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Enum

I'm just here.
  • d2ztce1-73c1b364-96fa-4d47-bb66-ab62594823b9.jpg

    The light of the cafeteria was bright. The faces that surrounded you were unknown to you. The coffee tasted terrible, but at least you had coffee, a rare commodity to anyone but Union execs. The sight of a prisoner onboard made you uncomfortable.You figure you might be able to grow your own on the colony once you got setup. As you waited for everyone else, you pondered how strange this mission has been already. First, several onboard systems are completely out, such as the chrono-signature system (SIGNAT), meaning Earth time was completely unknown to you. That's not totally unusual, but even stranger was your profile data not being found. The lights flickered around you, as though struggling to stay on. To top it all off, you don't recognize any of these constellations. The stars don't match what they showed you at the recruitment station at all. Something was clearly wrong about this mission.

    You tried not to think about it. First priority was figuring out how to survive, then when the boys back home came to pick you up in a few years you could ask, if you survived that long. For now, you focused on food and drink, and tried to get a read on the characters around you. You wished that you had had a chance to meet them beforehand, but all they did was take your psychological profile and load you into a cryosleep tube, and put you to sleep. It seemed almost frustrating that they even loaded a prisoner onto your ship. The collar that was locked onto their neck seemed strange, clearly the smooth, white design that was classic for Sabre Tech. It didn't seem uncomfortable to them, but you wondered what they must've done to earn it.

    Once everyone was gathered in the cafeteria, the onboard AI finally booted up. Its voice was the same as the one from the chamber, but it felt more omnipresent with its surround sound speaker system.

    "Good morning, crew. Sabre Tech welcomes you to the final frontier. We know much of this may be confusing to you all, seeing as how none of you are return Prospects. We at Sabre Tech would like to do everything we can to prepare you, so I will be your guide until you drop onto the planet's surface. Let's go over everything you need to know one bit at a time, shall we?

    Firstly, we'd like to apologize. Something nearby seems to be interfering with several onboard systems, making diagnostic data impossible at this time, so we will be providing prediction data from your initial launch date instead. The internal clock shows that you have each been in stasis for a total of fourteen Terran years from an initial prediction of twenty-three Terran years. Things may seem different when you return to your worlds, but Sabre Tech assures you that it will be prepared to rehabilitate you upon arrival. Initial predictions state that this planet is a type B-4 Beacon class planet, meaning that your chances of successful colonization and terraformation are 84%, which is quite high! If initial predictions are correct, this planet will have a temperature of 48-54 degrees celsius upon arrival, so be sure to wear your Hazardous Environment Protection Equipment, or HEPE, at all times until climate control becomes available to avoid heatstroke. This planet appears to have an unusually high surface concentration of CO2, nitrogen, and argon, along with a high subterranean concentration of helium and hydrogen. Note that, while these gases are not actively harmful, they are asphyxiants, so be sure to watch your oxygen levels at all times. Cold seasons offer the occasional 'hot snow' phenomena. Note that this is not water, and is in fact ash that has been showered from nearby volcanic activity. Please do not consume this. Summers can, on very rare occasions, produce extremely dangerous liquid silver rain from distant volcanic geysers near massive silver veins. Climate control will be required for survival during such events. Thankfully, this Prospect is rich in high-value construction materials and fabrication minerals, meaning your colony should never be struggling for resources.

    Next, we will go over your equipment. Your HABITAT-autoprojector has already been launched onto the planet's surface and should be complete upon your arrival. There may be some damage to the projector, but so long as it isn't submerged in liquid, it is very easy to repair. The projector automatically builds a barracks capable of housing 12 people along with lockable bunks and an eating table, using itself as the base material. The internal batteries will be fully charged, but they will only last a total of six days before being completely drained, at which point life support systems may become unavailable. There will also be a state-of-the-art organic recycler available, capable of taking any organic material and extracting edible materials from non-edible ones, including any raw food. There will also be a waste basin where the excess is placed. This waste often makes a great fertilizer for any future hydroponics systems, so be sure to use anything you can use. Sabre Tech honors those who run their colonies with peak efficiency. You will find that there is dried NU-PASTE bars and clean water bottles located within the storage system of your habitat. If rationed carefully, this food should last you about ten days, so use it wisely. Remember, the human body can still labor even after quite a bit of malnutrition.

