Nova Boozia
18-12-2005, 18:25
IC: Space. Seven lightyears from the nearest system, not far on a galactic scale, but enough for the space to be empty seeming, except for the light of a few far away stars, and the small Galkenfasch nebula. It was in the fringe, a diplomatic term for the edges of boozian space which the federation didn’t really own, but no one else did, so the cartographers marked it in Boozian red, in the manner of a cat puffing up it’s tail, or a blowfish expanding. But there was something new here tonight (not that you could tell it was dark back on Boozia prime from this wilderness: there were no comm beacons).
A cruiser, leaping from a sudden blue rupture in the black emptiness, and plunging into the nebula. Had the gas cloud bean any smaller, the vessel would have come out the other side, for it was a fair sized ship, and the nebula was very small.
Captain Kolfgen looked down at his sensor readout screen, his naked eyes useless in the enveloping gas. There was his ship, Gulfagen, there was the boat he had ordered…and there was the subject of his mission. It had, according to a hasty record check back in the headquarters of the Astrology and Navigation Administration Section, been idly sitting on the scanner screens since before the federation was born, just like a thousand other asteroids, and then, it had vanished. Magically. The computers had guessed something was afoot and pinged up, and here he was. The boat switched to an active density sweep, and a wireframe picture of the anomaly appeared on the screen. It was a ship, no, a boat, it had no hyperdrive, according to the energy scan team, but it was dead. There was no other word for it. Only density and motion showed anything up.
The boat latched onto what might have been a door, and the marines entered, in a no nonsense fashion. The explosion remained on the coxswains eye for some minutes. Within was a fairly typical airlock. The coxswain had an armoured space helmet with all the senses turned off on this time. The marines erected a makeshift sealable flap over the shattered door, and entered. The lights were off, the heating off, the air conditioning off. The boat was truly dead. But eventually, the heavy scanner trolley the marines were wheeling along reached an obstruction. Not even the tiniest blip came from behind the wall ahead, as though there was a black hole through the door. Concerning the door, the squad still had another detonator.
There was no ancient evil, no otherworldly presence. Back on the bridge, the camera drone accompanying the squad failed show only static. There was a perfectly ordinary room, looking like a control room or lab of some type. And there was an energy signal. An independent generator, and a sensor pack. Gulfagen’s comm scan team, straining their machines for the slightest, garbled message, suddenly picked up a transmission from the heart of the boat to the extragalactic void. And on the boozian insertion boats bridge, the coxswain started as the entire, uncensored contents of his navigation computer were snatched away by a probe from the rapidly activating boat. On the bridge, a second transmission was intercepted, and rather than the alien gibberish of the first, it was immediately recognized as a standard map of the galaxy.
Out in the distant void, something very old and very large…stirred.
OOC: I have decided to reintroduce an old “boozians as separate species” concept, but keep my human ones to tie in with my previous work. This is an introductory thread, and anyone’s welcome to join, but bring warships. This will turn nasty.
A cruiser, leaping from a sudden blue rupture in the black emptiness, and plunging into the nebula. Had the gas cloud bean any smaller, the vessel would have come out the other side, for it was a fair sized ship, and the nebula was very small.
Captain Kolfgen looked down at his sensor readout screen, his naked eyes useless in the enveloping gas. There was his ship, Gulfagen, there was the boat he had ordered…and there was the subject of his mission. It had, according to a hasty record check back in the headquarters of the Astrology and Navigation Administration Section, been idly sitting on the scanner screens since before the federation was born, just like a thousand other asteroids, and then, it had vanished. Magically. The computers had guessed something was afoot and pinged up, and here he was. The boat switched to an active density sweep, and a wireframe picture of the anomaly appeared on the screen. It was a ship, no, a boat, it had no hyperdrive, according to the energy scan team, but it was dead. There was no other word for it. Only density and motion showed anything up.
The boat latched onto what might have been a door, and the marines entered, in a no nonsense fashion. The explosion remained on the coxswains eye for some minutes. Within was a fairly typical airlock. The coxswain had an armoured space helmet with all the senses turned off on this time. The marines erected a makeshift sealable flap over the shattered door, and entered. The lights were off, the heating off, the air conditioning off. The boat was truly dead. But eventually, the heavy scanner trolley the marines were wheeling along reached an obstruction. Not even the tiniest blip came from behind the wall ahead, as though there was a black hole through the door. Concerning the door, the squad still had another detonator.
There was no ancient evil, no otherworldly presence. Back on the bridge, the camera drone accompanying the squad failed show only static. There was a perfectly ordinary room, looking like a control room or lab of some type. And there was an energy signal. An independent generator, and a sensor pack. Gulfagen’s comm scan team, straining their machines for the slightest, garbled message, suddenly picked up a transmission from the heart of the boat to the extragalactic void. And on the boozian insertion boats bridge, the coxswain started as the entire, uncensored contents of his navigation computer were snatched away by a probe from the rapidly activating boat. On the bridge, a second transmission was intercepted, and rather than the alien gibberish of the first, it was immediately recognized as a standard map of the galaxy.
Out in the distant void, something very old and very large…stirred.
OOC: I have decided to reintroduce an old “boozians as separate species” concept, but keep my human ones to tie in with my previous work. This is an introductory thread, and anyone’s welcome to join, but bring warships. This will turn nasty.