NationStates Jolt Archive

Planet Krowemoh, the Nameless Star System
Outer Orbit

Kane Jarvik was a dangerous criminal. His crime? Being born with the ability to manipulate objects with his mind. For the past three years he was subject to repeated and often brutal brainwashings and mind wipes, all in the effort to convert him from a thinking, living entity into a mindless worker drone. Yet even with the strongest techniques the Corporate Psi-Purification Department of Gowa Industries could throw at him, his latent Psychic powers kept reemerging.

The psychic was placed inside a Psi-Containment Cocoon, his Psi abilities suppressed by both the cocoon and a Psi-Suppression Helmet. This cocoon was loaded into a Hermetically Sealed GeoDesic Psycho-Isolation Cell, which served to block the outside universe from detecting him, as well as keeping him from sensing the outside universe, if he ever awoke from the chemically-induced coma.

The Prisoner Transport ship Bringer of the Condemned (http://premium1.uploadit.org/BetaVerisonX//t1.jpg) waited just outside the planetary defenses of the Corpoate Empire's Homeworld. Provided by Vector Industries, the prisoner transport vessel would carry Kane and three other Psychics like him to a uninhabited water planet, where a secret deep sea prison would hide them away until the day they died.

Besides the four 'Psi-Criminals,' a contingent of Weapons Grade Realians Mk.IIs were also loaded, fifteen hundred bio-androids built for the sole purpose of combat. They were equipped with special Anti-Psi weapons, to be used in case the psychics were somehow to escape their containment vessels.

Heading the command of this vessel was Commander Azarel, a male neko with an imposing stance. His skeleton crew of Nekos consisted of other correctional officers, similarly trained to deal with Psi-Criminals.

There were no AGWS onboard the vessel. Psi-Criminals were almost never combated with the Mechas, as the Realians were often enough to deal with the any Psi-Criminals attempting escape. Of course, with all the failsafes and suppression equipment, there has never been a single recorded incident of a Psi-Criminal breakout.

With the 'cargo' securely stowed away deep in the bowels of the craft, the Bringer of the Condemned makes way, bypassing the Krowemohian Gate Generator. The Psi-Prison Planet was never considered for having a Gate Generator placed in its system, so travel between the two planets was limited to regular FTL travel....


((OOC: Just a story for now, setting myself up for a CoreWorlds intervention RP laters. Another patented CMA Thread by Corinna!))

OOC: Discreet taggery, at least I'll have something to read.

Five days later

The Bringer of the Condemned rapidly accelerated out of the Nameless Star System, egressing to a location where a jump to hyperspace would be possible.

Aboard the Bridge, Commander Azarel waited, observing the operations of the ship from his command loft. Below him, a bare minimum crew staffed the various observation and securities terminals.

"Mother," He spoke, a chime letting him know he had the attention of the computer AI Matrix, "Calculate our time of arrival to the hyper space jump point." Mother responded, showing him a graphical countdown.

A holographic screened appeared before him, a masculine computer chipset voice responding to him, "Estimated time of arrival to the Ellison System Jump point... Three days, four hours, thirty three minutes and fourteen seconds on mark.... Mark."

The commander nodded understanding. "Calculate time of arrival to the Gepson Prison Planet?"

Another chime, the countdown changing to graphical representations of the plotted course to the prison planet from the Nameless Star System. "Once Hyper jump has been attained, six days in hyperspace. Real space passage will be six months..."

Waving away the holograph, Commander Azarel settles his eyes on the foreword viewscreen, currently showing a generic computer generated image of 'deep space.' It wasn't real, but it helped the Commander lose himself, allowing time to pass by without him being aware of it.

That was the way with prisoner transport. A lot of it was just waiting...

Ellison System

The Ellison system, home of a designated hyperspace entry point for Krowemohian crafts. The sole planet within the system has already been mined to destruction, now only a lifeless hunk of space material devoid even of breathable atmosphere. With the now resource-less planet, the entire system held little value or interest to the Corporate Empire. The single System Defense Platform was considered by many in the Krowemohian Armed Forces to be a punishment, as nothing ever happened in the system. For the 500 souls onboard the System Defense Platform, this graveyard of a career placement soon became a deep space graveyard.

Almost as soon as the Bringer of the Condemned entered the system, the computer's sensors went berserk. The bridge, which sat silently for the past week where voices were barely above a whisper, sprang to life with activity. "Sir! The Perrigod Defense Platform isn't responding to our hails." One technician announced.