    Your personal equipment will consist of a HEPE suit, a personal habitat projector, a personal PDA system, a personal electric Sabre Tech brand SHATTER series laser drill, a miniature NEPTUNE fluid pump, several ultra-compressed air tanks, two miniature NEPTUNE fluid tanks, and several Schematic Digital Storage Systems, or SDSS's short. The HEPE suit is capable of withstanding temperatures of 86 degrees celsius indefinitely, so long as it remains powered and has at least one air tank. The HEPE can also withstand exposure to extreme conditions such as; fluids above 86 degrees, air or surface temperatures above 90 degrees, or exposure to acidic/basic materials for several minutes. Note that the inhabitant of an HEPE suit may still sustain serious injuries during this exposure. The HEPE suit is not suitable for submerged or high-pressure conditions, and should not be used for diving or deep-mantle excavation. The personal habitat projector is like any other projector in the series; it is capable of building structures from a variety of preset or customized blueprints so long as materials meeting the criteria are present in the device range. Remember that, being disconnected from the PDA network, the HABITAT projector has an extremely limited range for both material designation and construction distance, and can only be used for small construction projects. Your SHATTER drill, when powered and connected to any SDSS nearby, quickly and efficiently dematerialize any material within its range. Any materials collected will be digitalized and placed within the SDSS storage system. As of the 2240 WESTERN HOPE incident, the SHATTER drill will no longer operate if aimed at organic material with a Complexity Rating higher than 3.62 (Simple Plant Life). The SHATTER drill will not also not operate if aimed at any material on the Sabre Tech Standard Manufactured Materials list, so don't be afraid to aim it at your HABITAT. The NEPTUNE fluid pump is a simple hand-held device with two triggers; the first will pull fluids from the end of the attached nozzle or syringe, and the second ejects any contents. The dial on the back determines the pressure at which the fluid is ejected. Note that, although it is possible to use the NEPTUNE pump as a surgical syringe, it is not recommended. Finally, your three storage modules. Air tanks will attach to any device capable of storing air, such as Sabre Tech vehicles, human operable buildings, or HEPE suits. The same goes for your NEPTUNE fluid tanks, which can attach to the back of your pump. The SDSS's are a specific storage module that holds solid material as digital information. SDSS's allow you to hold several kilos of construction material without having to manage or separate it. Do not, under any circumstances, use an SDSS to store organic, especially edible, material.

    The PDA is one of your most useful tools, so never forget it while you're working on the colony. The PDA comes preset with a variety of colony management, customization, planning, and organization tools installed, and can have more modules installed at any time. The HABITAT module generates a small signal connecting each nearby PDA so long as it is powered, allowing for quick communication. If you end up wandering too far from the HABITAT, your PDA will keep you informed of the last pieces of information it received before exiting range. You can use the PDA to suggest new modules for your HABITAT, create a digital schematic of what you would like to build, discuss future plans and operation strategies, or even just record personal data. Organization tools are purely digital, and allow your colony to know where things are located within the HABITAT. There is also a mapping function!

    Under the Management tab, any user can generate plans, schedules, dietary restrictions, or ping other Prospectors about incoming events or warnings. You may also notice a 'Prisoners' under the Management section. This section is vital for maintaining control over any prisoners within the colony. It has separate controls from standard colonists. The 'Correction' option offers two different methods for criminal punishment; standard and customized. Customized allows any colonist to suggest any penalty for misconduct from prisoners. Standard only works if both the PDA and the prisoner are within range of the network. Standard uses a prisoner's connected high-voltage shock collar and has three different settings. The first setting, Encouragement, delivers a very short low-voltage shock to the target and can be used by any colonist at any time. Its primary use is to remind resistant prisoners to do as they are told. The second setting, Correction, delivers a painful shock to the base of the neck for up to 12 seconds. This setting requires a majority vote (50% or higher) in order to trigger, meaning that two colonists must use this setting within four seconds of each other, or no shock will be delivered. It can also be triggered by a designated Warden at any time. The final option, 'Execution,' delivers a shock rating of 3.5k volts until life-signs are no longer detectable within the target, and requires a supermajority vote (75%) or a unanimous vote for colonies off less than 8 Prospectors. Note that the use of the 'Execution' setting will not display the Prospector's name, only the vote. Prisoner restricted PDA's will not be able to view punishment information at all.

