A good two weeks before your selection to crew Explorator 4, otherwise known as Desna’s Reach, Explorator 2 left orbit around Bretheda and entered into Drift space to explore a sector of space galactically north of the Pact Worlds System. The second of five ships to be completed through the very public Explorator project it was named Sarenrae’s Light in keeping with the naming convention of Weydan’s Will the first of the explorator fleet to go galactically south of the system. Explorator 3, known as Iomedae’s Heart still needed to be fully supplied and its crew trained by the time of your recruitment. Accepted or not it was pretty clear from the outset that mere acceptance was just the start. Hours of filling out paperwork, contracts, liability forms, release forms, emergency contacts, surveys, interview agreements and a whole blur of other forms, documents, genetic imprint worms, and magical microgeas.
Then came the physicals, the psych exams, the numerous interviews so long and so thorough you felt your brain melting inside your skull as yet another corporate shill discussed mission goals and worst case scenarios and your “qualifications”. You swore if you heard the word “qualifications” one more time you were going to qualify a bullet in someone’s smug forehead.
Thankfully after being on the receiving end of hours of scrutiny you got your clean bill of health, mostly clean mental health, and whatever misgivings your interviewers had about you didn’t seem to amount to much. All done right?
Nope.
Next came the training. Training for handling boarding emergencies, hull breaches, xeno infestation, dimensional rift protocols, radiation leaks, drift engine failure, arcanofusion reactor breach, choking hazards, and sudden dead officer simulations. Four weeks of grueling training. For the military among you getting into the groove of such trials was a matter of knocking off the rust and getting back into step. For the civilians to whom it was the first time donning anything resembling a uniform it was a lot more drudgery.
As the weeks grinded on however the reason for such intense training became clear. It happened during meal time when Sir Oliver complained about the massive quantity and lesser quality of mamy of the supplies being brought aboard when the Station was little more than a week away from anywhere.
Then Moira chimed in saying that it would be a week back but several months to a year just to get where they started essentially negating the supply journey. Melfecor confirmed sayong somberly that the strength of the Starstone is both savior and trap as the Drift currents get stronger the closer to the station.
Moira likened it to swimming at a beach with no tide. Going out into the water the current constantly batters you back but eases up as you get farther. Drift beacons work much the same way. The signal off the starstone is so strong however that its own frequency has an affect on all others. So while riding the current of one beacon you will be pulled back by the Starstone. The effect is subtle but significant over time. Of course before Melfecor could enthusiastically get into the math of Drift dynamics in unbeaconed systems and the theoretical Drift “undercurrent” Sir Oliver begged them to stop.
But the point was made. If you had to limp back to Absalom Station the mission was finished whether complete or not.
From there the drills and training continued but taken a little bit more seriously. Afterall no one wanted to have to return to the station for a stupid and easily avoidable mistake.
After this came about a week of public appearances, interviews, news reports, and talk show sit ins. It was necessary, sadly, the Explorator project was a public project and many of the companies and organizations who donated funding and technology relied on public opinion to get said resources. It wasn’t long before it became clear who withered in the spotlight and who thrived. Pretty much the entire crew, filled with hardened military vets, socially awkward scientists, and dirty foul mouthed engineers whose skill with rapid calculation was second only to creative insults were not really asked for more of the same after one or two such appearances. The captain however, a woman accustomed to appearances in order to propose projects, present findings, or occasionally lead a sermon fell comfortably into the role of ship’s representative. Then there was Ko. Charming, beautiful, and always ready with a well timed joke or flutter of her silveryt eyelashes it wasn’t long in the week before she got her own fan base. The mail that came in afterward mostly favored her, and just before you were pushed back into another day of drills she received an oil on canvas painting of herself in the nude laying among velvet sheets. Of course being the conceited drow that she was it was immediately hung in her quarters.
With another day of drills behind you to keep you sharp you are finally given one week to get your affairs in order before you would be going on a very long mission into deeps space. In one week Desna’s Reach would be released from dry dock. In one week Explorator 4 would slip into Drift space around the Starstone and not comeback for four long years.
Yet the most unnerving points about the crew were Ko and the masked Threnedar. Ko represented something about your ancient history you were unfamiliar with, and the little you knew of the drow turned your stomach. Knowing that one of that race would be on board made you somewhat uneasy. Yet Threnedar was worse. His emotions and deep monotoned bass were hard to read and he seemed to be observing you at all times. You knew of the elves of Castrovel and their views on others races. You simply did not have cause to share them. In fact the way they handled themselves made them just as foreign and alien to you as the robotic priest or the willful telepathic captain. At least the science was good, even if you had to work with a floating brain as a partner.
The science here was good. The equipment was good. Now all that had to happen was surviving the trip.
A shot from a hoverdrone rolls over the gathered crew of Desna's Reach seemingly just following a photo-op. The gathered journalists and celebrities begin walking into the shot, just as the well-polished and groomed crew descend the podium. The camera receives a signal from a journalist with a heavy make-up and a too-wide-to-be real smile, pointing towards a woman in green-patched jumpsuit releasing a razzled bun of red hair with one hand, and flipping the bird to another journalist with the other.
As the mechanic moves towards a corner, undoing her jumpsuit and reaching for a glass of water, the interviewer nods at the camera and pounces, microphone first. "Good afternoon, this is Seelah Starlight from the Absalom Express, the station's favourite newscaster, here at the exclusive Explorator Press Release.", she grins at the camera, fluttering eyelashes. "With me is Molly Bakir, a deserter from the Swarm Wars, a former prisoner and an old friend of every law enforcement Agency in the Pact Worlds." The camera focuses at Molly, who blinks twice as the radiant light of the camera washes over her face, her face unreadable. "Molly is also the Chief Engineer of the multi-billion vessel Desna's Reach. Molly, do you believe that your disregard for orders and anti-social behaviour will somehow be counteracted by your ability in your position, despite not having any formal education in the field?" Shoving the microphone forwards, the journalist's zaccharine smile stretches even wider as the camera focuses on Molly's inpenetrable face.
