Decendants of Mars - The Plague

[Spacekitty]

With the fall of Earth Humanities forced expansion into the solar system began. This of course created conflicts and tension, especially with the confirmation of alien life on Pluto. These conflicts and tensions are only rising of the Federation seels to re assert its control of its former colonies, the Plutonian Imperialist party takes power in Pluto and begins their aggressive expansion and the Henaon Corporation, the first mega corporation only becomes more powerful. With innocents only seeking a better life stuck in the crossfire and a unknown threat looming on the horizon, what will humanities fate be? To be conquered by aliens? Exterminated by an unknown force? Die by their own hands? You my dear players will decide. Choose wisely.


@NeoLeaf @Shireling @Jarkov Malachai @Romulus VenZiel @GrieveWriter

 

[Shireling]

The Ruins of Boulder, Colorado; Earth


The small music player was perhaps the size of the palm of Kador's mechanical hand, but it played a powerful sound that could be heard for hundreds of feet. A marvelous little invention, he thought, a device that let you take millions of songs around with you like a portable music-crystal player. The sound quality was lacking, but it was clear enough.


At least, that's what Kador had heard from his lieutenants. He himself had never seen one until now, on his first trip outside the ship. The study of Earth was considered a dead-end post in the Starfleet, but Kador's subordinates seemed to be taking a shining to the place. He had to admit, he felt a bit more animated in this high-radiation environment. The local flora and fauna were interesting to behold, and studying ancient man was always interesting to Kador, and he had finally found what was generally thought to be Mankind's best unique invention: the portable music player.


Unfamiliar with its operation, when he picked the small plastic and metal device up from the rubble, he simply turned it over in his hand. He thumbed the only button on the device and caused it to emit a small chirp and flash a message declaring “low battery, charge needed.” Kador frowned. This was a truly dumbfounding situation. Where was he going to charge an ancient electrical device?


“Here, Captain, let me see it.” His subordinate, Lieutenant Aktas hummed as he approached. Kador handed him the device, which he sat flat on his palm. Eventually, the device chirped again, a message declaring, “full charge.”


“It works with a simple alternating electrical current, like our suits can put out, Captain.” Aktas explained. “Go ahead and try hitting the button again.”


Kador did so, and a small window popped up, giving him options for song selection.


“Here, Captain, let me see what it has.” Aktas greedily snatched at the device and went scrolling down the screen. “Oh! This has old music on it, Captain. At least six and a half centuries. Here, listen to the harmonies. They're indicative of the era.” He thumbed the device and music began to play, slow piano and rhythm guitar, and full, human male voices. A high falsetto voice, a deep booming bass, and a tenor.


Woah-oh-oh-oh, wha-a-a, oh-oh-oh-oh


Earth Angel, Earth Angel, will you be mi-ine?


My darling dear, love you all the time


I'm just a foo-ool, a fool in love


With you-ou-ou, wha-oh-wha-oh-oh!


“What is this “wha oh” nonsense?” Kador asked.


“Human music at this time utilized nonsensical words to create the background harmonies. It's called 'doo-wop'.”


Kador went silent. “Huh. Have you found anything of value today?”


“Besides an old personal computer, no. The destruction in this area was pretty thorough.”


The music picked up as Kador's motion sensor went off. He banged on his arm to shut it off and drew a blaster pistol from his synthetic trenchcoat. He glanced around in all directions, then said to his men, “I'll get it.”


Some of the fauna here were rather hostile, and so Kador had to take precautions when he left the ship. His metal suit could survive any animal attack, but likely cause irreparable damage. These things weren't cheap.


When he had crested the rubble he had clambered over, the source of the noise was plain to see. A mongrel dog, severely irradiated, was in its death throws underneath an old automobile, convulsing in constant seizures. Kador was filled with something...perhaps pity for the creature. He approached it and knelt down by the car, placing his blaster on the ground. Slowly, carefully, he placed his cold metal hand against the dog's fur and gently stroked it as best as he could. The dog seemed to calm, but the convulsions continued. Further examining the dog, he could conclude it was a bitch and had recently given birth. He turned the dog over to reveal a litter of puppies, most smothered to death under their mother, but one still weakly clinging to life. He scooped it up in his hand, amazed at the warmth radiating off of the creature, regained possession of his pistol, and shot the bitch to put her out of her suffering. He then went back over the rubble with the puppy in hand.


Aktas was immediately intrigued. “You found a live one! A live one! I'll be!”


“Yes,” muttered Kador, “take it back to the ship and give it nutrient and a radiation bath. It will make an excellent addition to the Capital Zoo.”


With that, the two Plutonians turned back to the ship with their treasures in tow.

 

[Jarkov Malachai]

Life at the Bunker

“Order up!”


Tyr Rugaard snapped out from his thoughts sitting on a stool at the bar of his establishment ‘The Refuge’. Looking up from his perch atop the lightweight aluminum stool, he sees the chief cook/manager of the restaurant part of his business, a plump African American women who went by the name of Mama Sophie shouting off joyously in her southern accent holding up in one hand a freshly made large, greasy pizza. Tyr had often said to the older women that didn’t she find her mannerisms and cooking to conform to the Earth Age Stereotypes of her people and that act in itself degrading? The only answer he got was burnt and or undercooked food for the next few days and he got the message. As her employer the women couldn’t backtalk to Tyr and was professional enough that she didn’t but she made her displeasure known in ways that only a women could. He wouldn’t risk her ire again, not when the pizza coming towards him smelt like the best thing since the grav drives were invented. Stereotypical her cooking may be, it was DAMN good and he was lucky as hell to have her heading the culinary element of his operation, she was its face and a happy and cheerful one at that which made slightly space sick travelers loosen up their coin and enjoy a good meal and rest. He paid well, was all she said when he thanked her.


However such reminiscing’s were quickly shoved from the foremost of his mind when that delectably heart attack inducing cuisine was placed in front of him smelling heavenly.


“Fresh from the Ov’n Boss.” The plump women said jovially.


“So I can smell Miss Sophie, just from the looks I can tell you’ve outdone yourself as usual, it smells different new recipe?” Tyr asked with a slight smile.


“Aye sir, just made it up last night and this is the first batch of the stuff’, it’ll taste lip smackin’ good Mhhmm.” Mama Sophie grinned, with the look of a cook and a women who was both pleased with their work and at having it been complimented though Tyr had long ago learned the motherly Matriarch was immune to his wiles and that being said almost any one elses. She was loyal, someone to trust, and that itself was hard enough to find in this world or any other… again he paid her amply.


Reaching down to peel a slice off the pie and watching with satisfaction as the cheese clung to the pie in thick strings. Taking a bite Tyr had to nod his head and remind himself for the third time why he was grateful he had hired the African American women. God damn, these pizza’s would give him a heart attack 20 years early and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t care.


“Delicious as ever Miss Sophie, if you wish to you have my permission to put it on my menu though god knows why you continue to insist on asking me about any menu changes.” The Fabricator said around a mouthful of pizza.


Mama Sophie sniffed and replied. “Wouldn’t be right sir, you’re the boss, not me so tis be you who ‘ave gotta okay the changes.”


Having had this conversation before, he knew he wouldn’t win and didn’t really care to, Tyr was too busy stuffing his face with pizza.


The Matriarch moved on having seen he was indeed happy with her food, to other customers, particularly a group of especially ragged looking cargo-man who no doubt worked on one of the long range Freighters going to the outer colonies. The journey was rough, Tyr knew well having made the trip several times himself, and those not prepared oft enough went slightly loopy out there in the black. Nevertheless, he had created this section of his business to cater to those of whom grew weary of their wanderlust or endless steel hallways and smelly, cramped, closed quarters.


30 minutes later he was finished with his pizza and having had enjoyed his brief respite from his more important work, Tyr stood up from the chair of which he had been occupying and shook hands with one of the old timers who walked in the door before heading out to the real back bones of his operation. The Bunker.


The trip took maybe a 5 minutes walk across the Venusian surface and off to the right was a massive junkyard filled with the spare parts and broken relics of decades of trash just awaiting to be used. Military, civilian, black ops there were ships, machines, raw materials a plenty and there in the middle of it all was The Bunker. From the outside it wasn’t much, just an apparently slightly run down and rusty building with patches galore all over it but never judge a book by its cover eh?


Those on watch saw him coming in and opened the large Iron garage doors, the metal screeching in protest of which made Tyr wince and make a mental note to oil them though he would forget about it almost immediately as he walked inside and the doors shut behind him.


Mechanics, engineers and the like, a small crew of maybe 15 people total were about doing small jobs, fixing a spacers land rover, tuning engine core etc. He nodded to each team of two or three who waved happily back and went back to their work. Kids, misfits, and orphans outnumbered the adults by far and ran around fetching items, tools, and equipment for their elders. They got paid in food and a place to sleep, Tyr knew that alone was sanctuary for many having been in their shoes himself.


The Other stirred alongst the surface of his mind at those thoughts and paid no comment save a derisive snort before receding, thankfully, without further meddling or trouble. Brought back by the others abrupt departure from his conscious to the land of the living Tyr paused to see the whole Garage staring at him apprehensively. He never knew what came over him when it stirred but the effect was profound enough on those around that he figured he didn’t want to know. A hearty laugh, a wave of the hand and a sheepish grin shot put everyones minds at ease to continue on their projects.


Hoofing it over to the middle of the building where a significant Carbon Steel Bulkhead lay in the floor, he stepped onto a lift and activated it w here it took him down, down, and down before stopping at its pre-programmed destination. Where the ACTUAL shit got done.


Down here was where Tyr’s big projects and toys were kept. The older and more experienced members of the staff were allowed down here to work on the things like Star ship fusion Cores, grav drives, custom ship hulls of which there was always a demand in the private sector, and the like. It was basically a massive cavern which held at one point god only knew what but as of the moment held a mechanics dream world… so to put it simply it was cluttered, it was dirty, and it had a shit ton of big expensive tools most of which involved high powered lasers, plasma, and a few hundred thousand pounds of pressure.


As of the moment, his attention was focused on fixing what might be his greatest triumph yet which would seriously help out in shops and in colonization efforts though may piss more than a few big wigs off.


