(no subject)

2014-02-20 23:52[personal profile] dreamermoa
dreamermoa: (here i am. a rabbit-hearted girl)
[The young girl on the video feed looks down at it awkwardly, nervously fussing with her hair.]

Hi. I just got here, or I just woke up, and...um, there was supposed to be someone else here with me? He's a little taller than me [she motions with her hand], and he has these long dreadlocks [again, motions] and he wears a black respirator over his face. It covers his nose and mouth. His name is Rail. And I'm Moa.

If anyone sees him, can you tell him I'm up? And I'm looking for him? And Rail, if you're watching this, then....

[She pouts suddenly, in the manner of someone who's just realized that they're being made fun of.]

Then I'm looking for you, jerk!
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Equius Zahhak [01]: Action

2014-02-16 18:46[personal profile] authoritative
authoritative: (of course I would win)
Equius feels like, perhaps, he hadn't properly considered the structural integrity of the hivestem he had been assigned rooms in in.

Staring broodingly through the hole in the front wall, he considers the robot laying some distance away (and a couple floors down from him) in the street, all plain steel except its red glass eyes, with a distinctive fist-shaped wound straight through its chest. It is sparking in a manner that would be disconcerting if he wasn't so familiar with it.

He should probably reinforce the walls. And build a steel cage for fighting, too, that might help-- it would at least give the walls a fighting chance after decelerating whatever he punched through it. Really, though, there was so little space in these hivestems-- certainly not as much as he was used to-- he wasn't sure he'd be able to fit both a cage and his workbench into the cramped living block without breaking something every time he turned around.

Not that he didn't already break things every time he turned around, but that was just him, not the tiny living quarters-- oh, dear.

"Everyone should probably stand back," he calls down, voice slightly raised, as the sparking intensifies. "No, further than that--"

Hopefully, everyone will be standing back far enough that the robot explodes (in a rather lovely ball of shrapnel and fire, if he may say so) without causing further damage, except to the charred mark in the middle of the road.

Sweating noticeably, Equius hops out through the hole, apparently unbothered by the couple dozen feet to the ground and landing on his feet like such jumps are completely normal, and approaches the blackened spot formerly occupied by a robot, gathering salvageable scraps of metal as he goes.
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0003: THE SCIENCE CAPTAIN COMETH!

2014-02-08 19:34[personal profile] crux_npcs
"Attention all personnel: The Glorious Dream of Uncontested Starfall is performing docking maneuvers. All supply personnel, shift changes, and guests report to Bay 12." There's a brief pause. "Warrant Officer Foster, Science Captain McEngineer says that he has a new toy for testing. Bring ear plugs. All others with appointments, Science Captain McEngineer will see you when docking and resupply is complete. In other news, rain will be scheduled for..."

Bay 12 is huge, over a hundred meters long and easily two hundred feet tall. As the Uncontested Starfall rests, connected with electromagnetic clamps, supply tubes, and force fields, people supplies move in and out of it at a steady pace. The ship itself is visible from outside cameras. Largely red and gold, it resembles a long-necked bird of prey, with swept back wings and plating where Model Ts have been hooked on for long shifts.

If you've already made an appointment with the Science Captain, you're immediately taken inside the ship. Inside, the ship is full of tubes, pulsing with green fluids. The AI aboard speaks in an unrecognizable, chittering language and the floor lights up, guiding you and your host to a lab. The door only opens half-way, there's an axe stuck in it, but you can just barely squeeze through. Inside is Science Captain Urist McEngineer. Four and a half feet tall, stout, heavily bearded, and snoring into his lunch. A mug of something frothy sits next to him and a holographic display of some kind of weapons system slowly rotates above his head.

Thankfully, he appears to have no more axes at hand.
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Engineer's Log, Stardate ???

2014-02-05 20:02[personal profile] blindlygo
blindlygo: (Guinan makes too much sense)
Since being given leave to wander the city, Geordi had spent a lot of time at the Renaissance Center. He'd discovered the database accessible from the communicator quickly enough, but there was something constraining about staying in the cramped temporary quarters to read it, and out in the city at large, the distractions were innumerable.

It had made the discovery of the library and museum building at the Renaissance Center invaluable. With his meeting with Science Captain McEngineer hinging on the arrival of the Glorious Dream of Uncontested Starfall, Geordi had found himself at loose ends for an uncertain number of days, but he was determined to use it productively- and that was where the database came in. No matter the outcome of that meeting, after all, he'd still have to figure out a way to get by here until the problem with the fold-space accident could be reversed, and that would require learning about this Fleet, in every way he could.

When he'd started out, finding a datapad and a open seat in the building, it had seemed like a good idea, but now, hours later, after more pages than he could count, he realized he was reading each sentence several times over to actually pick up the information. With a huge sigh, Geordi leaned back in his chair, and ran his hands over his face. "I feel like I'm back at the Academy," he said, slightly louder than he'd intended.

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0002: A Proper Q&A

2014-02-02 12:25[personal profile] crux_npcs
Early in the morning, everyone's comm devices start jangling in pleasant tones, marking a new message. It's text, posted over the network, and at the top is an official looking seal, featuring the rotating pyramid that seems to be the Confederacy's symbol.

So, I hear you people woke up yesterday. Congratulations. I'm sorry you had to deal with that simpering incompetent, Baker. Allow me to illuminate you so that you can better appreciate your situation.

