NationStates Jolt Archive

((OOC: Check out the sign-up thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=481975) if you wanna hop in.))

Sol Star System.
Outer Jupiter Orbit, the Krowemohian Sol Gate Generator.

The Krowemohian Mothership 'Intution' began it approach vector on the massive Gate Generator, the ring-shaped device which hung in space like a Christmas ornament.

The last of the Mercenaries for the mission had just been picked up, and was, at the moment, being safely stored away into a Cryo-sleep capsule.

Clearance was submitted, as well as corrdinates. The ring-like device began to spin, slowly at first yet gaining momentum and speed. A tear in space appeared at the center of the ring, which expanded fully to reveal a wormhole.

The Mothership slipped into the wormhole, then vanished. Behind it, the gate closed the hole, preventing any further access.

~~~~~~

Unnamed Star System, Planet Krowemoh, Vector Industeries Galactic HQ

The office of the Executive Vice President of Administrations for Vector Industeries was a very nice, spacy by anyone's standard. Portraits hung on the wall, of the Vice President himself, an artistic rendering of the Goddess Cori, various certificates and diplomas.

The chair and desk were even made of real oak wood and leather, rather then the faux wood and plastic 'leather' most were accustomed to seeing.

But the Vice President's attention wasn't on any of these items at the moment. The high ranking Neko was staring at the two humans before him, one dressed in a red business suit, the other in Green.

On his desk, a PDA-like device buzzed, then displayed a holographic message. Diego glanced at it, then nodded to the two. "The Mothership has left Sol. They will be joining up with the Cleansing Blade and Hands of the Faithful, then leaving for Rixxun Prime."

The two men said nothing...

~~~~~~

Uncharted space...

The Gate Generator buzzed, then spun, the end of a wormhole appearing. It spat out the Mothership.

Orbiting the Gate Generator were the two Cruisers. Preperations were made, and the long journey began, as the Gate Generator started being dragged away by two tug-ships.

The trip itself would take three months...

~~~~~~

Mothership 'Intution'
Month One: Dream Now

The first month for the Mercenaries and Alexis CorPurS team was spent in Cryo-sleep.

~~~~~~

Mothership 'Intution'
Month Two: Wakey Wakey

Alexia gasped, a mild bio-electric shock running up and down her body, jolting her system wide awake. Groaning, she sat up in her Cryo-sleep pod, rubbing her forehead. Goddess... My first time and I already hate waking up from Cryo-sleep. She thought, climbing out from her pod.

She glanced over to the other pods, seeing the rows of open pods, like hers. All the Mercs gathered for this job were here, all stored in one spot. Like her, each mercenary was being jolted awake from their cryogenetic slumber by a mild bio-electric charge. The rest of her team was here was well, the few Nekos in this group of humans.

Shaking the feeing back into her arms and legs, she quickly stripes off her cryo-wear, simply nothing more then cloth underwear, dumping the slick clothing into a trash chute against the wall near the door leading into the showers and locker rooms. Without even bothering to cover herself, she starts walking down the line, barking orders. "Alright ladies, wakey wakey. Some of you may have never done this before so I'll go over the basics."

She stopped before Tobis, nodding to him, before continuing. "My name is Alexia Nyo, but you will call me Staff Sergeant Nyo. It is my duty to ensure that you all mesh together into a coherent unit, as well as make sure you all get a feel for the Realians you will be commanding, and get a feel for the layout of this ship, since it will be your home for the next six or more months."

She stopped before one Merc, a black haired man, glanced him over, then frowned, her tail flicking low to the ground in disapproval, before resuming her walk. "Now then, you may all notice that you are wearing nothing but cyro-wear, and your memory might be a bit fuzzy. Don't panic, that is normal. You just slept for a month straight. It'll all come back shortly."

She reached the end of the row of pods, then started back in the other direction. "First, get rid of the wear. There's a trash deposit against the wall where you may dump the clothing. Then, head into the showers and wash up. Your gear such as clothing and armor are being stored in the locker rooms, in a locker bearing your name. They are DNA encoded, so simply press your hand against the locker and it'll open, so long as it belongs to you."

She passes the black haired merc again, "Please note this is an Intergalactic spaceship, and space IS a vaccum. Thus, there is a strict no live weapons rule. Your weapons are being stored in the Armory. The location of the armory will not be revealed until we arrive at the target destination. Your weapons are safe there, as you will not be needing them until we get to where we're going. These rules are in place for a reason, I trust we can all be mature and abide by the rules."

she stops, then takes a few steps away from the row of pods, glancing over them all, "If you have any questions, you may ask them after you finish bathing. Now then, we all smell like crap left too long in the sun, so hit the showers."

Following her order, her CorPurS team filed into the showers, to be followed by the rest of the Mercs. Alexia would be the last to bathe up and change into her gear.