Exhaling, Molly blinks twice, before gently shoving the journalist aside and staring up at the camera, a wide smile appearing on her face as Seelah's own wanes. "Why, thank you for the question, Seelah!", she replies in an Akitonian accent with the same amount of faux-excitement. "I must say, I've always believed in believing in people, and I'm sure that those who purchase the Absalom Express and are literate, do too!" Turning to the side, she sends a wide smile at the already sweating Starlight. "After all, isn't this the same newscaster that gave a pockmarked space goblin makeup, a wig, a dress too small for her waist and a cameradrone with all the latest filters can give a quality report of the biggest event of the last twenty years,", she continues in her newscaster tone, "despite not being able to spell 'journalism'?" The engineer raises her hand at the drone, and with a snap of the filters, the aftereffects are gone. "Believe!"
------Footage Ends.------
As the last day of drills is done, Molly puts her fingers in her mouth, letting out an eardrum-piercing whistle, waving at Delt and Melfecor. Pointing at the engineering bay, she leaps up and sits on a crate, picking up a mug of coffee left over from earlier in the day. Giving it an appraising shrug, she takes a long sip as the two enter engineering.
Undoing her jumpsuit at the waist, she wipes her forehead. "Alright, my sweets.", she says in her raspy alto. "Drills are done, thank f+*#. We got a week off, and considering we'll be spendin' four years ass-to-ass, I don't want to even think, let alone see you two this week, so I'll be damn quick." She jumps down from the crate, gesturing around the bay. "First things first. Yes, I'm rusty, and yes, I don't yet know all about that fancy field we got around the ship. But the corp-drones put me as pit boss of this partic'lar pit, 'cause I've shot at Pact Worlds ships for the better part of my life, and know exactly how to break them, and how to fix 'em with earwax and swear-words when I got nothing else available." She nods, then raises two fingers. "A couple more things. We all know our ranks, so don't use them when talkin' to me, 'cause I ain't replyin'. Listen to security when it's a matter of security. If the grunts get pushy when it comes to fixin' their s%*% when you got more important things to do, kindly remind them you got control over the climate in their cabins and tell them to f$&# off." She points towards the door. "In a week is the only day in your life aboard this sneaky tub I'll tolerate you bein' drunk or hungover in engineerin'. Now scram!", she shouts, sitting down on the computer.
To Garron Bakir, or however the f&~@ you're called these days,
Hey, s@*+head. I'm out. No thanks to your barnacled ass, I've got to add.
No, no, I get it, it's a lot easier to sit in my f##%ing bar, gambling away my f@&+ing secret stash, and telling colourful tales of being a retired pirate, the bane of the Diaspora, instead of gathering one of the best crews in the Pact Worlds, and breaking into a prison. That requires some skill and balls, and we both know you lack both.
We stole the motherloving Harridan, for Besmara's sake!
Although, the Stewards did laugh at that vid of you running towards the escape pods with just your skivvies on. Only time I've ever seen an ass on a Wanted poster, but with you, I don't think anyone could've made the difference.
Anyway, just sending you the usual wishes of falling into a fireleech pit. You better hope my bar's still in place when I come back, or else. Sleep well.
Lots of love,
Molly
Stepping out of the engineering bay, Molly ties her jumpsuit around her waist, and heads for the gunnery. As the pressure door opens, the mechanic gives a loud rap on the doorframe with her metal arm, before winking at Sir Oliver. "Afternoon, gentlemen." She sniffs the air, then sighs dramatically. "You got to crack a window here, I'm drownin' in bravado here. Would hate to blow an air filter.", she grins, before waving at Shh'snkikit. "Kit! I'm borrowin' a hovercar, and then I'm out on the town. Food, drink, shootin' dice."I'll murder for something that isn't pre-packed or prepared by a military chef. She grins at the gathered security, then raises her hands in the air. "I'll cash for the borrowin', don't you worry your pretty little heads.", she laughs.
Poor guy's got to be fuming. Seven years in the locker, then bossed around by His Royal Highness and a Skyfire fart. If I had to be in his place, I'd shoot myself., a thought passes through her head. And now his ex-boss is here, too. Good going, Molly, I'm sure he can't handle not being baby-sat. "Or, you know. If you got a better idea, I'm all ears."
Few things are heard from Molly during the next week, though a couple of incidents making the news raise a few eyebrows, namely the groundskeeper robot in charge of the botanical gardens currently under restoration randomly waking up in a dumpster, a tiny drone armed with an automatic egg-launcher being taken down after a one-sided assault on Stewards' Bastion, and a small trading company being investigated for links to Diasporan piracy.
In the morning, Chief Engineer Bakir arrives on the docks alongside a cargo robot pushing a cart filled to the brim with jingling crates. Wearing a heavy coat over an unbuckled jumpsuit, she removes a pair of sunglasses to reveal a bloodshot eye, nodding at the dockworkers around the ship. There ain't nothin' like freedom, Molly. Nothin'., a small smile appears on her face as she crumples a coffee cup.
Karma secretly enjoyed the training. She was very much trying to play the part of the disgruntled ex-military pilot, but not doing a great job. As much as she wanted to seem grumpy, she was too caught up in the project. Flying a new ship! State of the art technology! Far better than the hoverbikes she'd been messing with for the past few months. And the crew seemed different from any other she'd every flown with. Sure, there were the nerds and the geeks. They were alright, she guessed. Scientists had never made a strong impression on Karma, given how many failed experiments and war crimes she had personally born witness to. This group seemed a little better than that, thankfully. She reserved judgement until she'd seen them in action. But the rest seemed good. The military personal were effective, the engineers were entertaining, and the captain seemed to actually care. Definitely in the top 5 captains she'd flown under. While topping the commander of the 78th 'Naga Scale' carrier would be tough (Karma's first posting during the Vesk war), Zeni certainly had potential. Seeing Ko again was great, and the drow had only got more glib in their parting. The two spent a few late nights together, drinking, talking about their times apart, and reminiscing on the war. Of the rest of the crew, Moira in particular was growing on Karma. The dwarf's excitement and cheer infected Karma as the two of them worked on navigation and discussed piloting. The idea of exploring new worlds is a powerful one, and it got into the pilot's head. She began counting the days until they set out, ready to finally fly again. She had joined the Knights all those years ago to protect people, and finally had a mission that would actually benefit society.