A sensor technician gasped, staring at his display screen "Commander! Sensors are not showing the location of the Perrigod! I am picking up large amounts of metallic material near the Hyperspace Jump Point! Mother says it's a 94.78 per cent chance of ship wreckage!"

Commander Azarel frowned, "Continue on course, flank speed. I want visual of the Hyperspace Jump point immediately."

"Sir!" Echoed around the bridge as the order was carried out.

"External cameras active! On the Foreword viewscreen now!" The scene switched from a generic deep space scene to real space view. In the distance, tiny specs of material could be seen. "Magnifying."

The camera zoomed in, showing wreckage of the Perrigod, the once mighty weapons platform now a floating scrapyard. Commander Azarel grimanced, shaking his head. "Mother, prepare a communication pod. Inform the Corporate Empire what we found."

"Confirmed." Mother responded.

"Everyone else, prepare the ship for hyperspace jump. Whatever did this may still be nearby. We are not a military ship, our defenses are built to deal with asteroids and the like. I want this ship to jump to Hyperspace as scheduled."

Fate would not smile on the commander, however. Almost as soon as he spoke, more activity sprang up in system. "Sir! Contacts! Lots of contacts! I read... Fifty small vessels, launching from the planet surface! Estimated time of contact... Twenty minutes!"

Commander Azarel cursed inwardly, "Fine! Mother, bring us to full battle alert! Patch me to the PA System."

A klaxon sounded, warning the ship of the impending battle. The commanders voice then filled the entire ship. "All personnel to your battle stations. This ship will jump to hyperspace in thirty minutes! All we have to do is hold the attackers off until preparations are complete! Keep that in mind. We WILL jump to hyperspace!"

Making a hand motion, the Commander signaled Mother to turn off the feed, then spoke once more. "I don't care their uses, I want all defense guns pointed at the hostiles and set on continuous fire."

Alert signals sent off all over the bridge. "Sir! Detecting inbound missiles! Calculating speed... Impact in two minutes!"

"Multiple humanoid fightercrafts are launching from the vessels!"

"The Warbook tags them as Pirates!"

Commander Azarel turned his head to look at the technician who announced the ships as pirates. "Are you sure!"

"Yes sir!" The technician replied soundly.

"If they're attacking, then they aren't part of the Pirate Guild, our treaty with them protects us... Regardless! Defense guns, aim for the missiles!"

As the missiles close on the ship, the point defense guns open fire, tiny lances of light lashing out towards the missiles. Spheres of light appear where the missiles are hit, exploding on impact. Others pierce through the defense fire, slamming into the Bringer.

The ship rocks, the bridge command crew bracing themselves as best they could. Commander Azarel's voice rings through the discord, "Damage report! Can we still make the jump!"

Direct hit on the Hydroponics Lab... Hull breach! The hydroponics section is venting atmosphere!"

"Seal off the section! Can we still make the JUMP?!"

The crew instantly regarded the commander, unsure if he was serious. "S-sir? Er... Mother?" One technician managed to stammer.

The AI Matrix responds, "Damage is minimal... Can jump to hyperspace safely."

"Make it so! Cut whatever corners we can, I want us in hyperspace five minutes ago!"

"Hyperspace jump in three minutes!"

"Sir! The humanoid fighters are on us! They... They're swarming the hull breach! We've been boarded by hostile forces!"

"Incoming fire! Impact in three... two... One!"

The ship rocked, as the energy beams slam into the side of the Bringer, turning the primary armor plating into slag.

"Mother! Activate the Realians! Have them drive out the boarders!"

"Hyperspace drives are fully charged! Safeties disengaged! You have control, Commander!"

Azarel nods, opening a panel in his command loft and depressing a button, starting the jump to Hyperspace.

The ship lurches, as it enters faster then light travel. The last thing Azarel remembers is hearing a massive explosion, just as his world went black...

Two months later, uncharted space

The Bringer of the Condemned drifted in deep space, lifeless, the massive engines silent. Two long months. Massive sections of the ship were simply gone, ravaged by the explosions from within the vessel, a single mecha half-hung out of one of the impact creators, the upper section of its body vanishing within the bowels of the ship.

Had the bridge not turn into one of the many holes of the ship, the crew might have detected the seemingly piece of random space junk approaching the ship. But, as the bridge was gone, there was no such detection to be had.