((OOC2: For now, post initial reactions, shower scene, and changing into your character's gear and so forth. :D This part will mostly be interactions and such.))

Roy twitched as a shock passed through him, bringing him out of cyyo-sleep. As he stood and and began rubbing his arm and leg muscles, he mentally cursed whoever had developed cyrostasis.

As he got out of the pod, he was greeted by a nude cat-girl who was gabbering orders and commands. As she stopped in front of him, she looked him over and frowned. This negativity prompted him to check if, A) he'd been drooling, B) he'd spilt something on his cyro-suit or C) biological reasons. As he found all three to be no, he wondered what the 'tude was for.

As he began stripping down to deal with the wasted bodysuit, she again passed in front of him as she continued her lecture. As soon as he spotted an empty shower, he headed over to get washed up. Turning the water to it's hottest setting, he began scrubbing himself clean.

Returning to the cyro chamber he headed to the storage lockers and began getting dressed in his usual black and grey clothing.

Skeero roused up from his cryo-chamber, feeling frankly quite crimped up considering these things usually aren't meant for a being of his frame. He exits the pod and stretches out his arms and tail, stiffening them for a brief moment and then relaxing all three appendages. He massages the fetlock muscles on his legs into relaxing while lazily eyeballing the neko giving her brief as she strolls the length of the pods. This better pay well for the discomfort. I wonder if they'll have a sonic shower or an old water system?

As it turned out, there was a selection of either option. He chose the sonic shower to relax his melanophores beneath his scales some and ease the greyish color out of them. A thorough but quick inspection shows no scale rot beginning as happens on occasion during prolonged periods of cryo-induced sleep. Heading back to his kit, he rubs some sesame oil on his scales and dons his waist wrap and sash; both a deep earthy color and made of tanned leather.

Turner's awakening from his chemically-induced sleep was the usual pain in the ass. He'd been through it a few times before on training operations back when he'd been enlisted... Well, technically he was still enlisted, in several planetary militaries as a matter of fact. Listed as 'AWOL', but still on the books...

The sight of the naked female cat-person in front of him made his wake-up that much easier, but he'd have to try hard not to pop a woody in the process...

'They're paying me to shoot shit and stare at naked females? Here kitty kitty...'

CT's mind was its typical perverted self. Despite his prolonged slumber, his sex-drive was still running at full-tilt. Turner slid out of the pod, his bare feet hitting the cold deck lightly, sending chills up his spine like the jolt of electricity he'd recieved a few seconds ago.

Striding to the showers, his unclothed frame showcased muscle-structure toned by countless hours of physical training and running from the authorities, as well as an interesting set of tattoos. His back was decorated with a pair of XSP sidearms matching the ones he'd brought on board down to the engraving. They were situated at an angle, and both facing opposite directions like one would find them in a dueling box. The outline was done in black ink, triple-inked for maximum darkness. His left pectoral bore a set of three impact sites, like those left from bullets when they penetrated a metal plate. Arranged in a random cluster to give the look of actually having been shot, they were graphic representations of the scars he had on his upper chest, back, and abdominals. The words 'LIVE BY THE GUN' were inked in an old english font across his shoulder blades, above the pistol design. His right inner forearm bore a series of alien symbols, translating to 'Natural Born Killer', while the left inner forearm bore the unit symbol of the unit he'd first served with and actually retired from. It was a simple set of crossed XSP sidearms behind a Combine battle-helmet with full face-mask, with a commando knife pointing upwards between the pistols and behind the helmet.

Luckily, the shower was hot. Good and hot. After a quick rinse, he moved to the locker where his gear was stored. Just like himself, it was a hodgepodge of equipment from various military forces from across the galaxy, and most of it was listed as 'stolen' in the quartermaster's logs. His boots were standard Combine issue, black with standard laces and a sheath he'd had added for a short-bladed knife. The pants were the special operations variation, gunmetal gray in color with additional magazine pouches sewn into the thighs, and outlined where a quick-draw holster would hang. The two large cargo pockets, one per side, allowed for some additional storage. His gray T-shirt was a moisture-wicking design from some backwater outpost Earth had colonized, which had been hotter than hell. Its neck-wrapping collar was reinforced with a slash-proof nylon/kevlar blend to protect his neck from being cut from behind. The fact that it bore a mark attested to its effectiveness. His vest was some alien design, which he'd had custom made to house four additional magazines for his sidearms, as well as protect him from shrapnel and a few small-caliber rounds, and also black in color. The double-holstered quick-draw pistol belt was designed to securely hold two XSP sidearms as well as six additional magazines. The holsteres were currently empty. Turner buckled it around his wasit, pulling it tight to enhance that flat-stomached look the tucked-in T-shirt gave him.

Finally, he pulled on the fingerless tactical gloves he'd worn for so many years. The palms were enhanced with a slightly tacky material for an extremely sure grip on nearly any surface. It enhanced his control of his weapons, which was invaluable...