The training was mostly fun, although Karma was very disappointed to learn she wasn't allowed to take Desna's Reach for a test drive. Very very disappointed. She was quite vocal about this disappointment too. At least she would have time to mess around with it while in the drift. Still, she practiced in simulators and got the hang of it quickly, not being the first experimental ship she's flown. Amidst the drills, she found time to head to a local shooting range and practice with her laser cannon, a skill that she hadn't used for months. Additionally, fulfilling a long held belief about flying a large ship, Karma crashed as many engineering sessions as possible, to the level of cutting a few of her own drills to do so. When queried, she explained that "The officers will tell me what to do regardless of whether it's possible. The engineers can tell me what I can't do, but only if I'm nice to them." She continued to try to befriend Molly in particular, believing that it was important for a pilot and chief engineer to get along. In particular, Molly's rebelliousness impressed Karma.
She was also prone to late night guitar sessions, which she used to cool off and relax. Anyone interested could come and listen, although when alone she tended to play it to her headphones to avoid disturbing those sleeping. In fact, she barely seemed to sleep at all and was taken to wandering the ship in the middle of the night with her headphones on, just listening.
The press conferences were strange. After years of being legally dead, being the centre of attention was quite frightening, and Karma had no idea what to say to the people. She tried plugging her band, but it didn't help much, and just made her miss them more. A shame that there didn't appear to be a drummer or a base guitar player on the ship. Thankfully Ko was there to guide her through them, helping Karma prepare for interviews and intercepting unexpected questions during group sessions. After it was leaked that the two knew each other, several news organizations tried to use Karma to get information about the ever popular Ko. This was when she retired from public appearances and focused on memorizing ship specs.
On the first day of the break, she holed up in the common room and wrote a letter to her parents. Anyone approaching the room in this time would've heard it before they saw it, as she was playing loud music to help her think. A few days before her existence became public, she managed to send her family a note, but it was short as the schedule was busy. Her parents had believed she was dead for years, and she had no idea what to say to them to breach that gulf. The letter was long and rambling, full of both amusing stories and horrifying anecdotes about the things she's seen. It contained apologies, and promises to return home after her mission. It also expressed sympathy that she couldn't visit at this time. They had moved away from Absalom station after her 'death', and there wasn't time for her to fly out in the week. Writing this was somehow harder than anything else Karma had ever done, and she realized she would much rather face a Swarm army than continue. But, she eventually finished. She went to sleep for the night in the common room, instead of returning to her sparse dorm.
On the second day, Karma donned her dress uniform and left the ship. She took a photo of herself with the ship visible in the background window, which she attached to her letter before she sent it. Traveling into the city, Karma ventured into a court house to keep an appointment Monto had arranged for her. Finally allowed to testify on the issue of Pact World war crimes, she spent three days recording herself talking about anything and everything to do with the war. The goal was for the videos to be passed to the major courts, and for several old cases to be reopened. This would take far longer than they had available before the Desna's Reach set out, so Karma had to record as many clarifications as possible to prevent confusion during the trials. Every single little detail Karma could call to mind was brought up, whether good or bad. She slept little and said a lot, answering questions from dozens of interchanging faces. Despite urging from Monto and others related to the project, Karma insisted upon getting this done fast and right. When confronted with the idea that maybe it might not be for the best for the pilot to be sleep deprived before they set out, she responded by pointing out that Molly was likely out drinking and gambling, and "Maybe you should rein in your convict engineer before you worry about me?" Begrudgingly, she was allowed to continue.
The remainder of her break was simple. She stayed on the ship and played music, although making a point of eating out every time. Stealing simple base lines and drum tracks of the internet, she jammed improvised songs next to practised ones, filling the ship with noise and screams, all while wishing someone else on the g!*&~#ned ship knew how to rock. She made sure to download as much music as possible, knowing that communications would be scarce. Other essential supplies, such as more green hair dye or posters of her favourite bands were acquired during day trips.
Finally, it was the day of. She awoke in her room, dressed solemnly, deliberately throwing her jacket over the official uniform, and tied her hair up tight. Headphones on, she set out, her head bobbing to some unseen beat.
Finally, a moment's respite...
The door to his chamber closing, Ellion felt at ease for the first time since he'd departed the last meeting. He knew the drills were for their own good, the training meant to help them be efficient and reliable, yet there were too many cooks in the kitchen sometimes. Another expression they won't get...
The science officers aboard the vessel had disagreed on reference protocol for both security and cataloging on their research drives. This impasse wouldn't have been a huge hurdle if B4DG3R had an inkling of seeing things from somebody else's perspective. No, no - the rest of us were completely wrong, no possibility of any merit there. Gorumskagat had vehemently disagreed whereas Ellion was more annoyed. The argument continued well into the time they were supposed to be simulating a hack of sensitive data. Yet without a consensus as to how the storage and security was to take place, proceeding with the drill was essentially impossible. Naturally, the veiled Threnedar stomped by within earshot, then unleashed a lecture of his own about timeliness and setting an example. I can't make out what he thinks of me... The man's mask covered much, yet not his intolerance of certain things - or people. He painted with too wide a brush for Ellion's taste.
