Futuristic Starpath: Burning Sails [IC] [CLOSED]

After spending some time with his fellow crewmates, Jericho waved at Shelby and walked back to his room. While he really enjoyed spending time with a friend, he couldn't help but feel a bit out of place again. He walked out of the gym, back to the barracks and into his room where he locked the door behind him. He looked through his belongings, and pulled some sort of device from them. It was a charging device, but not the typical one that you would use to charge a house android. This highly rare and also highly illegal item was used by various free-willed androids and robots. One could consider it a quite overpowering drug, and it allowed Jericho to overcharge his systems. Which basically meant he'd either get rather crazy or just pass out entirely.

He sat on his bed, and put some music on his datapad. He rested it on the table next to the bed, and layed there, trying to relax. But most importantly, trying to not remember or think. He connected his cord to the device, then activated. What followed next was a rush of energy that went through Jericho's entire body. Seeing him in a pure state of euphoria. Eventually, he passed out.


In the slightly more impoverished corners of NeoTokyo, in a small and rather derelict apartment block, there's a sign that says in Japanese and English 'ROBOT and ANDROID repairs'. Hidden inside, in a small room full of machinery and synthetic parts, was a young asian man. Around his mid-twenties, and working on a large robot. The young man removed his goggles after a pause, and took a sip of soda. He glanced about, and was surprised to see four androids and another robot standing in the doorway of his shop. He smiled at them as they walked in. "Back so soon?" he asked, offering a soda to one of the androids.

The team consisted of three females: Yukimaru, Satonaka, and Marla. There was also one male, Jericho, and a rather tall robot who seemed to have male programming. Hanson. The robot crossed his arms and rested against the store counter. "Target was neutralized by Jericho and Satonaka here." He shrugged. "His goons did not act afterwards. We claimed the reward immediately." The rather youthful android lady, Satonaka, rested her body against the robot. "Yeh! Easy stuff. Cut through a few goons, and Jerry here had fun with the target." The young man looked at Jericho, and booped him on the nose. "Good job, Jerry!" Jericho simply smiled. "Anything for you, master."

"I think that'll be the twenty second job that you've guys successfully completed! That merits some sort of celebration! Pizza maybe?" he said, picking up his datapad. Yukimaru and Satonaka started to cheer happily, chanting "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!". As he tries to make the call, however, he looks to Jericho who walked to the back of the store. He followed after, curious. "Jerry? Are you okay?" Jericho turned to face 'Jay', and gave him a friendly "Of course, Master Jidai. I just need to rest for a moment." Jidai crossed his arms. "...you have to call me Jay, Jericho. You can't call me that anymore."

Jericho nodded. "Sorry, master. I sometimes forget your current state. Its been a few months." Jidai looked down for a moment, before speaking up again. "...have you thought about what I told you?" The android looked a bit lost for a moment, before remembering. "...I don't know, master."

Jidai placed a hand on Jericho's shoulder. "...Think about it, okay? You know how much it'd mean to me." Jericho nodded and smiled. "...Pizza sounds good, Master."

Daniel motioned for Jackson to sit down on one of the benches. "This won't take long," he said as he fetched his medical bag. The MEDT was activated and hummed quietly as Daniel moved the device, currently equipped with a scanner, up and down in front of Jackson's face.

On the MEDTs screen it was now possible to see that Jackson's eardrums resembled that of someone thirty or forty years older than him. Daniel had seen similar things back on Legkiy. Miners who didn't use active hearing protection and demolition crews who used more explosives than what was actually needed.

Daniel let the MEDT hang freely on its sling as he produced a small canister from his bag. It looked like a engraved cylinder with a flap on one end.

"No sudden movements," said Daniel as he pulled the flap, revealing a small muzzle. He stuck it into Jackson's right ear and pressed a button with his thumb.

A small cloud of nanites were sprayed into the ear. Once half the canister had been depleted Daniel moved on to the next ear.

Once that was done he presses the touchscreen on his MEDT, activating the nanites who immediately set out to repair damaged tissue.

Daniel kneeled down in front of Jackson. "You'll feel a bit of tingling for a couple of minutes. Once the nanites are done they will power down and deconstruct into vapor. By that point your hearing should be as good as new. Sideeffects include smoother skin around the treated area as the nanites will repair skin cells as well."

Jackson followed the medic's directions, taking a seat and letting them man do his thing. He was skeptical at first, remembering how back on homeworld visiting scientists and doctors would try and sell their snake oil to the poor. He never fell for it, money was better spent on things hurting the inside, like alcohol and drugs.

When the nanites first entered he started to feel ticklish in his ear, and then slowly the ringing went away. This was the most quiet and calm he's ever felt in over 10 years. The others in the room could almost feel Jackson change as the nanites repaired his broken cells, piece by piece, minute by minute. When it was all finished, Jackson felt and heard a small wistle of air escape, meaning they finish their job.

He probed his ear with his fingers, feeling nothing but perfectly smooth skin. He could hear his fingers run against the skin, that small amount of friction no longer lost in the ring. He could the air circulating in the room, his heartbeat in his throat, even the small sounds that the others were naturally making. It was if a whole new auditory world opened up to you.

