NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Bog standard first contact with a slight twist. No uber fleets please, although a little fighting won't annoy me.

IC: The DVT Hope was an unusually large transport. While tiny in comparison to say...space, it was still large in the usual sense of scale, as in so large it could be comparable to a city large.

At this point, the city sized transport was suffering from two things. The first was a severe artist's block. The best way to describe the transport was to think of a black rectangle with one corner chopped off with engines on the back, and perhaps a couple of hangars and a few hundred running lights thrown around for the hell of it. The second, was the fact that it's Subspace drive was malfunctioning.

After a few moments, Subspace stuttered and fell away around the ship, and the DVT Hope shot into realspace at speeds far exceeding those specified as 'safe' for the 10KM brick of a ship. It span somewhat, but careful use of afterburners and manoeuvreing jets soon brought the transport to a halt, if it's current state was a little undesireable.

Folus Cackmaim, the pilot of the transport, cursed and smacked the control console in front of him. All around him, flashing red lights and alarms blared out at him, warning him that the ship had sustained some structural damage, and that it was in fact, dead in the water.

"But why!?! Why the hell are we dead in the water?"

Running a diagnostic, Folus, soon found out. A small tear in the hull had run deep, probably caused by debris not stopped in time by the shields. So deep, that it had in fact ruptured the one reactor core in the entire ship. While this presented no immediate threat, due to special containment facilities, this did leave the ship with little power. And with over a million people in stasis on board, that power would quickly be used up.

Biting his lip, Folus, hit a few keys on the control console, and grabbed a microphone that descended from the roof of the Bridge. Clearing his throat, Folus ran through his mind what he was going to say, and then opened his mouth.

"Computer, record message, code word to end Folus...MAYDAY MAYDAY! This is the DVT Hope requesting immediate assistance! We are currently carrying over a million beings in stasis, and have suffered a complete reactor failure. We are dead in space, repeat dead in space! Computers estimate that only twelve hours of life support is left...after which, we're all screwed. If anyone is out there, please help us! Folus!"

Letting go of the microphone, Folus sighed, and watched it disappear into it's compartment. Looking out at the vast dark of space, he pulled out a sandwich from his pocket, and took a small bite out of it.

And now I wait...

Throughout space, on all frequencies, the following message was transmitted:

[MAYDAY MAYDAY! This is the DVT Hope requesting immediate assistance! We are currently carrying over a million beings in stasis, and have suffered a complete reactor failure. We are dead in space, repeat dead in space! Computers estimate that only twelve hours of life support is left...after which, we're all screwed. If anyone is out there, please help us!]

The Pathfinder, one of the Explorer ships sent out by the Empire to search and, well, explore picked up the distress signal.

"Scan for the soure of the signal and plot a course."

"Yes Sir."

The ship faded into T-Space as it hurried to save the ship.


OOC:

I'll post a proper post once I get home.

Folus paced around in the cramped cockpit as best he could. Granted this meant he had to take it slow and generally revolve around the chair, he was still to anxious to care. It had been two hours since he'd sent out the emergency transmission, and not so much as a hunk of debris had come within sensor range of the Hope, regardless of the power constraints.

Leaning over his chair, Folus grabbed another sandwich and took a bite out of it. He gazed out into the void of space. They were deep in space certainly. There were no asteroid fields, no nebula's, no...anything but the twinkle of faint stars. Sighing, Folus, even wishing for pirates, turned around, and hit the door stud on the wall. As the door morphed out of existence, Folus considered the ramifications of abandoning his post, shrugged, and left. The beer wouldn't be cool for much longer.

S.S ATLANTA is testing it's weapons when it picks up the distress signal everything is halted and the captain tells his pilots to lock the coordinates into the computers tomtom 4000 satnav,

a pilot approaches the captian and asks him why they have to help the ship

he ignores the question and sit's down wondering wether he will get a reward or not...

OOC: Bumpy boo

[Somewhere in tXYZ-space]

Veth'dar i-San smiles.

He is satisfied, highly satisfied. While satisfaction is not in fact a normal state for the An'dari, their millions of years of evolution have conditioned them to extract satisfaction from competence. After all, in the jungle of space, those who are incompetent, die. He is satisfied for several reasons: First of all, he is the first operator ever to pilot a vessel into this space sector, probably thousands upon thousands of azikum'ts from the Homelune; exploration and novelty is always a source of satisfaction to the An'dari. Second, he is emerging successful so far on his mission.

Veth'dar stares out of the window at space beyond. His "staring" is not exactly akin to the way human beings do it; for millennia the An'dari had lived underground, losing almost all sense of sight, before the Great Exodus when they had been forced up to the surface by some occurrence long forgotten. Over time they had adapted to gain some sense of vision, but it was poor, and relied heavily on infrared light; however, due to their technological ingenuity, the An'dari had designed a whole set of birth implants to enhance their capabilities to surface life: the advanced vision cameras, to interpret colour and a 360º sweep, as well as act as more advanced motion sensors. The An'dari, however, still relied heavily upon their senses of smell and hearing; even with the implants their vision was nowhere near as advanced, delicate, and refined as that of their surface-dwelling cousins the Ves'dari.

Outside there is almost nothing. Distantly are specks of light that could be planets, or stars, or comets; all appearing in stark red, the white colour only added afterwards. Veth'dar turns back to the other avatar. "System map on screen, please."

"Sure," the other avatar says. It looks less like Veth'dar, somewhere in between An'dari and Ves'dari features; the light white fur covering the sturdy limbs of an An'dari, but with the piercing eyes and the face of a Ves'dari. Within a moment the entire sector is displayed upon a convenient viewscreen. Star systems are few and far between here; off in the deep distance Veth'dar can see the Gali'randi-el system, marked with the blue-and-gold symbol of the First Empire, and a few of the surrounding systems, mainly inhabited. It is an unexplored corner of space; the last foreign ship to pass through did so many millions of years ago, so many that it has almost been forgotten.

Further off, in this area of realspace, there is almost nothing; the avatar (that of J'itu i-Kovolk, the ship) informs Veth'dar that the nearest non-Gali'randi star system is several hundred light-years away. Nonetheless, there are a few ships (marked in little green blots) traversing realspace in this area, although what they could be doing here is beyond Veth'dar.

Veth'dar muses, "This place feels lifeless. I wonder at the Emperor sometimes."

"How very unreasonable of you." J'itu half-smiles.

Veth'dar grins. The An'dari may have evolved to be largely cerebral, but they still have a sense of humour, even if they don't express it much. "Those ships," Veth'dar says. "Can you tell me what they are or where they come from?"

"What they are, probably. Where they come from? All I've got in my database is the Gali'randi-el System in one category, and everyone else in another." J'itu's avatar stares off into space for a moment before resuming her narrative. "They're certainly not organic, whatever they are. Probably artificial, constructed by one of those lesser species Whatsisface wrote about... the 'u-mani, or whatever they called themselves."

"Artificial ships? What will they think of next..." Veth'dar half-sighs. What he's inside, at the moment, is a Kun'dari; originally a race of intelligent, sentient electronic and silicon-based beings, the Kun'dari began to learn at some point about fifty thousand years ago how to amalgate metals and conductors into themselves. With the formation of the First Empire, now thirty thousand years old -- the Kun'dari had been one of the races of Gali'randi-el system to sign to the pact and submit to the Emperor -- the An'dari had begun to aid the Kun'dari, constructing for them propulsion systems of various kinds so that they could propel their creations along with themselves throughout the universe. Today the Kun'dari had almost merged with their shells, becoming cyborgs of a kind; those shells had become extensively fashioned to take on the appearance of strange vessels, with nothing superfluous attached (except Ves'dari designs) and little armament, if any. There appeared to be no entrance or exit; the vessels seemed smoothly formed as though by nature.

"Hang on," J'itu says as the vessel smoothly changes course by nineteen degrees. "I've just received a distress call. Want me to broadcast it?"

"Sure," Veth'dar says. "The rest of our crew could do with some notification."

A few seconds later the loudspeakers begin broadcasting: MAYDAY MAYDAY! This is the DVT Hope requesting immediate assistance! We are currently carrying over a million beings in stasis, and have suffered a complete reactor failure. We are dead in space, repeat dead in space! Computers estimate that only twelve hours of life support is left...after which, we're all screwed. If anyone is out there, please help us!

Within a few moments the crew members are appearing upon the command bridge, noting this to be the call for stations. The stations are largely outdated positions, as J'itu is already composing the reply and turning the ship towards the damaged vessel at once; two of the crew members are security personnel, their avatars bulky and emotionless with weapons at the ready, while the third is the manual co-pilot; in case J'itu were to die or be incapacitated, it would take the co-pilot and Veth'dar, plus the artificial computers below, to run the ship.

Meanwhile, the message reaches whatever sensors the damaged ship still maintains: "Greetings! I am the Gali'randi-el vessel J'itu, Kovolk class. I have intercepted your message, and am en route currently; we will attempt to bring vital systems online long enough for a Gali'randi-li evacuation fleet to arrive and conduct you back to your own sector."

J'itu's avatar turns from the comm after sending. "I hope that'll do. Perhaps they'll get the idea and not see us as hostile or ... anything."

The ship's reactor continues to run silently, propelling her forth at high velocities through tXYZ-space: the space made up of our four standard dimensions, time, length, width, and height. And straight into history.

The dice scattered across the floor. "Five." The first Roanian lifted them from the ground, and passed them to the other. The second nodded and rolled them. "And twelve. All right, on three." The woman sighed, dropped her uniform blouse and placed it on the ground, then turned around.

The man took a good look at her wings. "You should get that looked at. What is that, mange?" He brushed it with his finger. "We'll have to get you to the medic. Where did it come from?"

"That swamp." She covered her chest with her arms and sighed, looking straight forward. "It's freezing in here." She muttered. "Couldn't we have done this in the Bath?"

"You wanted to play Bones with me first, and you said it was private." He stroked it again, then slowly slid his arms around her and kissed her cheek. "Maybe I should warm you up, Ialisa."

She turned about in his arms and reached up over him, smiling a little. "Maybe you should, Coriel..." Their lips met for a moment, and then the commsignal flashed. Ialisa pushed away and grabbed her blouse, breathing a little quickly. She retracted her wings, then pulled the uniform back on. "I knew we should have retired to my chambers."

"Apologies, Captain." Coriel looked straight ahead, a little smile on his face. "Shall I answer?"

The Captain waved a hand dismissively. "As you wish, communications officer. See you back on the bridge." She kissed him and left the booth.


A few moments later the ponderous destroyer slowly began to alter its heading. Then it was simply gone.

Lieutenant Jake Schuster, and his new co-pilot, an ensign, Alex Sergeiov, were patrolling their C709 Longsword through deep-space, on a routine training exercise, having left the capital ship upon which they were stationed miles away. Schuster grunted in frustration, having to work with this kid pissed him off. It wasn't the guy himself, it was more so the humiliation of being paired up with a rookie, an ensign fresh out of the Naval Academy. Jake made a mental note to stop getting into bar fights with superior officers, maybe that way he'd get better assignments. No matter, he shoved the thought aside, this new kid was a quick learner.