Lieutenant Nallas was almost the inverse. While military in career, he attended to precision in a manner one might expect from a surgeon - when it came to interpersonal matters anyway. When they met, Mark had given Ellion his honest take on each member of his team's reaction to the starstrewn elf. After interacting with them himself, the mystic found he was spot-on. I wonder where he picked-up that talent ... and why he's not using it to its full extent.
Or maybe he is. Ellion prepared for his shower. After all, charming me secured him a transfer to this respectable ship - better than that patrol craft he was on. The doctor didn't find his companion to truly be so Machiavellian, for they both were good at reading others. Mark was just better at expressing his emotions the right way to the right people.
Taking a look at his garments to change into, he knew the honors that had been laid at his feet by both the followings of Ibra and Weydan were somewhat misguided. And for some reason, my stasis stopped working when Golarion vanished. So even if there was some divine connection, it's gone now. The elf sighed. Though he'd been asleep for most of those years, deities had waxed and waned during his existence. The vanishing of entities which were supposed to be absolute pillars was disconcerting to think about, and he chose not to dwell on those thoughts during his short stints of waking. There was always so much to learn. Yet now, though there was more to acclimate to than ever before - computers, interplanetary travel, alien life - he was confronted with the reality he would actually need to be present in this era for a long, long time. Or shorter in absolute years, I guess.
Gorumskagat seemed interested in testing Ellion's internal biology given his story, yet the doctor was certain there was nothing amiss. He might not have had the contemplative's expertise with other races, yet his knowledge of life on Golarion was almost encyclopedic. That included himself. Maybe if the planet ever appears again, I can show them some of the "extinct" creatures
His last thoughts before cleansing himself drifted back to Mark. He was down in the mess hall again, presumably fraternizing as usual. I wish I connected that easily. He'd always been aloof by the nature of his interval-based waking, but his experiences had become so far removed, it was hard for him to make relatable small talk. Ellion had picked-up computing with virtuosic speed, but cracking jokes about space strumpets and transVeskuals (especially with the dynamics of a dragonkin present) were a bit unwieldy for him. At least the captain was approachable enough...
:: Moira Stonelegs
:: Dwarf
:: Assignment: Navigation - Astronavigation
:: Qualifications: …
Eivo was no slouch in engineering, but the tech specs of the Phasing Filed where making his head spin, He stepped away from his desk and brought up the AR cargo manifest again, he was making a list of questions for QM Oliver when he reported back. The wall to his right vibrates as though the ship had taken a hit from a kinetic weapon. The rhythm, if you can call it that is obvious before he finishes connecting to the ships system, he will need to work on that in the case of an actual incident he would need a faster connection, he makes his way to the common. He door slits open and the wall of sound hits him like a wave, the green haired human is playing that instrument, what was it called?, ”Pilot Ontozz!, Pilot Ontozz!” he calls his voice unable to compete with the music, instead he palms the door to the common room back closed. ”Give the kid break”, the crew was going to need to find ways to relax, Karma already had hers. He brings the AR display up as he heads back to his cabin, I’ll draft a request to Chief Bakir, “Molly” he reminded himself, to see about installing a harmonizer in his cabins For Bulkhead. And a draft to Captain Zini, one of us was going to need to call he Chief Bakir, her could take the curses if that was what was required
The interviews, the psych evals, the questioning, those were areas that Zeni excelled in. For the most part, she cooperated and even helped ensure the process went all the more smoothly, often even enjoying the byplay. The priesthood of Abadar may not have actually invented bureaucracy, but they had certianly taken the concept and refined it into its purest form. The Master of the First Vault was best known for being a god of civilization and commerce, but he was also the god of law and lawyers, after all. And on those few occasions that she grew fed up with the process, well, she also knew precisely how to make a bureacratic process grind to a halt, all while appearing to be a completely cooperative participant. She had, fortunately, only gotten to that point once, when one of the evaluators went from merely pushy to outright hostile and aggressive regarding both her and her church's motivations in taking part in this venture. It wasn't the most pleasant of days for anyone involved, but she had graciously accepted his apology the next morning, and the normal frenetic pace had resumed.
The training, on the other hand, proved to be far more challenging. On the one hand, it was valuable to see how her future team would react under pressure, to see their strengths and weaknesses for herself. With regard to weaknesses, it was more a matter of learning who else might need to be nearby to best facilitate the desired outcomes in a given circumstance...not that she alwasy got the chance to make that happen. That, too, was part of the training. And she was not at all averse to asking for help where she needed it and offering it where she was able. Physical training tended to be where she was weakest. Zeni was certainly capable of fighting -- she's a reasonable shot with a pistol and almost as good with a blade -- but still a far cry from a professional soldier. She also made a point to take the time to compliment her team when they did well, but not just on the assessments. A quiet thanks for helping to tutor one of the crew who was struggling, or stopping to help someone over an obstacle on the confidence course when they were struggling.
Once it became clear that they wouldn't be coming back to Abasalom Station to resupply, she also pulled Sir Oliver aside, giving him a list of goods that weren't currently on the manifest that he should consider acquiring, and leaving it to his discretion how much or what types. Absolutely nothing illegal, but not necessarily the sorts of things that one might expect an exploration vessel to take. Oh, there was still the UPBs for emergency parts, the food supplies, those didn't change...but she wanted artwork, music, handcrafted items with little practical value, even scrolls and books, rather than simply relying on having the information in the ship's computers. In short, a wide variety of trade goods that highlighted the cultures of the Pact Worlds -- if she was going to be on her own, Zeni wanted to be very sure that they could trade items that wouldn't be available from anywhere else, rather than just the basic staples.
By the time their week of vacation began, she was almost ready to just decide to sleep through it all. Not that she had time for that, of course. Zeni was the captain, and it was her job to see to the final preparations before launch. And if some of the reports she got were disturbing, well, she'd have to spend more time making her own assessments before she took any actions on those. More often than not, she could be found on the ship making last minute arrangements, and if she managed to find a bit of extra time to spend in the holosuite, well, she _did_ have to relax _sometime_.