Quickly wiping a tear from his eye, he looked at Daniel and gave him a thankful nod. Saying anything more would make him choke up. Did that ringing really have an effect on me? The thought quickly came and went but he knew something was different from here on out. "I'm uh. Gonna go outside for a walk to just...listen to the world for a bit." With that Jackson slowly and quietly exited the gym, savoring every little clank and clink and bang his boots made against the metallic floor.

Petar left the garage so Karina and Yolandi would work in peace. The was still some so he went to the part of the barracks he had marked for himself. Opening the door, he noticed something odd placed on the bed. It was a container with a note attached to it. At first he thought it was a bonus from Lauren for being the new first mate. Then he read the note and quickly realized that it was far from the case. He looked back and outside in the hallway, looking for whoever might have let this in. If this was some joke, he was about to snap their neck like a twig. Eventually he remembered that it was impossible. The note was addressed to him, but only on the surface. The text itself was an old language from Sol. Might as well be dead with how little people actually speak it these days. Him among the few. He began to read through it.

<Dear little brother
If you're reading this then my investment is paying off. Don't let your paranoia seep in. Bearing some act of god, this will be the last you'll be hearing from me. Father is in a vegetative state. The empire he build is not what you remember it. Our dear brother and sister have been working hard behind the scenes to take everything they can and reap the rewards from our hard work. You should know as you were send to the icebox. Goran was not so lucky. Sniper bullet during a party. You both were used as examples for the rest of us. Me and Dragan, were given a choice. Fall in line or end up like you.

The coward folded faster than a sapling in a storm. It was up to me to do something. You see, you were meant to come out of cryo after a century. Not forty years. This all must be confusing to you if you haven't gone over how much time has passed, but I'm afraid I can't spare the details here to aid getting you up to speed. But I can do something else. The box that came along with this note contains items meant to aid you. The code to open it should be familiar to you. If I know you well, by now you should be running with another crew. And you might be fighting to climb the ranks among them. I hope for your sake that they are good and that you're just as hungry for revenge as I am. If not then I hope it aids you new life at least. Whatever you decide, I wish you luck my brother.

Your last true brother
Samuil Vulkov>

Petar put the note down and looked to the locket box. He recognized the mechanism. Spoken password authorization. He pressed the button and the lock blinked red, indicating it required the correct input. He knew what it was. "Everyone has a price and everyone has to pay." the light turned green. Of course he would pick that.

The lid popped open as the sides gave way to spread out to give trays a space to spread like a bird spreading it's own wings. Showing what they had. On the left 'wing', there were clothes. He recognized that brand anywhere. Golden threads. One of Dragan's legitimate business fronts. This was Samuild's idea of fitting in with pirates then. Still, he needed to change clothes eventually and he wasn't gonna spend the time on base naked. Might as well put some of these to use. Next to them was a data core. Similar to the ones they've used before on board the Gold dust ships. Probably more advanced. It had a label next to it. 'Resources'. Petar figured it contained information they could use. Safehouses, trade routes, warehouses. Could be anything. Would need to check with the navigators.

The right 'wing' he could see that Samuil decided to pack him a weapon in case he needed it. The handgun looked familiar enough. But he wasn't sure if he would keep it or donate it to the armory for Drav to hand out to someone else. Next to it was another core. The label on that one read 'read this'. Right. His eyes only. Have to find a good time to look through it.

The middle contained something he thought he'd never see again. A helmet. His helmet. Or at least a really good replica. Picking it up, he stared at the visor for a few seconds. Reminiscing about old times...and subsequently frowning after remembering how much the bad times outnumbered the good. Despite that trip down memory lane, this would come in handy. Practically the only missing thing he had from his current gear.

"Nice gifts. Gonna come in real handy." Now he had to get this core to the navigators. And explain how he got it. He wondered how exactly this was delivered to him. If Samuil was the one who busted him out early, did he have someone follow him? Is that someone still on planet or did they leave? Knowing his brother, he wouldn't leave a trail to follow and he did say he planned not to contact him after this. "You were always a creep. That's why dad put you in charge of this shit, huh?" Petar could only mutter to himself as he tried to piece it together in his room.

After Jackson left Daniel resumed his exercising, transitioning over to conditioning as he stepped up on one of the treadmills. Despite the weight of his armor Daniel managed to maintain a relatively fast pace.

Nathalie on the other hand had finished her daily exercise. "I'll see you later Shelby, thanks for the tunes."
With that said she excused herself and went back to the Mordred for a warm shower.

The day wound down, the sun eventually setting as the group gathered inside the barracks for the drinks that Petar had promised in celebration of him being chosen as first mate. It was a good idea, really. Gather the group together, get to know one another. Crew strengths, fighting abilities, and so on. Stories were shared as well, while Derrick made and served the drinks. Some, of course, didn't drink but were still present to talk and share their own stories and such.

Lauren watched from nearby, with her bottle of rum in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She'd get to know each of them over the course of the next few days anyway. For now, she just wanted to relax a bit before the actual work started. She relaxed in her chair, legs slung over the corner of the table, before taking a drink from the bottle in her hand. Afterwards, she simply set the bottle on the table and tapped the holotablet next to it with her thumb.