"Lieutenant," Sergeiov yelped in excitement, "I'm picking up a signal."
"Christ, rookie, buckle down. It's nothing big, just someone talkin' to us. Anyway, for the fifth time, it's Schuster, not Lieutenant."
"Uh... Yes sir, Schuster. Sir..."
Okay, so maybe not that quick of a learner. "Alright, let's hear the communication," Schuster assented. The ensign flicked a switch, and the message played:

MAYDAY MAYDAY! This is the DVT Hope requesting immediate assistance! We are currently carrying over a million beings in stasis, and have suffered a complete reactor failure. We are dead in space, repeat dead in space! Computers estimate that only twelve hours of life support is left...after which, we're all screwed. If anyone is out there, please help us!

The two pilots sat in silence for a minute or so, then Schuster murmured "Sweet Jesus..." Then he slumped further down into his chair.
After another short period of silent shock, the ensign asked, "Lieutenant, I mean Schuster, aren't we gonna find them or something?"

"What? No, boy. We couldn't do anything, we're just two starfighter pilots, it ain't like we can rescue all million of 'em."

"But..."

"Son, it's time to call in the cavalry."

Schuster sat up again and, switching dials, pressing buttons, and flicking switches, he relayed a message to the ship in distress.

"Hello, DVT Hope, this is Lieutenant Jake Schuster, Starfighter Corps, Allied States Naval Command. My ship is a starfighter and has no extra room. However, if you send me your co-ordinates, I can alert my fleet and request that they begin an evacuation of your ship."

Doors morphing out of existence, Folus walked in, a cool-ish beer in his right hand. Taking a long drawn out gulp, he sat down in his chair, and looked out at space, putting his feet up. Folus was not by any usual standards a remarkable human. With close cropped brown hair, stubble and blue eyes he looked just about the same as any human transport pilot you'd catch around these parts. Of course, looks are always decieving. Belching however, you could be fooled with Folus. Setting his beer on the floor, he leaned his head back and proceeded to nap, hoping to wake up either in a room of naked ladies, or back in the cockpit to find that someone had boarded.

Rather than either occuring however, he was awoken by a bleeping noise coming from the control console. Growling, and setting his feet down, he looked over the console until he found a flashing key, and smacked it with his index finger. A voice boomed in the cockpit.

[Greetings! I am the Gali'randi-el vessel J'itu, Kovolk class. I have intercepted your message, and am en route currently; we will attempt to bring vital systems online long enough for a Gali'randi-li evacuation fleet to arrive and conduct you back to your own sector.]

Folus grinned. Volodis technology was not too unlike another Nation's. While some of their technology was compatable with most races, other aspects, like power and weaponry, were very...unique, as would be discovered later. Flipping a switch, the microphone came down from the roof. Folus grabbed it, and cleared his throat.

"Computer, record message, broadcast along wave..." Folus checked some readouts, "225 dash 13783...code word to end Folus. Gali'randi-el vessel, this is...the Captain. I've recieved your transmission, thank you for coming to my aid. Feel free to dock with the transport, and I'll be there to greet you. Any atmosphere you could provide containing 25% oxygen and 75% inert gases would be much appreciated also. The Captain out. Folus."

Sitting back, Folus watched the short-range sensors intently, waiting for the Gali'randi-el vessel to appear, while the following transmission was sent out, draining about two hours worth of life support due to the specific nature of the message:

[Gali'randi-el vessel, this is...the Captain. I've recieved your transmission, thank you for coming to my aid. Feel free to dock with the transport, and I'll be there to greet you. Any atmosphere you could provide containing 25% oxygen and 75% inert gases would be much appreciated also. The Captain out.]

However, it wasn't long before another transmission reached the Hope. Sighing, glad he didn't dismiss the microphone, Focus pressed a key and listened to the message. After a few moments, he sighed. At first they don't come, and then they appear all at once. Grabbing the microphone, Folus jabbered the same code words, and recorded a message, that was then sent out. Sitting back, he sighed, and hoped that no-one else decided to pop by.

A few moments later, Schuster recieved the following message:

[Lieutenant Schuster, thank you for picking up my signal. If you analyze this signal's light encryption key, that will lead you to the Hope's location. I look forward to your response. However, be advised that another ship has volunteered to help, although I am unsure if they are trustworthy at this point. Hope out.]

Receiving the message, Schuster contacted his own capital chip, the ASNC Commonwealth, a sizeable frigate. "Communications Bay, this is Lieutenant Jake Schuster requesting immediate contact with Captain Varenno," Jake spoke urgently.
"Lieutenant Schuster, Crewman Takahiro Shimura, Communications Bay. The Captain is currently otherwise engaged."

"Get him down there right now, this is a friggin' emergency,"

"Sir, he won't like this at all,"

"Dammit, Crewman, I don't give a flying rat's ass, I need him in the Communications Bay right now," panted Lt. Schuster, exasperated.

"Understood sir."

Five minutes later, Captain Robert Varenno was down in the Communications Bay, annoyed somewhat by the manner of Schuster's audience with him "What's the problem, Lieutenant?" He asked sarcastically, smirking to himself.

"Bobby-boy, listen up. There's a ship that's suffered a total reactor failure, they sent out a mayday signal and we picked it up. I'll transmit the recording over to you right now, analyze it for the location. You should also know that there's another alien ship seemingly intent on aiding the crew, though they might not be a-hundred percent trustworthy."

"Alright, Schuster, we're moving on it now,"

"Bobby, there's something else as well. They've got over a million personnel on board."

"Damnit, Schuster, that won't just take the Commonwealth, it'd need at least a couple carriers and that could take days to organize."

"Well, you'd better hurry the hell up, 'cause they've got under twelve hours,"

"Alright, we'll be over to do what we can immediately. In the meantime, I'll try to make contact with the other ship trying to rescue them and pull some strings, see what types of ships I can get over here. I'll give it my all, Schuster,"

"I know you will, Bobby-boy," the Lieutenant replied, "you're one of the good 'uns." At this point, Schuster disconnected the link to the Commonwealth, and proceeded to inform the Hope of what was he was trying to make happen.

The Pathfinder Emerged from T-Space a few light seconds behind the large craft. It faded into existence as it transferred from T-Space into Real Space. The 1000 meter craft aligned itself with the mysterious ship as it drifted away from them.

“Navigation, bring us alongside that ship. Comms, try to establish a connection with the ship. Tactical, scan that ship to see if we can use the tractors to slow it down.”

Captain V’Ong sat back as he heard a trio of “Yes Sir’s” from the bridge crew as they went about their assigned tasks.


OOC:

Sorry for not posting, I was sick Thursday and never even made it online at all.

J'itu's avatar looks up sharply. "We've been given permission to dock with them, apparently."

"... Very well," Veth'dar says somewhat impatiently. "Do so."

"As you probably know," J'itu says with equal petulance, "Gali'randi-el ships are not designed to 'dock'. It may take us a few minutes."

Anyone watching the unusually shaped Gali'randi-el vessel will now be slightly surprised. First of all, it disappears from its position and reappears perhaps a second later beside the damaged vessel, or at least within a reasonable distance. Its surface still appears solid, as though a single shaped piece of metal, with no entrances or exits visible. Second comes what looks like a film of a CGI animation: the outlines of a passageway from the Gali'randi-el vessel to the other vessel appear, then are filled in with a mesh, colour and form are added, and within a minute or so there is a passageway from the Gali'randi-el vessel into the DVT Hope.

There are certain advantages to being an organic energy being, J'itu reflects; one of them is an ability to temporarily merge with other AIs on the same circuits and relegate them to other available tasks. As J'itu builds her bridge, she is receiving information about the other ship from the AI. Her avatar materialises before Veth'dar once more.

"I've got the information... this is a ridiculously massive ship, first of all: something like thirty-seven li'thir in length. There are about a million organics on board, all of a previously undiscovered alien species, that looks something like this." There is no ceremony or puff of smoke; the avatar simply becomes a shorter, thinner being—a sort of pinkish shade, with a bit of dark fur in a few select places, and only four limbs. The eyes are weak, fairly small, and single-lidded; the face is strangely hollow and oblong shaped.

Veth'dar snickers. "A species like that? I wonder what they were evolved to do. Certainly nothing special, it looks."

"Quite so," J'itu says. "Not only that, all of them insist on wearing some variety of robes or raiment, not just religious figures." J'itu outfits her new avatar with a uniform matching that of the Hope's crew members.

"Well -- no fur, no plates, nothing to protect them in their planet's climate -- they've doubtlessly needed to adapt some way. Must be awfully uncomfortable, though," Veth'dar comments.

The avatar half-smiles, and turns to exit the bridge. "I'm going aboard with two of the artificials -- I'll give them avatars too, it may make these aliens more comfortable around us. If anything happens I'll have the avatar reboard. You know how to contact me."

"Right," Veth'dar says as J'itu steps into her newly constructed tunnel, followed by the two 'artificials'. The avatars the three would appear human to the personnel on board the vessel, were it not for their abilities, and apparent lack of need to breathe, blink, or perform practically any of the requisite functions solid-organics do. J'itu wrinkles her nose as she makes a circle of metal in the hull disappear and its edges meld into the tunnel. "Oxygen and inert gases? Barbarians," she mutters under her breath. "You, M'rithus, you're to examine the ship, find out what's wrong, and let me know when you're done. Sitje, you're with me. We're going off to find the Captain."

And the two avatars set on from the docking area towards the cockpit, or bridge, or wherever the Captain resides. It seems a light snow is falling as they go; in reality that's just the oxygen mixture following them and being replenished throughout the ship. It may not look or feel exactly like snow at all, although it is slightly cooler than the air in the ship was before. But whatever, it's a fucking metaphor, ok?

Folus pressed the flashing key on his control console, and listened intently to the message. Closing his eyes, he cursed. The last thing he needed was to split his cargo between the ASNC and the Gali'randi-el, but then again, a million people was a huge amount to put onto a ship. The Transport ship itself was mostly stasis pods and control systems, and even then the whole set up was cramped.

Biting his lip, he ran a hand over his face as a docking light went on over his head. So he was being rescued, which is good. Bad news was, he had no idea what either force was like, how they'd do things, or if they'd actually be able to save the cargo in time.

"Fuckadoodle. This is one hell of a situation...and I've ran numerous simulations. This was supposed to happen, but nearer civilization damnit. And the Quantum Slipstream leak...how is the reactor going to be patched up? The whole damn compartment must be flooded! And they said this would be for the good of the Nation..."

Standing, and moving the microphone out the way, he removed a wall panel and took out an Engineering suit, the only suit. He quickly donned it, leaving the helmet off, and having it hang limply across his chest. Granted it did make him look like a large orange balloon, but it would protect him from what he would be inevitably exposed to. Sighing, he tapped a few keys on a panel near the Control Console. None of them burst into life, due to the power shortage, he cursed.

"So I have no way of even knowing how bad this damage is. The charge two charges detonated too close to one another too...or I'd have a bit more power. So this complicates things...but I can't come clean. I just hope the charges did their job, or it's going to be hard to explain..."

Grabbing the microphone, he sent off a response transmission. Leaving it to hang, he sat back, and looked out amoung the stars. Help was coming, but was it enough? There was probably about eight hours of life support left, granted nothing went wrong. And what else could go wrong?

_________________________________________________________________

A klaxon, long ago running out of sound capacity, still flared a red light, bathing the Engineering bay in varying degrees of crimson. The bay was only small, with all necessary components...well, most of them, housed next to each other. A lot of the components, wiring, tubes, coolant and other things were housed in compartments and blocked by access hatches, but the reactor wasn't. In the middle of the bay, what could be best described as a small bunker housed the reactor core. Only a single doorway led into the Reactor, with a small window to show what was inside. It was currently obscured by a gold, volatile liquid, known as Quantum Slipstream, the power for the entire ship's main systems, backups excluded.

