Futuristic Silent Stars

[Lyro]

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Silent Stars

Roleplay

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Characters

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Lore

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Interest Check

Three weeks ago, without even the faintest of whimpers, the galaxy went silent overnight. Planets now orbit their stars as they have for billions of years, quiet once more. Many space stations have gone into automated lockdown, pre-recorded messages instructing travelers to seek refuge elsewhere. Ships drift through space directionless, not responding on any hailing frequencies; some crash.

Where systems have catastrophically failed, corpses can be seen from a distance by a keen-eyed observer, burned up by the resultant explosions or crushed by falling debris. If there are survivors in the midst of the affected areas, they are nowhere to be seen. Low-level automation keeps many structures functional, for the time being, but without manual intervention it is only a matter of time before they too collapse.

And yet, some voices still cry out in the darkness of space. Their pleas for assistance do not reach very far, constrained as they are by subluminal propagation speeds, but they try nonetheless. With dwindling resources and seemingly nowhere to go to, the odds are stacked against them.

Then again, with a galactic population numbering in the tens of trillions, a few are bound to luck out...

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[Natealie]

So then why don't we all just kill ourselves? If life has no meaning then what is the point in it all? Why should anything matter?

Camilla had once pondered these questions herself. Her life after all, was one of tragedy. Well, at least the first few years were. Now she had plenty of time to think while doing work for The Abraxus Collective. Though it was intense, she was never exactly in any risk of dying. All of the renegade researchers highly respected her as the only one that their Isolate ever merged with. Plus if she wanted to, Camilla could have always just gone rogue and have slaughtered them all decades ago. But there was no need, she was grateful that they saved her, and they were grateful to have her assistance. One might think it would be highly unusual to have a relationship with a criminal organization based on gratitude, but those of the Abraxus Collective never saw themselves as criminals. Merely, they always believed that their research was being confined by silly and stupid things like ethics, or morality, or basic human decency. Who the Hell decides what those are anyway?! They honestly believed that they were the victims here.

Over the decades Camilla did have ample time to think, and some of the brightest known minds in the universe to think with and bounce ideas off of. Not just the scientists, but also the Isolate in her head. They called her Baba Yaga, a name of an ancient Slavic witch who was known for eating children. Most likely because the children who were unable to establish a link with her had their consciousnesses devoured by the AI, leaving their bodies empty shells with no minds. This enchantress was quite wise, and was one of the key players in helping Camilla answer for herself why she should continue to exist.

So why shouldn't we all kill ourselves?

Because life has no meaning.

That's why we should.

No. You misunderstand. It doesn't have a meaning, because it is your job to give life meaning. Who are you to think that you are so grand and so mighty that reality itself will go out of its' way to provide meaning for you? Reality doesn't give to shits that you exist.

But Camilla finds this liberating.

Many would be broken at the thought of having their actions rendered meaningless by the inherent meaninglessness of reality. But Camilla is freaking stoked that this is the case. Because Camilla now has the opportunity to give life her own meaning, and if that is the case then it is a subjective meaning. In essence, the fear that the meaning of life is contradictory to how one wishes to live their own life is a much worse fate that the meaning of life inherently not existing to Camilla.

And so what is her meaning to life?

To bring out life's potential.
​

It was three weeks after the universe went dark. Many of the scientists of The Abraxus Collective had died in the tragedy. Only a few were left. And if they were grateful for her assistance before, the scientists practically worshiped Camilla as their lord and motherfucking savior now since she was the one is the best position to keep them all alive. Of course she would. It was just unfortunate that people so bright easily succumbed to the fear and hopelessness of this all. Many of these scientists believed that all their work was for nothing now. Many of them took there own lives. By the third week, only a handful were left. It was... upsetting to say the least, having to bury the bodies of your friends for the past century. But Camilla had to. She was the only one who could. If she didn't, then everyone would die. And this stress was eating away at her.

And then the ship came. It was quite odd that something would be docking now, what with the end of the universe and all. Even stranger, Veles was supposed to be off the grid. So how exactly did they come into finding their way here? More pressing of a question however was what their purpose was. If they were raiders, Camilla was their best shot for defending the survivors. After all, she could take a lot of damage. And also she had some weapons of her own, as well as Baba Yaga. And so Camilla went to investigate, not sure whether to be hopeful or to dread what was on that ship.

Either way, today was certainly to be one of the most interesting days that she had had in a while.

 

[Tardy Grade]

"How about now?" Rerynn spoke into the comm-piece in her helmet as she looked at the panel in front of her. For some reason the comms had stopped working a few weeks back and the company hadn't even dispatched a maintenance team to check up on the reason why they had stopped responding. Frankly the entire ordeal sounded like bull shit to her. If this was some pencil-pushing git trying to mess with her so that her spotless record was going to get it's first red mark she was gonna-

"Still nothing, boss." replied a synthetically created voice into her receiver as she was stuck precariously to the side of the ship. The suddenness of it made her sway a bit before gripping the panel and steadying herself anew. Her magnetic boots gave her some sense of footing on the side of space-faring vessel as she made her way from one panel to the next.

"Open the next comms panel 'n+1' and highlight the location on my hud. Close panel 'n' a minute after I am at 'n'. One minute, Sparky. If this this panel closes a second prior you're gonna be spare parts by stardown." The only reply she got was the blip of a light being born on her visor and indicating the route to follow.

"Using mag-hook. Setting tether point 'A' near 'n'. Destination 'B' marked for tether two near 'n+1'. Firing." The gun at her side fed into two alternate magnetic hooks that magnetized on contact to the first metallic surface they touched. It resembled a two sided miniature harpoon gun with a swivel handle for ease of angling. One end was attached manually to 'A' before she kneeled onto the ship and took aim. Like an ancient RPG her hook shot towards it's target,dinged the surface and then immediately latched on. The wire feeding it stopped and began to tighten until was taut once more and then she made way slowly to the location.