    Do not be afraid to use the tools provided to you. Remember; the survival of the prisoners is secondary to the survival of the Prospects.

    That should be everything! Feel free to view this message again in your PDA's records. It's recommended you create sustainable power, food, and water sources as soon as possible before delving into other plans, but there are no regulations on Prospect planets, so do what feels right. Each Prospector has the next 36 hours to prepare for launch. Be sure to report prepared to a drop pod in that time, as all pods will fire within a 475-meter radius around the HABITAT at that time, regardless of if everyone is on it. Following the firing of all drop pods, your transport vessel will use reserve power to attempt a controlled crash a good distance from your HABITAT to prevent damage to your colony. Feel free to collect it for extra resources. Warning: It is not recommended to remain on board this vessel during controlled crashes as the survivability of a controlled crash holds steady at 4.7% in all conditions.

    Sabre Tech wishes you good luck, Prospectors!"


    With that, the AI shuts off and every available screen on the ship displays a bright '36:00:00' timer. The timer slowly ticks down to zero. An empty, uncomfortable silence fills the room. The feeling of dread at the mention of prisoner punishment is nearly unbearable. Surely, nobody would actually do something so cruel, right? You try not to think about it. You slam back your coffee and get to work. You'll need to be mentally and physically well by the time those drop pods land, or things could get rough fast. You figure this a great time to check out the PDA's functions and meet your fellow Prospectors, maybe make some plans. Something, however, bothers you. 36 hours? That would drop your pods into the nighttime side of the planet, something that is completely unheard of in the program. Whatever is happening with the ship and onboard AI, it might be good to figure it out soon so it doesn't drop you directly in a lake of silver by mistake. The ship AI said the SDSS's couldn't store organic material. Whatever they would want you to grow must be packaged somewhere else. You wonder why the ship didn't mention self-defense tools.
 
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♫ ━━ you can run
Luca Priestley
  • 𓂀
    blood is thick
    but innocence is sweeter
    truths tell lies
    and they are none the wiser
code by valen t. Art by gpddassb on devianart
 
While on this ship, my days are spent
In anxious care, oft discontent

Artist link in CS

PROSPECTOR NAME: VICTOR ASKEW
LOCATION: SHIP CAFETERIA
MORE INFORMATION AVAILABLE█

The lights were bright, showing that every surface was clean, dust-free, totally unlived in. All of it assembled from a generic template, designed to be as inoffensive and reassuring as possible. Safety. Efficiency. The best possible start to your new life, hand-delivered by those who wanted you to succeed.

The entire place was... shoddy.

Maybe it was the lingering effects of cryosleep, giving everything a lucid-dream vagueness, but Victor felt there was something off about the situation. Whatever it was he was noticing, however, his subconscious wasn't sharing, so there was nothing to do but ignore it and let it sit like an itch at the base of his skull. Maybe it was just nerves. Or regret.

He sat there as the announcements were made, arms folded, looking stern and focused but in reality just waiting for the nausea to subside: the PDA would have a copy of the information he wasn't taking in. His body still ached, but being able to move was helping the pains to fade. There was still a strange coldness deep in his lungs when he breathed in, and his skin burned where it met his arms, but fourteen years on ice didn't feel quite as bad as he had expected. He'd barely tasted the coffee, but appreciated the warmth of it.

Not many people. Prospectors only. Everything else is automated.

Look at him, trying to make sense of this like he knew what was normal. Victor had never met anyone who'd done this before, or had any frame of reference beyond what he'd been told. They'd taken his details, and the small print had been read out to him in double-speed, by a woman who seemed to resent him for making her do her job. For all that the promotional materials talked of recruiting explorers and the best people to start a new civilisation, the implication given by the staff was clear: Why would you be signing up for this if you didn't have a reason to run away?

His gaze drifted over to the prisoners as he thought this, only a few moments before the AI cheerfully announced their presence and just in time to hear the sigh of turning heads and rustling clothes as everyone took a surreptitious look. Here to do the grunt work, or give the free prospectors somebody to look down on and stop them realising they'd made a stupid mistake with no way back.