A fabrication machine of which was capable of producing almost any part to any specification provided the Materials required were at hand. A 3-d printer so to speak but without the dreadful frailty and limitations that the former was known for.


Extremely complex pieces of equipment could now be made-ready for installation all in one go and would save a good few days of labor as the assembly process would begin. The hardware was done for the machine, the software was all that was left and the differing variable aspect of when the more complex pieces come together flawlessly in the final rendition of the test project was giving him a small bit of trouble but nothing a week or so of troubleshooting wouldn’t solve.


As he picked up a tech-pad detailing where he had left off, Tyr couldn’t help but think of pizza and wonder if he could make a side program that allowed the machine to make Organic food? Mama Sophie’s pizza on demand? His mouth fairly waterfall at the thought.

 

[NeoLeaf]

Trevor black




Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.


"Ohh..." A groan had fled from Trevor's mouth as his alarm started to go off.


Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.


Tevor opened his eyes and slugishly shifted his body to the left side of his bed and stared for awhile at the night stand in front of him. The man took out his heavy arm to grab a pair of glasses from the nightstand and succeeded. He adjusted the placement of his glasses and returned his cold arm under the warm covers of his small folding couch.


A mild flash appeared inside the lens and a light loading screen was shone befiore the man's eyes, as to greet him with a monotoned 'goodmorning'. After a short while the loading screen left and was replaced with a dark grey background with turquoise numbers 5:37 am. He had set the timer on five thirty, so that means he's been chilling in his bed for ten minutes.


Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!


"Ah shuttup! I'm getting up." Trevor pulled himself up from his sides and rolled out of his bed onto the cold stone floor. The beeping didn't stop. Of course it didn't. He had made it that way so that he'd get up and start the day. His bed is one of those 'mining' beds that the miners and factories are given in their dormitories. It has an a sensor and an alarm clock built into it and it seems have been programmed to make things inconvenient for the slackers and workaholics.


He pressed his palms against the cold floor and lifted himself off the ground into a sloppy sitting position. The alarm kept ringing and it made him get up and walk away from his room into the bathroom.


his home was nothing too spectacular. The young doctor lives in a tenement type of complex. You know, It's a crowded poor man's version of an apartment. It's purpose is to solve over population and create housing for the poor working class and for those who are at the end of the district's welfare policies. Trevor starting living in the apartment about a year ago after he had opened his clinic up. Why he chose this place as a living quarter is beyond his family but he chose to live there rather than in a gated community.


After he ate a bowl of bean soup, prepped himself for the day the man began to walk towards his door and open it. Already a number of kids ran past him and a crowd of workers were gathering at the entrance of the staircase.


"Whoa!" Trevor boomed.


"Is it already six forty?"


"Yes!" People would shouted back at him.


"Who is at the staircase?" A chocolate colored man shouted to the third person in line at the entrance of the staircase. Frustrated murmurs came from the bottom of the steps and the dark man gave us an 'oh shit' look. Trevor could hear the workers asking in front of him 'What is it?' 'What's wrong' or simply 'What'.


"It's Jamie!"


With that everyone howled and booed.


"Aw, come on!" Trevor gestured his arm out and wore an expression of disbelief.


"Are you serious now?"


Jamie is an office slob of sorts who's ridiculously overweight and with each step down the stairs it would take him ten seconds. The entire upper half of the tenement roared at the big man that was taking his time. All he could do was crack a smile and release a cute wet fart behind him.

 

[Spacekitty]

((repostng shirelings post @Shireling))


((This is NOT the starting post))


Hekron Kles was a soldier by trade, a bodyguard by circumstance. Assigned to the Venusian ambassador, Kles was confined to the Plutonian Embassy grounds for almost the entire duration of his stay on the planet, which was now nearly six years.


Wearing his synthetic military trenchcoat, peaked cap, and boots, and packing a plasma pistol beneath his coat which he was allowed to carry with diplomatic immunity, he was off on his first stint of exploration around the cloud cities of Venus. He wandered from residential neighborhoods, to slums, finally to Tyr's establishment where he was regarded with some distrust and much intrigue. He asked to be pointed towards the fabrication shop, to examine their wares, and was obliged by a short ride to the surface. When Kles arrived, he was astounded at the bustling liveliness of the operation. Shipyards and munitions factories on Pluto were so efficient that they usually remained dormant, waiting to be activated. The rumble of machinery intrigued him.


Kles approached a man who looked like he knew what he was doing, not knowing it was Tyr himself, and said, "Rather cute operation here. Where is the proprietor?"

 

[Spacekitty]

((Here it is boys. Did the best I could, I think it turned out well. The way the federation described is what many of your character or their ancestors would of experienced and you would be quite familiar with everything here (minus the exact colony likely and stuff))


Haumea mining colony, Kuiper Belt


Leon sat on a rather plain and uncomfortable metal stool at one of the many long metal tables that filled the dimly lit concrete mess hall of the Haumea Mining Colony. On the table before him in a dull metal tray was his breakfast, a glass of "real" Milk, that was either stale or synthetic as it tasted like shit, and a few breakfast rolls of Synthetic Meat complementary of the Colonies sponsor


Despite the crappy food, dismal surroundings and being on a small dwarf planet far from civilization Leon couldn't be happier. Haumea was a whole lot better than his former home, the Federation.


Leon, like almost everyone else living and working in Haumea had been born on Mars in one of the Federations many slums that housed their "second rate citizens", I.e. Anyone who wasn't Russian or American. There of course, was no official segregation policies or anything of the sort, but it was more than clear what groups the "democratic" government favored. Leon got pissed just thinking about what he and his fellows had to go through and put up with back on Mars.


Leon, being born from a German mother and French father had fallen into one of the many oppressed minorities in the Federation. From his birth he was sentenced to the Slums by the Russian and American government who did everything they could, including forceful intervention to keep "his kind" out of places like New Eden and the Byzgot superstructure, which were rumored to rival the grander and slender of the Earthen cities of old.


Living in the slums as you can imagine, was more than a little difficult. Most, including his father, worked in the Martian mines extracting and refining the precious metals from deep below the red Martian surface. This was a dangerous and dirty task- hence why only the minorities worked the mines. They supervised by their Russian/American supervisors, who watched from the safety of air-tight glass walkways that kept out the floating dust that ruined many of the miners lungs, killing them by the age of fifty if they didn't die in a mine collapse beforehand.


Leon's family and community had been stuck in the same endless cycle for generations. The men would wake up early, go to the mines and come back at the end of each weak covered in red dust and a meager paycheck in their hands. This pay check then had to be stretched as far as it could to feed the family, and more often than not no amount of tight budgeting was enough to make the money last. Hence forth, rather than going to school the children would usually work in factories with conditions rivaling that of the mines or go door to door begging if they were too young for the factories (that hired anyone above the age of six).


Leon shuddered as he thought about the factory job he had held as a kid. He had worked for the Henson corporation- pretty much everyone did. The Henson Corporation was everywhere. From the mines to the discount food mart his community bought their food from to the general store they got everything else at, the Henson Corporation owned it all. One would be hard pressed to find something not made or owned by the Corporation. (And so you can imagine Leon and his communities distaste for the corporation.)


And his and his community’s troubles did not end there. As you can imagine, people got tired of being forced to live in the slums, and so about once or twice every generation some of the young men would decide to take a stand and demand equal treatment. They would grab weapons- picks, bats, boards and the occasional hand gun and pour out onto the streets and march to the richer section of the city, heading towards the city hall. This march was usually brought to a halt near the outskirts of the slum by Federation police, who would threaten the young rebels with guns until the crowd dissipated. Shortly after that a wave of federation police would descend upon the slum, arresting anyone suspected of taking part or supporting them and convicting them of high treason. Things would go quiet after that until the next generation decided to take up the cause.


Occasionally however, the young rebels would not be stopped at the outskirts. Sometimes the police did not respond quickly enough, sometimes the rebels were not daunted by the police and their guns. When this happened the police almost never followed through on their threats, instead watching as the rebels marched past and into the housing districts of the federation’s first class citizens.


There their march would unavoidably slow, as they gazed out on the seemingly unimaginable wealth and disparity before them, only further cementing their determination to pull themselves out of the clutches of poverty and segregation. They would march on, but just as they had their destination in sight swarms of Federation riot police would seep out of their surroundings like water through the holes in a sinking ship and surround the rebels. They would demand the rebels surrender and if they did they would arrest them and charge them with treason and punish the entire community for the actions of these few.


However, a few times the rebels would not surrender, would not stand down. These were the bloodiest of the rebellions. The police would throw tear gas at the crowd, who in turn would charge and attack the police, who would in return open fire with atomic weapons, slaughtering the young rebels. From there they would hunt down any survivors, killing them without mercy and march into the slums, killing all who they accused of supporting them without even a trial. They would leave the slums after several hours, leaving the survivors behind to bury their dead and clean the blood covered streets.


Leon’s generation of course, had their own rebellion, only this one went quite different than the rest. Leon had been just 18, he had only been working at the Mines for two years when his generations little “rebellion” started. Some of the older miners, mainly men 20 or 25 years older than him, started talking about how much better the others had it in their fancy neighborhoods and went to on to describe their floating cars, personal gardens filled with green plants from the old Earth and other things the oppressed people of the slum could barely fathom. The disparity the older men described angered Leon and the rest of the younger men, who like the generations before them, decided they would not stand for the segregation and oppression they faced any longer. They gathered their picks and called upon their fellow miners to march with them to the city hall to demand an end to this segregation.


Of course, the older miners shook their heads and promised nothing good would come from their actions, and of course Leon and his comrades would not listen. They gathered in the street of the slums, over a hundred young men armed with nothing but their picks and began their march towards the city hall, only this time they did not even make it to the outskirts for blocking their way was not the police but their mothers and fathers, commanding and begging them not to do this, not the make the same mistakes of generations past, promising that there was another way.


And for the first time, they listened. They laid down their arms and the riot quelled. And as promised, their mothers and fathers provided them with another way out; a sponsorship. Many corporations, including the Henson Corporation were looking for skilled workers to run mining colonies in the Kuiper belt and beyond. And their slum being one of the largest slums wholly dedicated to mining were the perfect candidates. And so those who wanted to, would be provided with a ship and the necessary supplies to start a colony. Leon and his fellows of course leaped at the opportunity, and within a few years were where they are now.