In the side of the bunker, there was a small hole, approximately the size of a baseball. A much larger one lay in the bulkhead opposite, about the size of a wheel. Worrying, both still seemed to be gaping open, with the bunker hole similarly obscured by gold. However, if one were to hit either hole, they'd recieve a sharp zap, and a blue field would briefly appear, telling the unlucky zapee that there was a forcefield in operation.

The Engineering Bay had a passable amount of atmosphere, somewhat polluted but not completely fatal. However, gravity was disabled, so small globules of coolant floated through the air, forming interesting shapes. Sadly, this scene is not the sort that should be celebrated. On closer examination of the door to the reactor, it was not as tightly sealed as one might want in this circumstance. A small, near insignificant crack appeared on the window, widening very slowly, weaving itself slowly across the glass, creating a cracking noise as it went. A small hissing noise could also be heard, almost like a very strong acid eating through something strong. Whatever was happening, was not for the better. Not in the slightest.

_________________________________________________________________

Schuster recieved a transmission. Granted it'd been a bit delayed, but there even so. It went something like this:

[Lieutenant, I thank you for your swift-ish actions. However, I do not want you to rush any of your ships away from assignments un-necessarily. There is a slight urgency to the journey the Hope was trying to take, but for now all that's required is power, so I can keep my cargo alive. Once that's achieved I'm more than happy to float around until I can either get this hulk dragged off or transfer my cargo safely. The last thing I want is my cargo, spread all across the galaxy. I'll explain things later, but for now all I require is a ship that deals with...electricity? Some form of power I might be able to hook up to these stasis pods. Captain out.]

_________________________________________________________________

Feeling a small chill on the back of his neck, Folus turned around and figured it was time to go and greet his guests. Standing, he made his way through the cockpit door, and hoped that he wasn't expecting some sort of laser bolt.

OOC: Your third guy will likely just walk out onto a railing in view of stasis pods. Thousands of them, stacked up and seeming to stretch into infinity. To get to the Engineering Bay, you'll need my guy's help.

In front of the Captain are what look like two ordinary humans. Admittedly, their hair colours are more in fitting with Gali'randi style than human style -- in this case, both of the avatars have short and very light hair, almost white -- and they do not seem to require blinking or breathing. These mild differences will be apparent to just about anyone; J'itu and the arty, Sitje, both have access to the neural electronic energy and it would be an easy task to configure their avatars to appear as a member of the same species to anyone regarding them.

As the Captain emerges, slightly surprised to see two people who look almost exactly like him except for the aforementioned minor differences, the first one speaks in an obviously female voice. The Language Scans have yielded an alien, but still pronounceable tongue, which she proceeds to mangle very slightly. She's a bit taller, and appears senior.

"Greetings. I am the Gali'randi-el Kovolk class vessel, J'itu. Could you show us the problem?"

Get to the point fast, don't you?

Hey, it's not my problem! I've been spending too much time around you An'dari, I guess.

I never said it was a problem, you fool.

Well then, good, let me be. I'll call you when I want you.

The universe tore itself apart and then healedas the Divine Imperial starship burst from the Void. There was silence for a few moments on the deck, the Roanians looking up at the colony ship with an attitude of insouciance. Its cannons turned and tracked for a second, seeking evidence of fighters and other opponents. The Vengeance class Destroyer's crew, being as they were on a ship 60% the size of the colony-vessel, and having seen vessels even larger during their careers, were not as shocked as the Galirandi.

A communications burst shot for the vessel. 'This is His Divinely Illuminated Imperial Majesty's Ship 'The Vengeance of the Light Shall Shatter the Darkness'. We advise you to remain stationary whilst we explore our options for boarding.'

Folus stared at the two beings briefly. Yes, they did look human, rather human indeed...and yet they didn't do a lot of human things. They didn't, breathe, they didn't blink, they probably didn't itch. Scratching the back of his head, and ignoring the snow-like atmosphere being pumped into the ship, he mustered a smile.

If these guys are...morphers...or god knows what, I'm going to freak in private. Maybe they can turn into rotary chain guns...jesus.

"J'itu, greetings, I am Folus. I'll show you the er...problem, which will be a little bit complicated, but I'd like to show you the situation from my perspective if you'd please."

Carefully stepping past them, Folus lead them towards a floor plate, which he promptly stamped on. It seemed to fall, and created a long ramp, which then produced railings and stairs. He walked down the stairs quickly, and after two minutes he made it to the bottom. Stepping off, he walked a few paces to the left, and stopped, grasping some more railings. In front of him, the floor ended, and a huge amount of Stasis Pods began, stretching off seemingly into infinity. Once the other two stepped off the stairs, the stairs would retract and become just another wall or floor plate.

"This is my cargo, approximately 1.05 Million people. All kept in near perfect stasis. They age approximately a micro second in the space of a million years. Of course this operation requires a lot of technology to run, which requires power. However, running on the backups, these Stasis Pods won't last for long. It is essential that I get some form of power to the Pods and the systems that run them, or I'm going to be responsible for the death of my entire Nation..."

Folus stood there a moment, contemplating.

"Engineering just happens to be on the other side of the ship. However, there is a tiny problem."

Walking over to a pillar nearby, he hit a stud, and a piece of bulkhead stretched out, which quickly produced railings and a panel. Stepping on, he motioned for the two to do the same.

"This will take us near to Engineering...from which we then crawl."

Once the other two were on, he hit a key on the panel, and they shot off down the ship, Stasis Pods shooting past them.

The pair of avatars step off the stairs below, coming in sight of the stasis pods, innumerable ones. J'itu moves slightly unfamiliarly; it always takes her a bit of time to get used to controlling a new body. She steps onto the bulkhead followed by Sitje, and they begin a rapid transport across the ship.

J'itu, I've picked something up.

What is it?

It's another ship. Aliens. Fairly large. I'm returning to your shell to keep the alert high.

Wait, is the ship hostile?

Dunno. Can't make anything out of their transmission, it's in a different language and we're still processing the lang-scan.

Right.

The stasis pods flick by. J'itu idly wonders how such an awkward body would be capable of crawling, before dropping the matter and thinking of nothing. She processes, instead.

Folus turns around to face J'itu, not really minding that the other has gone.

I'll probably see much weirder...

Trying to keep a straight face, Folus nodded.

"It'll take us a few minutes to make it all the way to our destination. In the meantime, we may as well try and...communicate, pick up non-classified information, that sort of thing. Who..or what, are you exactly? You say you're the ship?"

J'itu half-smiles at the creature's awkwardness, and slight confusion. Its mental state appears to be primarily disbelief mixed with distrust, which J'itu can stand. She answers: "Yes, well... all Gali'randi-li vessels are ..." Suddenly she realises that no alien translation for Kun'dari exists. "... well, we are called Kun'dari. Sentients, with metallic attachments." She finds the word she is looking for in his brain. "A little bit like sea-borgs. Cyborgs," she corrects herself.

"I am the vessel's avatar. In first-contact situations the vessel itself always makes the contact; they can assume the shape and language of the aliens and thus make things... easier... for the aliens. Er, the species with which we are initiating the first contact, of course."

Doing a great job so far, J'itu.

I don't appreciate sarcasm, except when I use it. Anyway, it's my first f/c situation.

"That way we appear more familiar and would not be viewed as hostile. We don't really like having to defend ourselves."

Wait, is that classified?

No, but it's damned stupid. I like defending myself!

Well, you're an arty, you're designed to defend. Of course you like it.

Is it just me or did this conversation take a slightly sexual turn? [/Author]

/Bishop/ awoke. Its nictitating membranes pulled back to reveal the red, sweating walls of its rest hive. It clicked its mandibles as it tried to locate whatever had disturbed the delicate homeostasis of /induced-travel-hibernation/. It soon realized that the cause was not physical but unease permeating the /higher-ship-consciousness/, altering the patterns of its mind like a sudden change in barometric pressure.

The /Bishop/ felt its /rookery-fellows/ stirring beside it. It sensed no immediate danger in the /higher-ship-consciousness/ psychic emanations, and awakening the entire clutch was an inefficient use of energy. It sent a signal of /calm-no-danger/ to the others, preventing them from rousing, then slithered from its rest hive.

The interior of the organic /mother-explore-ship/ was soft, damp, and humid. The fleshy floor gave slightly under the /bishop/s bulk as his serpent-like lower half wound forward toward the /secondary-nerve-cluster-alcove/. As expected, a dozen /hierophants/ were floating around the massive chamber. Here the emanations from the /mother/ were much stronger.

It turned waited patiently as the /hierophants/ glided through the air, their bloated squid heads suspended on a long, vestigial worm like body. Their mouth tentacles twitched in sympathetic irritation with the mother. One finally broke from the swarm and approached /bishop/.

OTHERS - that single psychic thought came a deep flow of information into its /sub-mind/: Another /mother-explore-ship/ but not of /kesshii-circle./ It was either dormant or dead but there was biomass within it. Confusion. It might not be a /mother-explore-ship/ but a strangely molded asteroid. Confusion. It hardly moved, but there was no /life-globe/ nearby.

The /mother-explore-ship/ did not understand.

The /Bishop/ hissed through its mandibles and rose to its full height. The reaction was instinctive as a /bishop/ was evolved to defend from that which was not /kesshii-circle/. A ripple of the defensive instinct touched the /pawns/ that were /mind-chained/ to this /bishop/ and within another part of the ship, they jerked to life.

As its /under-mind/ reacted, it's /sub-mind/ still grappled with the idea. The /hierophants/ were the voice of the /mother/ but in them there was only confusion. This /mother/ was sent to explore for a /life-globe/ and this was not a /life-globe/. Therefore, they should move on. Yet, that which was not /kesshii-circle/ had proved dangerous in the past, and this might be a new danger. Or a new opportunity for harvesting. Therefore, they should /dissect-to-know/.

know - the /bishop/ answered. Its thoughts were not as strong as the /hierophants/ but they carried that the /mother-explore-ship/ should stop beside the not /kesshii-circle/ and the /bishop/ a /hierophant/ and /pawns/ would enter its shell.

Thus, a large /mother-explore-ship/ slowed its /inversion-organ/ and came to 'rest' two kilometers from the DVT Hope.

J'itu half-smiles at the creature's awkwardness, and slight confusion. Its mental state appears to be primarily disbelief mixed with distrust, which J'itu can stand. She answers: "Yes, well... all Gali'randi-li vessels are ..." Suddenly she realises that no alien translation for Kun'dari exists. "... well, we are called Kun'dari. Sentients, with metallic attachments." She finds the word she is looking for in his brain. "A little bit like sea-borgs. Cyborgs," she corrects herself.

"I am the vessel's avatar. In first-contact situations the vessel itself always makes the contact; they can assume the shape and language of the aliens and thus make things... easier... for the aliens. Er, the species with which we are initiating the first contact, of course."

Doing a great job so far, J'itu.

I don't appreciate sarcasm, except when I use it. Anyway, it's my first f/c situation.

"That way we appear more familiar and would not be viewed as hostile. We don't really like having to defend ourselves."

Wait, is that classified?

No, but it's damned stupid. I like defending myself!

Well, you're an arty, you're designed to defend. Of course you like it.