Once it woke up, she picked it up and looked at the screen. A few messages for her. One from Slade, congratulating the group on their mission with the freighter and saying that he might have some more stuff for them in the future. Marked read. The next one was from Michael Caine, dated from two weeks prior. There were some others from the same time frame, none of which she had read. She knew what they were about, so she didn't need to read them. She scrolled past, eventually sighing and setting the tablet back down.

She soon found herself staring up at the ceiling, taking a drag from her cigarette and exhaling a long puff of smoke into the air.


Shadespear Station, Morgan's Chalice
June 10th, 2406

An eight-year-old Lauren found herself peering over the counter of the bar, eagerly awaiting the soda that she had been promised by the bartender while the rest of the Reavers in the bar were drinking their fill of booze. Another raid against the Federation had gone well, and they had scored a massive haul from the wreckage of a large cargo freighter that had been destined for Ker. They had also destroyed a pair of Upyri destroyers, which certainly boosted their spirits to rather high levels. So, it was time to celebrate.

"Here ya go, Lil' Blackwell. Icy Fizz Red, just like you usually get." said the bartender, as he came back over to where she was waiting. He set a large red cup on the bar in front of her, with a bendable straw. "Thank you!" she said, taking the cup and turning about. She then quickly moved back over to where her mother was sitting in one of the booths. As she neared, Valk smiled warmly at her. "Did you thank him?" she asked, removing a cigarette from her mouth and exhaling the smoke into the air away from Lauren. "Yes!" was the reply.

"Good girl." said her mother, before moving her legs from the booth seat and allowing her daughter to slip in next to her. As Lauren drank her soda, Valk continued to look about at the others in the bar. Not really watching them. Instead, she was looking for someone. "Seen your father?" she finally asked, looking back down to Lauren. "He went upstairs." replied Lauren, before returning to her drink. Valk nodded, before leaning over and giving her a kiss on the head. Uric always wandered up to the Market deck every time they visited the station. He also always seemed to come back broke or with a gift for her or Lauren. Usually Lauren.

A few moments later, a pair of hands covered up Lauren's eyes. She knew who they were immediately. "Quit it, dad." she said, frustrated a bit. Uric chuckled, stepping out from behind her and sitting opposite of Valk and Lauren in the booth. Valk slipped the cigarette back into her mouth, shifting it into the corner as she looked over to Uric. "So what were you up to? People watching again? Or did you decide to loose your credits on that damn claw machine up there?" Why there was a claw machine on a pirate station, she'd never know, but there was one. And Uric always tried to win Lauren one of the items out of it. "Yeah, there's a cute bunny-looking thing in there. You should see it." he said, with a smile as he motioned in the direction he had come from.

Valk shook her head. "Could just buy her one, you know. Better than wasting your credits on the claw." she said, her voice sounding ominous as she spoke of the machine. She rapidly slammed the fingers of her cybernetic hand together, making a bit of a clack noise much like the claw would. "That'd take the fun out of it." he replied, before looking back to Lauren. "I'll get it one of these days. Just you watch."

Both Valk and Uric eventually looked back around the bar at the other Reavers. "They're havin' fun, it seems." commented Uric. "Biggest fuckin' haul since the the new century kicked in." responded Valk, puffing away on her cigarette. Uric glanced over to her. "You know the Feds will figure out how we do things...just a matter of time. That or make a task force or something just to hunt us." Valk chuckled. "Yeah. Sol did the same fuckin' thing, and they still haven't caught us. Even SSOID is on my ass."

Uric looked at the table for a moment, then spoke again. "...you have to realize, though...we can't do this forever." Valk glanced over to Uric quickly, removing the cigarette from her mouth and putting it out in the ash tray on the table. "Don't start that shit, Uric. Not now. Not in front of them. Not in front of her." she said, her tone serious. Uric gazed at her for a few moments, before looking to Lauren and finally sighing. "...alright."

As some of the Reavers nearby started to sing amongst themselves, the three in the booth simply sat in silence. Valk hugging Lauren with an arm, eyes locked onto Uric while he simply sat back in the seat and returned the gaze. There would likely be another fight later. There always was.

Back in the present...
Lauren twitched in her seat, as she noticed Zadra sit down next to her. "You alright, Blue?" she asked, pouring some of the rum in the bottle next to Lauren's leg into an empty glass. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinkin' about stuff." responded Lauren, taking another drag on her cigarette and exhaling through her nostrils. Zadra drank from the glass, looking towards the others in the room before speaking again. "...Anything I need to worry about?"

Lauren grunted, though it came out as almost a laugh. "Nah. Nothin' bad. Just shitty memories."


Elsewhere...

Anora Cortus' Quarters
Blood Corps Central Base
Unknown Location, Oslion


"[...Should we interrupt her? I mean, she ordered that nobody disturb her unless there was a very good reason.]"

"[I think us potentially finding the fucking control room to the facility is a good reason.]"

"[Then YOU tell her. The last guy that upset her had his throat ripped out. I'm not going be her next victim.]"

The pair of soldiers continued to debate between each other, till suddenly the sound of the door opening made them jump. In walked Anora's second-in-command, Riquier Molitor, dressed in a thick coat which covered his typical garb. The man was a classic Seperatist, wearing greyed versions of the standard military uniforms that were common to those from Ker back during the Division War. He paused, giving both of the men a look. "[...What is it?]" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he waited for one of them to actually speak up.