"Got it. Making my way over. Open panel 'n+1'. Have it opened and if that doesn't work we'll have to resume stand-by protocol. Please acknowledge and log in my response for future reference."

"Understood. Shall we have a change of clothes ready, Boss."

"That'd be awfully nice of you Sparky. How are the others doing?" she inquired as reached the panel and began going through all the possible issues.

"Only three of the main assistance T-400s aside from myself are still functional. Another two have shutdown. Still no breakthroughs with respect to reestablishing comms from the base or figuring out the cause of the 'blackout'." She could hear him moving around and readying her things.

"Well if you find out anything inform me immediately. Worst comes to worst I have enough fuel to get us off this rock and -"

"Leaving the planet surface without informing higher command if a class f-"

"I know, Sparky! I know! But it's been weeks and this is no longer something that we can just ignore. I need your help in loading the ship. Can you do that?"

"... Yes, Boss. What will you be taking?"

"Thank you ... pack enough rations for a few months of travel and all the extra fuel I can haul without risking the integrity of the hull. I've no idea how long it could take to re-establish communications... or when I'll be back..." she said lightly as she sighed and closed the panel.

"I understand, Boss. No go from panel alterations. We'll go into stasis mode after the loading procedure is done. Do have a safe trip, yes?"

She gave a rare smile. "You know me, Sparks. I wrote the book on safety!"

"Actually that would be Kirk Alderman of the G.U.R.R.E.N. faction in the ye-"

"..." for a moment she contemplated cutting off the power to her mags and plummeting before readjusting and making the long chatter-filled walk back up top.

 

[ManicMuse]

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Parker

"Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right."

Scene Details

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Location: On personal Cargo ship > Lost in space
State of being: Stressed and famished.
Nearby: Unknown
OOC: Let me know if I need to make adjustments.
@: Lyro , Mr.Sandstorm , Harmalite

Few pockets of the known Verse are still left untouched by man. Though, a few remote planets still have had the luxury of only hosting to human life on rare occasions. One such planet had received its last living visitors over a decade ago. While that planet was alone with nothing but a corpse for company now, the planet was still a matter of importance for its last surviving guest. This planet was now a set reference point on the map. Each day that passed, greater distance grew between it and the lost traveler. Many years and come and gone now, but the lone cargo ship still continues on.

The corridors of the ship were silent, with nothing but the sounds of the engine for company. The engine room a tangled mess. Years of patch jobs, left nests of cords spliced together, in hopes of making them work for another day. The systems report was a never ending stream of critical system updates and suggested repairs. A single screen constantly flashing red, attempting to warn the single occupant of the ship, of impending destruction. The cockpit was in worse shape. Showing signs of rage driven bouts of destruction to varying control panels. While other sections had been carefully and meticulously dismantled for parts. Geometric symbolizes lay sketched a cross open panels with little rhythm or reason to them, giving hints to the sole residents mind, as it descended into madness.

The threat of death lingered here, in the shadows of the cargo ship, mocking the fight for survival. A thin layer of frost clung to every surface, a constant reminder of the failing life support system and icy grasp of space seeping in. Beyond a few useless bots whizzing about in the cafeteria, the ship was lifeless.

In the cargo hold, a spent cyro bed lay with its lid ajar. The cloudy mist of condensation erupting for a pile of cloth within, giving the only hint of the creature that slumbered there. Back in the engine room, a small orange light suddenly came to life, a beacon of warning; futilely attempting to alert someone about a failure of a critical system. For a few minutes nothing happened. Then a soft shutter quaked part of the hull, as the warped sounds of equipment shutting down rippled through the metal echo chamber. It was subtle at first. Everything in the ship slowly began to rise. Drifting aimlessly, unweighted. The slumbering survivor drifted upwards, in her bed, lightly grazing the lid of her sleeping chamber. This physical contact was enough to startle her awake. Flailing frantically, her mind worked to make sense of the sensation. Ejecting herself from the pod with all the thrashing, she finally became very still. A black knitted scarf drifted limply in the air before her. That is when it clicked. A wave of dread washed through over her, leaving goose bumps speckled across the flesh hidden below the cocoon of cloth. Attempting to swim through the air, she strained, reaching out toward the cyro pod. Grasping just the edge, she used it to pull herself in close, before kicking it, driving her body toward the ceiling. Grasping a railing system on the ceiling, Parker began a slowly climb through the ship toward the engine room.

Passing by the cafeteria a robotic whimper caused her pause. There in the darkness of the common area, a blue orb stared unblinking, as it emitted another mechanic whine. Parker adjusted to hug the railing with her knees freeing both arms. Creating a pattern of geometric shapes with her arms, she relayed the issue to the robot, "Ship failure. Come. Engineering."

Robots view:

Spoiler

Luckily for the orb, it was unhindered by the weightless environment. Floating freeing through the air, it whizzed past Parker, down the corridor, to await her arrival in Engineering. Grunting with dissatisfaction, over the effortless movements of the bot, Parker continued on. Arriving to the destination several minutes later, the orange light, no longer was seen as a warning but rather the ship's attempt to ridicule her. Snarling Parker turned her back from the blazing orange bulb and opened a box bolted to the wall. Pulling out a few tools and stashing them in varying pockets of cloth, she then floated over to the panel housing the failed device. With the tiny bot hovering over shoulder, Parker unbolted the covering and tossed it aside.

Troubleshooting the failure was no easy task. After a couple hours of guessing, she finally located the cause for failure, a blown fuse had fried a good few feet of line. This had caused it to overheat and melt together. With a few visits to varying areas in the ship, she collected enough parts to complete the repairs. Then came the critical moment, inputting a new fuse, she replaced the control panel and booted up the screen. Tamping restart with a gloved fingertip, she looked to the bot. A humming of power surging came to life behind the panel. Then the wave of false gravity hit. A smirk hidden within the depths of her hood flickered across her lips just before she was tossed to the ground like a rag doll. Laying there on the cold floor, she watched the small clouds her breath made for a few minutes as the bot relayed flickering of geometric shapes across its single orbed eye, the symbols relaying, "Human, hurt? Human alive? Human, respond."

