HFT
23-10-2007, 17:23
OOC: This roleplay is written within the Hard Science Fiction universe and as such should only be reponsed to by members of the HSFT. For those that are part of the HSFT, I have included a cropped down map of the galaxy with some minor additions so as to give you all a point of reference.
http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w280/rk1_itchynipple/ImmyrSmallMap01.png
*** Omicron System. Roughly 40 AU from planet Eden. Transit Point 01 ***
‘May the One God protect us on this, our journey into the unknown’ – Spacer’s Mantra.
The Theocracy of Immyr had existed in one form or another for hundreds of years. In all that time, specific events stood out amongst all others. The establishment of Mother Church. The rise and fall of the Excommunicants. None of those events however would ever have the impact upon Immyrian society as will those of today. This day, among all others, will mark a turning point in history for the Theocracy and its entire population.
“Are you nervous my friend?”
The question caught Commander Luther Becker off guard, so intently was he studying the pict-display before him. His pale, watery blue eyes never wavered however even as he grunted and straightened up from his hunched position at the command pulpit.
“Of course I’m nervous Volk,” he replied tersely, a slender left hand rising to scratch the blond stubble at the crown of his head. The silver braiding at the cuff of his uniform jacket flashed in the bridge lighting with the movement and with a barely stifled sigh, Becker turned to regard the man standing behind and to his left. If Commander Becker was tall and wiry, Father Volkrad Netzhoch was shorter and stockier. A shaggy mane of jet black hair stood out at all angles on his head, a stark contrast to the fiery red of his priestly robes. The two could not have been more different and yet they had been fast friends ever since Father Netzhoch had come aboard eighteen months earlier as the vessel’s chaplain.
The vessel in question was a marvel to behold. 9000 tons of battlesteel, molycircs, and prayers, the INS Redeemer was the flagship of a new class of exploratory vessels. The Redeemer class light cruisers were smaller, lighter, and more advanced than any other vessel currently produced by the Theocracy and their sole purpose was exploration. The class had been commissioned specifically with this day in mind. The day that the Theocracy climbed out of its shell and beheld the universe around it.
“How could I not be nervous?” Becker continued in a voice just above a whisper. “The eyes of over two billion citizens of the Theocracy are on this ship and her crew, waiting to see what fate has in store for us. I’ve been a spacer for twenty-five years and between you, me, and this console, I’m about ready to puke my guts out.” Netzhoch didn’t attempt to suppress the chuckle that rose up from his toes and escaped. Becker eyed him ruefully even as the corners of his own mouth turned up slightly.
“And well you should be Commander. The fate of Mother Church and the Theocracy rest on your rather slender shoulders. Do not fail,” the priest intoned with mock gravity, the hem of his robe brushing the polished steel of the deck as he took a step closer. “Speak not of fate my friend,” he continued in hushed tones, all levity gone now, “for She is a fickle mistress. Trust in the One God and in his guidance. Know that you are here by His choosing. Savor the moment Luther for it is doubtful you will see another like it in your lifetime.” His words washed over Becker like a wave over sand and though the weight of the responsibility placed upon him was not lessened, he felt strengthened by Volk’s words. He nodded once and turned back to the command pulpit as a single chime was heard over the bridge’s vox system.
“Coordinates for Transit Point Zero-One confirmed and locked. Navigational systems are at condition Delta. FTL drive is powered and all indicators show green. Ship is ready for transit Commander,” reported Senior Lieutenant Agathe Neumann, the Redeemer’s Astrogation officer.
“Thank you Lieutenant Neumann,” he replied, his gaze flickering over the nearby communications station. “Ship’s channel please,” he ordered.
“Channel open sir.”
“Crew of the Redeemer,” Becker said, his voice ringing from every vox speaker on board. “The moment we have been waiting for has arrived. The time for doubt or introspection has passed. Courage and faith are the watchwords now. What we do today we do not for ourselves but for the good of the Theocracy and for the glory of He who watches over us.” He paused to draw breath, the silence ringing. “We know little about what awaits us at the other end of this transit point. Returning probes have told us little other than the fact that there is another star system. A star system waiting for us to discover it. Forward, and let no man or woman waver in their resolve.” The open channel closed with a resounding click and Commander Luther Becker faced forward, his back ramrod straight, and gave what would probably the most momentous order of his career. “Ahead one eighth. Activate the FTL drive in t-minus sixty.”
Outwardly there was no noise, only the cold silence of space as the massive vessel began to move. Bright pulses of liquid light jetted from the engine cones of the ship’s binary plasma drive, looking for all the world as if the ship traveled at the head of a herd of very small stars. With a grace belied by its size, the Redeemer moved forward towards history when suddenly and without warning the drives blinked out. For the space of .075 seconds nothing at all happened and then the ship began to undulate, the very fabric of its being appearing to stretch to twice its normal length, then three times, and then it was gone. Where before there had been a mighty ship of the Immyrian Navy, there was now only empty space and the slowly dissipating eddy in the fabric of space that marked where Immyrian history had suddenly been rewritten.
http://i178.photobucket.com/albums/w280/rk1_itchynipple/ImmyrSmallMap01.png
*** Omicron System. Roughly 40 AU from planet Eden. Transit Point 01 ***
‘May the One God protect us on this, our journey into the unknown’ – Spacer’s Mantra.