Somebody was talking, but the nausea was rising again, and he'd already closed his eyes.

"Save some of it for when we're on the surface," Victor muttered, mainly to himself, "or we'll be playing I-Spy within a month."

Enum Enum Darth Darth KaramelKarma KaramelKarma TheMadIceCreamMan TheMadIceCreamMan
 
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Edward G. Tregre



The process of cryo-sleep was in constant refinement as a technology. Waking up with the sensation of needles in his gut and pins in his hands Edward knew well of these effects. It was less of a hassle as much of a cognitive kick start: time for work. An impulse left from his years at the mining operation back at Io. He knew well he wasn't back there as the alien voice of the AI gave way to this fact but he knew he was here to work all the same. Listening obediently he completed the questionnaire without fail before taking his first steps.

With the cryo pod room to himself, he takes some time to perform some stretches to avoid the worse of the muscle cramping that typically accompanies cryo-sleep sickness. In a ritualistic manner, counting off the number of different body motions he does as his internal clock counts its way to three minutes. Another impulse. His eyes dart back and forth in the room but there is no management to tell him to stop stalling. Despite that, he stops all the same at the mental queue of three minutes pass with no real thought as to why. A certain anxiety in him if he was to pass the three-minute threshold a second too late. It imbues a certain urgency in all so familiar: time for work. He quietly quells his internal tension as he appreciates the fine craftsmanship of the room built with mathematical exactness and attention to space that only the Union could dare manage. So why did the AI seem to need a reboot? He ignores it for now as he equips a company provided jumpsuit.

Walking down the hallway towards the kitchen docible he finishes sliding in the mechanical probes of his repository argument into dedicated slots in the flesh of his neck. Anyone looking at his neck would see various jacks in it with some of the skin red from agitation. A sign of a cheap physical argument but a token trait to Edward. Before even turning the corner he can hear it, the sounds of people. His new co-workers for the project. His already militaristic stance bred through years of loyalty in the pits stiffens further to look his best before colleagues of the great Union.

He enters.

Walking into the communal area his rubber boots clack on the mechanical tiles with a strict rhythm to them. His posture sharp and his gait formal. He doesn't quite turn his head to look at anyone as much as move his eyes. Spying his fellows through his peripheral vision as he gives a distinct feeling of watching without directly committing to the act. As he sits without much in the way of exchange. His repository argument having dedicated slots for the ingestion of liquids and food-paste he uses the liquid tube to enjoy his coffee. Quietly closing his eyes as he does seem to oddly savor the bland drink with his expression softening compared to when he walked in. As a matter of fact, compared to his cryo soddened co-workers he appears rather well to do.

His attention promptly diverts to the speech of the AI system as if it were gospel. His stiff expression is rather unflinching as he absorbs the information. Upon its conclusion, he idly returns to eating to process the food and thoughts. The Union operates in ways outside of his parcel of understanding so his concerns of the early AI reboot rebound into suspicion of outside influence. This line of thinking concludes at around the same time his food-paste.

He speaks up though not in response to any particular question. "AI bring up local constellation mapping and region mapping." He speaks in a voice that is rather gruff through his respirator. Waiting for the AI to bring up the requested data he speaks to no one in particular, "I wonder if the ship's course has experienced unknown turbulence?" He poses the question simply to seed this thought into his co-workers rather than attempt to order anyone to look into it.

Enum Enum KaramelKarma KaramelKarma Blemmigan Blemmigan Darth Darth
 


  • Two screens appeared above the table. The first loaded the pre-saved constellation map, the one that you're supposed to see from your current position. The second pulsed occasionally with a white flash, a telling sign that it was loading. It was clear that the onboard computer was trying to scan local constellation data so this could take a few minutes. The seconds ticked by, each one clearly defined by the timer continuing to tick down to zero. Would the ship really just crash itself, even if someone was still onboard? You weren't privy to find out. After what felt like a painfully long amount of time, accentuated by the possibility of an unpleasant and fiery death, the mapping screen finished loading. It had only this to display;

    ERROR 1102: DIAGNOSTICS AND SCANNERS OFFLINE. PLEASE CONTACT SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR.