Leon smiled as he looked around the dimly lit mess hall and smiled. Their colony was not much, but it was theirs. Here they were free from oppression and free from the Henson Corporation, having signed up with a competition colonial company and enforcing a strict anti-Henson Corp. Policy within their colony. Sure the food was shit and the work hours were just as long as back on Mars, but at least there was enough food and the supervisors actually were one of them and cared for their safety.


Leon himself was a mechanic and worked on the mining machinery, making sure it worked and repairing pieces that broke. Leon had been trained back on Mars to work on the machines he and his fellows used, and his skills had come in handy in the colony and with a little help from their corporate sponsors, he was able to become a full-fledged engineer- with a degree and everything. Leon was rather proud of this fact, it was rare for a non-Russian/American to get an education, let alone a college education.


But here on Haumea, it was quite the opposite. Here the Russians/Americans would be the minority (not that there were any here), not them. Here they were not oppressed and the children could go to school rather than work in factories and beg for food. Leon himself was thinking of becoming a teacher to teach young men and women to repair and build the machinery needed to continue the colonies mines.


Suddenly someone slammed down a tray right beside him, causing Leon to jump and almost fall off his chair. The man beside him doubled over with laughter and Leon only shook his head and smiled.


“God damnit Benoit” Leon said and Benoit only continued to laugh. “You do this every god damn day”


“-And it never gets old” Benoit replied, finally having stopped laughing. Leon laughed and got up to throw away his tray, having finished his meal.


Suddenly, the lights flickered and turned off. “What the fuck…” Leon said and looked around the dark mess hall. Someone in the back of the hall had a flashlight and pulled it out and lit up the room as best he could.


“They repairing the reactor?” someone in the darker area of the hall asked. Leon shook his head out of habit, even though they man couldn’t see him, and replied “Not that I know of. Although they like to do that without telling us, lights will probably be back on in a minute”.


“Better be soon, the lights are hooked up to the AC and tis getting damn stuffy in here…” the man grumbled before returning to his meal. Leon continued his journey to the trash bin and threw his plate inside. Just as he did so a loud boom rung out, and Leon thinking at first it had been his plate peered inside the bin in confusion.


Suddenly several more booms rang out- gunshots and Leon’s attention was ripped from the trashcan towards the source of the shots, somewhere down the now dark hall leading away from the mess-hall.


“What the fuck was that?” someone shouted in the darkness.


“Sounded like gun shots to me, whats going on?” another demanded, the fear evident in his voice.


“It nothing, probably the engineers fixing the lights, nothing to worry about” Leon said, trying to calm himself as much as them.


“Yeah yeah, probably just dropped a tool or something” a voice in the darkness replied, obviously attempting to sound calm and certain.


Suddenly, as if to tease them several more shots rang out and this time loud screams erupted from somewhat just beyond the dark hall way. Moments later something could be heard charging down the long hall towards the Mess-hall. The man with the flash light pointed it down the hall way just as a blood covered colonist came running from a dark side pathway into the main hall that lead to the Mess-hall.


The blood covered man looked towards the light and charge towards the mess hall with renewed speed. “THEIR- THEIR COMING” the blood covered colonist shouted as he sprinted down the main hall.


“Who’s coming?” the man with the flashlight asked as he ran to help the man.


The man continued to run at full speed all the while screaming in reply; “THEM, THEIR HERE, THE- THE FUCKING MONGO-“ just as another shot rang out and his head exploded in a gory mess, spattering onto the man with the flashlight.


Charging down the hall after the man came 6 figures clad in jet-black Power-Armor suits with an array of tubes sticking out of the back, connecting to various ports in the armor suits. The only thing Leon could really make out of them besides this was their glowing red eyes, which emanated from somewhere beneath their black metal facemasks.


The man with the flashlight just stood frozen for a second, like a deer in the headlights while these monstrous shadows charged down the hall way at him. Just as his sense returned to him and he turned to run, the figure in the lead extended his arm and fired his gun, which was apparently built into the suit, cutting the man’s flight short.


The Mongols charged into the room, some firing bullets at the panicking colonists others lighting up the room with streams of fire from flamethrowers built into their Power-Armor.


Leon just stood where he was in the back of the room by the trash bin, staring at the scene in fight and confusion, barely registering the massacre that had become the Mess-hall. Leon’s story would have likely ended there, if it had not been his friend Benoit who ripped Leon from his daze.


Benoit grabbed ahold of Leon’s arm and began pulling him towards the back exit of the Mess-Hall. “C’mon dude, we gotta get out of here!” he said as he dragged Leon out of the Mess Hall and into a dark hallway behind the trash bin.


Benoit, still holding Leon’s arm began leading them through the hall way, feeling his way through, going to some unknown destination while gunshots and pitiful screams rang out behind them.


Leon, finally getting back to his sense, ripped his arm from Benoit’s grasp and grabbed onto Benoit, pulling him back. “Dude stop, just for a moment”.


Benoit turned towards Leon, his face lost in the darkness even though it was just inches away. “What Dude? We gotta go, before THEY get us man!”


“Who! What the fuck just happened… WHO ARE THEY?” Leon said, his voice raising to a yell as he began to panic.


Just as the words left his mouth Benoit put his hand over Leon’s mouth and hushed him. “SHH! They’ll hear us and we’ll be fucking DEAD” he whispered. “Just follow me, I know the way to a control room with a blast door, they won’t be able to get in, we’ll be safe there”


Leon nodded and removed Benoits hand from over his mouth. “Ok” he whispered. “Let’s go, before they catch up”. With that Benoit grabbed hold of Leon’s arm once more, and began leading him through the dark hallway. Behind them, the sound of bullets and dieing screams slowly faded away as they ventured deeper into the colony. Whether it was because they had gotten so far away or all the other colonists had died, they were sure.


…


After what seemed like hours of navigating their way through the darkness (although it was probably only a few minutes) and constantly checking over their shoulder’s for glowing red eyes charging at them in the darkness, the spotted a dim red light coming from a small room up ahead.


“C’mon!” Benoit said, pulling Leon forward with renewed speed, “That’s it, that’s the room. It’s got its own backup generator and everything. We should be able to call for help”


Just as they neared the safe room, they heard a noise they had been dreading their entire journey; the sound of feet stomping against the metal floor beneath them, propelling their pursuers towards them.


“SHIT!” Benoit yelled, pulling Leon forward before letting go and sprinting towards the safe room. “C’MON, RUN, FUCKING RUN!” he shouted as he sprinted the last feet towards the safe-room. Leon, motivated by the sound of their pursuers closing behind them surged forward and ran into the Safe room, Benoit pulling the manual release for the blast door behind him, sending it crashing down into place with a metallic thud.


Benoit leaned against the blast door and slumped down to the ground, running his hands through his long brown hair. Leon on the other hand raced towards the small console in the back corner of the small room, trying to figure out how to turn on the damn distress beacon.


“Benoit, how do I turn on the damn distress beacon?” he asked in a panic, pressing random buttons and brining up menus on everything from statistical reports to someone’s hidden porn stash.


“There’s no point, they’ll get in way before help arrives.” Benoit replied, his head in his hands as he rested against the blast door.


“I thought you said they couldn’t get in! It’s a damn blast door, they can’t get in, can they?” Leon asked, looking towards the blast door with worry. “Who were those guys anyways?”


“Their called the Mongols” Benoit replied, taking his head out of his hands. “Their some kind of terrorist group, killing entire colonies in the name of Anarchy”.


“The MONGOLS?” Leon questioned. He had always heard the stories of men who had forsaken their human bodies and became more machine than human. Theygrouped together in massive hordes fighting against any type of government or order. He had of course though brushed these off as wise tails and stories parents told their kids to get them to behave. He never could have guessed just how real the Mongols were. “You can’t be serious, those guys aren’t real… their just stories man… aren’t they?”


Benoit laughed, the kind of laugh someone does after the shit has hit the fan. “Oh, their far more than just stories my friend. Why do you think the arms business is the biggest in the universe? Why do you think so many colonies are armed like fortresses? Their afraid, and for good reason. The Mongols will kill any colony they set their eyes on.”… “And they’ve set their eyes on this one my friend” he added solemnly.


Leon shook his head. “So your just gunna give up? Wait for them to come inside”. Benoit looked up at Leon, shrugged and looked back down.


“Fuck it., if their gunna stick around and try and get us, their gunna have another thing coming” Leon said, as he finally figured out how to activate the distress beacon. The stations antenna, capable for sending a strong signal across the solar system, flared to life sending a distress signal along all frequencies. Leon picked up the mic and began to add his own message to the broadcast;


“Hello, this is Leon Caron, lead Mechanic of the Haumea colony. We have been attacked by an unknown force, believed to be the-“suddenly the console screen flickered and turned off, cutting his message short. Immediately after the red warning lights flickered and did the same, leaving the room in total darkness.


“What the fuck? Did the power run out?” Leon asked. Benoit sighed and replied;


“No, this place has enough power to last for days, they cut the power. They’ll be coming in soon enough.


Just as he said that an audible sound came from the other side of the blast doors. It was a loud hissing sound. At first Leon had no idea what it was, but it became apparent when a growing section of the blast door began to glow red.


“Plasma torch… their coming in”


…

 

[NecroKnight]

Jackson Buchard looked at the holo-screen, before smashing the display button into pieces in anger. "I'm going to stick somebody in the damn septic-tank after this," growled Buchard, his cyber-eye focusing on the current detail. A small Mongol-party had arrived and were besieging the colony of Haumea.


JUST, as they had been planning to raid that place for weeks, even going as far as to having one of their own, purchase a data-report from one Henson Corp' guy. He didn't know, who screwed up and ended up getting run in circles, by them screw-oil salesmen, but he was really pissed at the current situation.


Mongols were known, to never leave anything intact. Even the Anarchists couldn't salvage, the shit out of anything, once the Mongols had finished jizzing all over the place. With his twenty ships at the ready, he made a choice at that.