They looked between each other, before saluting. "[Sir, we've located what seems to be the control room of the main facility. We were just about to inform Lady Cortus of the find, but remembered how she is about her private time...]" said one of them, his voice trailing off at the end. Riquier nodded. "[Indeed...she does value the time to herself.]" he replied. Yes, the time she has to herself to practice that ancient trite she calls a religion. I wonder how many people she's bled today? Riquier finally shifted a bit, adjusting his coat. "[I'll inform the Lady. Return to your duties.]"

The pair of soldiers saluted, before quickly departing. Riquier then sighed, looking towards the door to Anora's quarters. He hated talking with her. Why the Movement deemed it necessary for him to be her second-in-command and liaison from KSM, he would never understand. But he was here, and he had duties to fulfill. If Anora's work here in the Renegade Quadrant proved fruitful, it would mean certain victory for Ker when the time came to crush the Federation and destroy Hemera and its allies. He took a deep breath, before walking towards the frozen door and knocking.

"[Lady Cortus, its me. Riquier. I have news.]" he said aloud. A few seconds passed, and he prepared to knock again, but was interrupted by a voice inside. "[Enter, Molitor. Quickly.]"

He reached over and touched the control for the door, opening the door and quickly stepping inside. It was far warmer inside Anora's quarters than it was outside, Riquier noticing a total lack of frost on the various objects inside. In fact, he likely didn't even need his coat. The room was quite spacious, especially for a room in this alien city complex. Anora's bed was across from him, back pressed against a large wall with the flag of Ker draped over it. To his right was a large desk and chair, with a weapons locker right next to it. Anora's gauss pistol rested on the desktop, in pieces with cleaning equipment next to it.

On the left, a simple curved couch with an odd sort of fireplace sitting in front of it. Pieces of wood were sitting in a circular sort of base, providing warmth to the room. There were also a few other torches in the room that provided more light and warmth to the room. There seemed to be more to the room, a curve in the wall sitting just behind the couch. "[Lady Cortus?]" he said aloud, walking into the room. "[Speak, Molitor. I'm bathing.]" was the response. Oh. She's taking a bath.

"[Well, ma'am. I have sought out the mercenary group that I suggested before and have enlisted their services to eliminate Lauren Blackwell. I have also hired Spark, the local bounty hunter, to assist them, as you suggested.]" said Riquier, folding his arms behind him beneath his coat. "[Good. Is that all?]" she asked, the sounds of her emerging from liquid around the corner. "[No, ma'am. I also bring news that the men have located what seems to be a control room for the facility. Do you have any orders for them?]"

"[Excellent. Don't worry yourself with such a thing, Molitor. I'll head down to handle things myself.]" she responded. He heard footsteps, and soon enough, Anora Cortus emerged from around the corner. Her naked form was not what shocked Riquier. It was the fact that she was soaked head to toe in blood. She traversed the room to where her dresser was, next to her bed, before pulling out a white towel. She then turned to Riquier, whom simply stood there. A look of horror on his face.

"[You may go now, Molitor. Return to your duties. I believe your true superiors will want an update on our progress.]" she said, the gaze from her ice blue eyes seeming to pierce straight through him. This woman is insane. Undeniably. "[Y-Yes, ma'am.]" he responded, giving her a quick salute before turning about and heading towards (and out) the door. Why am I here with that woman? Why me?

The past days had been calm. Too calm. It was the kind of calm that made Daniel restless and, to a point, somewhat twitchy. Luckily he had been assigned to the firing range where worked alongside Karina with training others on basic shooting skills.

Karina was easy to work with. Professional. No ego. Just following her training and instincts.

Daniel had opted to educate on handguns and carbines while Karina had been responsible for more specialized weapons.

When he wasn't at the range Daniel was mostly found at the gym where he maintained his physique.

Daniel was just about to head to the gym when he saw the crashing ship fall through the sky. Quickly he jogged back to the Mordred where he grabbed his rifle and helmet- the medical bag was already slung over his shoulder- before sprinting down to the boats.

As he secured his helmet he nodded towards Drav. Even though he couldn't swim, or at least he had never attempted to after watching the instructional holovids, Daniel was determined to help out whoever he could find.

If the order came to help one of the convicts then that convict would be treated as if he was the damn captain himself.

Daniel climbed onto one of the small motorboats, loaded his rifle and kneeled down. He was ready to go.

---

Nathalie crossed her arms and frowned. In front of her were one of the walls of her compact quarters. A series of blue, cyan, orange, green and red holograms were projected onto the wall from a series of holoprojectors of varying shapes and sizes.

The holograms were pictures and texts. Maps. Wanted-posters. Dossiers. Crime-scene reports. Personnel files. Classified intelligence documents. It was a mess, really.

Nathalie frowned. If only he was here to tell me where to start.
A memory flashed briefly. Burning buildings. Gunfire. Dropships overhead. Radio chatter. Heartbeats.

Nathalie shook her head.

For the past days she had spent a copious amount of hours trying to piece together the truckloads of classified case files she had been given right before she learned that the SSOID tried to kill her.
Problem was that she didn't know where to start. She recognized some of the names, locations and reports but she had no idea what the connection- if there were any- was or what it all meant.