    "Sabre Tech apologizes, Prospector. Ship scanners appear to be malfunctioning at this time. Please contact your system administrator for assistance, or use manual star mapping if you would still like to see local constellation data."

    The ship rumbled slightly. Not uncommon, considering the low orbit. There were likely plenty of resources to be had, it was a matter of collecting everything on this transport vessel before its inevitable fall out of the sky. Part of you wondered if you could smuggle food onto the planet. Part of you wondered if it hurt to hit the ground in drop pods. You figured if the ship was active for 14 years straight, there was probably something on the ship to keep it running safely, like a maintenance device. Perhaps Sabre Tech actually invested in a maintenance bot, despite the extreme cost. Despite your wracked nerves, you tried to remain calm as you think of the next course of action.

 
Jackson 'Jack' Hargreave

Jackson was sitting at a Cafeteria table sipping the bland coffee as he listened to the AI onboard the ship. The smooth white collar around his neck was seemingly comfortable and weather-resistant, Although, He could simply fry the circuits in the thing with a damned magnet. He knew he could do that, But he wanted to work and serve until he deserved his freedom, Instead of becoming a High-Profile target across the Galaxy and what lay beyond. He took another sip of his coffee and let out a weary sigh.
"I'm not surprised these things have Miniature tesla coils inside," He remarked as he cracked his neck to the best of his abilities. "You know, After you spend awhile In these collars you get quite used to it, Feel free to shock me though, I might even suffer from an Asthma attack, Haha! But really though, This can trigger my Asthma. But, I doubt I'll disobey anyone for any reasons, As I am a loyal and respectful person." He chugged down the rest of his coffee and took a look at his PDA. It was one of the newer slimmer models, and provided plenty of Data about this and that, But what he was wanting to look at his vitals.
His bionics showed up on the screen. "Hmm...No problems after prolonged exposure to Cryostasis, But," He looks up at everyone and continues to speak. "I suggest doing some exercises to get your blood flow going, As some blood cells are still frozen, So get to it or whatever." He puts down the empty cup and gets up quickly with his PDA in hand. "Welp, I'm gonna go get prepared, Call me If any of you need help with sometin'." He walked out of the cafeteria as his shined black boots thudded onto the metal floor.
 
//CMMD: LOCATE PROSPECTOR
>ENTER ID...
//[D_HAID]
>SEARCHING...
>PROSPECTOR FOUND...
>LOCATION: CAFETERIA...
>TIME:[ERROR_404](>CONTACT ADMINISTRATOR<)...
>STATUS: ACTIVE...

HAIDER sat alone near the corner of the cafeteria. Although he was aware that the rest of the crew were present as well, Haider made a conscious effort to ignore the murmur of voices. He was too preoccupied with the lingering ache of nausea and an ear-splitting headache. Not only that, but his muscles felt clammy and limp, pins and needles biting at his fingers and toes. Just when he thought it couldn't get worse, he felt his left thigh seize up in a viscous cramp. Haider's entire body jerked, his knees slamming into the underside of the table. After a moment, the pain subsided and he put his head in his hands with a long winded groan.


"Minor Side-effects..."

Haider chuckled to himself.


Load of horseshit that was... They could've told me how bad this was going to be...
Assholes could've given me an aspirin or something...


He looked down at the swirling black liquid in his mug.

Whiskey would do me some good right about now...
Anything but this god-awful coffee...


Another wave of nausea dispelled the thoughts from his mind. Haider gritted his teeth a took another ginger sip of coffee. He winced as the lukewarm bitterness washed down his gullet.

Haider had never been subject to cyro-stasis before. In fact, this was about as far as he had ever traveled in his life. He'd lived out the entirety of his years on Europa. Never once seeing what else the universe had to offer besides the confines of the urban sprawl. Actually, Haider would give his last good hand to go back right about now. He knew that wasn't an option, and the alternative wasn't much better. But, now that he was actually here in the thick of things, he wondered how bad plan B would've been.

At least it would've been quick...

Just as Haider's headache began to subside, a piercing sound revived the pulsing throbs.

"GOOD MORNING CREW, SABRE TECH WELCOMES YOU TO THE FINAL FRONTIER..."