"Fire at those damn, fire-cultists. Take out their transports and prepare to deploy the Raiders," spoke Buchard. "I am not letting another colony get turned into scrap-metal, not before we get to raid it. Get Minx and her Raiders ready."

 

[Anaxial]

Asset Protection and Acquisition

On Mars, the Byzgot Superstructure was a shining gem that illuminated the bleak reds and oranges of the barren Martian landscape and brought the glamour of old Earth back, a vista of chrome and heavenly white the city was a dream world. Free of crime, free of oppression, free of poverty, a true utopia... for those deemed worthy enough to enter such a place. Around the Byzgot and contrasting the shining white of the buildings were the jet black RASeF troopers, rehabilitated prisoners and volunteers who fought for the security and the paradise that the Superstructure provided.


But RASeF was not confined to the Superstructure, a division dedicated to the protection and 'acquisition' of valuable assets had been established and were always on watch. The division was a large branch of the RASeF force, making up over 40% of the paramilitary ranks, squads were hand picked from the Byzgot patrols and reassigned under Captain Jackie Bustos, a woman of stern determination and loyalty to the Corporation. One such squad were the Black Wardens, as most squads were, this one was populated by a varying bunch of individuals with their own agendas and ideals. Some worked well together, some didn't, but three of them- despite their differences worked surprisingly well and were regarded as the rising underdogs of the Asset Protection and Acquisition ranks.


Trooper Senior Alhan Cailloux, a man who sacrificed his own life for the life of his third child, he willingly broke the law and now pays the price to protect his family.


Trooper Minor Émeline De Villier, young and upstart, a woman who sees the good in people, someone who wants to protect those she loves and will fight to do it.


Trooper Minor Soren Mercer, a man who understands adversity and existence are one in the same. He's a follower who follows the biggest dog and holds little mercy for those deemed weak by his standard.


These three individuals had by some twist of fate been conjoined in the myriad of chaos and corruption of the Corporation's most active branch of RASeF and today was a day where adversity would be their existence. Deep within the halls of the RASeF HeadQuarters, a hangar bay filled with the high tech Henson Corporation RASeF Patrollers lay proudly with a clear view of Mars from the opening where the patrollers may freely take off and land however they needed. These ships were different than most, small, compact, capable of instantaneous interplanetary travel, the ability allowing them to respond to threats in record times, bringing about more memories of Old Earth, when the Police would actively respond to threats but on a scale THOUSANDS OF TIMES larger.


But these ships, these soldiers, like most things in the Corporation; were both nostalgic, and contained terrifying power.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"Up and at 'em ladies and gentlemen!" Alhan called out, barging into the barracks and flicking on the luminescent bulbs that burned into the sleeping eyes of the RASeF APA squad. The seven personnel stirred awake, eventually all of them jumping to their feet and looking over to their leader. "Black Warden is mobilizing, we've got a distress signal out on some distant shit hole colony. The Corporation wants us to respond, good way to get these colonies to join up is to show 'em the capabilities of RASeF." As Ahlan explained the situation, quiet murmurs began to spread throughout the barracks. This was their first offworld mission, their first chance to use a RASeF patroller, attitudes varied from nervous anxiety to fearfulness. Émeline's was wide eyed and hopeful, her chance to relive that fateful moment in her life, the event that caused her to be here in this moment. Her chance to inspire others to fight for something bigger than themselves.


There is something long absent in the sunken faces of the RASeF soldiers, the glimmer of hope.


Setting records was something that the Black Wardens had been increasingly effective at doing. The seven personnel were armed in RASeF composite armor and armed with Tunguska rifles and Veyron Assault rifles in a matter of 10 minutes. The seven personnel jogging in synchronization as the black emotionless faces of their helmets reflected the shining white hull of the RASeF patrollers. Alhan stood by the loading ramp of their particular patroller, waving with his free hand as the squad loaded into the advanced ship. As the last of the squad loaded onto the patroller, the loading ramp ascended back into the craft and carried TRS Cailloux with it.


Inside the Patroller were two rows of seats, three on both sides for the squad and one against the back wall just outside of the pilot's cockpit for the squad leader. A red light lit up above each seat as each of the members secured their weapons in the racks next to their assigned seating and buckled in for the ride. Alhan was the last standing and walked down the line of RASeF soldier.


"Alright boys, we've got a potentially hostile situation when we arrive. I want Veyron Assault weapons to be your PRIMARY. Save the Tunguska rifles for civilians, if someone starts panicking I want you to blast them on FULL power. Drop that sonofabitch and move on." and he walked down the ranks, Alhan was checking their helmet's air seal as well as the seal on the suit. It was vary possible the atmosphere could be destroyed on a raided colony. Though it couldn't be seen, the faces of the squad were somewhat surprised by the order. Deadly force was something that none of them had EVER done, not in RASeF, not in the Byzgot Superstructure, hell! Not even in the convoys! The Corporation was always concerned with preserving lives so that they could be tried and punished fairly, and with the effectiveness of the Tunguska rifle it wasn't surprising.


"Monsieur, what esactly is t'e point of s'is deadly force?" Émeline couldn't help but interject, she meant no disrespect or to defy orders... But even when she was saved by RASeF, not a single life was taken... At least not by her saviors. The question got a few heads turning, some waiting for a response from their leader. It didn't illicit one, Alhan knew that Émeline abhorred the use of deadly force, but also that she was smart enough to know when it was better safe than sorry.


"Hey, De Villier this isn't the streets of Byzgot. This is likely a pirate raid or a Mongol terrorist attack." one of the squad said, Sanders was always kind and caring, but knew when to give tough love. He placed a black glove on Émeline's should and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to shoot to kill, but we're relying on you out here." The French girl sighed and nodded, swallowing the frog in her throat as Ahlan buckled himself into his seat. He knocked on the cockpit door and all the red lights began slowly blinking in sync.


After a short countdown, the floor seemed to fall from under them as the patroller hovered in the hangar bay, slight inertia was felt as he broke out of the Byzgot's hangar and flew through the varying atmospheres, tracing the circle shape of the planet. Using the strong gravity to slingshot the patroller past the pull of Phobos and Deimos and launched the white craft into dark space. The entire crew was weightless, held down only by their seat buckles the lights above them turned a solid red and in an instant, the weight of the universe crashed upon their chests, knocking the wind clean out of them.


A moment later, the white patroller was in orbit around the Haumea colony.


"Breath... slowly... Stay calm.." Alhan commanded as he put a hand on his chest, everyone in the room heaving for their breath. After a few moments of catching their breath, an announcement came over the speakers on the inside of the ship;


"Landing in T minus... 30 seconds."


The crew began to double check themselves from their seats, the entire ship jerking and shaking violently as it came down upon the colony and landed in Docking area. The Patroller was small and could easily fit in between the various vessels that gathered dust here. Once landed, the crew unbuckled themselves and immediately ran buddy checks on each other.


"Make sure your rebreathers are good, filters active. I want this clean you understand me? Mercer; you're on point." Ahlan instructed as he grabbed his Veyron assault rifle from it's rack and locked on loaded. The orchestra of magazines being loaded, bolts being locked and the final rhythmic sound of safeties being turn off filled the area for a moment. All seven Black Wardens were equipped with a Veyron Assault rifle in their hands, a Tunguska Rifle on their backs, magnetically held in place as to not encumber the individual, side arms varied from the simple 9mm, to non-lethal electro-bolts.


The squad was lined, three to each side with the leader in the back of the formation when the loading bay was opened and the ramp descended instantly with a loud bang. The first to leave the ship was Soren Mercer who immediately sprinted for cover behind a cargo ship.


"The dock is clear, stack up." Soren said as he tried to ease his breathing. The colony was dead silent, nothing but the distress signal was being picked up by their communicators and no movement could be seen. His eyes scanned the nearest structure for movement, his head peaked out just slightly. All the while the rest of the squad had one-by-one moved from the patroller and stacked up on the cargo ship.


"Ohh non... s'is is bad... I feel... Somes'ing watching us." Her chest was tight, anxiety filled her as he scanned the docking area with her assault rifle. Émeline's accent was somehow less charming when you were faced with possible death. Ahlan stood directly next to Soren, his hand on his shoulder as he peaked out around the Cargo ship.


"Look clear?" Ahlan asked, the helmets directly communicated to one another, they could talk to one another without risk of giving away their position. This function could always be turned off if jamming devices were used by the enemy.


"Yeah... Yes." Soren corrected, leaning back behind the cargo ship, he looked at Ahlan, Soren was terrified and needed guidance, he'd find little of it staring at his own reflection in the blank face of the RASeF helmet.


"Alright everyone... I can see your heart rates are climbing. I need you all to keep a calm head. Using a Veyron is no different than using a Tunguska. Just remember, WE'RE the hunters here. Absolute BADASSES. Mercer, take point and lead us inside the Docking reception building." His words were inspiring but ultimately futile, no amount of speeches could surpass the human anatomy. Soren took in a few sharp breaths and rolled over the corner of the cargo ship, making the short sprint towards the Docking reception building as Ahlan covered him on Overwatch, looking down the sights of his Veyron assault rifle.


"Move, move! Take up Mercer's flank!" Ahlan instructed and two more Black Wardens sprinted across the short opening, joining Mercer and stacking up on the building.


Soren had the two others stack on both sides of the door while he took a few steps back and charged the door, shoulding it off it's hinges and breaking into the Colony. The two other RASeF soldiers stormed in after him, their weapons raised and ready to face whatever may lay in wait for them.


Notes

Spoiler

- RASeF would have arrived before ANYONE else, having a SIGNIFICANT amount of time before others could arrive.


- While the patroller is instantaneous travel, it is relatively small and again, only carries a single squad. HOWEVER communication over Dark space is not, it's likely been an hour or two before RASeF responded.


-There are SEVEN total Squad members here, Three are my PC's, the other four are NPC's.


- Dialog will be color coded;



Green is Ahlan Cailloux

Blue is Émeline De Villier





Orange is Soren Mercer





Red is NPC RASeF members.

 

[Shireling]

The Halls of Stars, Capital City, Pluto


Serving as the Headquarters for the Plutonian Starfleet, the Halls of Stars was a series of cavernous superstructures altogether about as large as four Grand Central Stations are square. The high ceilings gave way from polished nitrogen ice to seemingly precarious stalactites, each one meticulously placed so as to correspond to a star in the sky.