That piece of 'random space junk' was none other then the pirate vessel Blockade Runner, flag ship of the gang leader B. Queen, and her gang of pirates and smugglers, namely Lone Ghunman a man with old fashion revolvers and nerves of steel, the twins Vex and Jet D'bo, and the youngest Anya Kasi, a hacker of some renown. Never one to engage in battles, the Blockade Runners would flock to the place of combat after the winner vacated, picking amongst the dead and dying, stealing whatever they could.

The hull of their ship was lined with special devices that made their signature to look like a piece of random floating space junk, and the ship itself was painted black, so as to be even harder to spot with just the naked eye.

The ship descended onto the Bringer, dislodging the entire gang. Suited against the vacuum of space, B. Queen lead the initial probe into the Bringer.

"No atmosphere. From the looks of the wreckage, they never stood a chance. Whatever got them, got them good." She spoke, floating down one of the corridors.

A door presented itself. B. Queen stopped in front of it, half-expecting the door to automatically slide open. It didn't. "Of course. The reactor core's probably cold. Anya, take Lone and get to the reactor, try to get it back online, then bring up and download the ship's log, and anything about this ship we could sell. Vex and Jet, come with me, we're going down to the cargo bays. Chances are, if there's anything worth taking, it's there."

The group all agreed, and split apart, going their two separate ways...



((OOC: Last post tonight.))

Anya and Lone, Deck 6, Engineering Corridor B.

The two hurried down the thankfully undamaged corridor. Even here, there was no breathable atmosphere, and no power. A lamp above their faces on the helmet of their spacesuit provided illumination.

How long has this ship been floating out here? Years, maybe. Pure luck we detected it. This deep in uncharted space, I doubt anyone's going to be coming across it any time soon. It'll probably drift another thousand years before it's even seen by another living soul. Lone mused to himself, double checking the corridor behind them. Anya lead, her Chainripper held at the ready. Lone himself couldn't use his revolvers. The gloves of his spacesuit for too bulky, he couldn't fit his finger inside the trigger guard. So he had to settle for one of spare assault rifles, designed to be used with such a suit.

Such an uncivilized weapon. Lone regarded his weapon, as Anya busied herself with a hand-held device, trying to power the circuits of a door enough to spring the opening mechanism to life. No where near the style and grace of my revolvers. Only barbarians rely on sheer numbers of rounds to kill something. With a satisified hum, Anya jumped to her feet, the door sliding up into the ceiling, allowing them access to the deeper levels of the ship. She gave it enough power to open, but not to close. This door would probably not close again for a while.

"Anya, you removed this circuit from the power loop, right? I don't want you to throw the switch and have that door close and have us stuck in here." Lone asked, passing through the doorway, pausing for a moment to make sure the path behind them was still clear.

"'F cou'se, Loan. Jus' c'use Anya c'te dun me'n Anya dum'." She spoke in that nearly incomprehensible language of hers. It took a second for Lone to figure out the literal translation.

Of course, Lone. Just because because I'm cute doesn't mean I'm dumb. Lone groaned. He hated when she mispronounced his name, but he couldn't very well scold the girl. She had saved their hides countless times before, and had gotten them into places they wouldn't be able to get to normally.

Lone snorted, shaking his head as he followed the girl. They were now in the engine core access section. A security sub-station was here, and a corpse floated inside the sub-station. Lone crossed to it, peering through the slitted glass at the body. He frowned, and tagged his chest. "Queen. We got nekos here. Probably Krowemohians." He spoke, waiting for B. Queen to reply.

A buzz of static, and a famailiar voice came back to him. "I already know. We passed through the crew quarters area a few seconds ago. They were COs. Not a single CorPurS among them though. No Realians so far either. I don't know what they were transporting, but it's probably prisoners." B. Queen's voice, calm and strong. She always held herself under strict control.

The darkness was already starting to creep Lone out. He kept feeling like he was being watched. But whenever he turned to look, there was always nothing there.

Anya was cheerful and bubbly. She's too stupid to realize we're in danger. Humph... He made a motion with his head, "You're the one with the map, lead me to the engine core."

"Ay', ay'. Foll'w Anya. Anya k'ow the wai." She said, hopping onto her hands and knees and prying open a panel. It was a maintenance access shaft leading straight down. "We go d'wn no'. O'rly uh co'pla hun're' meeters or so, s'ya."

Lone's eye brow twitched. Why does she hate vowels?! My brain hurts, whatever. Let's just be on our way...