Parker's stomach quaked with a gurgling grumble. Lifting her wrist to her visual range, she checked the stop watch on her wrist. Still 12 hours before her next rations. Laying still again, she pondered what to do with the 12 remaining hours, when out of the corner of her eye a blue bulb flickered to life. Blue. In her 15 years trapped on this ship, the blue bulb had never lit up. This was something new. It meant there was something out there.

Heaving herself to her feet, Parker disappeared down the corridor heading for the cockpit.

 

[Lyro]

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The message was in dire need of rewording, that much was obvious. Maybe something closer to its seventeenth iteration, which had seemed slightly less despairing than the other versions. "Yeah, yeah, that should work," muttered the Android to himself as he opened up a new draft on his ship's computer console and began to type. There was no reason why he couldn't have performed this task mentally, like most r-types, but this was slower and required manual dexterity - the height of entertainment in a ship the size of a sarcophagus. One which was increasingly starting to feel like a sarcophagus too.

That was a dangerous line of thinking. Revrin cursed his choice of imagery. There was no use thinking along those lines, not after that first week. Release and focus, focus, that's what was needed, focus, now more than ever. Various mental tricks he had picked up over the years began to play over in his robotic brain, switching process priorities, discarding unresponsive threads, and allowing him to devote more attention to the tedious task which had become daily routine. Not that the individual passing days meant much to him of late: improvised rituals aside, the passing days were little more than a slowly incrementing counter in memory, a grim counterpart to the correspondingly decreasing numbers.

He had worked out his functional expectancy early on, once the initial bout of despair had been overcome (and it had been overcome, yes, it had to have been overcome out of counter-causal necessity, this was also obvious). Power was a virtual non-issue, both him and the ship would last for years with their combined batteries. Drive corruption was a bigger worry - the blinking device had been built for a few, short, occasional trips, not for a methodical combing of the galaxy. Every day its recalibration was taking slightly longer; sooner or later, it would refuse to jump entirely. Revrin would then be left only with his ship's deployable solar sails, at which point his only option would be to risk boarding a ship, or a station... somehow. Without any tools. Or help. Or...

Release and focus, focus, focus. The message was coming along nicely. That had been a good idea: since he had no hypercomms, blinking around the galaxy until he stumbled upon someone listening in on standard sub-light hailing frequencies was his best bet. The major population hubs had been the first, obvious targets, as well as the biggest disappointments. If entire planets had fallen to whatever this silence was... Then it had been the great trading hubs' turn - ancient megastructures out in space, some of the best places in the galaxy for real-time sifting. Still nothing. Now he was reduced to worlds his ship's on-board computer barely had any information on, and for which he had to consult his keystaff.

The staff had become another part of his daily routine. There was more information stored within than he could ever hope to go through, which helped to alleviate his greatest present concern: boredom. Panic and anxiety were all well and good, but there was only so much one could get worked up about after nearly three weeks. Yes, he was probably going to die, but there wasn't much use sweating the details. Until then, there were still things he could do, like reading up on the properties of the Lerillian frog (optical reading, of course - simply downloading the information would have been appallingly efficient), watching the same three movies once more (if only the staff's makers had seen fit to store fiction on it), and rewrite the same message over and over again.

This one was pretty good. He loaded it into the ship's slowcast system and prepared to blink to the next pre-programmed destination. Which one was this? Somewhere in the Pleiades? The names were a blur after so many jumps. He had travelled to more stars over the course of the past two weeks than most people visited in their entire lives. The giant countdown on his screen finished ticking down and the world around him became a flash of impossible imagery for a few seconds, before settling on a faintly gaseous, blue environment. The slowcast system activated and began broadcasting over as many forms as it could - audio, text, video, on as many frequencies as possible.

Is there anybody out there?
I have been criss-crossing the entire galaxy for the past two weeks, looking for any sign of sentience.
This needleship isn't going to last forever; I am in dire need of assistance.
I am sending my present coordinates, along with my next intended destination.
If anyone is listening, please, please respond.
This message will repeat 9 more times.

 

[Mr.Sandstorm]

The Pleiades
Private Vessel "Ibn Battuta"
Lyro ManicMuse Harmalite
I am sending my present coordinates, along with my next intended destination.
If anyone is listening, please, please respond.
This message will repeat 9 more times.

This message will repeat 12 more times.

This message will repeat 5 more times.

This message will repeat 8 more times.

For two weeks already, "This message" echoed in the screen. The chase was begining to seed frustration into Kansh's mind, but regardless, he kept hunting. It was enough of a miracle that he had caught this trace of inteligent life, a simple beacon that now contrasted surrealy with the absolute silence that had struck space.

It seemed as if the entire universe was slowly returning to it's earliest times of chastity, when humanity was still an unheard concept. Wherever he went, the stars' shine and the cosmic background gained every day more and more hegemony amongst the carcass of radio noise that composed mankind's youngest messages, as they passed trough the void millenia after their contents became moot.
He read of the first days of human space exploration, and it seemed that things were coming to a full circle before him.The galaxy was becoming a dark, untouched place once again...

But there was that message, radiating from the outskirts of systems and the rings of gas giants to greet him as he gave his ship little rest before Blinking to it's next expected location. The search he hastily got into already had many cliffs and pitfalls of emotion, as he nearly lost track of the signal, only to find it once again in the strangest times. Fernon was most eager to end this chase at once.

This message will repeat 9 more times.