In the grand foyer of the Halls, officers, captains, and robotic ensigns milled around talking or walking off to various posts. Some stood silent to the walls, deep in thought or speaking telepathically. The language of the Plutonians was known to humans as "the thrum." The origin of the term came from the noises that the Plutonians made, which sounded like strange vibrations of various pitches and intensities. The thrum, when amplified in a room, made the whole place resonate.


Through this silent, noisy crowd, Admiral Ruum Krega walked at a blistering pace, his boots clicking on the ice and metal floors.


"You!" He shouted at a robot. "Prepare my craft for launch, I am going out."


"Yes, Admiral." The robot replied before scurrying off. Krega traversed the hall and ducked into a small room on the side where a massive computer dominated the room. It was empty save two Plutonian computer technicians.


"Computer, triangulate beacon origin," he ordered.


The computer rendered a holographic display of Haumea, recreated using the last available telescope images.


"Signal is emanating from the object 45-39-12, Human designation Haumea, site of a recent mining expedition. Shall I play back signal?"


"No," Krega ordered, already having heard it in the Officer's Hall, "have destination coordinates uploaded into my ship's computer."


"Very well."


Krega did an about face and left the room.


Onboard the Sentinel, Plutonian jumpship, Haumean Orbit


The Sentinel, Krega's personal attack ship, was a fast and mean warship well-suited for interdictor operations and anti-piracy. With a series of well-plotted jumps, the ship had arrived at Haumea thirty minutes after the Henson Corporation men arrived.


On the bridge, Krega was flanked by his weapons coordinator, engineer, and five robotic ensigns that sat folded up and awaiting orders. The Sentinel was set on a wide interdiction course, and began to put out a message on all frequencies.


"Unknown craft, this is Admiral Krega of the Plutonian Starfleet. In accordance with the Velsner-Johnson Treaty, Stardate 489.3, militarized vessels are banned from operations in the Kuiper Belt. Do you read?"

 

[General Deth Glitch]

Intro

​

The Senator was preparing for a meeting with the other Governors, standing in his wardrobe with his tailor standing by advising him. "What do you think of this tie?" he asked as he held a crimson tie against his collar. "Or would the aqua work better?"


"Definitely the Crimson sir. I think your old war coat today, it would work well with the message, you want to form an alliance with the rest of the T.N.O. Colonies was it?" he said as he packed away his kit, tape measure and such. "Your new, red, suit should be ready by the end of the week. Your little twist on the red theme, I am sure the other Governors will be more then pleased." he said before he left the large wardrobe and walked out of the pristine mini mansion with faux red-marble floors and white walls and and the luxuries you would expect of a planetary governor, not a small Kuiper colony, not that Sedna even qualified for that. He then entered the worn and rusted steel and aluminium halls and rooms that "Central S" consisted of. He walked past the odd hissing pipe and whirring fan and off to his small little section of the colony.


The Senator, however, stood and tied his tie. He then pulled his suit a tad tighter to make it look neater and took another look in his large mirror. Then he walked down the large stairs and out to the 'entrance hall' where his little heaven transferred into the icy waste of Central S. He grabbed his old war coat, his, eight generations back, grandfather's from back when he was proud to be British, back from when the British winter coat meant something. It would be nice to say it was from an ancestor who fought in the uniform back in the second world war but the fact was his ancestor bought it to show his national pride. Now it was just an old coat that signified 'This is a Sedna, Ruler of Sedna. Respect this man'.


With that said he went through the rusted halls, scraping away the ice from one of the windows to look out across the barren rock and across the Sedna 2. His thick gloves protected him from the severe cold of the foot thick glass and he just stood a moment, observing space, technically it was within the five hours of 'light' they got but the distant sun looked little more then a large and bright star in the sky, so distant and so small. He shivered, not because he was cold but because of how cold his mind felt all of a sudden. Thinking about when his father arranged for him to visit Mars and how warm it felt. He looked outside, saw the readings for the temperature, 15K. Apparently it never got above 12K(for the uneducated 'Murricans -438F) when they first Colonized. Inside it was a cozy 260K (8F)(inside his mansion it was a warm 290K, 62F) and he made his way down the constantly hissing pipes.





"Gentlemen!" he called "And your ladyship of course my dear" he added to 'The Widow'. "We are planning to form the Kuiper and TNO alliance, are we not?" he started, taking off his coat and sitting himself down in the cozy and well heated room. He sat down after removing his gloves and coat. "Would you like to open with any remarks, I suspect no one will have any issues, considering most of you have relatives in others colonies. Eris, Huamea and Makemake were the three I was planning on starting this grand plan with, they are the most influential colonies past Neptune if I am not mistaken. Once we remove the aliens in Pluto we are left with very little planetoids and only here in Sedna do we have a sizable population. If we are to survive against threats such as the Mongols and the Federation then we MUST forge this alliance and stand together." Then a call came over on the internal communication system which had connections to the control system of each Colony, each Governors house, the Senators mansion and a select few other rooms, such as the small meeting room. "Sirs and madam, we are receiving a distress beacon from Huamea. Others are likely there already but we are assembling a small portion of our fleet should you wish to respond.

I will stay out of the initial event itself but plan to get involved soon, but I dont want to be 'first on the scene' or any crap.

 

[Shireling]

Over Haumea, The Plutonian jumpship Sentinel





"The colony, nor the ships here have responded to our hails, Admiral." One of the robotic ensigns piped up.


"That's odd," Krega thought aloud. "Alright, units 294 and 340, lock and load in the weapons bay. Hessus, take us into the hangar."


"Yes, Admiral," the engineer replied, beginning to swing the craft wide in an attempt to find a place to land within the colony's largest hangar bay.


The interior of the jumpship was perhaps as large as a small home. A raised deck in the center housed the command panels. Panels on the edges of the circular room, manned by robots, were various systems overseen by the engineer such as coolant, power, etc. Directly across from the command bridge was the ramp that extended down to the door of the craft, on either side of which were small hallways that led to the weapons bay and the emergency bridge. Krega, flanked by his robotic servitors, went into the former of the two rooms. Inside was a small room lined with weapons and ammunition, tactical armor, grenades, etc. While Krega stood choosing his weapon, 294 and 340 both went for plasma rifles on the walls, which they fixed to their left arms, and stowed two plasma grenades each.


Krega went for his combat uniform, which consisted of a black shirt with white lines across the shoulders, along with his black trousers and boots. Although Plutonians didn't need to wear clothes, they always had, as they were fixated with rank, station, etc. Krega pulled a tungsten-steel armored plate over his torso, where his actual body was housed, and took a shiny and menacing radiation rifle off the wall. He rammed a clip of radiation cartridges home and flicked the activator with his thumb, then stowed four more clips.


"Alright, let's move."


Plutonian Landing Party, Inside Haumea





The jumpship found a suitable place to land in the crowded hangar, and offloaded the landing party after the Henson Corporation men.


"Admiral," chimed 294, "I'm detecting biological signatures."


"Alright, weapons hot but fire on my command only." Krega brought his weapon to bare and gave his troops a hand signal to lead the way, towards the biosignatures.


As they stalked the hallways with the quietness of mice, they came ever closer to the Henson Corp men, who were walking on a parallel circuit. In a dim hallway, the Plutonians got the first glimpse of humanoid shapes. Krega immediately shouted, "Hands up!" His soldiers brought their weapons about on the shapes, but it was hard to make out just who they were in the dim light.

 

[Spacekitty]

Haumea Mining Colony


As the RASeF and Plutonian forces moved deeper and deeper into the colony they would be met with an oppressive atmosphere and they journeyed through the almost completely dark passage ways, only lit by the few windows the colony had. The halls were dead silent, save for the soft hum of the life support systems that kept the air circulating and the temperature above freezing. As the Plutonian squadron closed in on the RASeF force their interaction in the dark halls would be interrupted, as the soft hum of the remaining life support systems suddenly grew to a loud roar before an explosion somewhere deep in the colony could be heard and the humming ceased, leaving the dark halls dead silent. Just as the hum died down the gravity drives that were maintaining Earth gravity ceased, leaving the colony with 4.5% Earth's gravity. Besides this with the life support systems offline the long halls would no longer be heated, nor would the air be recycled or circulated.


@Shireling @Anaxial @NecroKnight


((If you guys venture deeper talk about finding mutilated corpses, burnt corpuses stuff like that))


Outside Haumea Mining Colony


Meanwhile outside the colony something far more interesting was about to go down. The pirate fleet, which had just arrived opened fire upon the Mongol transports docked at the colony. They destroyed the transports, along with the transports of the RASeF, the Plutonians and various mining ships. Besides pissing off everyone already at the colony including the Mongols, they were about to piss a late arrival off as well.

The Martian Federation


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/57a8c7598afa9_MartianFederationFlag.png.e04f82b6b173b121d5d550a5aa345c38.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="101500" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/57a8c7598afa9_MartianFederationFlag.png.e04f82b6b173b121d5d550a5aa345c38.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Fleet Commander Tzu Ming, 3rd Expeditionary Fleet



​

Fleet Commander Tzu Ming sat at a table in the lounge of the Federation's main naval base on Phobos. He sipped tea from a small white cup of green tea in the back corner of the large lounge, alone. Around him were his counter-parts, other Fleet Commanders and even a Fleet Admiral or two, who talked amongst themselves. Tzu, for all intents and purposes, was an outsider, a black sheep.


Tzu, being Chinese, was never accepted by the other Officers, most openly despised him. This at first had bothered Tzu greatly and he had strived to get them to look past his race but to no avail. But as the years had gone by, he had gotten use to their hatred. Now he just stayed in his corner, drinking tea and reading. He spent quite a lot of time doing so for a Fleet Commander. In his 20 year career as the Commander of the 3rd Expeditionary feet it seemed like he had only actually gone on a mission a handful of times. Most of the time his fleet was tasked with patrolling Phobos- if they got a task at all.