Jet, Vex, B. Queen; Crew Quarters/Recreation Hall

Normally, B. Queen would be suited in her 'usual' attire, which was six inch thick leather straps she lovingly spent hours a day arranging into just the right spots. Just because she was a heartless b**** who loved inflicting pain on others didn't mean she didn't like to show off her body. But, such an outfit was down-right stupid in situation like this, where the many holes in a ship stripped away the atmosphere, making even the air unbreathable. Hence, a spacesuit was needed.

Outwardly, she wore the calm, cold mask of an efficient killer. Inwardly, she cursed the designer of their spacesuits for hiding her curves. Well, look on the bright side, at least my whip is still by my side. She cast a glance at her left arm, eyeing the custom leather whip wrapped securely around it. She was truly, never without it. However, in this atmosphereless place, she seriously doubted she would be able to use her whip.

Behind her were the twins, Vex and Jet D'bo. They were alike in physical appearance alone. Jet was male, deathly silent, even colder then B. Queen. Vex, the female, was the complete opposite. Loud, talkative, almost... Valley-girl-eqsue in nature. If you let her, she'd ramble on and on about absolutely nothing important or related to anything that's happening currently.

Jet never spoke, at all. Yet, Vex would always seem to know what Jet was thinking, and could carry on a conversation with him as if he WERE actually talking to her.

Thankfully, as the trio picked their way through one of the crew sleeping quarters, Vex and Jet were silent. A laser rifle propped against her shoulder, B. Queen paged through one of the ship's crew member's e-diary, reading the last few entries. Nothing vaguely useful, no access codes or system logins or passwords. But it gave B. Queen an idea of what this ship was.

"Planet Krowemoh Spaceport was crowded. Lot of outgoing traffic made it difficult for us to get under way and out of the system. As I write this, we are finally passing the Gate Generator, heading for deep space." B. Queen read the entry outloud.

Vex and Jet were busy moving bodies. Being as the entire gang, with the exception of Lone Ghunman, were Krowemohians, they couldn't stand to see the sight of their fellows floating so disrespectfully. Affording the dead a small semblance of decency, Jet and Vex were moving what bodies they could find and putting them on beds, strapping them in, murmuring small prayers to the Goddess Cori to help the spirits find their way to the afterlife.

B. Queen's radio crackled to life, Lone's voice spilling through. "Queen. We got nekos here. Probably Krowemohians."

B. Queen snorted, placing the e-diary down and pressing the device on her chest, speaking, "I already know. We passed through the crew quarters area a few seconds ago. They were COs. Not a single CorPurS among them though. No Realians so far either. I don't know what they were transporting, but it's probably prisoners."

CorPurS. The Corporate Purification Squad. The not so Secret Police of the Corporate Empire. Bred and trained for the singular purpose of crushing anti-Corporation mindsets and purifying those the CEOs deemed unclean. They were tough to kill, heavily armored, armed and always traveled in groups of five. B. Queen could seriously see a CorPurS as having survive this whole mess, and in a really bad mood. Would probably give her gang a run for their money.

Looking over her shoulder, she checked the progress of Vex and Jet. "Come on, hurry it up. This ship won't explore itself." It actually could, if the Mother AI Matrix was still active.

Securing fastening the last body in this area to a bed, Vex whispered a prayer over the body, then nodded to B. Queen. "We're ready. Let's move on."

Standing, the two meet B. Queen at the open door to the crew quarters, took one final look at the double row of bunks, then moved deeper into the ship. Into the recreational hall, where rows of lockers stood waiting, some closed, some open. Basketballs and volleyballs floated idly here, surprising the three that they haven't been sucked out into space. Then again, being as the hull was some 40 meters away in any given direction, there were no hull breeches that could suck the balls and various rec equipment out.

They were now pointlessly wandering, waiting for Lone and Anya to throw on the power so that they could take the main elevator down to the cargo holds, where the real loot would be had, provided it wasn't destroyed when whatever happened to this ship... Happened.

Without warning or much fuss, the lights sprang to life, a sure fire sign that the reactor core was indeed back running. With even less warning came what followed. Anya's voice came spilling through the radio, screaming at the top of her lungs. B. Queen winced at the sure lung power of the younger girl, then heard the telltale sign of her chainripper revving up. Anya was being attacked?! She slapped her radio, barking into the suit's built-in mic. "Anya! Lone! What's happening?!"

"Queen! We got a situation here!" Vex shouted, raising her rifle and firing at something B. Queen couldn't see, Jet following suit with his Personal Railgun. B Queen snarled, bringing her own weapon to the ready.

"MOVE it! Fall back to the main elevator!" She ordered, "I'll cover us, go go go!"

