Fandom Mass Effect- The Spirit of Plenix

[Broken-Angel]

It is the year is 2184. Scant decades after entering the galactic community at large, Humanity was at the core of numerous critical political events. From the First Contact War, where they demonstrated that the Turians weren't the only military titans in the galaxy, to the Battle of the Citadel, where a lone Human soldier by the name of Commander Shepard, the galaxy's first Human Spectre, nearly single handedly saved galactic society from collapse at the hands of the Geth, led by the rogue Turian Spectre Saren Arterius.


The Battle for the Citadel happened one year ago. Since then unknown assailants ambushed their ship, the SSV Normandy, and eviscerated the state-of-the-art stealth frigate. The Alliance, after a time, came public with this news, and with great regret announced that Commander Shepard was killed in action. Humanity ,and all of the aliens whose lives the Commander had touched, mourned that day.


However, the galaxy still turned. With the Geth threat removed all was peaceful in the Milky Way... more or less. All across space people do what they can to pay the bills. People like us. We are the more adventurous sort, looking for adventure across the stars ,and maybe make a cred or two in the process. We're all new hands on this ship, the Spirit of Plenix, and none of us know what to expect from our new, shadowy employer. Regardless, we're all mercs, and we all want the dosh. The fun way.

 

[KamiKahzy]

Illium, the shining jewel of the Crescent Nebula. A beautiful nexus of trade and industry, a forerunner in nearly all avenues of marketing and invention. A mighty cornerstone in the grand Asari economy. And a most wretched hive of scum and villainy, albeit a polite one.


The day started like any other, the sun cresting over of the horizon to bask the endless mesa of skyscrapers in it's amber light. Skycars and trucks zipped about between docking ports as they completed their daily routines. Storefronts opened while nightclubs closed shop, pedestrians wandered the many spidering pathways, and all around the city credits flowed like a mighty river towards their intended destinations.


It was at one of Illium's many space ports that a strange and colorful group of aliens had assembled, each carrying luggage and looking expectantly at an empty docking port. Passerby might have gawked or wondered at the strange appearance of the group that sat idle near the dock, but no gaze lingered too long when they received rebuking glares from the more weathered members of the group. It was clear to anyone with worldly experience that this was a dangerous group of individuals, perhaps even officially trained to be so. Yet the security of Illium did nothing about it, as this group had the proper paperwork and were within their rights to await the arrival of their transport. Of course a few palms had to be greased to facilitate said paperwork, but that was to be expected when dealing with the bureaucracy of Illium.


Thankfully the group didn't have long to wait until a large freighter slowly glided into view, blotting out the morning sun from behind the port's barrier wall. It appeared to be of Volus make, carrying the tell-tale signatures of a thick hull and strategically mounted automated defenses. It was clear this ship wasn't built for speed, but rather for transport of precious cargo. The ship drifted into the dock slowly, passing through the port barrier and sliding expertly into the docking arms prepared for it's arrival. The arms latched on, and with a cough of steam the ship gently settled into it's berth. For such a large ship it was clear the pilot was well versed in his craft to make such a smooth mooring. As a gangway extended from both dock and ship a series of large letters could be seen glinting in the sunlight along the ship's bow. They spelled out the name of this vessel, and signified to the group the place they would call home for as long they were aboard.

The Spirit of Plenix

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(One more post in IC 2 and then posting will be opened.)

 

[Riddle78]

As the shuttle flew across the Noverian skies,the security team at the Peak 8 labs watched its blip move towards them on the instrumentation. "You're up,Asshole." The addressed individual,this "Asshole",gave a wordless grunt,and a shrug of the shoulders,as they trudged off to the communications console,followed by a large wolfhound. Asshole fell heavily into the console's seat,and swivelled it to face the terminal before them. On the screen was the sensor's feed,as well as the communications screen. Flicking on the sniffer,Asshole quickly found the vessel's hailing frequency,and tuned into it,then greeted their... Guests.


"Unidentified flying object," The voice had the unmistakable accent of a male Quarian,though it sounded unfiltered,for some reason. "You are in Elanus Risk Control Services-controlled airspace. Identify yourselves,and your objectives,immediately,or you will be shot down. You have one hundred seconds to comply." Back in the control room,the Quarian reached down,and scratched their wolfhound behind the ear,earning a happy tail-wag and leg thumping.

 

[Sunbather]

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Location: Com Room

Saraya leaned back into her seat. The shuttle had an awfully startling quality to its movement. Or maybe she was just imagining it, as their mysterious boss didn't seem like he'd utilize a shakey, subpar means of transportation for his newfound squad of mercenaries. Then again... why would she imagine such things? There was no reason to be worried, that much was for sure. The Asari sighed, as if to signify a resounding "Get over it!" to herself, then leaned forward a bit, elbows on her thighs. "This shithole looks awful." she remarked with a peak outside. "I guess playing babysitter for some snobby idiots was just too uncool, so now we have to deal with literal coolness." Raya shrugged. "Now I REALLY hope we get to shoot something, or I'll freeze my ass off." The hint of a grin flashed over the teal-colored grimace, which seemed to change expression as the mechanical voice sounded through to the squad.





A sceptical eyebrow raised and remained up for a bit. "Ooo, security measures. Guess we have reasons to expect a fight, huh?" Her tone was now blatantly happy, as the thought of some opposition sank into her mind, only to be tagged by a littlw frown. "I don't like threats though." She stared at Senthus for a second or two, then leaned back, crossed her legs and gestured confidently. "You better make him stop pooping his diapers, or I'll shoot back in less than a 100 seconds."

