career-- and a rust bucket like this one needed someone who knew what they were doing. She made a mental note to try to steal something a little bit nicer the next time that she was making a fast getaway. For now, she needed to find somebody to fix the damn thing.
In a backwater like this planet, finding a mechanic was going to be harder than it ought to be. Low on fuel, she had set down on an outpost planet-- a rough little desert world where the terraforming had stuck just enough to make the atmosphere breathable but where nobody had managed to come up with a way to make life remotely pleasant. Glumly, Kat turned her back to the dusty field where the ship landed. She didn't bother to try to activate the broken security lock since it seemed unlikely that anyone would be enough of a fool to try to fly anything so decrepit. Besides, the only things of actual value that she had were a few trinkets in her pocket, her gun, and the envelope hidden away in the lining of her coat, and all of those things were going with her.
Kat had spotted a town off to the south as she was making her less-than-graceful landing, and so she set off in that direction. Hopefully there would be a mechanic. Undoubtedly there would be a bar. Finding either would be a step up.
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"I can't believe this. Stupid, stupid thing!" In utter frustration, Kat kicked the landing gear, then stumbled backward with a curse as she accomplished nothing beyond stubbing her toe. The gear was stuck down, again, which meant that she couldn't go anywhere because if it wouldn't retract it wouldn't last through re-entry, and if it didn't last through re-entry she had a ninety percent chance of severely damaging the ship when she tried to land and marooning herself wherever she wound up, and about a ten percent chance of things going really badly and managing to kill herself. It served her right, of course. Kat hardly knew anything about maintenance-- that hadn't been her area of expertise back in her prior career-- and a rust bucket like this one needed someone who knew what they were doing. She made a mental note to try to steal something a little bit nicer the next time that she was making a fast getaway. For now, she needed to find somebody to fix the damn thing.
In a backwater like this planet, finding a mechanic was going to be harder than it ought to be. Low on fuel, she had set down on an outpost planet-- a rough little desert world where the terraforming had stuck just enough to make the atmosphere breathable but where nobody had managed to come up with a way to make life remotely pleasant. Glumly, Kat turned her back to the dusty field where the ship landed. She didn't bother to try to activate the broken security lock since it seemed unlikely that anyone would be enough of a fool to try to fly anything so decrepit. Besides, the only things of actual value that she had were a few trinkets in her pocket, her gun, and the envelope hidden away in the lining of her coat, and all of those things were going with her.
Kat had spotted a town off to the south as she was making her less-than-graceful landing, and so she set off in that direction. Hopefully there would be a mechanic. Undoubtedly there would be a bar. Finding either would be a step up.
George was pissed off today. He honestly couldn't find one scrap of work. That was the problem with being assigned an outpost world bye the Mechanius Guild. You went off thinking it would be full of adventure, or simple and joyful day to day work. But no, that wasn't how it worked out. You often got sent (nine times out of ten) to a complete hole in the fabric of the universe. George had been here five years. That was much more than enough to restart the enconomy, train the planet's own personal Mechnius Tech, and fix everything worth fixing to boot.
George sighed. There was simply nothing for it. All he could do was request a transfer. That would more than likely be denied and George would be stuck here for the rest of his life. That would be total hell for George, nothing to fix for years and years. Ugh, he though and shivered. One glimmer of hope showed itself to George, a ship had come in a few minutes ago that looked to be in dis-repair. George simply HAD to get their before his new coulleage Brent.
Hurrying along an avenue, one of the few in what barely qualified as a town, yet was the capital of the planet, George ran into what he assumed was the owner of the ship, literally. They crashed into each other at top speed, and George landed on top of her. After a minute, George got up, brushed himself off, then helped the lady up. She wa spretty to him, as he hadn't seen a pretty girl in years. "Hello Ma'am." He said politely. "Your ship seemed to be in disrepair, and I was wondering if I could help."
George sighed. There was simply nothing for it. All he could do was request a transfer. That would more than likely be denied and George would be stuck here for the rest of his life. That would be total hell for George, nothing to fix for years and years. Ugh, he though and shivered. One glimmer of hope showed itself to George, a ship had come in a few minutes ago that looked to be in dis-repair. George simply HAD to get their before his new coulleage Brent.