Lone and Anya, Deck 7, Engine Core Access

Personally, Lone could never understand why when designing these ships, they loved to put meters and meters of ladders as access to system critical sources. A drop chute or anti-grav lift would make much more sense, as material could be transported easier as well as personnel. Lone grumbled to himself, "Damn lowest bidder construction. Ladders are cheaper, aren't they? Of course they go the cheap route.... It's a wonder the thing doesn't fall apart when looked at in anger..."

Rung after rung passed his sight, he stopped counting them after he hit two hundred. He honestly didn't want to know how many rungs this ladder had, he just wanted it to end. Below him, Anya kept climbing, the same as himself.

A solid five minutes of climbing, and at long last solid flooring beneath his feet. Stepping back from the long ladder up, Lone cranes his head back to gawk at the sheer stupidity of an overly long ladder. "Note to self. Never design anything taller then two stories." Turning, Lone wasn't surprised to see that Anya had already left, heading for the Engine Core Access panel.

A chill ran up and down Lone's spine. He didn't like the way any of this felt. It reeked of a trap. Unslinging his Laser Rifle, Lone surveyed the surroundings, taking in everything he saw.

A long, narrow catwalk spanning above the ship's Reactor Core, directly connected to the ships Sub-Light Propulsion System. At the end of the Catwalk was the Access Panel, which would allow Anya to spin-up the core, allowing the ship to receive power. Besides the panel, there were also various engine access ports where maintenance could be perform on the engines from the inside. Luckily, they didn't need the ship to move, just to have enough power to allow access to the deeper parts of the ship, where the good stuff was likely to be stored.

The catwalk was a straight shot to the panel, roughly ten meters or so. There were no offshoots, no side paths. In fact, it was almost too perfect. If anything came between them and the ladder, they'd be trapped, with no cover. If anything were to come at them from the opposite side of the catwalk, they'd get stuck between a deadly crossfire.

Lone grimaced, gripping his rifle more tightly, staring up at the ladder. Even if they tired to escape, the ladder was their only exit. Without means to defend themselves as they went up, they'd be easy targets for anything above or below them.

All around, there came a buzz, whirling and creaking as the reactor spun up, reactivated by Anya. A moment passes, and the power reengages, lighting up the entire area. Almost immediately, Anya's voice spilled through his suit's speaker, a blood curdling scream. Lone spun around, hearing Anya start up her Chainripper, the unmistakable sound of the micro-engine revving, rotating the long knife's bladed chain. He caught sight of a person, dressed in a red jumpsuit, blonde hair, green eyes. The person held a rod, glowing at one end with a blue light. A Stun-Prod, he recognized. He didn't know from where this person appeared, but Anya was running her Chainripper through him.

A thud came from behind him. Lone spun nn his heels, seeing an ex act copy of the person Anya was fighting behind him, suddenly running at him. Lone raised his weapon, firing from the hip in full-auto without aiming. A bolt grazed the person's leg, but did not deter him, but a bolt hitting him squarely in the chest sent him to the ground.

Miraculously, the person began to rise. Then it dawned on Lone what he was fighting. Realians. Mark Ones, judging by the suit. They were Krowemoh's home-brewed Super Soldier Drones. Programed to not feel pain, fear, stress or panic, programmed to show no mercy, to kill unflinchingly. They were the perfect soldier drones, bred by the thousands and combat ready a mere week after 'birth,' they could be throw en mass at any enemy with impunity, over-powering by pure numbers alone.

Lone wouldn't let this one the chance to get to his feet. Slamming his foot down on the Realian's back, he pinned it to the ground and placed the barrel of his rifle against its head, pulling the trigger without hesitation. He turned and looked at their escape route. No good, Realians were sliding down the ladders, he counted least five of them, possibly more topside. They would reach them in a matter of seconds.

Lone fell back to where Anya was, allotting himself more room to fire at the Realians. So far, they seemed to be armed only with stun-prods, no long range weapons. Standing next to Anya, he noticed that her Realian was no-where to be seen, just like her Chainripper. "He f'll o'va t'a e'ge, tuk ma r'ppa w'th 'im!"

Lone nodded mock understanding. "Use your pistol! We got company, a lot of them!" He turned, seeing the first of the Realian Swarm hitting the catwalk, charging full speed at them. Kneeling, Lone took his rifle and started to lay down suppressing fire. Anya leaned on him, using his shoulders to brace her pistol. Lone ignored the feeling of her weight on him, instead focusing on the threat directly in front of him. The first in line fell, only to be hurdled by the one behind it....