 

[Effervescent]

Kveer couldn't help but huff a laugh at Saraya's remarks. He shared the same sentiments, yet he felt he could never put them so eloquently into words. He brushed his hair back away from his face and reclined as they made their descent into the frigid atmosphere. The lack of turbulence was unexpected given the weather conditions, and as he watched the snow blast against the windshield he decided it was best to enjoy the comfort of the warm interior while he could. Kveer looked over to Senthus as the Quarian chimed through their comms.


"A hundred seconds is pretty specific," Kveer added, then looked over to Saraya. "You gonna get out there and shoot up at the sky? Could be fun. Or funny."

 

[AllHailDago]

Senthus grunted as he listened to the comms guy. Elanus Risk Control didn't play around. He was about to reply when Saraya decided to act like an impatient child..... Again. He sighed and prepared to go through one of his less favorite duties as a commanding officer. Lecturing the overconfident youth.


"If you would like to poke your head out, fire at the base, and subsequently get every person aboard this ship killed moments into our first mission, by all means go ahead. But if you'd rather wait like a damned professional I'm sure they'll be plenty of people for you to kill later, without losing your signing bonus and place on the crew in the process!".


He sighed and turned back to the front of the craft. He responded to ground control in a smooth, controlled tone. "Ground control, this is the crew of The Spirit of Plenix. We are here to retrieve a the Turian Emissaries and deliver them to their requested destination. Do you copy?".

 

[Riddle78]

The Quarian in the control seat ran the data through the system,and it came up green. "Well,looks like you're either telling the truth,or very well informed. We'll see shortly." The ERCS Quarian sent a data packet to the shuttle. "This contains your approach data. A team will be awaiting you at your mooring point. Despite your mission,we'll have to ask you to keep your weapons on your craft; We can't do our jobs if there's a team of mercenaries running about with weapons of their own. We'll continue this discussion on the ground. Control,out."





The Quarian killed the radio,and stood up from his seat,causing the large dog to get up and follow. "Let's meet out guests. Full battle-rattle,I think,considering who we have in our care." The other ERCS guards in the room grunted and nodded in assent; Their current ward was critical to the lab's continued operation. As the guards,mostly Humans and Turians,collected their weapons and helmets,the Quarian stepped up to a large metal backpack,bearing obvious vents and heat sinks. He slipped it on,and,with a grunt,hopped on the spot. He pulled a cord from the pack,and plugged it into his suit. After a moment,his suit's shield emitters came to life,the sensors lighting up as they came online.


As the Quarian left the room,he plucked a large,skeletal gun from the rack,as well as a long belt of heat sinks. "Zana,hatch." The dog fell into step beside its master,and opened a hatch on its back,revealing a spacious,refrigerated space,containing an identical belt to that the Quarian was holding. Switching the belts,the Quarian fed the belt of heat sinks into his weapon,and left the office for the hangars,leaving two Humans behind to staff the office. Seven humanoids,and one robotic wolfhound will be waiting at the mooring point for the arrival of their guests.

 

[Sunbather]

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Location: Com Room

Saraya looked at Kveer with a challenging grin. She couldn't quite tell whether his laugh was coming from a sympathetic source or was more of a scoffing reaction, but his wording led her to feel a bit attacked. "Sure, I've got enough firepower to burn the place down, so I'm a-okay with that." The Asari crossed her arms, as the squad leader, Senthus, now adressed her in an authoritive manner. "God, fine. Way to be uptight." She rolled her eyes, as her face had become a mixture of annoyed teenager and reprimanded first grader. "It's not like I was gonna paint a bullseye on the ship..." Her words trailed off, as she mumbled them, her head facing the window, away from Senthus. Her crossed arms, the whipping foot and her pout made her look genuinely upset, but more in a childish way than anything else.


Soon, however, her, demeanor changed into a more concerned one, with a hint of suspiciousness. "We're not gonne give up our weapons, are we?" She stared at her crew, desperately hoping they'd agree with her. "I mean... guys?! Come on! First mission for some mysterious blob, whom we don't even know what he looks like, or how he REALLY found us... And now we go on some... fucking Tundra planet and are expected to give up our defense? This has to be a fucking joke!" Instinctively, her head turned towards Brixx, who she expected to at least side with her.

@everyone in the ship

 

[DiamondJack]

Brixx had kind of zoned out. He was just in the shuttle, not really paying attention. He came back to reality when Saraya had started ranting about not giving up her weapons. Brixx cracked a smile under his thresher maw printed helmet.


"I'll gladly give up my arms," Brixx said in a confident tone. He had complained about leaving his arms behind on the ship, but he had changed his mind about that. As he let the shocker hang in the air, he articulated the next thing he was going to say in his head, "My body is a weapon. I am a Krogan warrior. If they insist that we leave our weapons behind, they will also insist I stay behind, or at least I would. If I was concerned enough about this family that I didn't want their hired bodyguards to have weapons, I'd insist the living tank stay behind."





Brixx thought what he said was a little wordy, and a little off the wall, but he was proud, "So I guess what I'm sayin' is that either they let us take our weapons and we all go in happy, or they insist we leave 'em and I get to sit on my ass. Win-win."





Brixx couldn't wait to hear Saraya's reaction to that one.