It is 0458 A.C. That's After Confederation, marking the date in which humanity, the Dorfs, and the Jool chose to band together for power, security, and knowledge. By old Earth calendars, that puts us somewhere near the end of the 27th Century, but I don't know exactly when. Ancient history is not my area of expertise and we had multiple calendar changes before settling on an interstellar standard.

I am Thaddeus T. Thrax III, deputy mayor of the Teuberg, the mighty cityship on which you stand. The city in which you now live is in a ship sixty miles across, with layers bringing our great vessel up to thirty miles in height. At the time of this writing, it houses some five hundred thousand souls. We are a great city, born and bred to colonize brave new worlds and explore unseen frontiers. The mayor, the honorable Ms. Maria Masters, will address you when we've finished this latest round of memorial services. Fleet Admiral Bulsara may also address you. Do not try to address him first.

You have been given two months to examine this city, see its needs, and decide where you fit in. Will you join the government? Perhaps you'd rather see what lower-level employment there is, such as becoming a baker or working at a market? Furthering your education is highly suggested and, unlike some more primitive cultures, we respect students and will provide you with living expenses as you work. As a note, this will be mandatory for citizens up to the age of sixteen, our legal limit for adulthood. I should also bring up that we do allow apprenticeships for our younger citizens and guests, should they decide on an employment track they desire early on.

Scholarly pursuits and regular life too boring for you? Fair enough. There is always the military, of course. We just lost thirty of those brave souls in a skirmish yesterday, I'm sure the recruiters will be happy to hear from you. We have tracks for Medical, Command, Engineering, Security/Infantry, Pilots, and Science. That said, you will still be expected to go through training. It will not be easy but after a few swift weeks, you too can go to interesting new places, meet fascinating new people, and pray to whatever God you worship that they don't speak with acid rainbows. Some of them do. I've met them.

Of course, not everyone will want such a rigid, disciplined life. You can hardly be blamed, the military isn't for everyone. But if you still want to defend this city, you may wish to join the militia. Civilian operated, funded, and supplied, the militias of old Earth traditionally answered to the county or the Count, with no connection to the military. Here, though, the military is in command. The militia will have a military liason, but you will not have to follow the same strict discipline of our men and women in uniform. You will deploy when they say and do your utmost to follow their orders in a combat situation, but the rest is up to you. God help us.

Of course, if you want off this ship, there are plenty of other jobs other than fighting. We are always on the lookout for skilled farmers, educators, diplomats, pilots, traders, and asteroid miners! Plus, we will provide training for any of these jobs. We have two agricultural vessels available, and they could use all the help they get. Or, if you fancy yourself some kind of pop star or athlete, you could try for a job in the entertainment sector. I should warn you that competition is stiff. I could not in good conscience honestly suggest any of those jobs.

The more irritating among you might be asking now, "What if we don't want to help out? We didn't ask to come here." Well, we certainly would regret it if you felt that way, as we are doing our best to help you fit in and return you safely to your homes. However, after two months we'll no longer have the resources or the patience to assist you. We will drop you off at the nearest inhabitable planet or neutral space station and leave you there.

Ultimately, I hope it won't come to that. I wish for you to be as happy and productive as any average citizen. We will do our utmost to reverse the accident that brought you here, and it is my hope that when you do, you leave our universe a richer person than you entered it.

Your servant,
Thaddeus T. Thrax III
Deputy Mayor
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0001: A New Beginning

2014-02-01 15:58[personal profile] crux_mods
crux_mods: (Default)
Whatever your activities before, they're interrupted by a sudden lurching feeling, like someone's put a hook into the pit of your very being and yanked. There's a brief burst, a brilliantly twisting tunnel? And then silence. Stars fill your vision, along with bodies, machines, and not much else before everything mercifully goes black. The shock of it, more than the lack of air.

And then, there's sound. There's not much at first. Beeping. Lots of beeping. Some of it is irritatingly loud, and apparently it's the cause of a lot of excitement. When vision returns, the first thing to note would be alien writing blinking in your field of vision, displayed on a monitor or a clear bubble somewhere. Alien, but familiar enough for you to read "Awakening". Whatever that means, you're apparently not alone, as people in black and white uniforms are rushing through the large room you're in, the room filled with people hooked up to all kinds of machines. Of course, some of them don't look entirely like people.

All of a sudden, a haggered face fills your field of vision. "Great Shades of Elvis! Another one! Look, please remain calm." The poor nurse turns and starts to fiddle with some of the machines surrounding you. "There's been an accident, but you're okay. Try to stay quiet and don't disturb the other patients. Someone will be with you in a moment." They turn away to shout across the room, as if that wouldn't disturb anyone. "Hoi, Oglaf! Mark this one as alive so Security can take them for the briefing!" He gestures at some official looking people in red and black uniforms assisting other patients into wheelchairs. "Just flag one of them down, they'll take you to the briefing. We'll explain everything. Just don't panic, you're in good hands." He grins and pats your shin. "Welcome to the Fleet, eh? 'scume, someone else is starting to budge and I gotta make sure it's not some poor sot swallowed his tongue again." With that, he leaves you alone with your thoughts and the bright lights.

[Medical Arrival | Hangar Arrival | Briefing | Post-Briefing 1 | Post-Briefing 2]
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