The message echoed once again. An automated routine signaled him of the next bread crumb with a loud beep, as he lay on his bed, lost in tought. He got up and sat on the pilot seat.
Next Coordinate: BDF-0334 , Binary D-class , Stellar Hazard Level Ota-1.
Engage FTL? Y/N

Fernon took a deep breath. He felt invited to stop and stare at the planetoid that stood in the sensor's view, but the urgency of this jump pulled him back to his pilot console.
/Y
He was getting close. Despite the long game, he was getting close.

As the ship cut trough the planes that resided beyond normal space, the circular shape of the barren world in front of him deformed into uninteligible shapes. 300 years ago, this scenery amused him. Now, he was turning his chair around to not have to look at the visual blend in the main screen.

The soft, deep hum that ran across the spine of the ship told him that he had arrived. He swung his chair around to look at the main screen once more.

Another barren planet. Hey, this time it's a nice shade of blue. A rare sight for a rocky planet...
A small smile made it's way to his face as he started the search routines once more.

 

[Vulpes]

Drifting through space in the Perun system, Jack was filled with terror, excitement and loneliness. This strange event was the kind of thing he imagined many had dreamed of, Jack certainly had. The kind of event that leaves one liberated from the chains of society, like apocalypse movies. He blinked and shook his head around, watching his satisfying hud glide smoothly around his vision before settling again with each movement. This orange glowing screen was his only stimulation for the moment.

He wasn't sure at exactly what time, but 3 weeks ago, everyone had disappeared. Jack had been shooting out of his hanger and burning up into space, shrouded in dazzling charged ozone, before discovering that nobody was stationed on pro-pulsion's privately owned asteroid. He'd been messaged that morning that they'd be discussing their next project at a meeting. Something was amiss. Jack had spent the first day simply trying to contact anybody, but he couldn't get anything from close range communications. None of the bases within their belt had any inhabitants apparently. Even his planet of residence Svarog was empty. The big ball of budding forests and growing cities had gone from homely to eerie. Until Jack could find others and gather information, he was going to avoid planets at all costs.

Jack's second day had been spent utilising a laser array to scan for any metallic object in his solar system, chugging coffee all day and joking with Sam to try to avoid panicking. He had awakened midway through falling off his chair as a beep erupted from the nearby computer, he was too tired to do anything, but noted that he'd need to prepare, the AI running the laser predicted a 82% chance that the thing it had scanned was a deep space station of sorts, it would definitely have supplies for a long time, and the possibility of more people. The light from his laser array had only taken 15 minutes to reach Veres, and again for the faint reflection to return, Jack's ship computer had predicted two weeks........ "Bloody great huh Sam?"
"Well there's nobody around Svarog or on it apparently, so it's either wait here and die or go there and maybe not die. By the way I am smiling, I promise." Said his wristwatch, Jack wasn't sure how to feel about his AI friend, he knew it was only a copy, at best. Despite having his little friend, Jack felt so vulnerable onboard the station, every corner he turned made his heart stop, every door he opened could reveal an unseen threat. Jack hated his irrational fears, nothing could get in without access, or at least explosives.

The rest of the week had been spent loading his ship up with hydrogen, metal filaments in case he needed to manufacture parts and stealing food and water. Jack had flown to stations owned by other corporations to see what he could muster there. Just before setting off, Jack's ship was so loaded with food and supplies that he could barely move in it, the boxes of stuff were stacked in his small cabin. Jack's concerns included smelling like shit because he couldn't shower easily, finding a generic asteroid, losing his sanity and running out of things to talk about with Sam. He wasn't too worried about dying, there wasn't much point, his irrational biological fears still tormented him though.

Back to the present:
"Sam?"
"What now?"
"If you drop a bar of soap on the ground, does the soap become dirty or does the ground become clean?"
His AI paused for a moment, Jack knew that it didn't genuinely understand what he was asking, it was just searching for word matches. The thought killed him inside.....
"Well that would depe....." The happy voice shut down as Jack's thumb pushed a button on the watch. "My real brother's still fucking dead" Jack mumbled as a few tears escaped his eyes. Jack still appreciated he AI, he'd probably have killed himself without it, but it still wasn't good enough.
Jack sighed as his ship proceeded, he knew the loneliness was getting to him, he needed people soon or he would sink into an abyss of sentimentalism and reminiscing.
'2 days before destination reached' displayed on his ship's screen as Jack tilted his seat back, considering what improvements to add to his AI next.
"I should have bought a hyperdrive" he grunted.

 

[Slop]

The Archivist | Location: The Nexus Databank | State of Mind: Blank, Pondering​

The faint illumination of distant stars glazed the Archivist's cloak, allowing a thick shadow to form behind him as he stood stoically with hands behind his back, allowing his human brain to ponder off into the deep regions of space he was admiring so greatly from behind the reinforced floor-to-ceiling windows of the Nexus Databank.

The Archivist was dumbfounded - a state of mind he had been deprived off for an immeasurably long period of time and thus despised gravely. He was having difficulties recalling the last time he had experienced said ineffable sensation. The feeling of being baffled and to not know something - to wonder.

As motionless as he was speechless, the Archivist was perfectly aware of the Fall although not unlike everyone else throughout the galaxy, he could have only wished he had some data regarding a past event resembling that of the mentioned. He wasn't terrified, no. And neither was he surprised. He was withal perplexed to say the very least.

Due to his nature, neither food or water was a necessity for the Archivist. They were as impactless as age. As for power source, the geothermal energy from the planet Nexus resided on was far beyond sufficient to power both Nexus and fuel the Archivist's power cells. Problems could have arose when its defense systems were to be turned on, withal.

He continued to watch and ponder aimlessly with lowered defense systems - welcoming any incoming fleets out of pure curiosity when a sudden static noise fizzed from the radio - comm interface across the observing room and stimulated his auditory tubes.

"Th-zz-messa-zzz-eat-zzz-t-z-es.."

You didn't need to be a genius to fill in the blanks - someone was broadcasting a plead for help and assistance - but such matter was trivial to the Archivist - he was still immobile, his mind lost within the abysmal depths of space.