Is it just me or did this conversation take a slightly sexual turn? [/Author]

Folus seemed to think for a moment, and then nodded. It's all he could really do. They were two minutes into their journey, meaning that they were about half way across the ship. Gazing out at the Pods for a moment, he sighed.

"So what's in this for you then J'itu? Why did you come to our aid?"

Leaning on a railing, he listened to J'itu's response, while deep in though. So far, these aliens had seemed...hospitable to say the least. But how could he trust their motives? So many things had been drilled into his mind during his Military career. He was told that aliens were never to be trusted, only human nature could be second guessed. And yet here they were, out in the void, deviating to help a million lives, with, at the moment, no clear reward.

And is the situation already too fargone? Did the reactor suffer the right amount of damage? Can I save these lives in time?

Folus bit his lip. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Even so, he'd have to play it through to the bitter end, with either all of his comrades...or none of them.

AugShip Can't Touch This> 37 ly/s. Can't beat that, can ya?
AugShip Mach 2.75x10^13> Nope. But can you corner at that speed? I doubt it.

The pilot of the 400-meter Augmented cruiser Can't Touch This wrenched at his hyperdrive controls and made a perfect 100-ly left turn. Or tried to. What actually happened was uncertain, but it ended in a wild, uncontrolled tumble over two hundred lightyears before the massive ex-warship came to a stop and dropped out of hyperspace.

AugShip Can't Touch This> Well, shit.
AugShip Mach 2.75x10^13> Epic screwup, man. Better get a new set of i-stabs. No point in going 37 ly/s in a straight line only.
AugShip Can't Touch This> On the plus side I think I just set the record for longest spinout.
AugShip Mach 2.75x10^13> You in one piece?
AugShip Can't Touch This> Nothing the onboards can't handle. It'll be a few minutes before I'm up to full speed again though. Want to drop by and visit the cripple? ;)

Mach 2.75x10^13 responded with an elegant full stop, coming to rest mere meters from the Can't Touch This's hull.

AugShip Can't Touch This> Whoa! Watch it! You almost intersected there.
AugShip Mach 2.75x10^13> C'mon, man. I know what I'm doing.
AugShip Can't Touch This> What's that?
AugShip Mach 2.75x10^13> What?
AugShip Can't Touch This> Got a signal. Distress call, it looks like.
AugShip Mach 2.75x10^13> Ah man, those are a dime a dozen. Just ignore it. Someone else'll pick it up.
AugShip Can't Touch This> C'mon, man. Besides, what's the point of being seriously cool if nobody sees it?
AugShip Mach 2.75x10^13> Meh... All right.

The trip takes only a few seconds. The stop and emergence from hyperspace is perfect.

For description, this is sufficient: Blue faux-neon lights trace go-faster stripes across the hull. Painted flames, massively oversized fusion engines tuned to leave white-hot exhaust trails, weapons fitted into recesses in the streamlined hull. Useless but cool-looking spoilers.

Someone has a little too much time on their hands.

"This is AugShip Can't Touch This. Need any help, man? Seems like you're in a bit of a jam."

As the /bishop/ slithered to the /joining-pod/ with its retinue of /pawns/ a wave of thought rippled into its /upper-mind/. The situation outside was altering rapidly with other mindless mother ships swarming around the dormant or dead one.

flee - thought the /bishop/. Whatever swarm this other mother belonged to was attending to it, and /bishop/ doubted their presence would be welcome.

The /mother-explore-ship/ began to power its /inversion drive/ and soon slipped away from the damaged vessel, back to its mission.

((Bump/Wonder how that air is holding out?))

As the urgent hours ticked away, another Kesshii explorer slid into view. This time there was no hesitancy as it ejected a pod that quickly latched onto the sun-portside of the vessel. Like a tick, it began to bury itself in thick skin of the human's ship.

((I might as well jump back in))

***As-salaamu Alaikum Wa Rahmatullah***

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One (1) X-Class Imperial Diplomatic Cruiser
Five (5) S-Class Imperial Battle Cruisers
Five (5) F-Class Imperial Convoy Transporter Cruisers
Four (4) Z-Class Imperial Star Destroyers
jump out of Hyperspace Drive approximately 100 Cycles of the orbit of orbit of the distressed ship.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lead Battel Cruiser:

Ensign:
"Commander, we have arrived at the source of the distress beacon."

Imperial Fleet Admiral:
"Very good. Put up shields on full strnght and have the Battel Cruisers power-up EMP Weapons. I will notify the Holy Minister that we have arrived. I will be on the bridge in a minute. Commander out."

The Imperial Cruisers Look on at the other sip in the sector.

Imperial Fleet Admiral, on the Lead Battle Cruiser Bridge:
"Ensign, probe the ships for weapons and open communication channels to the distressed transporter ship."

Communication frequencies open.

-----Beginning of Transmission-----

"I am the Imperial Fleet Comander of The Holy Empire of Qudrath. Your have crossed into Holy Qudrath Imperial Space. We ar here to supervise the emergency operations andto offer any assistance that you may require. The Holy Qudrath Minister of Trade & Commerce is on the Imperial Diplomatic Cruiser. What is your status and condition ?"

-----End of Transmission-----



The Imperial Fleet awaits an answer from the damaged transporter before engaging.

The pod finally finished digging into the side of the damaged vessel and a blast of sulfuric air whooshed into it as the 'mouth' of the probe opened to reveal a retinue of two /bishops/ a /hierophant/ and ten /pawns/. The /hierophant/s mouth tentacles twitched as it picked up the psychic emanations of the new alien species. It began to lead the way, but a /bishop/ slid in front of it.

The /pawns/ were tightly mind-leashed to the /bishops/. Their feral instincts held in check by the advanced creature's /upper-mind/. The /bishop/ made them fan out before the /hierophant/ while the /bishops/ protected its sides. These aliens might be hostile, and the /hierophant/ must be kept safe.

The group continued down the corridor they had found themselves within.

The Transport lay in space, dead, with no signs of power except for cockpit lighting and a small amount of life support. The Qudrath hail went unanswered, due to Folus' absence. Due to the lack of most essential systems, there was no anti-teleportation field in operation, nor was there...well, anything stopping any ship from boarding the vessel in any fashion they so desired.

Meanwhile, as the Kesshians made their way through the corridor, they realised they were detecting not one, but three species on board, with some hybrids. Eventually, they came to a door, which automatically unmorphed. Once they went through, the Kesshians found themselves on a small balcony, surrounded by thousands upon thousands of Stasis Pods, stretching off in either direction as far as the eye could see. For a brief moment, far below, a platform shot past, two active minds standing on it. The vessel was huge, so it was unlikely that the Kesshians would reach the two active minds anytime soon, unless they posessed teleportation technology or were able to move across the ship at a pace that rivaled a 20th century car.

To their right, another door was open, revealing a small corridor that turned. If the Kesshians made their way into it, they would discover lots of machinery and circuitry, most of it dormant, and two crate sized batteries plugged into the bulkhead, sending power into the still active machinery. The technology appeared to be what sustained the occupants inside the Pods, and it didn't take much intelligence to determine that these batteries were running out of power quickly.

OOC: If by Friday I don't get responses off the rest of the participants, I will move the RP along. And Qudrath, while I'll allow your participation, I don't want that many ships in the RP. Either remove all but two of the destroyers, or at maximum, have only five Cruisers of your choice accompany the Diplomatic Cruiser.

The /hierophant/s tentacles twitched as it relayed what it understood to the /mother-explore-ship/. As it did so, the /bishops/ slithered back and forth across the area. The lack of defenders was troubling to them when the vulnerability of these non-kesshii organics was obvious.

Kesshii technology was unlike this strange species', yet they all felt the waning life energies of the ship. Four more pods were excreted by the /mother-explore-ship/ and soon began to cluster on the original probe. As the new arrivals scampered to mind beacon of the /hierophant/ it glided across the floor to the stasis pods to probe the minds of the unconscious aliens.

If finally stopped in front of one of the pods, pointing with its vestigial arm. A /bishop/ inhaled briefly then spat a thick glob of green mucus on the status pod. The clear face of the pod quickly hissed and bubbled as it burned away. A pawn left up and grappled the woman from container. It showed a surprising amount of gentleness despite its hideous form and jagged ruckus of a mouth.

The young woman was doll-like in her limp, unconscious form. Three other pawns propped her up before the /hierophant/.

It glided above her. It's soft, rubbery tentacles splayed around her head like a cheap wig as it unhinged its jaw. There was only a soft scrapping noise as cut into her skull and removed the top of her head. It let that piece fall to the ground then buried its proboscis into her grey matter.

With a sudden jolt of neuron fire, it forced consciousness into her mind. Though she could see, hear, and feel, her body would not move as doing so would likely mean her death.

There was a voice in her mind.

'Your people are dying. We will aid you. The ship is dying. What do you need?'

After a few moments, numerous klaxons went off. The woman, awakened suddenly, tried to scream, stopped, and listened. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, nothing.

One thing I will make clear to you now, you have killed me. Stasis Pods keep us in a form of timelessness, where we age and do things at a near halt. It takes a million years for a micro-second to pass for us. Because of this, it takes a long time to revive Podders...and I believe you merely stole me from my pod. It is likely that many of my cells are now dying, and my heart will likely not start. I beg, before you continue, that you don't do this again...

There was a small break, while the woman seemed to think. The hierophant caught wind that, while the lady was surprised, there was something going on. She seemed to be holding something back, something that not even the hierophant could reach.

I know our situation. You must find Folus, the pilot of the craft. If he is not in the cockpit, he is either dead, or helping a previous arrival. Our Reactor Core must have breached, and because of this, all the Quantum Slipstream must have flooded the Reactor Bunker. Understand, we do not use power like most humans do. We do not rely on electricity, we rely on the Slipstream. Those batteries are backups that will not last long. If you have portable electricity generators, please, bring them on board. Unfortunately, the batteries near us only powers about a thousand pods inside this ship. Unless you manage to replace all the batteries, we will all die. The connections between the batteries and the machinery is crude, only two wires connecting the negative and positive points to the machinery designed to keep us alive.

Another problem. Unless the reactor core is fixed, this ship can no longer operate, and that is bad. This ship was designed, upon arrival to a planet, to alter it's form into a settlement for us all to live in. The Engineering Bay is located at the rear of the ship, and the only way to reach it is to crawl through a small passageway. The bunker door is easy enough to open, but without any real power, there will be no safeguards in place to stop any Quantum Slipstream from leaking out, and that stuff is very corrosive, as well as energy charged. Likely anything that touches it will die very quickly, but painfully. Unless the Slipstream can be contained and re-pumped through the ship, it will be near impossible to get the ship working, not the way it's been designed.

The woman stared at the hierophant for a moment, before coming to a decision.

It is likely that I will shortly experience death, due to the cells in my body expiring. But know this, it is very important that you save the people in these pods. If they die, my race is doomed. If we do not make it, then go to th-

The woman suddenly seized quite violently. However, this was not natural. The mind block had vanished, but something tiny had detonated in the female's mind, killing her.

“Sir, we have achieved position along side their ship.”

“Match velocity and heading. Keep us here until further notice.”

“Yes Sir. Comms established using their own frequencies from their previous transmissions.”

“Send them this message.”

“Yes Sir.”

Moments later the message was broadcast at the huge mysterious vessel.

“Attention Hope, this is the Imperial Explorer vessel, The Pathfinder. We received your distress signal and wish to help. Please reply how this would be possible.”