Leaving station to quite a bit of fanfare the distinctive pop on the ships hull as you entered drift space some thousand kilometers away from Bretheda seemed anticlimactic. After locking in a course to your first destination the crew visibly eased as the ship activated its thrusters and began its trek at speeds that laughed in the face of relativistic physics.
Then came the woek. This would bw the longest leg of the journey spending a large amount of consecutive hours in drift space. Experiments were many and most called for at least some EVA activity.
While anyone could do an EVA in their armor it was often safest for B4DGR or Melfecor to do so. Afterall even if their suits failed they did not require oxygen and could make it back inside the ship without too much trouble. Each division had its own experiments to run with security and diplomacy divisions acting as labor where necessary.
Engineering mostly did tests on Drift frequencies trailing behind a set of Drift tuners, sort of like miniature drift engines but no thrusters or anyway to leave or enter the drift under their own power. Engineering’s goal was to measure the “tug” each one produced on the ship to get relative results on the strength of Drift beacons on objects tuned to their signal within the drift. Navigation mostly just kept an eye on the Drift itself cataloguing oddities, recording radio and infrared signals and trying not to die of boredom. Science did the bulk of the actual science using hull mounted terrariums just outside the lab to house catrovellian wood roaches outside the ship to expose them to Drift energies and record the results over several generations.
The science helped pass the time and ensured everyone kept occupied and in a steady routine. Officer meetings every other day ensured interdivision communication during these times. Little of note occurred during these times save a rare encounter with a plasma worm some hundred thousand kilometers away. Too far to be any real threat to the ship though it made no attempt to hunt you down. Gorumskagat 7:6 theorized the phase cloak may have obscured your presence just enough that the colossal drift predator could not pinpoint the ships location. The ship passed on.
But it wasn’t long before you reached your destination. 16 days of drift travel and you were just out of the Kurova system, the first stop before reaching into the further reaches of the Vast. The Kurova system was a set of medium to large sized rocky planets, 7 in all, orbiting a rapidly cooling blue dwarf. The closest of these Kurova 1 was to be your first stop. Shortly before the ship left station a mining facility on the surface of this blue crystalline world sent out a distress call. Given the distances involved it has been 31 days since the sparse minign crew of Kurova 1 has been heard from. Another quick Drift hop into the system proper finds you at Kurova 1 within a day. Even being the closest planet the blue dwarf star of this system is eerily distant giving just enough light to illuminate the surface but not enough to give any significant heat.
The mission was simple enough for a stop. Re-establish communications with the mining facility, find out what happened, provide aid if possible or send a Drift message back indicating total loss of the facility.
The ship lays in a course to orbit the planet while the crew decides what course of action to take next.
vs DC 20
"Welcome to Kurova 1, and our first opportunity to demonstrate the economic value of the Explorator mission, everyone," Zeni offers as the planet begins to fill the viewscreen. "Hail the station, and for good measure, I want scans of the facility. They could have lost contact due to nothing more than technical difficulties, but if it's more than that, I'd like some idea of what we're getting ourselves into before we land the ship."
EDIT: Bolding spoken text.
Karma drops the ship out of drift and casually puts it into orbit. A fairly routine operation really. In her opinion, it was quite frankly a complete waste of her talents. After all, she was only needed on bridge for procedure. Yawning, she glances around the bridge crew for a sympathetic face, only to discover everyone focusing on the task at hand. "Five credits says no response and we need to land", she remarks to no one in particular. "Anyone?"
Bored, she glances at the viewscreen and takes in the planet. "Hmph". Grunting, Karma grabs her headphones off a nearby surface, and props her feet on the control panel. This feels familiar. The scientists will waste time, and then us military folks will kick the door open and get results. Feh. Chain of command, I guess. She calls out, "Gimme a yell when ya wanna land, captain!" and then starts nodding away to an unheard beat.
Ko pulls on her headset and starts hailing the surface over several different frequencies.
Yeah. Certivite and all damned Drift paraphenalia. Sure, it's made me a living. If it weren't for that damned thing, my planet wouldn't be such a backwater hole. Shaking a head at the pilot, Molly chuckles. "I ain't stupid, sugar, I ain't takin' that bet." Picking up a magnetic mug, she leans back in her chair, throwing a glance at the console nearby. "Huh. Figures.", she shrugs. Who works here?, she thinks for a moment, thinking back on both words shared years ago and rumours picked just a month back. "Certivite isn't bad haul, if you get your hands on it, and any crew worth their dust is bound to knock out comms first. And those", she points to the scan on the planet. "ain't meteor strikes." Gotta say, I won't mind stretching my legs. And I sure as hell am not sending neither Zealot Boy or Drift Kid down there.
The out-of-ship expeditions, albeit for mundane purposes, were not a bore for Ellion. Having been so far removed from technology, he learned a great deal about mechanical work in the modern day from watching others work. He even gave some of the tasks a shot, but it was clear the engineers were better. As they should be.
Yet unlike the non-machine members of their crew, Ellion did not need to breathe in the void. Even without his spindle, the weirding ways of the heavens seemed to have imbued him with whatever oddness kept him alive during his rescue. Gorumskagat was expectedly puzzled by this and - regardless of how much it provoked security - insisted Ellion tag along on these maintenance ventures to see exactly how he managed to avoid the effects of vacuum, extreme cold, or asphyxiation. The studies always turned-up inconclusive. It was as if space had no hold over the elf's body, which drifted with esoteric momentum through the emptiness.
********
The mining facility was a welcome trip for the doctor, probably the most excited of them all to go to such a place of industry. I wonder what these new stones are like? He pulled-up the information they had about this certivite on the console, scrolling through the composition and considering the possible hazards it - or the environment in which it was found on the planet - had for biological life. Theirs, in particular.