 

[Trashler]

Dano Natealie Vulpes

Hope.
It was something that the Odessa's were seeming to lose. With each day that passed on that planet, hope dissipated. With communications down, they were unable to contact their planet. Their friends. Everyone they knew went dark in a matter of weeks. They only had each other for company, and even that got tiresome. It seemed that hope was completely gone, and wasn't going to return. Still, the Odessa's continued to thrive. Finally, it seemed that hope had indeed returned, and was insistent on staying.

The Odessa's boarded their ship, and prepared to set out into the stars. Though before they could make the jump to Hypospace, they saw something particular that somewhat amused them. A station, floating in the middle of nowhere. The station seemed in need of help, which made the crew cheer in excitement, though V3 simply scoffed. The Odessa's pulled up their ship and began to dock, and were successful in doing so. They readied themselves before entering the station.

All ten of the Odessa's walked with a synchronized pattern. One that would be memorizing if you stared at it too long. Most of them had a unique gait. V9 pranced, while V10 did a warrior stride. Yes, the squadron was a weird one at that. Upon sight of what appeared to be a human, the Odessa crew slowly came to a halt. The human was female, and had a rather intelligent posture. The unit remained silent, until V3 walked up to her, and spoke with a french accent. Bonjour, belle femme, we are the Odessa squadron, and we wish to help in the endeavors of the humans upon this ship. "

"Must you have your audio chip to that frequency 3? Anyways, our prerogative is to help those in need. You wouldn't happen to know of anyone like that would you?" V1 joked, walking up to the mysterious stranger.

 

[Harmalite]

Silence. Three anxious, excruciating weeks of silence, which he had spent drifting around an utterly empty planet. Beya had given up on pretending to have a schedule or any semblance of connection to the plan, opting to colonize the cockpit of the Blue Solstice and wait, desperately. Littered with empty ration packs, and catching flies in a captain's chair covered in blankets and old clothes, the command center of the mighty vessel was the abode of a someone whose spirit was almost as dead as the stars around him.

Admittedly, it wasn't the best plan. Even with the smartest from the planet of geniuses, It was impossible to take down an interstellar empire (no matter how incompetent) in only 5 months. Not without severe consequences, which became immediately obvious after 72 hours of waiting for any sort of signal. The decision to warp to the staging point of the interstellar attack before getting the go-ahead might have seemed to be an intrepid one, but it really was the most logical course of action. Either the Void Club had succeeded, and it would be completely safe, or Charging Taurus had already executed all of them and were already hot on Beya's trail. The fact that his "secure location" was the chaotic orbit of the T Tauri protostar might have helped solidify that decision, where Beya was as shielded from comfort and silence as he was from the carcinogenically powerful hyperscanners of the Charging Taurus. Only for a few days at a time though, and as the ship passed out of the dust cloud the Pleiades, his former home, stared down at him like seven emaciated eyes, longing to finish what they had started. He charged in like a cornered animal, not a hero.

Maybe it had been because they were all quick thinkers like Beya; after all, when an object so horrifically blueshifted suddenly shows up in the sky it's one of those rare occasions where our old friend Darwin can't help but to pay a visit. The sabotage drives had been tested exactly two times. The simultaneous infiltration had been practiced in virtual reality, also twice. They all saw it, Taurus spies saw it, even the short-sighted and flighty child prodigy saw it. The science was impressive, but the guerilla operations were woefully unprepared. Beya had braced himself for the worst. But this? It was so far out of left field that it couldn't even be classified as "worse" or "better". It was more of a "What the fuck?"

That was exactly what he said as he awoke to a start, with 3 separate radio alerts blaring at once. Blankets flew off of him like he was a human breaching charge, and the half-eaten pack of starch flakes he'd never bothered to hydrate clattered off the flashing comms console, bouncing in the low artificial gravity. He swept the remaining "food" off the console, wide eyed, still catching flies. The hot white light of the twin sisters of the Bhidurion system glared off of the console's glassy alumnia coating, reminding him that the tried and true safety squints which were pretty much necessary anywhere in the Pleiades.

Three radar signatures, identifiable by sets of numbers and abbreviations which had become a second language to him. A radio transmission from a Mosquito-Class Needleship, recorded and ready to open. An unidentified transport ship, NDP "Ibn Battua", that the ship's automatic systems were still in the process of scanning. The Solstice's auxillary baseband radar salted the contours of the unknown vessel with high-frequency waves and had sent out an automated identification request a few seconds ago. And... Beya had already jumped at the ship's emergency cooldown switch before he even finished parsing the last one. The entire ship jolted as the titanium framework relaxed in a quick bout of buckling and moaning, jostling the mess in the cockpit into the air. The reactor audibly growled from the back of the ship as it's radiators billowed to life and the hypospace interdictors warmed up in preparation for an attack. This is it, Beya thought to himself. It was just a dirty trick, none of those Charging Taurus ships were actually offline, none of those planets actually refused to respond to his communication attempts. I'm going to die around this blue rock. Why did I think I could escape?

That wasn't quite right, though.

Clear as day, or maybe an eclipse, a 560 meter long Nightmare Regent class dreadnought passed over the white dwarves, drowning the blinking, beeping coffin in a surreal and dramatically blue-tinted darkness. Although his hyperspace scanners were inexplicably nonfunctional (Firmware update my ass was his main thought regarding the subject), it had obviously just emerged from hyperspace. Yet it showed none of the signs of the Charging Taurus signature hyperspace ambush. The weapons stations remained locked beneath armored blast hatches and the threatening bloodred lights of the bridge were extinguished. Most notably, and Beya had to stare for a very long time to confirm that it wasn't some delusion brought along by isolation and mild dehydration, the ship's radiators were fully ablaze, spitting incandescent copper vapor into space. The cheesy black and red paint around them had been charred away, revealing the metal beneath. It had to have been burning for days, and warming up for days before that. Slowly, silently, it drifted towards past the curved horizon of Bhidurion-E, allowing the unblinking white eyes of the binary system to watch with him. Beya flinched at the brightness, holding his hand over his eyes, which tried to make sense of this trillion-credit warship that smoldered like an oven someone forgot to turn off before they left for Vega.