When she wasn't busy digging around or being at the gym Nat had actually been with Shun on the bridge where the two of them had carried out a series of virtual scenarios to better test their skills as a team.
Overall the scenarios had been great training though Nathalie had hoped that Roku would have wanted to join in as well.

Suddenly she heard Zadra outside her door, apparently trying to get a hold of Lauren. Once Nathalie overheard what it was all about she traded her casual outfit for her military coverall and combat harness.

Nathalie arrived at the beach only to see the ship slam into the ocean. "There's gotta be some survivors onboard," she said aloud while moving towards the boats.

As light drops of water dripped onto Francisco's face, he awakened. His arms were dangling down besides him as he peered at his surroundings. It seemed like the world was flipped upside down. A vague memory of slamming into the water was the only thing he remembered. The ship must've turned upside down after it splashed into the ocean. Unfortunately for Francisco, he had no time to gather his thoughts. Water began filling the transport's small control cabin, while cracks began appearing in the windows due to the high pressure of the surrounding water.

Restricted by a seat belt holding him strapped to the pilot's chair, Francisco began clawing at the buckle with both of his hands. To seemingly no avail, until the belt ripped apart, which made Francisco face plant into the cabin's water covered roof. Shortly after gaining his feet Francisco once again looked around the compact cabin. The water began rising to his belly at a seemingly faster pace; It led to Francisco trying to force the doors open. The doors were static due to the water's pressure, which prompted no movement in the hinges. With water running in and time running out, only one option seemed available. Francisco unzipped his top and quickly wrapped it around his right hand's knuckle.

He began punching the cracking windows with full force, succeeding in doing so after a good 4 minutes of punching. He took a deep breath as water began pouring in even faster through the newly made exit/entrance, using the opposing surface of the cabinet to extrude himself through the window. Once outside, he used the sunken part of the ship as a makeshift ladder to climb onto the wreck's part that was still surfaced. Once out of the water he began coughing up water before settling down onto the wreck.

"Well... I probably skipped over this part when I made my escape plan." He unwrapped the top still around his right hand, and straightened it out. He then proceeded by wrapping it around his torso like a blanket.

Now unlike some of the others during the party, Typhon refused to drink any drop of liquor and repeatedly denied any drink offerings from anyone. Unfortunately, someone forced a drink into his hand and Typhon being Typhon, dumped it on the floor in response. His ensuing mocking laughter was cut short however, as he was overtaken by a painful feeling bubbling up in his body. Moments after, the air started to get thinner and thinner, making it a bit hard for him to breathe. Harsh fits of coughing and wheezing came after, forcing him to leave the party early and go back to the med bay. Finally, he started to cough up blood. He stumbled through the med-bays doors, choking on his own breath, desperately trying to figure out what's happening to him. Pulling out all sorts of syringes already carrying several CCs of epinephrine, and injected it all over his body. The pain started to die down, leaving him numb all over but making his heart nearly beat out of his chest. He spent the rest of the night huddled in a corner of the med-bay, shaking uncontrollably and eyes wide open.

-Later-

It's been a while since that fit happened, but the pain still lingers, keeping Typhon awake throughout the early hours of the morning. Undressed completely and staring at himself in the diagnostic mirror, he gives himself a respiratory palpation to determine whether or not those two dark blemishes underneath his ribcage really are his lungs now. He knows what's happening to him, but frantically did numerous tests and diagnoses just to find any possibility it may be something else than what he fears the most. But it was all pointless. He knows what he has. It's the same disease all the other Lions have, and they were all cursed with it the moment they were cast out.

The Artisynth had a special word for it in their language, but it's name in human tongue it was apt and descriptive: Degeneration.



Slowly, and painfully, their body would shut down in fits of agony one part at a time. Back then, they could just replace any failing body part by making a new one in the creation engines that made them, but being exiled made access to those machines impossible. Now they're forced to live as their bodies slowly rot away, becoming synthetic zombies in the process; a harsh reminder that they as a species were not made to last. A reminder absolutely none of them were taking well at all, not even Typhon as he wore his mask of sarcastic wit to hide his fear of mortality. As he stops palpating, he moves his fingers to his face. God, he looked awful. His face had gradually gotten thinner, making the outline of his skull clearly visible underneath the sea of wrinkles and gray blotches covering it. He felt old, and now he certainly looks like it too. He can't muster up the nerve to look at himself any longer. In absolute anguish at his sorry state, he smashes the mirror by punching it as strongly as he can before sinking down on his knees, weeping as he tries coping with his newfound mortality rather unsuccessfully.

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And unlike Typhon, Shuren's making progress overcoming the language barrier. It was hard for him to start any kind of conversation at Petar's party, and that was the moment he had to do something about it since yesterday. Zadra loaned him some beginner's English learning material, and judging by the covers of these tapes and books, it seemed like it was aimed for children. But Shuren didn't care, nor did he seem to notice either. Alone in his cabin, he recites some lessons he's learned to himself in the mirror.

"HeeelloooOOOO-" he clears his throat in order to get the correct tone and inflection. He smiles and waves to himself. "Hello. Good-o mourning! I emm the Shuren." he says, accent unbearably thick.