After Miss Bakir alluded to the damaged surface being the work of intentional malice, the doctor decided it might be prudent to scan for signs of life itself in the vicinity of the facility - survivors or scoundrels as they were.
Computers: 23+10 =33
Culture: 23+10=33
Eivo is sitting at his small, crowded desk in the lab. I should work out with the Captain where my post should be during times like this. The three monitors before him showing, Left to right, The Tactical Display, The Main Screen, and a rolling view from the ships internal feeds. He holds back from making a direct report. Let the people do their jobs, don’t step on toes. He is watching the reports scroll by when the garbled surface scan comes through.
Computers: 23+10 =33
The AR image of the surface scan is worrisome enough that he wants to see it in light, with a wave he gestures the display to become a single large one and sends the feed to it. ”Gunny “Dovanar” he says into the com-net moving forward through the lab. ”Are you near a display? there is something you need to see. He sends an override command for Lift-1 to meet him on the Mid-Deck, he needed to get to the bridge.
"Oooooooh." Karma dramatically coos, having somehow heard Molly's remarks through her headphones. Her voice is laden with sarcasm, although not so much that she could be seen as too disrespectful to the captain. "Not meteors? Well gee, there goes my first guess. I wonder what else it could be. Perhaps..." She deliberately trails off, and grins at Molly, raising her eyebrows.
"Astroids?"
Hm. I can think of no reason anyone hostile would stay for thirty days on a broken base. But... There are no old bold pilots. Despite her apparent bravery and disconnection, Karma tries to stealthily check the proximity alerts and ensures she can throw the ship into evasive maneuvers at any moment. Didn't survive ten years of war by assuming peaceful intentions now, did I? She glances at the scanner screen hoping to get some clues as to what kind of weapons she's up against, only to realize that she's never been good at reading scanners.
@Eivo Sure.
From his gunnery position on the bridge Dovanar acknowledges and take the large feed from Eivo's lab and sneds it directly to the large viewscreen on the bridge. Thankfully the actual structures of the mining complex are intact. The communications array looks to have been destroyed. Small melted craters dot the road leading into the crystal fields and pockmark the thick cement buildings. The whole place looks like it was bombarded by light ordinance.
Dovanar grunts as he takes a look. "Doesn't seem to have been any ground assault. Landing pad is clear...intentional sabotage maybe?"
As the chief of security shares his ideas Ellion completes his scans. The results are garbled. The sensors keep picking up brief flashes of life out of the interference but nothing the sensors can hold on to for more than a brief half second. Focusing the computers on the complex you scan about ten lifeforms underneath the surface of the complex.
Molly grins. "Meteors are asteroids, hon. A meteor is an asteroid making it through the atmosphere. Stick to the stick, let the edumacated people make the guessing." Taking a swig from her coffee with the sound of an old vacuum cleaner, she puts her feet on the console. Biting a lip, she raises her eyebrows at the pilot in a taunting gesture. I do like making friends, don't I.
Zeni offers a smile over at Karma, despite the sarcasm. "Well, there's only one way to find out for certain, isn't there? I want you with me on the away mission as we investigate." A look over to Molly as well. "Both of you." While she hasn't seen any indications that the worst case scenarios in the dossier might play out, there's no reason to take any chances...and she wants to see both of them in action. Training, no matter how difficult, is still a controlled environment. "Ellion as well. I want at least one of us who has an alternative to their armor's environmental protections, given the conditions down there. And let's round out this mission with Eivo -- having a Forerunner along with us when there's trouble is never a bad thing." When, not if. While she might have hoped for technical difficulties, that wasn't really what she expected.
"Once we've been dropped at a secure landing point at or near the station, take the ship back into orbit. I'd rather it take a few extra minutes for us to get a pickup than risk whatever did this coming back and catching the ship vulnerable on the ground."
With orders given a landing solution is quickly plotted.
The complex's landing pad is plenty large enough to accommodate the Reach's large frame. Located about a mile off the main complex you didn't get any visual of it until you were coming into land. Thankfully it seems whatever happened to the complex reserved its wrath for the complex itself.
As the ground team starts armoring up and gets their equipment checked. The massive Dovanar shows up looking troubled. "Maam, given the potential danger of this away mission I highly recommend letting the security and engineering teams handle this. I see no reason to risk both our Captain and First Officer."
Zeni reaches out to place a hand on Donovar's shoulder briefly, a gesture both meant to offer thanks for the concern as well as reassurance that she's confident of their safety, and she responds quietly. "I have no doubt that there will be missions where I will be asking the security and engineering teams to risk their lives, Mr. Dovanar. Right now, I need them to know that their captain and first officer aren't asking them to do anything we aren't willing to do ourselves."
"Ha!" Karma laughs at Molly's retort, seemingly unable to think of a reply. Instead, at the captain's command, she jumps to her feet and gestures at Moira. "Take us down, would you? I have a date with Blastius von Shootshoot." She jogs out of the room, stays out for one moment, and then pokes her head around the corner to taunt Molly. "You coming? You can stay on board if you want, but I'd hate for all that guessing to strain your brain while we discover the truth."
Karma grabs her armour and laser cannon, and puts her machine gun into Null-space. Awaiting the deployment order, she stands by the exit ramp and double checks her suit's seals and Blastius von Shootshoot's ammo supply.
Smiling at the banter on the bridge, Ellion was relieved some things stayed the same. People do like pushing each others' buttons.
"Yes, captain. I'll get my things and meet the crew for loadout."
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary on his terminal, Ellion was a touch worried they were going into this blind. In theory, their group had some skilled individuals to keep them safe. He was less worried about the environment and more the sentient or mechanical threats below though, even with their specialists. Destroying this place is a rather dramatic step for what seems to be a mediocre payout.
Grabbing his firearm, he thought back to his days eras ago as a hunter in his youth. He'd been needed to defend his village once or twice, and killing other person was something he'd already steeled himself against emotionally. Yet ... I'm in no hurry to feel that again though, numbed or otherwise.