Tzu was born to Chinese parents in the "sanctuary" the Federation calls "New Eden". The massive hive city is rumored to be large, open and filled with grass and trees. In reality though only a small section of the city is like that. Most including Tzu and his parents are forced to live in massive slums on the outskirts of the city. Like minorities around the Federation most work in either mines, farms or factories, doing jobs the Federation deems too dangerous for Russian/American citizens. Most minorities never even received a basic education, most could barely even speak English- the ability to write and read English was even more rare.


Tzu was one of the lucky ones, his father was assistant supervisor in the local mine- a rare job for a minority to hold. Using what money he got from the miens and what extra cash the rest of his family could scrap together, his father managed to send Tzu to one of the Federation's many Naval Academies. Despite their heavy segregation policies the academy let him in as part of an effort to quell rebellions across the Federation.


Tzu excelled as a student, getting straight As in every subject, especially military strategy and graduating at the top of his class in 2562. From there Tzu was assigned to the Captain of a Frigate in the 3rd Expeditionary fleet and latter promoted to the Commanding Officer of the fleet. And form there- nothing, he had hit the glass wall and would stay where he was for the next 20 or so years, doing little past patrols and getting few chances top show his true capabilities- not that his commanding officers would pay attention anyways. When it came to fleet maintenance and upgrades, Tzu's fleet was always last on their list. Some of his ships were almost 30 years out of date and barely moving along and constantly breaking down even in the middle of missions- the few he was assigned to anyways.


And so Tzu sat, sipping his tea expecting another boring and uneventful day. How wrong he would be.


...


Just as Tzu finished his tea, his commanding Admiral, an American named Tom, approached him.


"Admiral Chink" he said as he walked towards him, calling Tzu by the nickname the other Commanders had come up for him. "You have a mission"


Tzu ignored the insult- he had gotten use to them- and looked up surprised. "A Mission?"


"Yes sir Admiral Chink" Tom replied, smirking to himself. "Some shit fest colony in the Kuiper belt sent out a distress beacon, claiming they got attacked or some shit. I didn't really read the report but it sounds like the perfect mission for your fleet. So eh, go check it out". Admiral Tom tossed a small envelop containing details on Tzu's mission onto the table he was sitting at, knocking over Tzu's cup and spilling its contents on him. Tzu sighed as he looked down at his tea stained uniform. He probably wasn't gunna get a replacement anytime soon.


...


As Tzu's fleet, a small band of 1 Cruiser that served as his flagship and 6 mainly outdated frigates, traveled the few remaining AU to the source of the distress beacon- some small mining colony on the dwarf planet of Haumea- Tzu stood inside the bridge of the ship, giving a last minute briefing to his Captains and crew members.


"Remember, were not a battle fleet. Were just here to check it out, make sure everything's alright and provide assistance if need be. Chances are the pirates have already killed every inside the colony and so we'll just be here to find any survivors. But just in case I want all ships to give their shields primary power consumption."


His captains mumbled their "yes sirs" and the occasional "yes sir Admiral Chink" just before they reached their destination- just in time to see a pirate fleet open fire upon ships docked at the colonies landing pad.


"Enemy ships detected sir!" One fo his technicians called out.


"Details!" Tzu demanded.


"Im seeing 20 pirate ships- armed freighters mainly sir and a battlecruiser our shitty scanners cant identify. Also detecting a Plutonian starship sir"


"Ignore the Plutonian Star ship; they likely came here to check out the distress beacon as we did. Contact those pirates! Let us see if we can resolve this without bloodshed.


His technicians mumbled something about how stupid diplomacy was and "yes sir Admiral Chink" and complied. Soon a communication link was opened with the Pirate Battlecruiser.


"This is Fleet Commander Tzu Ming of the 3rd Federation Expeditionary fleet. We demand you cease all hostilities and surrender your arms to the Federation!"


Hopefully they would comply. Tzu may have better ships but they had more, and Tzu couldn't tell if the battlecruiser was merely a cheap pile of rusty metal or a full fledged warship. Hopefully the first. @NecroKnight

 

[NecroKnight]

(@Bobisdead123 - this'll be a great reply, xD )


xxx

What Tzu Ming got in reply wasn't a pile of words, or insults - rather some blaring loud music coming from the other side, and a chipper weird-dressed looking female staring back at him - from the comm link.


Wanna join me? Come and play...


But I might shoot you, in your face!


Bombs and bullets will do the trick


What we need here is a little bit of panic oh ah


"-OH? AH HEY! CAPTAIN! WE GOT IDIOTS ON THE OTHER SIDE!" yelled the comm-tech, with her music still blaring in the comm.


"Shut down, that idiotic brain-rot!" replied a voice back, before the music stopped and the video in-general zoomed in on Captain Jackson Buchard. He looked different than before, but that face of his could be easily recognized by a select few in the Federation.


Namely it was Naval Captain Jackson Buchard, whom had been dishonorably discharged from the Federation Navy almost thirty years ago, due to some reasons with a politicians. While that could have happened with anyone, he was the only one stupid enough to utilize his left-over command-codes and steal a rich-man' personal ship.


Problem being with him, was that he had equal experience in naval combat and tactics than the average pirate. And albeit, his crew looked ramshack, no doubt Buchard could whip them into battle-readyness easily.


"Is that your answer to everything, pigs? Surrender, or else we smash down you doors and kill your parents and your dog," replied Jackson, keeping it calm and collected. "I already had, two of your kind show up here. And them cultist Mongols too. I ain't in the mood to play tug-o-war, square-eyes."

 

[Spacekitty]

The Martian Federation


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Fleet Commander Tzu Ming, 3rd Expeditionary Fleet

​

"Is that your answer to everything, pigs? Surrender, or else we smash down you doors and kill your parents and your dog," replied Jackson, keeping it calm and collected. "I already had, two of your kind show up here. And them cultist Mongols too. I ain't in the mood to play tug-o-war, square-eyes." The pirate replied.


Tzu scoffed at the ridiculous statement. What was he suppose to do? let him raid the colony. Tzu narrowed his eyes, something seemed familiar about the pirate captain, a face he couldn't place just yet...


"Sounds better than your answer, "Give us all your stuff or we will kill you"" Tzu replied, not smirking but still making fun of the pirate captain. "I'll repeat myself one last time, cease hostilities and surrender or we will be forced to open fire"

 

[NecroKnight]

(What kind of guns are on a modern starship? Lasers and plasma cannons, or kinetic guns too?)


Jackson, merely snapped his fingers - indicating to the comm' girl, something. "Mina. Call-back Minx and her Raiders," said Jackson, with the woman in question pouting and aww-ing in discomfort. "Battle-power."


With that indication, the woman in question, cheered in approval - setting the same music back on. With the musical beat, sounding throughout the comm. With Buchard' ship - the Leviathan energy' drives going into full-power from passive. Weapon and shield' systems charging to maximum - and their energy signature rising by 300%.


It would also be at that point, that Tzu' ship could easily identify the Leviathan, as it had been in several skirmishes with several Federation ships. With its magnetic signature, locking it as an Ares-class battlecruiser - however, modern times, those class was extinct, due to the amount of resources needed to construct one. And the only Ares-class battlecruisers in service - was said to be the Black Flagship of the Anarchists.


And at the current moment, Tzu was facing against the Leviathan, which had withstood against the firepower of even modern cruisers. "As you wish, Fed. Here is our answer, no."

 

[General Deth Glitch]

We can protect our own.

​

Senator Sedna did not hesistate. "Prep my personal craft, I will be cutting this meeting short Governors. Look after this rock while I am gone will you?" He said, to which two of the Governors, Kale and Matts responded with 'Of course sir, the heating must remain warm' which was a fairly normal parting remark on Sedna. However when The Widow said "You aint getting no fun without me." Hales immediately added "We gonna shoot some bitches? You damn well sure I be pulling that Trigger." to which both immediately fell in step behind John Sedna and began chatting like young children about to be taken their first concert or something. The Excitement could warm even Sedna, all that did was fill John with discomfort and unease, they were his subordinates and two of them held as much power as he did, saying no to them could be his death warrant. He headed to his little home but just before its entrance he turned left, opposite the window he had looked through earlier and into the staging area for trans surface shuttlecraft, where his own personal one was sitting waiting for him to hop from the planet to his ship, sadly the two childlike governors were in toe.


Getting into the shuttle, which was in fairly good nick, unlike the rest of the colonies shuttles, he took the short trip from surface to ship and stepped onto his craft. "Get comfortable, we dont know what mess we are jumping into but, I think you can all agree that jumping there may be the founding block of this possible alliance." With that he sat in his large command chair and without waiting for his two governors to do likewise he jumped, making Hales trip backwards. The Widow, Lucy Welsh, seemed unaffected and, seeing the stand off before her, emboldened. She hopped to a comm panel and, since someone clearly looked like they wanted a fight with some federation ships, she opened comms with the large ship and said "Hey there, we would be more then happy to help you blast some federation bastards outta the Kuiper belt." to which John ended her station and cut in himself "Indeed, you need a hand my small fleet is more then ready to kick those racist scum back past the asteroid belt." he said as he charged his weapons and ordered his fleet to stand by, in all likelihood the fleet would get thrashed by the fed fleet if facing them alone but, given the chance to help this super ship in a fight and gain some recognition to support his alliance, it was worth the risk.

@NecroKnight @Bobisdead123

 

[NecroKnight]

(@Bobisdead123)


(I'll let Tzu react to this stand-off, of two fleets


against him)

 

[Anaxial]

With the building breached, Mercer led his two man squad into a scene straight from hell. Bodies lay twisted and mangled beyond recognition and the infamous sigil of the Mongols; a half-human, half-robot, head painted the walls in blood.


"Holy shit... Senior... You're gonna wanna see this." He said over his communicator as he stepped over offal and other unsightly gore. A sickening feeling began to lurch in his stomach, the two others seemed just as stricken as put their arms to their guts as they turned away from the fresh corpses. With the increasing chance that they were going to vomit, the three man team continued further down the hall and away from the immediate bloodbath. There they caught their breath and swallowed the bile in their throats.


It wasn't long after that TRS Ahlan Cailloux led the remaining four of the squad inside, a similar reaction was found by the others, even Cailloux seemed to lurch in sickening pain at the sight of the massacre.