The Hope still maintained silence. There was not enough power for the ship-wide announcing system to announce to Folus that someone was trying to contact him. The Hope continued to float, it's power readings still dwindling slowly.

“Sir, we cannot get a reply from the ship.”

“Are you sure it is on the same frequency?”

“Yes Sir, I used the exact same they broadcast their mayday on.”

“Hmmm… Try to see if you can establish a connection with their computer.”

“Yes Sir.”

Try as they may, the Balroggans could not make contact with the ship's computer. This was largely due to any available power being directed into the Stasis Pods. However, even if the computer was online, they wouldn't get further than a 'Classified Material - Access Denied'.

“Sir, we cannot locate any computers other than slave units taking care of basic functions. It appears that their main computer is in-operational.”

“That could be very bad. They might need immediate medical aid or they might have lost the use of the radio. Can you locate any external hatches?”

“Yes Sir, there are several.”

Have a boarding team assembled. Make sure there are both technical and medical personal present. They can meet me on the flight deck in two minutes.”


Boarding Shuttle (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v248/beldragos/Bording1.jpg)

Two minutes later a shuttle left the rear of the Explorer vessel and approached the alien craft. The small craft slowly approached the hatch making sure there was no shielding that would harm it. Once it was deemed safe, the shuttle made contact and the small ship latched only the larger one using tractor beams if the surface was not magnetic for the maglocks to work.

Soon afterwards several figured entered through the door. Standing in the hallway, they looked around trying to decide which way to go.


OOC:

Since you know what is in the ship better than I do, you can temporarily take control of them.

The interior was completely grey, from the floor to the roof. The position of...well, all the docking ports put them rather close to the cockpit, and on closer examination, the cockpit was rather empty, and lifeless. All the lights had now gone out, all the available power being desperately sucked up by the thousands of Stasis Pods.

Outside the cockpit, there was just a large room, with the docking port doors. That was literally it. However, with a quick sweep of a scanning device, they would discover two things. Firstly, the walls were actually large cabinets containing different devices, all inactive at the moment. Secondly, two floor plates were actually deployable stairs. to the floors below. However, there were no obvious buttons around, so inventive means would have to be used to trigger either the cabinets or the deployable stairs.

The Away team diacontinued their Psychokinetic bodies and sank through the floor plates. Once below, they reformed the physical aspects of their projected bodies. It sure helps when you are a pure mind.

The /heidrophant/ released the body and let it drop to the floor, splattering blood on the sterile metal and glass surfaces. It was perturbed at the alien's sudden demise. A Kesshite breed would have at least lasted until it was finished with its probing. One of the /pawns/, at the sudden rush of blood sight and smell, gave a feral croon then leapt toward the body. Its spring was halted by a powerful sweep of its /bishops/ tail, which caught it in the midsection and sent it flying backwards. The /bishop/ directed two of the other pawns to lift the body up.


Folus -the /hierophant/ thought, pressing into the /bishop/s consciousness the information concept of a single pilot, a guide to lead the /mother-explore-ship/. It infused their minds with a desire to seek this being out. As the desire flowed from one mind to another, the rich /hunterseeker/ instincts in the /pawns/ unfurled. Their short, reptilian bodies shifted from the upright, alert defensive stance to the low, darting movements of a tracker.

The /hierophant/ touched the mind of the other three /hierophants/ now on board. Batteries - it thought. This he conveyed a visual image of the batteries they had found, and the need to power them. He felt an immediate accord with the other /hierophants/ on how this should be done.

Reactor - it then thought. There was no image here but the impression it had gotten from the alien on where it was located. There was then a cracking noise and the image of something splitting. From the crack spewed acidic blood that would damage those it touched, yet was necessary for the non-kesshii /mother-explore-ship/ to live.

Harvest - it thought lastly. If this failed, there would be a small group left near the stasis pods to harvest what organisms they could. Even if the bodies were dead, the alien DNA might be transplanted to a suitable word and spliced into its creatures.

As it finished its communication, the /hierophant/ received conformation of understanding from the others. It waved a tentacle at the larger /bishop/ then set out with its pawns toward the cockpit.

The smaller /bishop/ and its /pawns/ remained at the near the status pawns. Soon, they were joined by a large group of /scouts-drones/ and two different /hierophants/. One /hierophant/ stayed with it while the other continued with its /scout-drones/ to the batteries.

The Kesshii had no portable battery recharges but they did have a portable source of electricity. The biomechanical scouts could generate sudden bursts of electricity as a defensive measure. It wore them out quickly but one by one, a scout affixed itself to the batteries and let the tried to slowly release its electrical build up. As one released, the others panted on the floor and cooled-down. Its effectiveness was questionable but it was better than nothing, and, as a certain /hierophant/ might suggest, kesshii drones did not die until their superiors were finished with them.
Meanwhile, another kesshii group moved to the reactor.

((Just so we're all clear:
1 hierophant (http://img224.imageshack.us/my.php?image=hierophantzp9.jpg), 1 bishop (http://img224.imageshack.us/my.php?image=bishopcd2.jpg), and 4 pawns are *dashing* to the cockpit.
1 hierophant, 1 bishop, and 4 pawns are waiting by the status pods.
1 hierophant and 12 scouts (http://img380.imageshack.us/my.php?image=scoutdronebl5.jpg) are in the battery room trying to charge it.
1 hierophant, 8 scouts, and 2 knights are trying to make their way to the reactor.
2 pawns (http://img443.imageshack.us/my.php?image=pawngrk5.jpg) are carrying the woman's body back to space pod. I don't know how you feel about me abducting her dead body, so if anyone encounters them, I have no problem with you taking them over. They're feral, limited intelligence, and their response is typically hiss, fight, or flee.))

Hrmm.

First order of business: get set up for the situation. Chameleon paint shifts color from steel-gray to white. Neon turns off, spoilers retract into the hull, and the Interstellar Red Cross emblem forms on the hull (at the cost of a couple credits to the copyright sharks... don't want the Cbots coming down on us, do we?)

A little tweak to the IFF -

Augmented ID Gadget > AugShip (C-CC-PA 449) Can't Touch This is now known as AugShip (C-CC-PA 449) Battlefield Medic

- and we're ready for buisness.

******

Gravimetric mass dispersion sensors (or "deep radar" to the less technical pilot) are employed. An empty space within the transport's hull, close to some interesting nodes of life-signs and electromagnetic leakage, is pinned down to the centimeter. Teleporters are warmed up, armor is donned, etc.

The end result of all this is that the Battlefield Medic expends energy. A portion of space from within the transport (roughly the size of a crouching, power-armored human) is swapped with a portion of space from the Augmented cruiser (containing a crouching, power-armored human.)

******

Herman winced as his surroundings shifted. It wasn't actually painful as such, but there was still something wrong about the abrupt scenery change of a teleport swap.

Still. Time to be heroic, save the day, et cetera, et cetera. He stands up, making his power armor's servomotors whine a little (I knew I should have upgraded those last week) and kicks in the sensors. Multi-spectrum light, radar, deep radar, the works. Gives you that nice "I-can-see-through-walls" feeling. And makes you seasick if you don't watch out and use the right perceptual filter software.

Time to see what we can see.

Harold began to slowly make his way forwards towards the life signs he was detecting, moving as quietly as it is possible for a man in a half-ton of (bulbous, diving-suit like power armor) to be. Hopefully the red cross emblazoned on his chest would be some kind of safety against being immediately shot by whoever he encountered.

[OOC: Just to clarify, he's moving towards the battery room where the 1 hierophant and 12 scouts are.]

OOC:

My team is progressing into the ship from the cockpit area.

The /pawns/ ran forward, their bodies low to the ground and their yellow reptilian eyes dilated in glee. Their heavy clawed feet clicked on the corridor's metal floor as they sped to the cockpit. As they rounded a corner, they came upon the Explorer vessel's crew. One gave a sharp, birdlike cry as they all slid to a stop.

The /bishop/ appeared behind them, its massive bulk filling the pathway. The group before it was not the pilot they were looking for. However, their forms seemed similar to the aliens in the status pods.

"Folus?" it growled, its mouth horribly unsuited to speech. "Foo-luuus?"

((OOC:
Khrrck, the scouts in the battery room are too exhausted from trying to power the batteries. They're not going to sense your character coming, the initiative is yours.))

OOC: Nice posting you guys :D

IC: The woman offered no resistance, what with a portion of her brain being shredded by micro-shrapnel. Small parts of her brain occasionally dropped out, charred to a crisp. After a few more seconds, a small piece of deformed metal fell out of the woman's head, and clanged on the deck. If closely examined, it would hold traces of plastic explosives.

The nearby Stasis Pods, recieving increases in power, continued to function as usual, if with a bit more time left to keep their occupants alive. To conserve power, the klaxons were turned off.

The group heading towards the Reactor area hit a minor snag. That is to say, that they ran out of space to run in. They found themselves in a room, completely devoid of furniture, but filled with quite a few vents. It was unknown how far any vent would take them, but upon further examination they all seemed to head towards their destination.

OOC: I'm not sure if you're still in the cockpit area or the area below Bal. If you are, you'll just see all the Pods and notice you're on some sort of huge balcony.

Even with her brain shredded, the woman, if alive, might have possessed a bit more intelligence than the /pawns/. As the majority of Kesshite breeds are based on the bodies other of scavenged species, one wonders how much brain matter was left from the creatures these /pawns/ were based on. Perhaps a viscous cycle was at work.

Never mind though, the /pawns/ managed to make their way back to the pod and happily tossed their bundle within it. They then hunkered down waiting for the others.

Meanwhile, the /hierophant/ near the reactor sent two scout drones into the vent network. The wiry, double-jointed bodies easily scurried through the system with cockroach like speed. Their bodies were made to withstand extremes of heat and cold, as well as a significant amount of radiation. The /hierophant/ had no idea how this reactor's particular poison would affect them, but their brains continuously transmitted data to it, and it had several more scouts if the first two didn't make it.

As the team slowly made their way down the corridor from where they passed through the closed stairway, suddenly they found themselves face to face with the crew. The sudden appearance of the crew made both parties stop in their tracks and stare at each other for a few moments. The captain of the away team stepped forward a pace and addressed the strangers before him using his Psionics.

“Hello, I am Captain L’Wis of The Pathfinder. We have heard your transmission and arrived to assist you. How can we help?”

Deep radar scan.

ping

Racks upon racks upon racks of pods, wired into something ineffably complex which in turn is wired into something insanely simple. A battery.

Electromagnetic scan.

ping

Flickering low-density energy in the battery connnected to a set of highly charged point-sources. Glowing lines spread across the racks of pods, where the signature vanishes - likely into a time dilation device of some kind, as this is obviously a colony ship.

Lifesign scan.

ping

Now this is a suprise. The twelve point-sources of energy are located within a set of organic nodes. A thirteenth node hovers nearby, possibly overseeing the procedure. The scan results don't turn up anything in the contact database, and that is very unusual. Either the species has just achieved spaceflight, has just entered the region, is incredibly stealthy and paranoid, or (and this is a scary thought) it is so incredibly deadly that nothing which encounters it manages to send a signal, much less escape.

Herman shivers and checks his suit's weapon functions.