Well at least Charging Taurus wasn't a problem anymore, apparently.

Casting away any illusions of a stealth operation, Beya felt around the console for the emergency communicator module and lifted it to his lips. He had another round of glaring down at the dreadnought before actually pressing the button, lighting up the mic with a weak crackle. He had no idea how much he was aching to talk until he opened his mouth.

"Ibn Battua, this is Blue Solstice."

"Are... are you seeing this?"

Mr.Sandstorm Lyro ManicMuse

 

[Tardy Grade]

The countdown clock was once one of the most-watched timepieces in the world.

Millions of the world's population would sit still, glued to their media viewing devices and wait for the entire launch procedure.
Very few however spent the time to stay tuned with all 43 hours of the stringent checkups that took place to ensure the safety of the crew inside and the vessel itself. The same worries that existed then still persisted now but were no longer held to with the same strict attitude and the time spent ensuring that could cost you precious resources and opportunities.

Pauses in the countdown, or "holds," were built into the countdown to allow the launch team to target a precise launch window, and to provide a cushion of time for certain tasks and procedures without impacting the overall schedule.
For the space shuttle countdown, built-in holds vary in length and always occur at the following times:

T-27 hours, T-19 hours, T-11 hours, T-6 hours, T-3 hours, T-20 minutes, and T-9 minutes.

Now? It was done in 43 minutes flat.​

T-43 minutes and counting
The ship's simple AI made a quick attempt to connect to other space stations to inform them about their launch. Failing to do so would usually prompt a series of queries by the AI to the pilot whether they wish to continue but luckily she'd asked Sparky to help her bypass that to jump immediately to the next step in case of silence. The AI then ran the check up routines. Backup flight systems,Review flight software stored in mass memory units and display systems,Activate and test navigational systems and so on in record time.

T-27 minutes and holding
Sparky was no where near the launch pad so she didn't have to worry about 'non-flight personnel' getting blown to kingdom come. She heard the distinct noise of the eternal loading-arm for cryogenic propellants detach after making sure her ship wasn't going to have an immediate overheating situation.

T-27 minutes and counting
She went to her seat and checked all the monitors. The displays were up and running as was her suits and gear. Leaving her gun to charge in it's port she got herself a cup of coffee. A human delight and delicacy that stood the test of time and other stimulants that came and went. Each sip a personal victory for the humble seed.

T-19 minutes and holding
A sound ushered as the ship was exposed to an intense UV decontamination on the inside and sleeping quarters to limit an alien organisms not accounted for in the passenger/crew manifest from hitch hiking. Too many such cases led to large scale issues before and she didn't want the odd situation occurring to make her forget that.

T-19 minutes and counting
Various flaps outside the ship along with panels began to operate independent checks before coming to a stop minutes later and announcing no issues other than the lack of company comms.

T-11 minutes and holding
Weather reports showed clear weather as always on this planet with almost no atmosphere to speak of. The larger concern lay in the space debris that hurtled it's way around the planet like a choker. The ship thankfully announced minimal chances of large clusters being encountered on their launch.

T-11 minutes and counting
The fuel cells activated. A roar of clean energy shot out slowly from it's thrusters and built in power. The gaseous Nitrogen began to get purged from the ship as it began to ready itself for the pressure variance in space.

T-6 minutes and holding
Making her statement for company records was the important bit in case she did get to the bottom of this issue and so she began to dictate,"-tart recording. Rerynn here. Having been isolated from the company comms for more than two weeks earth time I have mad an executive decision to reach the nearest inhabited location or comm array to make an attempt to reach a branch of G.U.R.R.E.N. from that point. End recordin-."

T-6 minutes and counting
Rerynn wanted to scratch her nose really badly.

T-3 minutes and holding
She had a brief and somewhat depressing chat with Sparky. Sparky knew it would be a while before anyone of full sentience would arrive on the planet and in the worst case scenario it could be years. Despite that he gave no inclination of an emotional leak as usual. Her voice however was on the verge of cracking as she said bye to one of the few fri- friends she'd ever had.

T-20 seconds
The entire body of the vehicle shook now as it entered the last few seconds of -

**Transmission detected**​

​

T-9 seconds
The arms holding the ship detached and activation of main engine hydrogen-10 burn-off system began. "Wait did you say something Ai?" she shouted back across the roaring of the engine but to no avail as the AI known as Ai was occupied with the final checks and take o-

T-0
Lift-off.

"Ai? Did you say you detecte-" before Ai brought up the fragments of the transmission she was able to receive.

-I am ... my present coord...ext intended destin..If anyo...ning, ple...ond.This messa...epeat-​

Ai informed her that the signal was weak on the planet surface and that they'd need to move further into space before having any luck with tracing the source or even getting a clearer message.

But despite that Rery felt the first intense emotion she'd felt in months.

She felt hope.

Lyro

 

[Snorble211]

The silence had been unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Even on his planet was there rarely ever complete silence, whether it be his city's bustling night life or the sounds of a nearby riot. But this? This was something new. Something foreign. Something that even in his countless smuggling sprees across the galaxy, he had never seen, heard of, or even assumed could happen. But, much to his surprise, it had.

His first instinct was to return to Uzara-7. He tried to think as positively as he could. He tried convincing himself that there was no reason to worry. But, he knew that at his core there was something prohibited him from believing himself. As hard as he tried to think otherwise, he knew that he was wrong. As great as his planet was, there was no special force that had kept it from suffering the same fate as each planet, star and station he passed on his way back to it. Reality had slyly avoided any thought trying to suppress it, and it began to set in. He had been in stressful situations before, enough to understand that panicking is the absolute worst way to react. This was different. This wasn't a customs agent performing a "random search" on his cargo, or finding out the robot he just sold a weapon to was defective. This was different. This... Whatever this was, it filled him with dread worse than he thought any robot could feel.