"Jesus... Move down the hall, I don't want us looking at this shit." He ordered and the team moved deeper into the compound. The seven members recovered thanks to their air filters, it kept the air fresh and coppery smell of blood out of their nostrils. Past the reception, down the hall and in the main lobby of the shipyard's check-in area. The team did a clean sweep of the area, finding a few more bodies however not nearly as grotesque as the first and lined them neatly against the far wall.


"Monsieur, Cailloux... What 'appen'd here? S'are is so~ much blood! I... I cannot find my breath." The french women dropped her assault rifle and put a hand against the wall, another on her bosom as she tried to recuperate. Cailloux turned towards her and gestured for someone to move over to her, make sure she was okay.


"I don't know, De Villier." He said bluntly as he walked behind the check-in desk and swept the various clutter off and onto the floor. He reached for his belt and slapped a small metal box on the table, a red light blinking on it's top. "I'm calling for reinforcements, this is beyond a single squad. However stay on alert- it will take a few hours for the signal to travel through Dark Space." He explained looking back up from the desk. "For now, I want you guys to block the two hallways with this furniture. We'll hold out here for our back-up."


It took a while, the better part of half an hour for the seven men to upturn the various furniture and set barricades in the entrance to the hallway they exitted, and the hallway they had yet to go down. Two men were posted on each barricade while the remaining three; TRS Cailloux, TRM De Villier, and TRM Mercer remained behind the check-in desk. They'd rotate watch every hour or so- if they needed.


It wasn't long before the quiet pitter patter of metal on metal could be heard from the check-in area, the squad came to life just as several tall, metallic figures appeared in the hallway. The three behind the desk joined the barricade, five of the team stacked up behind the furniture with their weapons aimed down at the Plutonians.


"Stop where you are!" Ahlan shouted after switching off his silent speech in his helmet. The voice was amplified by the speakers on the helmet proper and could plainly be heard in the hall. "This is Trooper Senior Ahlan Cailloux, Red Axe Security, Asset Protection and Acquisition! You are currently under arrest for suspect in the massacre Haumea station!" There hearts racing, the squad held firm against the barricade, their aim steadied against the debris of the barricade. Each one picking a target and silently communicating a battle plan while their Squad Leader tried to reason with the suspected murder.

 

[Shireling]

On Haumea


Krega's squad had their weapons trained on the humans, not backing down. Krega replied in English in a voice that was unnaturally warm and living, as if from a corpse, but well-simulated human speech.


"Insolent humans! Stand down! We are officers of the Plutonian Starfleet and you are under our custody!"


As soon as Krega had finished his sentence, the life support and artificial gravity failed. The Plutonians were unnaffected, as the gravity of their homeworld was so slight, but the humans would most likely feel the effects.


"I repeat, as the ranking military officer on this instillation, I order you to abandon your weapons or die an agonizing death."


The prongs on Krega's rad rifle sprang to life, emitting a menacing red glow as it locked on to the Henson Corp mens' signatures.

 

[NeoLeaf]

Daniel Hans Werner

You find yourself in a spacious white room.


The floor is laid like a polished chessboard. White pearly marble tiles and jet black obsidian tiles mirror the room thus giving it a almost harmonizing atmosphere or calm atmosphere. Two walls are large multi-layered windows, complimented with white curtains and the painted silver flowers on the edges. From the right hand side from your standpoint you could see a wall decorated with silver leaf patterned and having a number of framed diplomas and pictures. The wall where you would come from has the same patterns as the wall to your side, only that the wall has two large paintings that both depict a rural area of a Central European terrain and a decorative broad sword hanging above the door. The ceiling would have not been so remarkable if it weren't for the various amounts of spherical black and white candle holders dotting above the room from marble threads.


In the center of the room is on odd set of furniture. The first thing you'd notice is a polished large obsidian slab standing behind a white closet shelf hybrid which is also behind a large white desk. The closet and desk are rested on an expensive custom made rug depicting designs that you'd normally see from carpet makers from the Middle East or Oriental areas. Red and silver tulips bloomed in it's center as black and white stars align themselves in perfect harmony around the edges of the carpet. The closet shelf has a variety of things in it. A number of them had a large supply of red binders that were arrange very business like, you know, with assignments that are finished and those that weren't. Different E-Books litter on section of the closet shelf awhile another section is a cabinet filled with exclusive alcoholic beverages.


Sitting on a white wheeled office chair was a politician staring at his monitor with a boorish expression. The man had a short but combed warm black afro, a broad forehead, thick eyebrows, slightly slanted eyes with black pupils, thick pink lips and a well groomed beard. The man's skin was of a dark caramel color, smooth and spotless. He looked refined with his silver suit, black leather shoes and lax sitting posture. The man wasn't doing much except proofreading the reports that he had already sent off and reading interviews from a number of intellectuals who're popular over the net.


Ni-Ni-Ni!


Daniel batted his eyes to the door and saw watched as the door quietly hissed upwards into the wall. A thin caucasian man wearing a dark blue tuxedo slowly walked into his office. Tapping the floor with his shoes until he stopped in front of the dark man's 2 meter white desk. Daniel slowly backed into his chair and gave the suited man his utmost attention.


"Rattsherr Daniel Hans Werner," The man looked at the man with his icy blue eyes and spoke in a clear tone.


"You've got an assignment."


"An assignment?" Daniel asked. In an instant his monitor made a beeping sound and a file had opened up in front of him.


"You've been given permission by the monarchs to investigate this case and His majesty, Kaizer Eckart Jansen von Edelsburg, gives you full authority as the head of this case. Funds, equipment, men et cetera will be supplied by and through den Kaizer. Everything you need to know is in that document." The man bowed his head slightly.


"I beg my leave from you."


"Wait! Warten Sie Herr Shönwälder!" Daniel called out from his seat.


"Ja, Herr?" The black haired man stopped four steps in front of the entrance to door.


"Why me?" Daniel asked in a confused expression.


"You have time on your hands and you could use a trip." The man gave Daniel a half smile and proceeded out of the room.


Daniel was left with a document about a sudden change in the surrounding area of the Venusian cities. A spark of energy or a material of some sort had occurred in and under the Jeremy State. Judging from the graphs and odd traces from the area beneath them it became clear that whatever it was it went towards the Venusian surface. Well that's actually an assumption, for all he knows it was trash being dumped down towards the ground or maybe it was a piece of machinery that was thrown away. Besides that, he's been given a code, authorization to travel to the Jeremy State by shuttle and given 'a bit of pocket change'. He took half an hour to read the reports thoroughly and quickly left his office to catch his shuttle.

 

[Jarkov Malachai]

Good News and Bad News comes, then the REAL Shitty news hits.

Tyr Rugaard was deeply engrossed in his project, watching the streaming lines of code with attentive eyes ready for any seemingly broken or malfunctioning line of numbers which clashed with other programs and the like. So much so, lost in his own world of metal, machines and digits that he never heard the plutonian approach and even when directly asked didn’t respond continuing on as if he hadn’t heard the alien and of which might as well have been the case. All of his focus was on the car sized machine in front of him which hummed appreciatively of the attention it was receiving.


Eventually another of the Senior mechanics saw the Aliens predicament and feeling sympathetic, as he had worked for the Fabricator for well over 4 years now, called out. “ That is the ‘proprietor’ Sir.” The Mechanic said with a humorous chuckle before continuing. “He’s not ignoring ya foreigner, he just isn’t paying any attention to anything that’s not that piece o’ machinery in front of ya. I’ll get him for ya. OI! BOSS!” and with that the Journeyman chucked a rather hefty 5 pound wrench at the Fabricator’s head.


Despite the seemingly non-existent attentiveness of which Tyr displayed, as the wrench came whipping across the space spanning the two, the Fabricator’s left arm whipped around and with almost inhuman speed and precision caught the wrench just before it slammed it’s self into the back of his head. . . A good 5 or 10 seconds pass before Tyr’s head tilts and brings his arm around to stare at the wrench confused as to how it got there and when he had picked it up. The Tattoo on the back of his neck, that life like, detailed draconic head, blinked those exquisite green eyes maliciously for a split second.


He then turns around to glare at the Journeyman mechanic who was grinning from ear to ear before tossing it back to the man, turning back around barking.


“What the Hell do you want? I’m working here and this qua-nomial sequence is not gonna fix itself!”


“You’ve got someone who wants to speak with you.”


“If it’s the Henson Corporation bastards tell them to fuck off.”


“Its not them.”


“GEC?”


“Nope.”


“Well then stop smirking and tell me who, I can feel your stupid grin through the back of my head.”


“He is right behind you ya daft bastard!”


Tyr looked up at the Plutonian and blinked slowly, taking him in slowly and with a business-like manner said respectfully. “Hold on one second My good sir.”


Tyr whipped his head around to bellow at the Journeyman again. “Why the FUCK did you let him down here? This place is dangerous enough with the toxic fumes, raging wind storms and radiation up on the surface let alone the carnage of down here?”


“He’s part of the foreign ambassadors party. He can bloody well go where he likes in the Private Sector.”


Tyr simply grunts then turns back to the Plutonian, a businessman once more. “I am sorry about that but unauthorized personnel are not generally allowed down here due to safety measures but I can only assume you wished to inquire something of me to have sought me out. If you wish we can go back up top to my office to discuss things in a more pleasant environment than down here?”


“Pleasant environment? Whats wrong with the smell of grease, smoke, and nitroglycerin?”


Tyr just gave the man who spoke a look. But before he could reprimand him in any further actions, a man across the way, who went by the name of Johnny Two-Face, called out on the intercom which screeched to life before his Wheezly voice announced.


“Yo’ Boss I got some news for you that you might want to hear, two things actually. First, your Relay out on the Ares’s 9 ridgeline works, I just got a signal from beyond Uranus.”


Tyr grins and the other members of the crew whoop and clap loudly, getting reception down below Venus’s atmosphere, especially down here so far below was a pain in the ass and the fee’s the Cloud Dwellers charged for a hookup and subscription was just fuckin’ ridiculous so Tyr had built himself a Dish using a crashed starships communications dish and jury rigged a receiver from its tower. He built it so he could receive almost anything out there in the Sol system though most was decrypted, especially the military communication, but the news channels, basic information was all Tyr really wanted so he could keep up to date on the happenings. . . aaaand for shits and giggles listen in on people he knew. Uranus was the farthest they had been able to receive so far, they could send as well but only to the asteroid belt as it takes a lot more effort to send than receive, but Tyr had recently rigged up a new conflux and it appeared to be working in co-op with the other smaller instillations.