>>statcheck:weps

WEAPON SYSTEM STATUS REPORT

5ft pbswordL: OPERATIONAL HOLSTERED
5ft pbswordR: OPERATIONAL HOLSTERED
40mm nadesL: OPERATIONAL RETRACTED 6 ROUNDS INCENDIARY
40mm nadesR: OPERATIONAL RETRACTED 6 ROUNDS EXPLOSIVE
20mm flamerL: OPERATIONAL RETRACTED 2 MINUTES NAPALM-PLUS FUEL
25mm coilcannon: OPERATIONAL HOLSTERED CHARGED 100 ROUNDS ARMOR PIERCING
reserve ammo: OPERATIONAL CONSISTS OF 2 EXPLOSIVE GRENADE 40mm 2 INCENDIARY GRENADE 40mm 100 ROUNDS ARMOR PIERCING 25MM 100 ROUNDS HIGH EXPLOSIVE ARMOR PIERCING 25MM

Well. That's reassuring, at least.

[color=green]>>deploy: all[/quote]

The snub barrels of the grenade launchers slid free of their forearm housings with a satisfying clunk. The flamethrower barrel did likewise, hissing quietly as the pilot light ignited. Herman shifted the coilgun slung across the back of his armored shell, making sure it was ready to be drawn quickly, then stepped up to the battery room door and dropped into a combat crouch as it opened.

He wouldn't make the first hostile move, but he wanted to be ready to make one if need be.

((To: Balrogga))
There is a pause of confusion. The /hierophant/ floated closer, its tentacles twitching as though they were psychic antennae.

Kesshii - it thought to the one calling itself captain. Through the words flowed images of the /mother-explore-ship/ sensing this one dead in space, the search and investigation, and their current desire: Folus, the pilot breed.

There was another moment of silence as the /hierophant/ tried to determine the necessary information these other non-kesshii organics might need.

Reactor - it offered. Then came the image of the ship's blood pouring into its organs instead of pumping through its system. The aliens looked like the non-kesshii they were trying to help, perhaps they understood the technology better.

((To Khrrck))

One of the scout drones slipped from the battery and skittered away to make room for the next. Like donors who had been given progressively more and more blood, the creatures were feeling weaker, limp, worn. The /hierophant/ felt fine, however, and the job was not finished, therefore the donating would continue.

The scout dropped onto its back, its limbs curling upward and inward. Digits tingling, head lolling on the ground. From this upside down position, it saw a large metallic shelled biological enter the room. This information flared in the group consciousness.

Twelve scouts stopped dead. They turned their heads as one.

As one, the scout drones began scanning. A few skittered up the wall and onto the ceiling to get a better angle, and not block their fellows. The combined energy of their tissue scan, energy scans, high alpha wave scans, thermal scans, gravimetry scans, optical scans, bacterial scans, radar scans, etc, would have rendered the soldier sterile for several days had he not been encased a suit if mobile armor.

He was a threat; they understood weaponry. The battery room was the only thing keeping the non-kesshii organic larva alive. The group consciousness weighed the options.

One scout scurried forward on all fours, then another, another, another, another…the effect was disconcerting. A rush of whispers tried to press themselves into his mind…each one of the scouts tossing the same message into his non-kesshii mind as best they could...
submitsubmitsubmitsubsub..mitsubmitmitsumit...suitbusubmitsubmitmit..

L’Wis and the rest of his team immediately felt the inrush of pictures. The visual message filled their minds for a moment and then was shunted to a secondary mind where it did not interfere with their actions.

L’Wis reached out with his mind and made contact with the aliens, initiating a direct communication.

“Show us. We will help.”

Their current mission was to find the Folus. The /pawns'/ hunting instincts were in full gear, and they protested against a change, as best they could. The /bishop/ would not allow the /hierophant/ to go alone with the non-kesshii organics. A /pawn/ without its /bishop/ could handle simple tasks but its /lower-mind/ was likely to act up at inopportune times.

It wouldn't do for them to try to shred these non-kesshii organics in a fit of excitement.

Follow - the /hierophant/ thought to the aliens. The journey experience of the two /hierophants/, the one that had traveled here from the pods and the one that had traveled from the pods to the reactor, flowed with that thought. If their minds could integrate this, they'd know the way as though they'd already travel it.

As the memories of their journey passed from the hierophant into the team, the journey was learned. L’Wis also got the understanding the alien’s presence was needed elsewhere and they were to follow the memory trail on their own.

“Thank you, we will hurry.”

L’Wis turned to his crew and spoke to them.

“Apparently we are to proceed as fast as we could to the origin of their trek. Drop your projections and continue on in pure forms.”

“Yes Sir.”

The crew from The Pathfinder became insubstantial and they wisked down the corridor extremely fast, not bothering to take the transports because the speed of Thought would quickly outrace the mechanical conveyance. Soon they arrived at the reactor just in time to see more of the aliens between an armored humanoid and what could be the core.

((I knew splitting up my group would confuse people.

Khrrck's character and the scout drones are in the battery room. The hierophant, more scout drones, and two knights are alone outside the reactor. If you want to step into battery room, however, the hierophant could have given you confusing directions.))

OOC: Will post tomorrow. Check this space around the same time I've posted.

((You'd better. The kesshii I left near those status pods are getting mighty hungry, and they've heard human tastes like chicken. :) ))

Herman buckles for an instant under the psychic assault -

-Why am I resisting? I should do what they want. I should-

- but fortunately for him, psychic threats are less uncommon than they used to be, and he has EEG sensors built into his helmet.

administering 5cc Pblock8< - psychic threat detected< - abnormal EEG readings
firing incendiary grenade< - clear room< - lifeforms are likely generating threat
dodging to the right< - incendiary grenade is going to go off< - minimize damage to self

I should turn off my weapon sys- SHIT that hurt, I didn't call for drugs

Clunk. Boom. Whirr.

Whatthefuck-

Of its own will, Herman's armor has discharged a 40-millimeter incendiary grenade into the battery room. The immediate consequence of this is a quiet clank as the grenade bounces off the floor.

One second.
Two seconds.
Boom.

Flaming, 1,500 degree Napalm+™ splatters in a nice, even coating (and it's a rather thin coating - you can't fit that much napalm in a 40mm grenade, after all. Still, 1,500 degrees is hot.) across the inside of the battery room and everything in it. A hefty spatter also manages to make it through the door and into the corridor: fortunately for Herman, his armor has predicted this and dodged to the right, hitting the floor and rolling back up to a standing position.

This hurts a little.

Ow. Shit. That was not cool. NOT COOL.

Herman still has no idea what just happened. But obviously it was bad, and he hauls his coilgun around and puts his finger on the trigger, prepared to put some holes in whatever has survived the fireball.

Napalm-B is mostly composed of benezene and polystyrene. Water boils at 100 degrees Celsius, lead melts at 375 degrees, steel melts at 1,510 degrees, and napalm generates temperatures of 1,000 to 1,500 degrees Celsius. An advanced scout drone could survive on the surface of Venus for a week. Venus is 480 degrees Celsius, and these are, unfortunately, not advanced scouts.

The biosynthetic that makes up the scouts' skin and muscle does not boil, but rather melts, pouring off their skeleton like hot tallow. In the seven minutes of burning that follow, ten die from being melted alive. Two are only partway melted but the area is complete deoxygenated and now filled with carbon monoxide, typically not a problem for the scouts, but their skin casing has been breached, the carbon monoxide combines with their hemoglobin in a process 250 times more rapid than that of normal respiration. This rapidly forces the oxygen from their cells.

Before the group consciousness collapses entirely, it more than likely it would just be glad that the burning was hot enough to destroy skin nerves almost instantaneously.

((Morale for today kiddie: Small, enclosed area + napalm = hurting
Dos Volodis, were those batteries shielded?))

OOC:

Such a dilema...

A typo placed me at both the reactor and the battery room because I misunderstood them as to being in the same place.

I will allow the OP to place me where they want.

OOC: Bal, you can arrive as the area goes dark. Kess, your lot can probably detect the deaths.

One thing Outer Heaven MK II was reknown for, was hull that could absorb all forms of energy, expect fast kinetics coupled with a big bang. Unfortunately, interior plating was mere titanium, and the napalm melted through the battery after a couple of minutes, the acid spilling. Instantly, about 1000 pods went dark. Alarms would go off, but the entire section lost power, making even the lights go out. Whether Herman liked it or not, he was just responsible for killing what was apparently a 1000th of a Nation. Not a good way to open up International Relations, especially seeing as most of the people inside the pods were civilians.

_________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, Folus sighed. The last alien had disappeared, meaning that he had no-one to show the reactor. This relieved him and annoyed him immensely.

"God damnit...I'll have to make the journey back again, and hope that no-one else has bypassed."

When he reached the end of his journey, Folus looked around. A small hatch marked [WARNING: ENGINEERING BAY] as if such a place housed a death sentence. A few vents in the wall pumped out some atmosphere. As he was about to press a button on the Console of his Platform, Folus heard a *THUD*. Turning around, he watched in slight horror as the vents broke open, and aliens landed on the floor. He looked at them, tried to push the thought of chestbusters out of his mind, and gulped.

"...P-Please t-tell me, t-t-that you're h-here t-to h-h-h...help?"

It was more a whimper than a question, but even so, Folus' question was audiable enough, and he stood back slightly, preparing himself for a painful death...if these aliens weren't peaceful.

OOC: Take it away Kess.

OOC:

At the battery room or the reactor?

I cannot post until I know whick you want me to arive at...

OOC: At the battery room

((Balrogga: I believe he wanted you in the battery room, as it just 'went dark' *off to work*))

[OOC: Not to screw things up, but I can't fit enough napalm in a 40mm grenade to set an entire room on fire for seven minutes. There's maybe 10-20 seconds worth of fuel in a grenade. You may want to edit your posts for severity of damage.]

If the scouts were mind readers, they would have felt sympathy. Over three hundred minds ago, a group of scouts drones had explored Cathyron 3, and been implanted with alien eggs by face huggers. After they had been recovered, the aliens had burst from their chests and run rampant on the /explore-pod/, killing over a hundred kesshii before being terminated. Of course, the beast's DNA has been integrated into kesshii, so it was considered a success.

Scouts had always been grinded, pulped, devoured, frozen, and today incinerated, as they explored the universe for the Kesshite. The sudden, violent disconnection from the twelve scouts in the battery room, made them cautious, but it was also common enough as to not be unnerving. After scanning the alien near what the appeared to be the entrance to the reactor core, the two scout drones had seen no weaponry, and so approached.

They crawled down the wall hands first, keeping weary oculars on his form. He was verbalizing to them. They saw his speech organ open and close, felt the vibrations strike their biosynthetic epidermis. His increased temperature and respiration suggested an increase in physiological tension.

They did not know who he was. Unlike the scouts, who were accustomed to biological termination, the /hierophants/ were floating flesh sacs with brains who lived under constant protection. The three surviving ones were throwing shitfits. They screamed the psychic equivalent of bloody murder at any kesshii mind, and the adrenal glands of the /knights/, /bishops/, and /pawns/ were being forcibly pumped from 0 to frenzy.

The two scouts had quietly turned down their connection.

One hunched, doglike, before the alien. Its head was cocked to the side as if trying to understand the creature's words but unable to. The other walked on four hands around the room, its long-range sensors picked up an odd chemical signature somewhere passed the adjacent door and it tried to open it.



((Khrrck: "No, no.. my weapon does far *less* damage than that!" How often do you hear that in NS? ;)

Napalm-B is formulated to burn for five to ten minutes with a ready oxygen supply. It can even burn underwater. You tossed about half a water balloon's worth into the room. What it touched will be burning for about seven minutes, and the oxygen in the room will combust. Was I overly graphic with the skin and muscle running like hot wax? Likely. Then again, nothing called a grenade can be tossed into a room with unarmored people and just stun them. How about nine scouts dead, and three horribly wounded?))