The Theocracy of Immyr had existed in one form or another for hundreds of years. In all that time, specific events stood out amongst all others. The establishment of Mother Church. The rise and fall of the Excommunicants. None of those events however would ever have the impact upon Immyrian society as will those of today. This day, among all others, will mark a turning point in history for the Theocracy and its entire population.
“Are you nervous my friend?”
The question caught Commander Luther Becker off guard, so intently was he studying the pict-display before him. His pale, watery blue eyes never wavered however even as he grunted and straightened up from his hunched position at the command pulpit.
“Of course I’m nervous Volk,” he replied tersely, a slender left hand rising to scratch the blond stubble at the crown of his head. The silver braiding at the cuff of his uniform jacket flashed in the bridge lighting with the movement and with a barely stifled sigh, Becker turned to regard the man standing behind and to his left. If Commander Becker was tall and wiry, Father Volkrad Netzhoch was shorter and stockier. A shaggy mane of jet black hair stood out at all angles on his head, a stark contrast to the fiery red of his priestly robes. The two could not have been more different and yet they had been fast friends ever since Father Netzhoch had come aboard eighteen months earlier as the vessel’s chaplain.
The vessel in question was a marvel to behold. 9000 tons of battlesteel, molycircs, and prayers, the INS Redeemer was the flagship of a new class of exploratory vessels. The Redeemer class light cruisers were smaller, lighter, and more advanced than any other vessel currently produced by the Theocracy and their sole purpose was exploration. The class had been commissioned specifically with this day in mind. The day that the Theocracy climbed out of its shell and beheld the universe around it.
“How could I not be nervous?” Becker continued in a voice just above a whisper. “The eyes of over two billion citizens of the Theocracy are on this ship and her crew, waiting to see what fate has in store for us. I’ve been a spacer for twenty-five years and between you, me, and this console, I’m about ready to puke my guts out.” Netzhoch didn’t attempt to suppress the chuckle that rose up from his toes and escaped. Becker eyed him ruefully even as the corners of his own mouth turned up slightly.
“And well you should be Commander. The fate of Mother Church and the Theocracy rest on your rather slender shoulders. Do not fail,” the priest intoned with mock gravity, the hem of his robe brushing the polished steel of the deck as he took a step closer. “Speak not of fate my friend,” he continued in hushed tones, all levity gone now, “for She is a fickle mistress. Trust in the One God and in his guidance. Know that you are here by His choosing. Savor the moment Luther for it is doubtful you will see another like it in your lifetime.” His words washed over Becker like a wave over sand and though the weight of the responsibility placed upon him was not lessened, he felt strengthened by Volk’s words. He nodded once and turned back to the command pulpit as a single chime was heard over the bridge’s vox system.
“Coordinates for Transit Point Zero-One confirmed and locked. Navigational systems are at condition Delta. FTL drive is powered and all indicators show green. Ship is ready for transit Commander,” reported Senior Lieutenant Agathe Neumann, the Redeemer’s Astrogation officer.
“Thank you Lieutenant Neumann,” he replied, his gaze flickering over the nearby communications station. “Ship’s channel please,” he ordered.
“Channel open sir.”
“Crew of the Redeemer,” Becker said, his voice ringing from every vox speaker on board. “The moment we have been waiting for has arrived. The time for doubt or introspection has passed. Courage and faith are the watchwords now. What we do today we do not for ourselves but for the good of the Theocracy and for the glory of He who watches over us.” He paused to draw breath, the silence ringing. “We know little about what awaits us at the other end of this transit point. Returning probes have told us little other than the fact that there is another star system. A star system waiting for us to discover it. Forward, and let no man or woman waver in their resolve.” The open channel closed with a resounding click and Commander Luther Becker faced forward, his back ramrod straight, and gave what would probably the most momentous order of his career. “Ahead one eighth. Activate the FTL drive in t-minus sixty.”
Outwardly there was no noise, only the cold silence of space as the massive vessel began to move. Bright pulses of liquid light jetted from the engine cones of the ship’s binary plasma drive, looking for all the world as if the ship traveled at the head of a herd of very small stars. With a grace belied by its size, the Redeemer moved forward towards history when suddenly and without warning the drives blinked out. For the space of .075 seconds nothing at all happened and then the ship began to undulate, the very fabric of its being appearing to stretch to twice its normal length, then three times, and then it was gone. Where before there had been a mighty ship of the Immyrian Navy, there was now only empty space and the slowly dissipating eddy in the fabric of space that marked where Immyrian history had suddenly been rewritten.