He quickly assessed that further practice was needed, and practice more he did as he put the headset on and hit play on the recorder, continuing the lessons.

Shun had managed to procure basic necessities and improve his housing on Sielia since it seemed like this would be where they would be residing in their off-time. The cybernetic Ayr did not require much to function, though he immersed himself with several terminals and datapads to carefully study and stay on top of galactic events. Other than those several screens his room had a charging station for his suit and body just as the quarter's on the Mordred had. Far from reclusive, he would step out of his room often and converse among members of the crew, acting cordial yet militaristic as ever.

In the privacy of his room the Ayr actually would have his helmet disengaged, the cold visage would open straight down the middle with a pressurized hiss, the helmet folding out to the sides of his head. The face he kept so hidden was not too atypical of Ayr his age, as there were not exactly a wealth of features to be picked out. Most notably his eyes were that teal color that his suit and psychic projections had been, and a deep scar was gouged across his deep blue skin, running horizontally through the middle of those glowing orbs. While the front of his head was quite intact, one could assume that the back was heavily cyberized for the brain augments that allow the Ayr to perform the incredible feats he has displayed thus far. It was not often that Shun saw the world through his cybernetic eyes, so these moments were when he would truly be relaxed, legs crossed in a meditative position as he tapped away on the various screens around him.

His focus was interrupted by a commotion outside, and with a thought he dispelled all the screens his equipment was projecting and sealed his helmet closed yet again. Hands behind his back, Shun stepped outside and moved to the beach to look at the vessel before it made contact with the ocean's surface. On impact the Ayr did nothing to react as Nathalie started to move in an attempt to make a rescue effort. "Perhaps there would be. Though whether they are friend or foe is anyone's guess. It may be safer to wait for those survivors to come to us, if there are any." he said.

Learning that Petar became first mate didn't exactly sit well with Vincent. It really didn't sit well when he learned that it came down to the wire and a single vote edged him out. Many of the crew really wanted that man to lead them in a fight? The party the same night didn't change his mind about him at all. He acted friendly, but the mean streak was still there. Highly visible. Still, it wasn't his place to judge. Whether he or the captain was right, remained to be seen.

The following weeks were calm for him for the most part. He spend most time reading news and the books he accumulated over the past year. 'Thank god I don't collect physical.' He thought as he looked through his backlog. Occasionally he would have conversations with the others. Either of the casual type or to answer some question that had been born out of curiosity for the religion. Petar surprised him when he asked when the phrase 'Sins of the father' came from. The mercenary must have heard it plenty given his heritage.

When the ship started crashing, he was mostly oblivious to it being inside. He only got wind of it when others started moving outside.
---
It's been weeks and he had no idea what to do with this data core. Nat and Shun would start asking questions. Questions he didn't think he could answer in a satisfying way. All he could think of amounted to 'It's from my brother, who is locked up in a super-max cell in an off-world location under Sol jurisdiction by his volition and design. And that you can trust his information.' Not the most reassuring thing, but it was all he had. He even thought about allowing Shun to read his mind to show why he trusted his brother on this since the ayr were good at that.

And outside of that, the weeks passed by slowly. The other core marked for him had some interesting things. Information about the current players in the merc game, big name pirates and the big named hunters that chased after him. A lot of it was what Lauren had already told him. She neglected to mention a lot of the small events that happened for the past 40 years. Why would she? She was a kid for most of it. And he doubted market shifts in polerium would interest her. But for him, this was gold. Ivana had bought tons of the stuff. Mixed it with something else. And boom. Diamond dust. The cheaply made ice imitation she ran through her nightclubs. He made a memo to start investing soon. Might earn them a few extra credits down the line. Just needed to get a hold of a bookie to cook the books.

He was sitting on the beach, doing what most respectable men at his position would be doing. Smoking and working on his tan. And of course reading more on what he missed. A few headlines had caught his eye.
16.04.2397-Seth Rollonso retires after long stint of leading Boome marines. Sets record for longest running holder of that position.
28.01.2400-The White wolf and fox bounty hunter duo nab several high profile targets in a week. Rumors of possible identity begin to swirl.
07.02.2410-White wolf identity revealed as former mercenary Seth Rollonso after retirement. Says he will now work as instructor at the BCB. Critics remain skeptical that he will keep to his word. Fox still hunting. Refused to comment on her partner's retirement.

'For a mutant reject, he did pretty alright for himself, hasn't he?' Petar thought back to when he had the pleasure of meeting the man. Large quotes on that part. Poor bastard was unconscious for most of it. Something about the Diamant showing to save him and some of his boys. His father had a ploy there somewhere. He always did. Tho kicking Creed ass was fun.

The ship falling appearing and crashing in the sky put a halt to his activity. He muttered a few curse words under his breath and hurried to the barracks to get his gear in order. A few minutes later he came out prepared and walking towards the boats.

It's been a few weeks since they've arrived on Sielia. For the most part things were pretty normal around here. For Nara that was basically chilling out and learning how to do engineering for the Mordred. She even bought a book called How To Engineer For Dummies. They tried to teach her how to fire a weapon. Unfortunately, that turned out to be a failure. Meanwhile Grommy was finding ways to entertain himself, even if it meant reading news around the Renegade Quadrant. He picked two interesting ones, seeing Cosmic Nova and the Crimson Tribune. He was going to find about these and see what's up. Grommy walked to the base bar, sitting himself on the stool to read them.