Hurrying along an avenue, one of the few in what barely qualified as a town, yet was the capital of the planet, George ran into what he assumed was the owner of the ship, literally. They crashed into each other at top speed, and George landed on top of her. After a minute, George got up, brushed himself off, then helped the lady up. She wa spretty to him, as he hadn't seen a pretty girl in years. "Hello Ma'am." He said politely. "Your ship seemed to be in disrepair, and I was wondering if I could help."
She had been hoping to bump into someone who knew their way around the inner-workings of a ship, but Kat hadn't exactly planned the bump to be so literal. She shook some loose dust from her jacket and eyed the man who had collided with her, squinting one blue eye thoughtfully as she did so.
Part of her felt that it had been entirely too easy. He might have been a plant, or worse...
The rest of her realized that this might very well have been an unexpected change of fortune, and God knew she was well overdue for one of those.
"I was hoping to find somebody to get it up and running again. If you're qualified, I'd sure appreciate it if you'd take a look..."
Part of her felt that it had been entirely too easy. He might have been a plant, or worse...
The rest of her realized that this might very well have been an unexpected change of fortune, and God knew she was well overdue for one of those.
"I was hoping to find somebody to get it up and running again. If you're qualified, I'd sure appreciate it if you'd take a look..."
With a dark sigh Zoya flicked the control surface of her Arwing, the small purple holographic marking glowed dimly in the cockpit as she hurtled though space. Most of the time she hunted for other ships, but, luck had been low until now. Having locked onto an unknown signal she trailed the ship undetected, well, hopefully undetected.
The Arwing she pilots is painted black with a red hammer and sickle painted on the wings, a small red light glows at the back of the Arwing, product of the R755 Redwave plasma reactor that powered the ship. For its small size it could enter slipspace without any hassle and it upped the ships maneuverability tenfold, also equipped with the latest laser technology and tracking systems the ship was the best she could manage, after all it matched military ships, if not bettered them. (wow, that was my longest post yet. dont expect another that good.
)
The Arwing she pilots is painted black with a red hammer and sickle painted on the wings, a small red light glows at the back of the Arwing, product of the R755 Redwave plasma reactor that powered the ship. For its small size it could enter slipspace without any hassle and it upped the ships maneuverability tenfold, also equipped with the latest laser technology and tracking systems the ship was the best she could manage, after all it matched military ships, if not bettered them. (wow, that was my longest post yet. dont expect another that good.
)
An Amy, specifically Subset 503, had been assigned to take stock of this particular reality. 503 had taken the form of a human woman, the typical Amy choice, and after a little poking around in local databases had decided to project an outfit that suggested she was a freelance pilot of some kind - a thin bomber-style coat with various patches sewn on, pulled over a set of filthy-looking coveralls. This was of course all just a hologram projected onto a carefully-shaped forcefield. 503's real 'body' was a probe about the size of a 2L (33oz) soda bottle, hidden within the projected image.
She sat on a low retaining wall next to one of the pre-fabbed shacks that made up the town, watching for anything interesting. She'd landed here two weeks ago in her second-hand skipper-shuttle, and had yet to find much worth noting. The highlights of the day so far had been the landing of some old beater just outside town, and the collision in the middle of the pathway that had just happened. 503 had seen one of them before, but didn't recognize the other, and assumed she was either the pilot or one of the other occupants from the new arrival.
Shading her 'eyes' from the brutal sunlight of this wasteland of a planet, she got up and dusted the seat of her pants, not that it helped. Sauntering over and past, the AI fragment made her pass as casual as she could muster, discreetly running a scan to see if there'd been any injuries to either party from the unexpected run-in. Also, she wanted to get a little closer and see if she could pick up on any conversation.
She sat on a low retaining wall next to one of the pre-fabbed shacks that made up the town, watching for anything interesting. She'd landed here two weeks ago in her second-hand skipper-shuttle, and had yet to find much worth noting. The highlights of the day so far had been the landing of some old beater just outside town, and the collision in the middle of the pathway that had just happened. 503 had seen one of them before, but didn't recognize the other, and assumed she was either the pilot or one of the other occupants from the new arrival.
Shading her 'eyes' from the brutal sunlight of this wasteland of a planet, she got up and dusted the seat of her pants, not that it helped. Sauntering over and past, the AI fragment made her pass as casual as she could muster, discreetly running a scan to see if there'd been any injuries to either party from the unexpected run-in. Also, she wanted to get a little closer and see if she could pick up on any conversation.
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