His ship came to a sudden stop, jostling a few supply crates and scattering various guns around the cabin. He sat motionless in the cockpit, frantically sifting through any options ahead of him. He wasn't sure what to do. It wasn't feasible to expect him, or anyone for that matter, to have anticipated this. He felt the urge to return home but he couldn't quite push himself to it. The possibility of returning to his cherished planet and witnessing it abandoned and empty, devoid of everything that he had fought for, was not a risk he was willing to take. That burden would have been too much to bear.

Once again, he considered his options. Since Uzara-7 would be vacant anyways, he decided that the best option would simply be to drift. He had enough charge to last himself a good few months, and assured himself that eventually he'd run into another survivor. If there were any, that was. More negative thoughts began to fill his head before he simply cursed himself out for assuming the worst. He bashed his fist into a wall and muttered something derogatory under his breath. Not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer, he did as he planned. He chose a direction, his engines roared to life once again, and the two patriots of Uzara-7 drifted through the silent space.


Three weeks later, nothing had changed. Zintosh drifted for weeks with no signs of life, or anything for that matter. His hopes of encountering survivors had diminished after the third day of silence, just as he had remembered how vast and desolate space already was. Even if there were survivors, he certainly didn't expect to run into them by pure chance. By day 7 he had skipped from anger to acceptance. As unbelievable as the silence was, it was happening and he understood that there was nothing more to do about it. If by some minuscule probability he did run into survivors, then maybe he'd be granted a reason to hope. Hope for himself, hope for the future, hope for Uzara.

For now though, he cleared his mind of worries and sought out any way he could to entertain himself. If he were to die in his ship, he at least wanted to pass having some semblance of fun. His hobbies had been all over the place ever since the silence fell, although each only kept him entertained for a few days at most. There were only so many things to do with a myriad of firearms and nowhere to fire them.

"F6CE... Y1... Shit." He turned over the gun in his hands. His newest way to pass the time had been remembering serial numbers. After a full day of it, a cluttered pile of various weaponry accumulated behind his seat in the cockpit. He designated this the "remembered" pile, and expected it to double by the end of the day. He focused on remembering the final two digits etched into the pistol in his hand. He read over the full number to himself numerous times, before turning the gun over once more. He recited the number aloud. Once again, he was right. He sighed and tossed the gun behind him, reaching for another.

"Another gun in the pile..." He examined the plasma rifle he had picked up and gazed down its sights, aiming it out at the endless void before him. "How long am I gonna have to put up with this shit?"

 

[Mr.Sandstorm]

The Pleiades
Private Vessel "Ibn Battuta"
Harmalite Lyro

Soon, the sensor and communications screens came to life, drowned with readings.

Target vessel reached! Coord: Bhidurion-E High-Orbit 163522ADF
Unindentified vessel detected Coord: Bhidurion-E Low-Orbit 123325AVF; vessel => Vss1

Alert! Charging Taurus warship Coord: Bhidurion-E High-Orbit 213345EDF
Command: Active Scan [Bhidurion-E High-Orbit 213345EDF]
Severe hull damage. Thermal patterns critical. No armed weapons detected.

Vss1 emmiting identification request. Respond? Y/N
Active scanners detected from Vss1
Alert! Anomalous temperature shift from Vss1. Radiators detected
Sub54 reports [Anomalous Hypospace Readings]
Incoming message from Vss1. Open channel? Y/N

"Ibn Battua, this is Blue Solstice."

"Are... are you seeing this?"

His eyes finaly glued off of the screens as he slowly distanced himself from the controls. Someone.
He closed his eyes. The game of catch was over.
Someone.

His voice came unnaturaly hoarse after to much time.
"Yes. Yes, Blue Solstice, I can see."
He cleared his throat from what must have been three weeks of complete silence before reaching out to the speaker again.
"Do you.. do you have any idea what is happening?"
A moment later Fernon realised the occasion deserved a better welcome, but time was of the essence.

"I-I've been trying to track down this... can you see it? That Needleship? It's been beaming for help for weeks already. We need to help it. I havent found a single living creature since I've started tracking it..... The entire galaxy just went dark."

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

☣/Kyr☢s "Uranus" Thalia/☣​

... S...

Four flashing lights and three tingling shocks up his spine.

... Systems...Operational...
...
... Ports 3 through 48 separating, reabsorption initialized...

A familiar, almost pleasantly so, sting repeated 45 times throughout his body. Bubbles everywhere. Lungs filled with liquid. He could feel the living machine's slimy extremities sliding out of the several access points along the nape of his neck and around his torso. The bony structures that kept him upright retracted and allowed him to fall forward, as was protocol during an emergency ejection. With a pop the protective membrane gave way and he was free.

... reconstitution finalized, preparing augmentated resurge...

Out into cold harsh reality Kyros stumbled like a newborn child. The disconnection period usually took about a minute, but the emergency protocol brought a soldier from deep coma to combat ready within 10 seconds and it was never a pleasant process. A sudden gag, then a wave of fluid came flooding out through every orifice on his face out into the grates in the floor. From behind him he could hear the injection function popping to life, and as expected a cold metal point pressed into his neck and filled him with burning medication.

Like a rush of adrenaline (although consisting of far more complex compounds) he was wide awake. Bones in his body popped into place, his heart reached inhuman beats per minutes which in turn caused the many recalibration wounds over his body to leak small amounts of blood. His eyes and mouth also leaked large amounts of fluid, leaving him momentarily looking like a crying adolescent. An automated droid rolled over to him as he straightened his back, quickly wrapped him in white clothing, bandages, and pressed his personal Olympian weaponization directly to his right arm. In no time it had attached to his external ports and sunk into and around the arm, forming an extremely tough outer layer.

