Thrashia
09-06-2007, 01:34
Digor System deep inside Thrashian territory
It is only with thick shaded glasses that anyone can look up into the blinding light of Digor's twin suns in-system. Its five human occupied planets were just far enough away to benefit from such attention however and made it possible for life to flourish. Under the auspices of the Imperial High Command and the ruling money barons of the Industrial Guilds Digor itself is as orderly and regimented as one could possibly imagine.
However on a large orbital research station the usual well oiled cogs and wheels of the daily regimented life in the Digor system is continually and constantly shoved into chaos and as some would say "completely distasteful" in the way of cleanliness. But then how does one expect a nest of engineering and scientific geniuses to live clean and orderly lives when their too busy building new and more advanced things?
"Alright Mike! Try the left one!" called a man dressed in work overalls and covered in soot and oil stains, which contrasted sharply with the near snow white coat wearing hydrollics specialist sitting in the cockpit of a bear-boned Thrashian mobile suit.
Mike shifted his hand along the control stick and pressed a series of pedals at his feet. The left arm rose and five metallic skeletal fingers the size of a man's chest bent down towards a red warning marked area where a small china cup filled with tea sat.
With the skill of a courtesan from some imperial court Mike's controlled arm came down and ever-so-gently clasped the cup between the forefinger and thumb. With just a few movements he brought it up, without spilling a drop, and raised it up to the oil-soot covered engineer standing there watching. The man smiled and took the proffered cup as if it was a normal thing every day to receive a cup of tea from a tall gargantuan machine.
"Ok Mike, shut 'er down. Great work on the arms. If I didn't know better I'd say all that maneuvering was nothing but a hologram movie pict."
"No problem Charles, just have a thing with good mechanics," smiled Mike, putting the mobile suits arm back into its usual position. He shut down the machine and slipped his foot into a small rope sling and then let the controls send him slowly to the ground five meters below.
"So when are our guests arriving?" asked Mike Lyvesky.
"Soon, I think," Charles said, he scratched his head. "I think Colonel Reilly said something about either tomorrow or the day after. Bunch of folks from the Fedral Union."
"Oh good! I haven't seen a new face in six months so I think it will be refreshing," said Mike. "They'll get to meet the entire team. All fifteen of us."
"You forgot about the 300 stormtroopers in the garrison," replied Charles, his eyebrow moving up and giving the younger man a queer look.
"Oh but they're all the same and don't count," smiled Mike.
"Whatever," said Charles Harvington.
And so ended another day aboard the Scientific Research Station Prometheus.
It is only with thick shaded glasses that anyone can look up into the blinding light of Digor's twin suns in-system. Its five human occupied planets were just far enough away to benefit from such attention however and made it possible for life to flourish. Under the auspices of the Imperial High Command and the ruling money barons of the Industrial Guilds Digor itself is as orderly and regimented as one could possibly imagine.
However on a large orbital research station the usual well oiled cogs and wheels of the daily regimented life in the Digor system is continually and constantly shoved into chaos and as some would say "completely distasteful" in the way of cleanliness. But then how does one expect a nest of engineering and scientific geniuses to live clean and orderly lives when their too busy building new and more advanced things?
"Alright Mike! Try the left one!" called a man dressed in work overalls and covered in soot and oil stains, which contrasted sharply with the near snow white coat wearing hydrollics specialist sitting in the cockpit of a bear-boned Thrashian mobile suit.
Mike shifted his hand along the control stick and pressed a series of pedals at his feet. The left arm rose and five metallic skeletal fingers the size of a man's chest bent down towards a red warning marked area where a small china cup filled with tea sat.
With the skill of a courtesan from some imperial court Mike's controlled arm came down and ever-so-gently clasped the cup between the forefinger and thumb. With just a few movements he brought it up, without spilling a drop, and raised it up to the oil-soot covered engineer standing there watching. The man smiled and took the proffered cup as if it was a normal thing every day to receive a cup of tea from a tall gargantuan machine.
"Ok Mike, shut 'er down. Great work on the arms. If I didn't know better I'd say all that maneuvering was nothing but a hologram movie pict."
"No problem Charles, just have a thing with good mechanics," smiled Mike, putting the mobile suits arm back into its usual position. He shut down the machine and slipped his foot into a small rope sling and then let the controls send him slowly to the ground five meters below.
"So when are our guests arriving?" asked Mike Lyvesky.
"Soon, I think," Charles said, he scratched his head. "I think Colonel Reilly said something about either tomorrow or the day after. Bunch of folks from the Fedral Union."
"Oh good! I haven't seen a new face in six months so I think it will be refreshing," said Mike. "They'll get to meet the entire team. All fifteen of us."
"You forgot about the 300 stormtroopers in the garrison," replied Charles, his eyebrow moving up and giving the younger man a queer look.
"Oh but they're all the same and don't count," smiled Mike.
"Whatever," said Charles Harvington.
And so ended another day aboard the Scientific Research Station Prometheus.