OOC: Kess...did you not see my Folus post?

((Yes, I did. And I just responded to it. You're the 'he' that's verbalizing to them.))

[OOC: Alright. I should've assumed you knew what you were doing. Obviously you've done your napalm homework. ;)

I don't have time to post immediately, but I should be able to get something up today. Dos Volodis, is the battery still kaput?]

OOC: Yes, you've still mass murdered ;)

IC: Folus cringed, trying to inch away but finding no more inches to inch on. Looking at the alien, he blinked, sweating.

"W-what a-ar-r-r-e...you? Do you err...h-have a n-n-name? I-I-I'm F-f-f-f-Folus...p-p-please don't kill me."

Taking deep breaths, he focused intently on the alien, hoping it didn't do something horrible. He'd heard horrible stories about sex obsessed aliens...

Meanwhile, the door refused to move, no matter how hard the alien hit it. On the door was a 24x24 grid. If one square was pushed in, some others went in. It appeared like some sort of complex puzzle...

If the scout could understand Folus, it would point out that its lack of genitalia pretty much made that worry unnecessary. Instead, it was waiting patiently for the /hierophant/ to acknowledge its current situation. Two minds away, the /hierophant/ received the information and the scout drone's recording of the alien's vocalization. There was a flurry of psychic banter between the /hierophants/ as they realized that the Folus breed was near the reactor.

As the one scout stared at Folus, the other randomly hit the blocks. The scouts' gestalt consciousness understood that all doors could be opened, that changing one block affected the others, and that the blocks had something to do with the door. Puzzles were beyond it, however.

Finally, the scout drone before Folus shifted.

mend - it thought at him.

Out of the ventilation ducts slithered another scout drone, then another, and another, until there were eight total in the room.

Captain L’Wis was hurrying to the end of the memory trail when his team made a wrong turn, ending up in the battery room. As they approached, there was a strong psionics death cry that was completely alien to the crew. They stopped where they were and cautiously probed ahead.

There were immense disturbances in a large room nearby and they were obviously filled with extreme anger. There was the taint of death and suffering in the abundance and it seemed to extend to hundreds of people dying. Somewhere ahead there were a large number of people being murdered and it was an agonizing death indeed.

“Set your Shields and follow me.”

L’Wis shored his mental defenses and trusted his crew to obey their order and follow him into the room. When they rounded the corner they saw a humanoid talking to more of the crew of the ship. The feelings he was receiving came from beyond a nearby door. Since they were still traveling without their PK forms, they simply rushed through the closed door into what lay beyond.

They found clouds of black smoke, several more of the crew some of which was burned almost beyond recognition, and a humanoid in battle armor. Nearby rows of darkened pods lay enshrouded in shadow, their interiors no longer lit by the devices that kept their inhabitants alive. It was pretty obvious what happened, the crew was being slaughtered by the figure in their attempts to save the contents of the lifepods from his murderous spree. L’Wis took stock of the situation and issued orders to his crew.

“J’Sohn, take D’vron and Se’Fen and circle to his left. Your job is to combat his suit. I want it disabled A.S.A.P. M’Din, take Dro’N and see if you can help the wounded. I’ll distract him and allow everyone to do their jobs. Take him down fast and hard.”

Feeling their affirmations and their departure, L’Wis took a few seconds to allow the others to get into position before generating a Psychokinetic body and image matching that of a suit of Space Armor with a full offense loadout. He then broadcast a message to the suit’s radio making it appear as if it was being received on several different frequencies.

"You can stop right there. You have murdered enough. If you don’t your death will be the next and last one in this room. Power down and evac from your suit. You have three seconds.”

L'Wis begins to generate a bioelectric energy charge that would appear as if the suit was powering up for offensive action.

"...1…”

"...2…”

………


OOC:

L'Wis is the only one projecting a physical form at this moment. The suit would appear to sensors to be shielding the sensors or something because it would appear on them as hollow but there are definately real energy readings, and quite powerful.

Whatthefuck.

Herman's having a bad day. First weird mind-controlling aliens, then it turns out that this ship is built of something so cheap and unsophisticated as to actually melt under napalm fire, and now it seems that his grenade has managed to knock out the entire power system for a significant chunk of the stasis pods.

Add onto this some guy in a battlesuit materializing in front of his face, and it begins to be obvious that his day has only begun to suck.

Especially since as soon as ...three seconds... drifts into his radio pickups, his suit decides that Herman isn't thinking fast enough, and vacuums his higher brain functions into onboard computronium.

Now that's really disconcerting.

******

Ah, fuck.

The little clock in the upper-left corner of his vision has slowed waaay down. So obviously he's been sucked into suit memory - this is going to cause a real headache later, but there are more immediate problems at hand.

First is the guy with the suit. Now, suits don't normally materialize out of thin air, no teleport activity was detected, and it didn't look like a decloaking operation. Which leaves only one possible explanation for the materialization: the fact that his psimeters are screaming at the top of the lungs about how this guy is charged to the brim with psychic energy.

As the old masters said, trust your suit sensors, not your eyes.

0.04 seconds elapsed

Herman is just barely bringing his weapon to bear (0.3 seconds estimated till completion of action) when the nullmetal patterns on his suit flare white-hot as they absorb a burst of psychic interference, and another set of psimeters start yelling into his sensorium.

Shit. There's more than one. Heavy artillery time.

So Herman abandons the attempt to fire his weapon, pings radar to pin down his exact position (don't want to get telefragged, do we?) and makes a little call via the FTLcomms built into his helmet.

One teleport strike, centered on me, 15m radius. PRONTO.

Another (dilated to fifteen subjective seconds for Herman) quarter-second of lag as the Battlefield Medic locks down his location and relative coordinates, then the distorter arrays fire and a good-sized chunk of the Volodian transport...

...vanishes.

Teleport strike successful.

******

A 15-meter-radius sphere has been neatly removed from the guts of the Volodian transport and deposited a light-second away in hard vacuum. Anything and anyone that was unlucky enough to have been within fifteen meters of Herman when the Battlefield Medic fired has been carried along with it - and God help them if they were intersecting the boundary of the teleport field at the time. Many an unlucky soldier has been unexpectedly vivisected by a poorly-timed teleport strike.

Herman himself was caught in a separate teleport field - almost millimeter-perfect to the shape of his armor - and safely deposited in one of the Battlefield Medic's secondary equipment bays. At his orders, the Medic immediately begins to perform deep radar scans, searching for a reinsertion point.

Herman may have unintentionally caused the death of a thousand civilians, but there are thousands more to save. And hopefully nobody else will get in the way of the attempt next time.

Broadcast:

ATTN whoever just tried to kill me. In response to your last broadcast:

Keep the fuck out of my way or I vape your ass. Obviously you can't read OR see. RED CROSS ON THE SHIP. RED CROSS ON ME. I'm here to help, and neither you or the mind-controlling bugs I fried are making it any easier.

Captain L'Wis was startled when everything near the intruder vanished. He was expecting the intruder to fire a weapon at his prijection, instead he tried to teleport the faux opponant. The PK shell was taken away but since the captain never even created it around himself and remained a safe distance away, the point was moot because it would have been dispelled instantly because of range issues.

The Ta'Nar went to see about the wounded left in the room while the alien broadcast it's unheard message.

Folus blinked. He hadn't heard anything, and yet the word 'mend' appeared into his mind. Not caring about the reinforcements, he eyed the Drone in front of him, and sent a flurry of images and instructions at the Drone, which translated into something like this:

I can open the door. Inside is dangerous, very dangerous. To mend reactor, must open bunker. Bunker may be flooded.

Folus then sent a sort of video. Inside it, a drone was standing by some golden liquid. The drone touches it, and immediately is lit up like it has millions of volts going through it. The drone then falls into the liquid, still being shocked, and is quickly...consumed by the liquid. Whatever it is made of, it's very corrosive.

Must purge liquid. Portal inside make liquid. Secure bunker + patched up reactor + purging of liquid = Power + Life.

Hoping the Drone understood all that, Folus stood.

"Ready?"

L’Wis saw to the wounded but the use of the burning agent was too extreme. His crew patched them up as well as they could with their Healing Abilities before continuing on to the Core.

L’Wis suddenly detected the use of Telepathy further up the hallway. He listened to the conversation, or rather watched the video being broadcast. After the message was done, he reached out with his own mind to contact the sender.

Hello?

[OOC: Just want to confirm... you just gave first aid to three mortally wounded Kesshite scout drones? Also want to know: where are the two psi-beings that were sent to interfere with Herman's suit?]

The scout drone nodded, seemingly understanding what needed to be done. They swarmed around the pilot, the hum of their minds almost filling the air as they waited for him to lead them.

Elsewhere throughout the gestalt consciousness of the Kesshite, there was havoc as the /bishops/ and /pawns/ searched for whomever had attacked them. A crackling, feral surged over anger L’Wis in response to his telepathic call. After a few moments, the /hierophants/ realized a non-kesshii mind had touched them. They answered not with words but pushed the foreign mind to that of the scout drones in the reactor area. Though the scouts could not communicate as well as the others, their collective mind shone like a beckon, calling L'Wis to join them.

((OOC: Sorry guys, getting ill here.))

OOC:

They attempted to render first aid but since Kess said his characters were dead I cannot change that. The crew went with L'Wis.

The two others were attempting to use their CyberPsi to mess with your suits systems to disable the weapons but did not get time to start before you ported the matter out. They were waiting for you to get distracted by the false enemy.

The whole awat team would be near the core area of the ship now.

I am sorry if I did not clarify things before.

Nullmetal.

Request for rearmament recieved. Let's get you kitted out properly, Herman.

Nullmetal is a carefully proportioned blend of silver, titanium, aluminum, uranium, tungsten, iron, and cobalt. Nullmetal is a witchhunter's wet dream. It's as strong and as light as tempered steel. It doesn't melt. It doesn't rust. It doesn't bend.

'Course, there's plenty of materials like that in this modern time, many of them a great deal more impressive. But there's one thing that nullmetal does that no other material can.

Nullmetal absorbs psychic energy on contact, reradiating it as white, broad-spectrum light. In the past, it was forged into armor that protected the wearer from every flavor of psychic attack: telepathy, telekinesis, pyrokinesis, psychoteleportation, the whole nine yards.

Herman's battlesuit has a nullmetal network built into the outer layers of its plating. But that's not where the magic stops.

Nullmetal has an interesting effect on psychic beings. A flesh-and-blood foe recieves no more damage from a nullmetal bullet than a normal one. But to an immaterial, psychic being, nullmetal rips through the core of their body and reradiates their mind, soul and psychic power as pure white light. The immaterial foe is forced to either flee, die, or materialize a physical body that can then be attacked through conventional means.

Where am I going with this? Simple.

Armament checked out: 30mm combat shotgun, full auto capable, 40 round magazine.
Ammo checked out: 30mm combat shotgun shell, 80 rounds, nullmetal.
Ammo checked out: 30mm combat shotgun shell, 80 rounds, depleted uranium penetrator

Ammo checked out: 40mm grenade, 5 rounds, nullmetal particulate
Ammo checked in: 40mm grenade, 5 rounds, concussion/explosive

Helmet mod swapped out: deep radar scan unit MK8
Helmet mod swapped in: prototype occult vision filter MK-2

Herman loads up.