Weapons nowadays were so sterile. No specialty craftsmanship. The corona laser pistol was seemingly a popular outfit with many of the spacefarers nowadays.
Constricting himself to his armored suit, he approached those standing at the exit. "Let's stay alert out there, hmm? We don't want any ... meteors to sneak up on us."
Leaving the ship you get about half a mile trudging in heavy armor down the road before the ship dusts off the landing pad. By necessity the road is wide. Massive cargo haulers would bring loads of crystals to the landing pad where a shuttle would load them up and bring them to a colossal freighter would wait in orbit.
You travel north up the road until you reach the complex. Along the way you remind yourself that the blue sky is just a sign of the nitrogen rich atmosphere, not any sign of breathable air. Temperatures are cold on this world but nothing your suits can't handle during the day. Night will end up being an entirely different matter.
The complex on the surface is broken up into seven distinct buildings. Four of them are the warehouses, massive buildings with the bare minimum of life support. They would hold all the accumulated crystals collected until the next supply hauler would come in bearing a new crew, supplies, then pick up the old crew and mined crystals.
Next to them and connected by a tunnel are the two crew entrances. Sturdy squat buildings that let the crew access the surface. The last building is mostly underground and serves as the bay for all the robots, auto-haulers, and various other pieces of heavy equipment used in a mostly automated process. The doors have been blown apart inward scattering or severely damaging most of the heavy equipment. Landing lights and LED signs indicating wind speed and surface temperature suggest that the complex still has power. So long as the underground complex remains intact the crew or whatever is below you should still be alive.
”Meteorites.” Evio says dryly as he steps off of the ship. He was quiet for the descent, and is quiet again for the approach to the facility.
He spends the time going over his and equipment and his team. Marveling for a bit at the laser cannon carried by Pilot Ontozz, her atitude and size made it easy to forget her service jacket.
As the blasted doors come into view.
’I’ll see if I can access the facilities infoband sir’
He scans the area for areas where ambushers might hide.
He carefully approaches the building and attempts to remote into the facility's computer.
As he waits for the interface to appear, he quietly says ”when they hit the surface they are Meteorites”
'No luck with remote access, Chief can you help me find an access panel?'
Eivo's hand slips to rest on his Auto-pistol.
Molly shakes her head, nodding at the captain and following suit. "It'll take a lot more than elementary school astronomy to strain my brain, dear.", she laughs as she disappears into engineering. As the crew readies for leaving the ship, Molly appears out of the engineering bay. Rather than the unbuckled jumpsuit, she appears to be wearing a set of heavy armour. The multiple welds and replacements display the set's obvious age. Just before putting on a heavy duty helmet, she winks at the away team. "It's about damn time we got to leave the tub.", she taps the wall of Desna's Reach. "For luck."
"That's just semantics.", Molly shrugs at the meteorites line, before nodding at the computer and raising her right arm. "Lemme see if I can boost your signal, or clear some 'ware.", she offers. Her fingers begin dancing in place, as she stares towards the skies. "Hah. Can't believe Nova Comm still outfits mining rigs with that old version. The mine had the same, and that was when I was seventeen.", she chuckles. "We actually had computers back then, believe it or not."
Eivo chastises himself, ‘of course Chief Bakir has experience with the control systems of a mining facility, learn to delegate’. He snakes a cable from his suit to the terminal.
’Thanks for the assist Chief’
'No go Captain, I can't get access'
Though he's unable to access the systems on his second attempt he does notice while being directly jacked into the system he can access inner facility comm systems. If nothing else he can knock on the door.
Eivo switches the comm system to active.
"Attention Kurova 1 Facility, this is Eivo Executive Officer of the ship EP Desna's Reach responding to your distress call, Do you copy?"
He steps aside to give access to the now active Comm.
The response comes back a moment later in a thick dwarven accent "Brigh's t~$~ lad you gave us a start. Ye always sae formal at dae door? I'm cycling the airlock and setting da kettle for ya now."
It takes about five minutes before the door slides in amd over to open up to thw chamber beyond. A simple lift is all that is in the middle of the room. Big enough to comfortably fit twenty people on it the panel on the lift is inactive save a blinking yellow indicator warning of an open airlock.
Karma fidgets while the others handle the tech. She's never done a job like this, as usually her style involves more detonations. Pacing the perimeter, she points her cannon in various directions, waiting for something to happen. She finds herself drifting towards the heavy equipment building, and pokes her head inside the door for just a moment before jogging back to investigate Eivo's success.
"Now, I may not know elementary school astronomy," Karma nods at Molly, grinning inside her helmet. And according to Eivo, neither do you. Fortunately for the crew, years of war have also taught Karma the importance of occasionally dropping the banter. She continues, with Molly unmocked. "But I do know elementary ambush tactics. I don't like this. I want that on record before we go down that lift." Hefting her cannon so that it rests on her shoulder, she slowly walks into the lift room and looks around. "Cap'n, did we have a list of personnel for the base? Hm." She pauses to think. "I think we should check the warehouses before we descend. Wasn't that interested in hot tea anyway."
"Well, that's certainly a warmer welcome than I was afraid we might have waiting for us, given what we saw outside," Zeni comments to her shipmates as they wait on the airlock.
Eivo looks at the empty airlock then to Captain Zeni.
’Pilot Ontozz makes a valid point Sir.'
He thinks quietly for a moment.
’Chief, could you chat with these people and see if they know Ore from slag?'
He scans the area for camera coverage, hoping that he seems relaxed.
Eivo's careful scanning of the surrounding buildings shows no cameras. Or rather the ones he does see looks like they were fried. Their wires melted and fused and their lenses black. Assuming these are all the visual feeds they have of the surface it's quite likely they're blind.