The AI suddenly began spouting, and Haider winced as it began to rant. Haider assumed the information was likely important so he did his best to listen. But, in all honesty, he felt a little out of his depth. From what Haider could tell, the ship was experiencing some minor malfunctions; he also caught wind that apparently the ship arrived several years earlier than expected.

This day just keeps getting better...

Then the AI began to ramble on about technical jargon, much of which Haider had no real grasp of. However, Haider did manage to note the planet's environment.


58 degrees Celsius... Asphyxiants... Liquid Silver Rain...
What the hell did I get myself into...


After what felt like ages, the AI finally concluded it's spiel.

"...SABRE TECH WISHES YOU GOOD LUCK, PROSPECTORS!"

Haider was only able to enjoy a brief moment of silence before one of the other crew members began to run verbal diagnostics. Haider shook his head as the AI sputtered again. He sighed and glanced over to the center of the room. He noticed that the empty space above the table was now replaced by two holo-screens. One displayed a map of the local system, the other pulsing in white. After a moment, the AI reported an error, and nothing else was displayed. Haider sighed and heaved his body up from his seat and dragged himself to where the others were standing. The one who prompted the diagnostic stood furthest from him. He was a curious looking man, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties. Haider couldn't be for sure as a thick respirator hid most of his facial features.

A second voice perked up then a third. Haider looked and saw two other men, both likely in their twenties. Both were also rather thin in frame, however the two stood in stark contrast. The first was immediately obvious to Haider as he eyed the white collar clinging to his neck. The other had in his possession, two cybernetic appendages that sat where his arms should be. The prisoner proposed some sort of ice breaker but the man with the metal arms preferred to leave off such formalities until we made planet fall. Haider agreed, he was no way inclined to talk at the moment. His head still pounded and he could barely think.

Finally, a fourth voice. Haider turned to see yet another white collar.

What is this a penal vessel? Why are there so many? And why are they allowed to simply walk about?

Haider instinctively placed a hand his waistband, half expecting to find the grip of his sidearm.


Damn, I guess old habits die hard...
Did the ship even mention weapons..?

What's to stop one of these yahoos from killing us all...

Haider gently brushed his pant leg, trying play off that he "didn't" just reach for a weapon that wasn't there. He thought of saying something but the thought quickly left his mind. He simply rubbed his nose and crossed his arms before turning back to the holo-screens. Haider stood silently as the AI continued it's diagnostic.

Enum Enum TheMadIceCreamMan TheMadIceCreamMan Blemmigan Blemmigan Stricken Steel Stricken Steel KaramelKarma KaramelKarma
 

SHORT | LUCA & EDWARD


KARMA |
"Oh I'm sure we'll be fine." Luca answered sarcastically as Jackson stood up to leave. "Besides," Luca gestured to Edward. "Ant-Mask here looks like he can barely get two steps on a hovermill."

EDWARD |
Edward was currently studying the information provided by the AI when Luca sniped with their comment. His eyes shift up for a moment hazily not in shock but discomfort as his brows adjust in an arch, "Pardon?" He says softly.

KARMA |
Luca smiled, almost in a friendly way, his red eyes flashing. "So polite," he said, his voice hardening just a notch. "You heard me. The mask," he gestured again. "Looks Union-made. Did you thank the damn bastards after too?"

EDWARD |
Edward's gaze softens as he properly gives attention to the man at the table. The wrinkles on his forehead soften as he momentarily trails a finger over the metal of his respirator unit in contemplation. Seeming to stare down the man with his visage but soon he gives a shy side glance away to some random wall, "You are in a good position to advance..." He mumbles, his words seemingly not in line with a typical reply to a taunt.

KARMA |
Luca met the older man's gaze, a flicker of perplexity momentarily present in his expression as he watched the man contemplate his thorny words. The man muttered some nonsense aloud, glancing away shyly. Luca watched him, clicking his tongue. Clearly the man was missing a few bolts. A fool, Luca thought, remembering how he had caught the man listening to the AI, blind devotion radiating off of him like toxic gas. He shook his head, a pitying, sardonic ghost of a smile on his lips. "It's no wonder the Union did away with you. They've sent you off on a fool's suicide mission, you poor bastard."