Chak-chak

Now we're ready to rock.

******

Fzzzt

The teleporter fires. Herman is swapped into a hallway outside a doorway.

It looks a lot like the previous situation, only it's a different doorway, and this time Herman is prepared. He makes sure his weapons are holstered and/or retracted (check), scans the area on the other side of the door (no obvious weapons posessed by the three life-signs within) and knocks.

Yes, knocks. Armored knuckles rap lightly on the titanium door, sending a resounding boom down the hallway.

Herman sees a flicker on the edge of his psiscanner, but decides to ignore it. It is still a prototype, after all. Probably just a glitch.

After all, he had teleported that set of psykers out into space, hadn't he?

Folus recieved the Balroggan message and frowned. He merely shot back a: Hi, how're you doing? Good? Great! Listen, I've got a situation...like my life support running out and about one million lives about to die in their Pods. I've also got a bunch of Alien drone thingeys crawling about. If you'd care to help, please, by all means, come down.

Shaking his head, he moved over to the locked door. Closing his eyes, a chip in his brain activated, and his fingers instantly began to press down on the puzzle, multiple squares shifting upward and downward as the puzzle was slowly solved. After about a minute, all the squares locked down, and the door slowly hissed open, forcefields activating to prevent any atmosphere being sucked into the Engineering Bay. Pulling on his helmet and securing it, he sighed as an atmosphere mix filled his lungs. The bottle integrated into the suit was good for maybe half an hour.

Turning to the drones, he beckoned them to follow, and crouching down, stepped through the forcefield, and began the long and cramped journey down the corridor leading to the Engineering Bay...

OOC: I hope your drones can survive without air...

The scout drones padded after the Folus, their collective mind buzzing in anticipation. They watched as he preformed what they classified as /non-kesshii-organic-tapping-door-piece- movement/ then followed him as he crawled into /non-keshii-organic-portable-atmosphere-shell/. Their own systems were sealed outside of /information digestion/, when the ship cracked them open and reabsorbed their major thought organ. Visitors to Kesshii ships often encountered headless scout drones scurrying about; their intelligence reduced something a little better than an insect's.

They padded behind him, walking on all fours. A few initiated their camouflage skin patterns and silently disappeared from view.

L’Wis traced the location of the telepathic reply and replied:

“I have your location. I will be there shortly. We are not far away apparently just down the hall.”

L’Wis and his team hurried down the hall and entered behind Folus as he was opening the puzzle lock and entered the chamber. He saw more of the crawlers he had mistaken as the crew of the ship and a humanoid in an enviro suit. He approached Folus and announced his arrival.

“Greetings, I am Captain L’Wis of the Pathfinder. We answer your distress call and when we did not get a reply, figured you were in some sort of medical situation where you could not reply. We encountered a group of these aliens and they directed us down here. We thought they were the crew. We also encountered someone in an encounter suit that appeared to be attacking them but he disappeared.

“How can we help?”

Folus would notice upon first looking at the newcomers that they appear to be human but they were not bothering to use enviro suits in the vacuum of the room. He would also notice the distinct Psi emanations of the group since he is also a Psi himself and they are not trying to mask themselves.

[OOC: Hello... I was standing right outside the room that Folus was in? Outside the door that I assume L'Wis just went through, unless he walked through walls again?]

[EDIT: OOC: It's come to my attention that I've been RAWRing a bit much. Sorry. :(

I'll try to keep it down. But this is II, after all, so it won't totally disappear.]

OOC:

After reviewing your post it seems a mistake has been made. I did not see any reference to anybody else in your post. I was on the assumption it was just a door in a hallway as stated. The flicker on your scanner could have been any of the three players that showed psi activity before your posting, or a possible glitch because it was a prototype like suggested. All I know is if ir was right next to Folus it would have been screaming because of the use of psi he and the crawlers were engaged in. That is why I thought you were elsewhere.

The room that contained the coreroom was huge so it might have a number of doors. We could have easily all used different doors.

What do you and what does Dos Volodis want to do about changing things. I am willing to work with you two if an edit is needed.

Sorry about the confusion. I hope you can see how I thought you were elsewhere.

[OOC: I'll contact Volodis and see what we can do.]

((
OOC:

What's RAWRing?

There's the front of the ship with the cockpit, the middle of the ship with the lifepods and battery rooms, and the back of the ship with the reactor.

The front is empty. Folus, the living scout drones, and L'Wis are near the reactor. Khrrk, your character was at the battery room, but if I understand correctly, you teleported out. If that's the case, why not teleport back in near the reactor? If you're still looking for people, it or the cockpit are the two logical locations.
))

[OOC: I did teleport back in near the reactor. Volodis and Balrogga didn't realize this, and we're trying to sort it out. I haven't managed to get in touch with Volodis, though.

Perhaps the best solution is to just roll back to the knock and start from there? I'm open to suggestions.

As for RAWRing - while not actually godmodding, it's the practice of making yourself seem powerful and unstoppable while just barely avoiding declaring damage. It's very useful (and common) in II, but it can be annoying to be the subject of too much of it - as I found out when I got refused entry to a thread recently. Hence I'm trying to cut back on the "RAWR, I AM UBER" and be a bit more moderate.]

{{{OOC: I think I shalt Join in. We have high technology, and Low Tech, and then we have various kinds of Psykers.

Why not a Sorceror? with a distinct love of technology?

Will make a joining post in a few minutes, I'll "land" near the Kesshite Heirophants.}}}

OOC: Apologies folks, my computer has been screwing me around for a bit, but it's mostly sorted...for the moment. I'll get a post up tonight, and from there you can do whatever you want. However, I don't think the whole Khrrck thing will screw up much.

OOC: Apologies for the lateish post, computer presented more obstacles, but Mr Hammer seems to have calmed things down for a moment...and yes, I'm jesting. System Restores aren't doing much though, so I don't know what I can do...

IC: Folus did not hear the knocking, he had far too many things on his plate already. Turning and looking past the Drones, he sighed minorly.

"Firstly, showing a truer form would be nice. I'm getting tired of the whole 'Ooh...lets be nice and pretend to be them' act. Or at least magic in some spacesuits for yourselves. Then you can follow me, and once we're inside, we can sort things from there, but I can promise you it'll involve some engineering and a moderate possibility of painful death. My name is Folus by the way, thought you might want to know that in case we make it out alive..."

Turning his cynical ass around, Folus continued to crouch shuffle through the cramped corridor. And they kept going, and going and going for a while. The corridor stretched on with minimal lighting and lots of warning posters. Eventually, Folus stopped. At the end of the corridor was a darkened room, or more correctly, the Engineering Bay. The exit seemed obscured by a sort of red forcefield. Cursing, he looked over his shoulder.

"Ahead is the emergency forcefield. It's a nasty little bugger. It allows things into the Engineering Bay, but no matter go back through it, not even radiation. Until we sort the Reactor, we can't leave the Engineering Bay."

Sending the psychic equivalent of this to the Scout Drones, Folus shuffled on, and didn't hesitate as he slipped through the Forcefield. Standing up for the first time in what seemed like hours, he looked at the floor ahead of him, or rather, the lack of it. Walking to the edge, he saw a ladder going down into the gloomy bay below. Bracing himself, Folus carefully turned around, and grabbing the sides, began to descend into the Engineering Bay.

_________________________________________________________________

Stepping onto the floor, Folus looked around, and spied the Reactor. It was hard not to. The window on the Bunker Door was glowing, beaming out white light in random patterns. Biting his lip, he could only say one thing.

"Oh bugger."

“Huh?”

L’Wis looked around and shrugged.

“I think he means us.”

He changed his appearance to include a suit like the one Folus was wearing. The rest of the team followed his example and then entered the crimson force field. They began to descend the ladder when L’Wis heard Folus from below.

“Oh Bugger.”

L’Wis tried to see what the problem was.

No answer.

The life-sign overlay in Herman's helmet showed the single human moving away, accompanied by the aliens.

"brzzt k' k' k' frzmpt"

What?

Herman tapped his helmet, then flicked through his communications logs. Nothing on radio... nothing on sonics... nothing on quantum or hyperspatial... So what was that noise?

"krrrBING tick tick tick kathunk"

A flicker in the corner of his eye.

Aha. It's the detector.

A little fiddling with the gain settings brings a humanoid form into view, with psi-readings hovering near the top of the re-adjusted scale. Judging from its gestures, the strange noises in his earphones -

"pika pika pika rrrrnyip"

- correspond with its speech.

Hey. This thing actually works better than I thought.

He takes a step forward, and his head rings as his helmet collides solidly with the door.

Oh. Yeah, right. Door. Have to open it.

One of the drawbacks of being able to see through walls.

******

Scan the lock.

It appears to be a fairly simple electronic deal, easily opened by someone with the proper ID or a simple hacking kit. Unfortunately, Herman has neither.

This stumps him for a while. Then the solution hits him.

Well. Duh. Should've thought of that earlier.

Power-armored fingers punch through the door, wrap around the locking mechanism and rip it out. A (comparatively gentle) push, and what's left of the door swings open easily.

Unfortunately, a few moments later, Herman encountered his first truly unpassable obstacle.

******

******

******

Guessed it yet?

******

Herman bent down and peered into the cramped confines of the access corridor.

Damnit. No way I can fit in there.

"Hello?" he broadcasted, selecting some of the most common comm channels. "Anyone listening? I'd like to help, but this corridor is too small for me to fit through. Is there another way in?"

OOC:

Great post. I chuckled while I read the part about not fitting.

*thumbs up*

Folus stared, or rather, gaped at the Bunker door. Raising a shaking arm, he pointed at the Bunker door.

“I’ve never heard of this…the door should have buckled by now…”

Taking a very slow step forward, he cautiously looked at door. Suddenly, a tiny crackle could be heard, making Folus dive backward. Whatever was in that Bunker held a slow, painful death. Standing, he watched as door’s window cracked some more, and a single, small, glossy drop of Quantum Slipstream slid down the door, hissing all the way, leaving an engraving in the metal. Cursing, Folus stretched his arms back and started to walk backward.

“Okay, be careful, the door can and will buckle at any moment now. When it does, god knows how much of that stuff will come out, but we need to be far away from it. While it’s very…well, acidic as you can see, it packs a lot of energy, we’re talking…erm…well imagine that every drop packs as much power as a 21st century twelve storey building. It’s a great power source, but trust me, if that stuff hits you, alien or,” Folus glanced at L’Wis, “…Balroggan, you’re going to die, end of, and it’s going to hurt very badly too.”

Stopping, Folus had moved about thirty meters back from the Bunker, almost against the wall. Looking around, he bit his lip.

“Now we wait. The floor is made of Quantanium, so hopefully most of the slipstream will be absorbed before it discharges on us. If not, it’s a case of dodging the stuff until it is, the walls are made of Quantanium also. Once the way is clear, we need to hurry inside the Bunker and immediately patch up the Reactor. Don’t touch the Subspace Portal, and try and work quickly, it won’t be long until more slipstream starts dropping into Real Space.”

L’Wis glanced at the Crawlers and an idea struck him.

“I have seen those Crawlers walking on walls, do you think we can mimic them and get above the leak? It seems gravity will affect the dribble so if it sprays out, it will be pulled away from us instead of toward us, either that or reverse the gravity in the room and let it hit the ceiling. I know it is silly but do you think it will work?”