Karma has to make a brief sprint to look into the vehicle bay. Looks like most of the bots and vehicles are in disrepair or destroyed by whatever force blew the doors in. something might work in their but it'd take a keener eye and more time to tell you what.
OOC: Swap the order of my post and Karma's -- makes more sense if she spoke up after I did.
Zeni reaches out to the others telepathically, since that's something she can be fairly confident isn't being overheard or monitored. ::Taking extra precautions is certainly not a bad plan, but that said, taking too much time up here might make them doubt _our_ credibility and intentions if it isn't an ambush, and would tip them off that we're suspicious if it is. If you want to communicate with me this way, either do so,:: that part mostly meant for Eivo, since she knows he's a fellow telepath, ::or give me a hand signal, and I'll reach out and can act as a relay to others.::
Assuming they have anything on the crew of the station, she'll pull it up on her commlink and transmit it to the others.
(Not sure if that's needed, but just in case)
Karma nods along at Zeni's wisdom, and feels a plan forming. As she thinks, she paces the lift examining it. Telepathically, she suggests to the captain, ::Me, Eivo, and Cap'n should head below. Ellion and Ms I-Know-Space-Rocks should investigate the surface.:: She grins. Taunting Molly was fun, and the engineer would bite back, doubling the entertainment value.
::Molly knows rocks and Ellion can keep watch. Eivo gotta go 'cuz he said his name, you talk us in, I'll handle when things go south. Seems more efficient.:: explains Karma, backing up her rapidly formed plan.
::Miss Karma's plan sounds fine to me. I can speak their tongue if you need help with the accent later.::
Telepathy wasn't a latent ability of Ellion, but he's played around with alchemy enough in his time to have dealt with thought-speech here and there. It didn't bother him as much as it did most unfamiliar with the practice.
::Why not ask if they're in immediate danger? If not, they can explain what happened while we await the elevator.::
::Can't help it if some of us had honest jobs back in the day::, Molly shrugs, then gives the doctor a wink. Hate damn headtalk., she thinks. Raising her head at one of the cameras, she focuses. How, what the hell fried the cameras., she thinks, investigating the damages. "Well, Doc, been wanting to steal you for a moonlit trip anyway. We'll sweep the warehouses and meet you down there. Patch us in, I'll see if they're kragshitting us about mining."
Ellion forced his laughter in response to Molly through the conduit that was their captain. ::Steal, no, but you can borrow. Wouldn't want to keep the others in line waiting, would we?::
He turned to leave, but - being too close to the wall, graced his holster against the wall and slightly bruised his hip; it was clear he wasn't used to the armament encumbering him, little as it was.
::Let's get a move on; our hosts are waiting below.::
Eivi leans over the com-unit. "My translator must be offline I did not get all of that, Do you require aid? Is your Commander available?"
He looks at the open airlock.
::I don't like the idea of leaving Dr. Hesoni behind::
...
::Or the Chief for that matter::
::Far more honest than my career.:: Karma coughs at Molly, and stands in the lift ready to descend. Trying to look non threatening, she swings her massive laser cannon around her and straps it to her back. The ease with which she handles the gun is a stark contrast to Dr Hesoni.
She messages Eivo and Zeni to discuss tactics. ::Once we're down, I'll let you two do the talking.:: Evio's nervous. Interesting. ::Look, sir::, she addresses the first mate. ::If they could attack us here, they would've already. The only plausible danger is down the lift. That said, if at any time ya want me to blow everything up::, she smiles sadly at the wall, ::Just give the word.::
"Require aid lad?" The voice sounds exasperated. "Most of dae crews dead and yer standin in a bloody killzone askin if we require aid? How about a fookin ticket off this godsforsaken rock and an introduction to your mum if you please?" The voice cuts off as some muttering can be heard in the background. You hear him call back "Fookin daft is what he is!" More muttering. "Yes you should turn the damn bots off little good dae are against it anyway why are ye even askin?" The voiuce comes back clearer. "Listen lad ye can stand up their and yap yer gabber all day if ye like but unless ye like the idea of existing as a pile of dust might I suggest you get yer arse down here?"
::Let's hope it doesn't come to that:: Zeni responds to Karma.
For her part, she's more than willing to go inside. She will, however, communicate back with the ship on a channel that her shipmates can hear. "Mr. Dovonar, we are in communication with survivors from the attack on this outpost, and are entering now. I hope to have more information soon, but I want the ship on combat alert in the meantime. They seem to expect the attacker could be back at any time."
EDIT: Changed since there was a GM post while I was making mine.
::Mr. Eivo, if a planet can manage to leave me behind, I'm sure a stroll above ground under Miss Bakir's watch won't see me vaporized. The concern is sincerely appreciated though.::
Ellion was being honest. He recognized the environment as potentially dangerous, but perhaps it was his being greener than a stalk of broccoli that caused him to be fearless.
Let's see what they were keeping here. Maybe they came across something of value beyond their security detail's quality.
With a quick nod Eivo follows his captain into the airlock.
Trust the team, your not a forerunner any more, you are part of a team
Eivo sends a direct telipathic message to the small green haired human. ::Pilot Ont... Karma, trust your instincts, if you sense something is wrong you have my leave to act as you see fit::
She will likely do that anyway
Molly's eyes scan the burn marks and the damages, data flowing through her visor. "Hey. Whatever decided to raid this place, sure had a thing for electrical weapons.", she taps her helmet before turning towards the doctor. "And I'm guessing either a tank or a gunboat. Neither of those things I want to be on the wrong side of."
Standing straight, she points towards the nearest building. "Alright, sugar.", she says to the doctor as she fiddles with a device on her forearm. "You see somethin' nasty that ain't me, call it and stay behind me." Her fist thuds on the weathered plate on her heavy suit of armour, as she sets towards the building. An annoyed huff leaves her mouth. Damn grunts and damn pilots. Sure, they haul ass downstairs to drink tea. I'm checking out ventilated warehouses, looking for a big, unfriendly gun.