EDWARD |
This did serve to invite Edward's gaze again but his eyes shifted in such a manner as to suggest a smile under his respirator. "No, I took this mission up myself." He says in a steadfast manner befitting of his militaristic posturing, "I seek to advance to the Union's efforts. In this case their Sabre branch." He crosses his fingers together in a firm clasp, "You being here means the Union seeks a befitting future for you as well as everyone here." He says in a factual manner with no slack in his words.

KARMA |
Impressive, Luca thought for a moment. Most would fly at you with a cybernetic fist in the air the moment you inserted a 'bastard' or two in there. But it was clear this man was made from different stock. Stock that required a level of brainwashing and cognitive dissonance that Luca did not dare to imagine. This man lived and breathed the Union; he could see the oppressive mold of the Union, pressing into the man's spine and shoulders, woven into the very tissue of his fingers, dripping in every word he uttered. Hearing the man's accent, it was clear he was most likely from Io, one of the most Union-oppressed planets in the galaxy. A twinge of sympathy began to form within the young delinquent. Until the man clasped his fingers, his tone pragmatic, his words unbearably holier-than-thou. Luca's red eyes flashed, sarcasm coating his words. "A fool and a missionary, hm?" he answered playfully before his tone hardened, sharp and cutting like a blade. "Don't bother. I don't need a bullshit sermon on what the Union wants from me. So piss off with the preaching."

EDWARD |
It was hard to pin Edward's thoughts but judging from the droop in his features his smile was no longer present. Replacing it was a stare. His shoulder slacking tiredly as his wrinkles form a portrait gaze of sympathy casting down onto the younger man in turn. "There is no leaving this Union mission, may we be successful." He says saintly, though his words are a vice of fact. The mission goes on.

KARMA |
Silence.
For some strange reason, Luca found it harder to return the man's stare. It was clear that Luca's barbarous words had pierced through, but instead of anger, what Luca received was, in a way, much worse. It was the look a father could have given to a wayward son, or a grim doctor playing Death's messenger. There was chilling finality in the man's words, and despite his best efforts, a small part of the young delinquent couldn't help acknowledge that ring of truth. This time, it was Luca who turned his gaze away, almost in contrition. A seed of resentment began to grow. The battle may have been won, but not the war. Not by a long shot.
The mission goes on.

TAGS | Darth Darth Enum Enum TheMadIceCreamMan TheMadIceCreamMan Stricken Steel Stricken Steel Blemmigan Blemmigan

TEMPLATE © BOKEH
 
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no shirt no shoes no service

PROSPECTOR NAME: VICTOR ASKEW
LOCATION: SHIP CAFETERIA
MORE INFORMATION AVAILABLE█

That general sense of unease he'd felt was still directionless, but he didn't seem to be the only one who was feeling it. That wasn't reassuring. Nor was the system error that one of the other prospectors had brought up.

Everyone seemed to be on edge, though some of it could have been due to lingering cryo effects. Or, possibly, the fact that they were all thirty-six hours away from being dumped on a hazardous planet. An older man at another table looked like he was one sudden noise away from having a breakdown. One of the prisoners had already walked out, and the other was beginning an argument with the Ionian who had requested the maps.

Victor had finished the last dregs of coffee, trying to think everything through, but uncomfortably aware that he was well out of his depth. At least the argument beside him had fizzled out into choleric silence and stoic conviction, the prisoner avoiding the eyes of the loyalist.

Well, they were all a long way from home, and it was human habit to look for familiarity. And the Ionian at least seemed to be interested in what was going on, so he may as well start with him.

"Hey," Victor said. "No, I mean you, Meta— I mean, you."

Probably best not to start with you, Metalmouth if he had to live with these people. Besides, it had been a long time since he'd talked like that, looking down over the railings at the poor bastards filing out of the mines with their lungs solid with soot, masks and respirators fused to the flesh to compensate. Long before he was a techie himself, anyway.

Victor sighed, and tried again. "What's your name?"

EDWARD

Edward tilts his head at the words with a slight arch to his brow at the earlier taunt but his expression soon ebbs to a calm, "Edward Tregre." He says simply enough. His eyes not quite on Victor but still seeming to play judge of him.