Jericho spent these past few weeks trying to enjoy himself on the tropical beach. He swam regularly, he talked to his fellow crewmates, such as the poor Ayr exile Roku who was now forced to wear some sort of collar, orders of Lauren and Petar apparently. He pitied the poor Ayr, but he still tried to talk to him in a friendly and less pushy manner than before. He spent most of his time with Shelby, either talking of the latest fashion trends, doing each other's nails, or dancing to star-pop and watching videos. He also spent most of his nights talking with Bubblegum online when she was available. Telling her of his experiences on a pirate crew. Of course, he made sure to lie to her regularly, as much as it pained him. He couldn't risk endangering Shelby and the rest of the crew.

Jericho was listening to music while cleaning one of his weapons. While he was an assassin and a swordsman for the most part, he was also a good sniper. But since most of the time he had to be close to his targets while in the field, he barely used the lovely beast of a gun. As he continued cleaning it, he noticed the others running around the barracks. He laid his gun down on the table and walked outside, just in time to see a Sol transport fall from the sky. Seeing the Sol insignia made him panic for a moment, thinking it could be SSOID looking for him. Then he noticed it was a prison transport ship. When it finally crashed into the water, Lauren and a few others were moving to investigate it using boats down on the beach. Jericho crossed his arms and grunted, following behind them.

As the others moved towards the boats, Karina simple stood on the beach with her rifle and observed the vessel through her rifle scope. "I can make out one survivor so far. They likely hijacked the transport and warped anywhere than where they were. Sol markings." she said, lowering her rifle and running hand through her dark red hair. She had been working out in the gym when word of the ship crashing came about, so she stood now on the beach in a simple white tank top and black shorts.

Aesha was nearby, lying on a beach towel in a black bikini. She had decided to get a tan, just like Petar had been, listening to music as she lay still. She sat up on her elbows after hearing Karina speak, lifting up her shades so that she could see out over the water better. "Sol ain't gonna like it, but whatever. Good idea would be to sink it to the bottom of the ocean after they rescue whoever's still alive." she responded, before lowering her shades back down and laying flat on her back once again. It wasn't her problem, really. She was a fighter pilot, and the transport was already down. No reason to go jump in her fighter and zip over there.

Karina glanced to Aesha for a moment, before looking back towards where the others were. Piling into a boat. More than enough were going, so she wasn't needed. She'd still remain alert, though, sitting down in the sand with her rifle resting across her lap.

-------

Once everyone was into the boat, Zadra fired it up and they were off. Speeding towards the crashed transport out in the waters. As they neared it, they noticed that one person had climbed out and was now sitting atop the vessel. Orange jumpsuit, a convict. "Guess he must have hijacked it. Good on him." said Lauren aloud, as she checked her pistol. A precaution, in case the convict decided to get a bit rowdy. She glanced up to see that a pair of Ironbloods fighters had been deployed, checking on the transport from above.

Soon enough, they reached the transport, Lauren calling out to the man on top of the slowly sinking vessel. "Hey there! Anyone else alive in there, or is it just you?" she shouted up to him, as they tried to find a spot where they could climb aboard.

Once the boat approached the wreckage Daniel, who was sitting at the front of the small craft, saw a piece of bent metal plating sticking out. It was a good spot to jump to and as such Daniel stepped up onto the boat railing and jumped on over.
He looked at the convict with his rifle lowered. "Are you hurt?"

Minutes had passed since Francisco managed to get himself out of the slowly sinking wreck and onto the surface.

The sound of something splashing against the waves in the distance became louder and louder, until Francisco decided to look over his shoulder.

He nonchalantly turned back until he realized he saw a distant object, shaped like a boat, approaching the wreck.

Francisco quickly raised himself by pushing himself up from the makeshift floor, before turning 180 degrees to face the incoming vessel.

"Eh, it was a good run." he muttered as he prepared himself to get hit by a stun rifle.

To his surprise, the vessel came close and stopped at a safe distance. As a voice sounded from the vessel, it echoed in the wind before it reached Francisco's ears.

"Well, eh... Let's just say no one else survived the crash." as one of the passengers of the vessel hopped on board of the wreck, Francisco turned his head to face him.

Said individual was carrying a rifle, albeit lowered. "I've got a pretty bad headache, but I'm feeling pretty good for a guy that just survived a crash."

Daniel nodded and, using his left hand, unholstered his MEDT from the medical bag. A series of blue beams were projected at Francisco, going up and down along his body.

Once the scan was complete Daniel glanced over his shoulder. "He's got some bruising here and there. Also looks like he could use a meal or two from Vance."

That said Daniel looked back towards the convict and nodded towards the boat. "Unless you want to try your luck with the shit that lives in the water I suggest you hop on the boat."

As the blue layers of light passed Francisco's face, he gave a light nod. He peered downwards at the wreck before looking back up at Daniel.

He slowly navigated towards the boat located besides the wreck; small puddles of water splashed onto the wreck's surface as the balance shifted with each step.

He passed by Daniel and looked over his shoulder one more time before jumping towards the boat. As he jumped, he landed onto the ship's railing; He steadily balanced himself and then hopped off the railing, landing in the boat.