“However.” Two-Faced Johnny continued, voice growing darker in its tone. “Its an Emergency beacon from some poor bastard colony out there in the black.” The cheering faded off almost immediately. Some of those here were from colonies and many knew the possible dangers that could be-fell the farthest settlements of humanity.


“It ‘s been raided, foe unknown, but I am picking up a shit ton of chatter coming in, and if ive calculated the Delay’s right then the attack happened almost an hour ago. Federation’s going in, Henson has prepped and locked ships rarin to go. Look’s like a cluster fuck waiting to happen.”


“God rest those colonists souls.” An apprentice said, making the sign of the cross, religious as he was.


Tyr nodded. “Anything else Johnny?”


“Ill keep listening, something pops up ill send someone for you.”


“Thanks” Tyr replied and the intercom’s static fades off. Tyr rubs a hand through his jet black, sweeped style hair with a sigh. “Well if that isn’t an ill omen upon our already off meeting then I don’t know what is. Come, I need a bottle and you can state your reasons for seeking me out as I find out unless you’ve objections.”


As Tyr said this he noticed something Odd, over on the wall of where the base status, air O2 levels, power outputs and the like, were displayed. It showed Hangar #3 empty. Hangar 3 was where he docked his personal ship.


Tyr almost froze then and there but he maintained his cool and calmly looked down at his arm. The Tattoo was gone.

Shit

Under Statement of the year.​

(@Shireling )

 

[Shireling]

The Bunker, Venus


The Plutonian stuck out his metallic hand to shake, immitating a human greeting.


"My name is Hekron Kles. I'm sorry to inconvenience you, sir, but I was filled with curiosity about your establishment, as it is the only fabricator on Venus that I have been able to find that is not tooled to the same specifications, I assume because of the pervasive power of your Henson Corporation."


He turned and looked at the room in general.


"You needn't worry for my safety. I am not bound by human restrictions of organic anatomy. Toxic gasses and radiation have little effect on me."


He paused, then began again, "I'd like to see your facility. A tour, if you will." He noticed Tyr's look, as if something had been misplaced. "I find it very interesting you have your own receiver. I might be able to lend you a small capacitor from my personal communicator. It would allow you to better pick up Plutonian Aether-broadcasts, if you care to listen. They are very informative."

 

[Spacekitty]

The Martian Federation


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Fleet Commander Tzu Ming, 3rd Expeditionary Fleet

​

The pirate captain merely snapped his fingers and said something to one of his crew mates Tzu couldn't quite make out. Something about "Battle Power" or something, which as Tzu reckoned was not a good sign.


As if to confirm his suspicion, his short range scanning technician started freaking out.


"Sir! I'm picking up a metric shit ton of activity from the Pirate Battlecruiser... What the fuck, HOLY SHIT"


Tzu turned away from the hailing screen to face the technician. From his position near the front of the bridge he could barely make out the technician's computer screen. But even from here he could see all the shit that was popping up on his monitor. Tzu sighed- this couldn't be good.


"Whats going on Technician? Spit it out"


The Technician just stood up and pointed towards the screen, motioning for Tzu to take a look. "I don't know sir... scanners are just going crazy!"


Tzu sighed, shook his head and walked over to take a gander at the technicians screen. As soon as he arrived he was bombarded with the amount of menus and shit the technician had open. it was no wonder he couldn't tell what was going on- even Tzu couldn't make anything out. "Don't you know how to close a god damn window?" Tzu said, shaking his head once more as he exited out of several dozen open windows. After doing so what he actually wanted to see became much more apparent.


Tzu whistled in astonishment at the readings the scanners were getting. According to his shiops old scanning system the Pirate Battlecruiser's energy signal had risen by 300% and its magnetic signature had doubled. This can't be right... "Things broken, no way that's correct unless its an Ares-Class Battlecruiser... Could it be...? The things were monsters, dealing out shit tons of firepower and taking even more, and damn expensive too. One single Ares Class Battlecruiser cost as much as 5 standard Battlecruisers. The Federaiton had stopped ordering the ships form the Henson Corp and most were no longer in commission. The only person to own a ship of that class who wasn't in the Federation was some rogue Pirate...


Tzu rebooted the system to make sure and sure enough the readings were the same. Tzu's eyes opened with surprise as the pieces feel into the place in his mind. An Ares-Class Battleship, the face he couldn't place, it all came together. He knew why he felt like he had known the Pirate Captain from somewhere.


It was because this wasn't any random Pirate, it was former Naval Captain Jackson Buchard, whom had been dishonorably discharged from the Federation Navy almost thirty years ago, due to some "troubles" with a few politicians. While that could have happened with anyone, he was the only one brave, more like stupid, enough to use his left-over command-codes to steal a Ares-Class Battleship form the Phobos Naval base.


Tzu had still been in the Academy when the event happened. He had actually been cleaning one of the halls of the Phobos Naval base when he saw Jackson Buchard come running down. He had been a little confused as to why eh was there, having been dismissed a few days earlier, but Tzu had just shrugged it off and assumed he was collecting his stuff. How wrong he was. Luckily no one had found out that eh had seen Jackson.


Tzu knew that his fleet couldn't take on Buchard's ship, let alone his entire fleet. He was either going to have to find a way out of here or stall for a few hours until back up could arrive...


As Tzu waked back to the hailing monitor to continue his "meeting" with Buchard he whispered to one of his technicians to radio back to Phobos with details on hat was happening and request for backup. With any luck they would still be alive by time it came.


As soon as Tzu reached the hailing monitor Buchard turned back to face him and replied;


"As you wish, Fed. Here is our answer, no."


Tzu frowned. For his first interesting mission, this was probably a bit too interesting. He cleared his throat and replied, more carefully this time.


"Very well Buchard, yes I remember you. I can't say i'm surprised by your answer, even still I must know something- why stay here? You had plenty of time to raid the colony and run off before anyone showed up." @NecroKnight


At the same time while Tzu was talking to Buchard, one of his assistant Fleet Commanders had contacted the newly arrived Sednian fleet.


"Greetings fleet of Sedna" THe commander said, addressing the small Sednian fleet containing unimpressive armed frigates and a peculiar Cruiser. "I'm assuming your here responding to the distress beacon, as are we. Unfortantly our numbers are too small to dissuade these pirates that are attacking the colony but i'm sure together oru fleets can persuade them to leave." @General Deth Glitch

 

[Jarkov Malachai]

Now about that Relay...

Tyr nods and sticks his own hand out to grasp the Plutonians in a firm handshake before letting go with this Comment.


“Aye the Henson Corporation, Rather far reaching and wide they be and rather pissed off at that one blank spot on their little Solar System Domination map of where I stand here on Venus.” The Fabricator finishes that with a chuckle before motioning for the Plutonian to follow.


“This way Mr. Kles, the Name is Tyr Rugaard though most in this sector just call me Tyr and stay close behind me. Just ‘cause you are immune to toxic gas and radiation doesn’t mean your immune to Kinetic forces applied to your body by Industrial grade equipment.”


With that Tyr took the man on a tour, more or less of The Bunker. There was perhaps 50 staff total. 1/3 of that comprised of Senior Mechanics and Journeyman. The other 2/3’s were Apprentices, Clerks, inventory managers or orphan kids running erands. The actual scope of the Underground was much larger than one would think. The Height of the ceiling allowed Accommodations for small Star ships and the floor was littered with projects of all kinds as various personnel went about their business happily.


It was loud, cluttered, and seemingly chaotic but the vibe inside was just totally different from what a Henson corp shop felt like. People were happy there, to come to work, to do their work. Henson employee’s worked until the clock was up then punched their tickets then left, if they even could. Tyr’s employee’s often worked over late with no overtime determined to finish a order, or project. T’was one of the reasons The Refuge and The Bunker were competitive in the area aside from damn good technicians and they were good. The equipment, while scattered everywhere, was in good condition and clean, obviously maintained. Several pieces of tech were extremely odd looking, custom pieces which Tyr or another older Journeyman had made to do specific tasks and get the whole process easier.


Tyr’s own enthusiasm for his place of business was infectious, if only the Plutonian could feel so, as he joyously boasted, bragged and pointed out the basic operations of his Shop.


Perhaps 30 minutes or so later said tour was concluded and Tyr stopped them in front of a Rather Terrifying looking Weapon of War. The Armamenton. Tyr’s personal Project, a Land Tank designed for living in harsh enviroments and suited up for long range, both in the weapons and operational range. The smoothbore, rail accelerated Main gun glinted Menacingly above the Plutonians and Humans head as the silent Carbonized Steel beast loomed behind them. It was probably illegal on multiple levels for such a machine to be in the hands of the Private Industry even though the Private Industry had contacted him to build it but when they were bought out by the Henson Corporation well… he never mentioned it to them. Colonists would pay a fortune for one the things as it was designed for them in the first place, to help on the harsh frontier, gun excluded of course. The 100mm was something Tyr added ‘cause he wanted to.


“Now… I remember you said something about helping with my relay and Plutonian Aether-net?” The Fabricator asked with a bird like tilt of the head, leaning against the Front Drive wheel of the Armamenton.


“Now don’t be offended but I’ve never accepted charity, and I know this isn’t like that but I’d feel wrong to just accept something without giving anything in return so lets talk business now that the tour is concluded. Is there something that you need or want of which I can Provide?”

(@Shireling )

 

[Shireling]

The Bunker, Venus


"Ah, of course." Kles put his hands behind his back. Most humans wouldn't know this, but it was a Plutonian symbol of trust and goodwill to expose one's torso to the person they were speaking to.


"Well, let's see. I'm not authorized to barter on behalf of the Weapons Council; however, I do like your operation. What do you have in the way of personal defense devices? We have small kinetic shields on our belt buckles, you see," he thumbed the belt that cinched his coat and the small metal cylinder in the center, "but I was wondering if you had something more top of the line."