VICTOR

"Okay. Edward. I'm, uh, Victor." Somehow the politeness of the response made him feel awkward. Best to carry on and pretend the slip-up had never happened. "Listen, have you been on one of these Prospect missions before? Has anyone here done this before?"

He looked around to see if anyone else was paying attention. Someone had to know what to expect, beyond the publicity spin that the prospecting reps had given them. Maybe all of this was a normal level of shoddiness after all, and they could all relax a bit.



 
Edward G. Tregre



At the posturing of the question, his shoulders slump and his eyes meet the floor. His features scrunching up in such a manner as if Victor's question was more loaded than it truly stood to be at all. His wrinkles set in such a manner as to suggest such an expression was common to the man. Victor likely knowing such more personally than most.

His gaze eventually slides up but it fails to quite meet Victor. "I apologize, this is my first mission." His vocal inflections were nearly as skittish as his mannerisms yet formal as always. The answer rather standard but peculiar with the tension preceding it. Nearly to a point of a suspicion that the man felt a need to hesitate for that. Suspicion justixposed by his clear social ineptitude to those that could see that.

The quizzical man continues, "In any case, I wonder where excess supplies for the mission forthright is located." His gaze skirts to the door the earlier prisoner went through, "Namely seeds, blueprints... such things." He says with a bit more confidence on the semantics of the mission at hand versus the scant intricacies. His posture easing back into his chair as he considers such with the same fervent gaze he issued to the AI's speech earlier on.

"AI, please bring up on board item roster. Whitelist schematics, seeds, and electronics for current viewing." He states without any hint of his earlier awkwardness as he quietly rubs a cord on his respirator unit as if it were a charm.


Enum Enum KaramelKarma KaramelKarma Blemmigan Blemmigan Darth Darth
 

  • Both screens cleared, and a new one formed over the table. Materials began to list themselves line by line onto the screen. Item code, item name, quantity, location, special conditions, etc. The mission equipment came up first. Everything displayed seemed to be consistent with what the ship claimed you would have. After a moment, the ship began to list items that weren't in the mission's budget; it included extra fuel cells, hidden in primary storage, as well as leftover dried NU-PASTE bars in the kitchen's dispenser. Then you started noticing some more interesting supplies; the ship listed plenty of extra coffee grounds in the kitchen storage. It's pretty clear that missions such as these were supposed to include more people than you currently have. Seeds seemed to be included in the HABITAT, but the ship wasn't being clear as to what seeds were available. Then the ship listed something very interesting; a disabled maintenance bot in basic storage. At least now you know how the ship was taken care of for fourteen years. You're certain you could get that bot working again. Could be useful. That bot may have some tools that you don't already have. That bot could have a weapon on them.

    Schematics was a whole other beast. Hundreds of schematics came up all at once, including how to create a new personal projector and reconstruct your starting equipment. The AI also displayed schematics for all sorts of HABITAT modules to increase the size of your home away from home. It included other useful machines, such as a simple, complex, and high-capacity water purifier, oxygen tank pressurizers, automated organic recyclers, material processors, different types of tool and HABITAT projectors, a dozen different useful tools, home improvement items, decorations, and even vehicle parts. Once again, no weapons listed. The data could be scrolled through, but there was quite a lot to view.

 
Jackson 'Jack' Hargreave

Jackson was now packing and prepping his pod for drop-off for Entry onto the planet. He lifted up his oxygen tanks and placed them behind his seat, Where a specialized compartment was placed exactly for these tanks leaving a single one out. "There we go, Now only a Billion more things and we should be done in a thousand years or so, Hehe." He joked to himself. He made sure to pack 5 Inhalers, In case anything were to happen. It was pretty interesting to live on a planet that quite literally rained liquid silver, and or what was presumed to be silver. He connected the tank into his suit and put the suit inside the pod then checked his PDA. Maybe he would snag some of those Nu-Paste bars but how would he keep them? Inside a suit or a refrigerated box of some sort...? Walking back into the Cafeteria he saw that another had already begun on that, and took a small peek at the screens.
"Got it. Bars are in the...Dispenser." The man took off and came back with two bars, Not wanting to be a hog and saving some for the others. Teamwork would be of great use on that planet below.
 

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