"Don't bother with any others, I was the only guy alive when I woke up. pretty sure they're all gonna sleep with the fishes tonight."

Lauren watched the man in the orange jumpsuit board the boat, listening to his statement, before glancing to Zadra. "Well, you know what to do." she finally said, to which Zadra nodded. Zadra had brought a bag full of explosives with her, specifically for scuttling the slowly sinking transport. Mainly to make sure it sank faster and that no signal were to get out should there still be anyone alive aboard the transport. Zadra climbed onto the transport, bag in hand, and moved to where the man had climbed out. She slipped inside, and there was a span of about ten minutes before she reemerged, soaked but without the explosives. "Rigged them to detonate twenty minutes from now. Time to go." she said quickly, moving down the transport before re-boarding the boat. Once Daniel got back aboard, Lauren looked back to the others. "Alright, hold on to your asses."

The boat turned about, before zipping back towards shore. Time ticked down, and right on cure, the explosives detonated aboard the prison transport. A spectacular explosion ripped through the ship, scattering pieces of debris everywhere and rapidly sinking the remaining pieces of the vessel.

Once Zadra was clear Daniel retreated back to the boat. He hunkered down and placed his rifle in his lap before removing his helmet. He lit a cigarette as the ship exploded in the distance and extended a hand towards the convict. "Milosovic. Combat medic."

For whatever potential survivors there may be rescued from the crashed prison transport, Typhon ensured the cleanliness of the medbay and prepared his tools respectively in various trays for whatever injures and wounds they may have. Yet the mirror was still broken, and he wanted it to stay that way as he can’t stand looking at himself anymore. It still has that big crack in its center from when he punched it in anguish. Finally, he gets dressed in his surgical gown, but forgoes his special medical helmet as he wants to breathe in as much fresh unfiltered air while he still can.

Awaiting orders to treat any survivors, he sits against a rock on the beach, facing the crash site, with a baleful look on his withered face.

————————

Thrilled at the prospect of starting a conversation in a new language, Shuren rushes to the engineering bay to find Zadra.

“Hello and morning!” he shouts, hoping she’d hear him.

Jericho looked at the sole survivor of the crash. A convict and likely a dangerous one, but it was rather interesting that the man was the ONLY survivor. Did he make the ship crash? Did he attempt a hostile takeover? Or was it just luck? Jericho was sure that Lauren would ask the man for details. For now, he simply nodded at the man and introduced himself. "Jericho. Nice to meet you." he said, with a slight smile on his face. Jericho certainly looked out of place among the other pirates, dressed pretty much in shorts and a sports tank top.

As Daniel extended his hand, so did Francisco. As they shook hands, Francisco let out a few words; "Francisco. Convicted fugitive."

He turned his head to face Jericho and peered over his appearance. "Francisco, nice to meet ya. Love the outfit."

He looked down at his own feet, seeing the worn black rubber slippers and the orange jumpsuit's trouser part.

"Don't mean to be a rude guest here, but you hombres got a place where I can clean myself up and maybe change up.. whatever it is I'm wearing?"

Vance had spent plenty of time in the past few weeks often conversing with others, in the gym, or spending long hours at night alone in the jungle. Mostly, he was trying to recreate what happened on that one night, to no avail. And it frustrated him, because he had no idea if either it actually happened, or if he had been entirely imagining it. His mind was racing after all with many questions, and was debating his mindset as he stayed on the planet. He was impatient to return home... but something didn't feel right to him. Most he had come across didn't know what Earth was... and were utterly confused by anything he had spoken of. Could things have really changed that much in just 6 months out in space? he thought to himself as he rushed through the jungle, stressing his body as much as he could by dashing at full speed through the wilds. Has it been longer...? Has my perception of time been skewed so severely?

He continued questioning himself before he heard something loud screech through the sky. Vance made his way towards a large cliffside, offering him a vantage point out into the waters. He saw that something had crashed into the water far in the distance, and that a small craft had went to it and was now returning. Well now, a new visitor. he thought to himself before making his way back into the wilds. Frustrated that he was, once again, unable to recreate what his body did that one night, he opted to return to the beach where everyone else was it. After some time, he exited the jungle and made his way with a smile on his face.

"What's new pussycats? I saw that vessel crash out at sea. Any survivors?" he asked to anyone within earshot.

---

Albert had used the past few weeks to do two things. First, he worked on his book. He began to string together what he had scribbled down onto paper and begun to write a coherent story for the first few beginning chapters of Burning Sails. How he arrived, the crew he met, the locale of Shadespeare, and their first combat operation. Secondly, he opted to learn how to fire a pistol. He had never fired a gun before in his life, but decided that he needed a way to defend himself in the eventuality that something went terribly wrong on the ship. He didn't want to be as a large sitting duck, or a burden to anyone else. So, he opted to be less of a travelling weight and actually try to contribute.

His lessons with Karina went about as awkwardly as expected, with her cold demeanor clashing with Albert's more inexperienced, gentle nature. He managed to get a few good shots in, but mostly he was missing the targets at the range. He would need more practice in the future. He remained in the Mordred in his room when the events of the crashing ship transpired however, deeply in thought as he worked on more pages for his book.