From here on it was Kyros responsibility.

With the automated robot at his heels, he sprinted into the hallways and down towards the Mecha cryopods. His warrior suit was no doubt revived and readied for a piloting morph, but-

"... huh?"

Kyro stopped, and turned dead toward the sound behind him. The biomechanical automated machine had collapsed behind him. The Titan line Assistance Biorobot was not designed for a long runtime, but this one hadn't even succeeded in relaying the reason why he was awoken yet. But not only that, it was... well, for a lack of a better word, dead.

---------------------------------------
​

Ten minutes passed, and only with worse findings for Kyros. His Mecha was alive and fine, the Miner suit as well albeit in deep stasis. He'd put Uranus to follow him instead of directly piloting it to be able to personally investigate the strange situation. The ship AI was unresponsive even at the observation deck and officer's quarters, both of which were high priority systems, and it seemed the most of the bioreceptors and biotech connection systems were offline- or, more likely, dead. His fellow crew was gone, but he'd been sent away to personally take care of a quick building project on a nearby planet whilst the full regiment had landed planetside to exterminate a rogue cell of cyborgs, so it was to be expected.

Unfortunately, as he walked into the pulsechamber, a room that housed what looked like an enormous heart which in turn powered every single biological system aboard the vessel his fate was finally sealed. The once majestic proof of Gaian biological prowess was lifeless, spreading a terrible odour as it decayed into nothingness. The backup cardiovascular system was beating weakly, clearly riddled by whatever issue that had destroyed the aptly named "Thorax".

"... What the hell happened here..?" He pondered out loud, and then twitched when a robot voice echoed "VOICE CONFIRMED FOR ... KYROS THALIA, RESPECTED URANUS ... INFORMATION REQUEST GRANTED." Kyros had his Olympian shaped to a machinegun and leveled at the AI server-class robot before he registered what it was, then lowered it slowly. "GREETINGS, URANUS. THE SHIP IS IN A STATE OF DISREPAIR SINCE AN UNACCOUNTED METEOR STRUCK IT, RENDERING THE MAIN CARDIOVASCULARS, THE COMMUNCATIONS, AND THE CELESTIAL ALIGNMENT AND COORDINATION SYSTEMS OFFLINE. IMMEDIATE ENGINEER AND BIOENGINEER STAFF IS REQUIRED."

Kyros stood stunned. This wasn't the first time the ship had been severely damaged in this way, but without any sort of assistance attempting to get it in enough of a working condition to return it to the planet was going to be... perilous, and definitely time consuming. He wasn't screwed so long as the life-support didn't give out, and even then he'd have a few weeks... but all he had was a few scattered nonbiological AI that could survive without the Thorax's function, and... "Computer, how long ago was this collision, and how long have I been out?" "THREE WEEKS AGO, SIR. YOU WERE PUT IN STASIS FOUR WEEKS AGO, ACCORDING TO STANDARD TERRAN TIME." He was shocked, "Why did you not revive me?!" "SOLDIERS ARE NOT AWOKEN FOR REPAIRWORK."

There must've been more of an malfunction in the system. The scanners usually pick up and avoid incoming debris, and the AIs have always been able to come up with solutions when protocol isn't enough. Something was severely wrong, but Kyros could not tell what with his limited expertise. "But wait," He asked, "why am I awake now then?" "THERE ARE NO RECORDS OF THE SPORESYSTEM WHICH ACTIVES SOLDIERS" The AI replied, "BUT STANDARD AWAKENING PROTOCOLS MEANS THERE IS MOST LIKELY INVADERS ABOARD."

Oh no. As if the situation wasn't dire enough as it was, looters. "You're likely right, computer. I will patrol. Start assessing damage and attempt to fix communications, this must be relayed." "SIR. WE HAD PRERECORDED COORDINATES TO SEVERAL LOCATIONS, AND SYSTEM AI AUTOMATICALLY MADE THE JUMPS THERE BEFORE DAMAGE BECAME TO GREAT FOR FTL TRAVEL. THERE HAVE BEEN NO SIGNS OF LIFE." He stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait, what, what locations?" "MERCENARY PLATFORM ALEIUS 6, MARS, ALPHA CENTAURI, AND..." No, don't tell me... Kyros whispered in his head, but his fears were only realized. "... HOMEWORLD OF GAIA."

It hit him like a tankshell, but there wasn't a hint of it in his demeanour. He took back what he said earlier, the AI had done all they could, but he couldn't quite believe this. "Sorry, no lifesigns?" The AI quickly replied "UNMOVING SHIPS IN ORBITS, NO LIFESIGNS DETECTED BY RADAR, HAZARDOUSLY LOW ELECTRICAL OUTPUT. SPORE COMMUNICATIONS ON GAIA COMPLETELY OFFLINE." What? He'd been asleep for four weeks, what could possibly have happened in that time?

No, there was no time for that now. Without bothering to be polite to the emotionless robot, he turned on his heel and jumped up onto the hulking Uranus Biomecha's back, which quickly opened up and accommodated for his merging. "Thanks." He muttered, then climbed into the piloting seat and merged. Nervous systems snapped together, synthetic muscles combining with biohuman ones, and after what felt like an eternity of darkness he found himself staring out of the metal and flesh monstrosity's eyes.

The only access point into the ship was through it's hangar section, so that was naturally the first place to look. Everything loose vibrated and fell to the ground as the large Mecha ran with heavy steps through corridors and hallways to reach the massive ship's transit system. With the worries about the state of his homeworld in the back of his mind, he was soon shooting off at the speed of sound towards the hangars.

Could Gaia possibly have fallen so soon? It was a warrior planet, mercenaries and weaponized technology the forefront of it's business. Kyros had his doubts, but his faith in the ability of Tartarus told him that something must be seriously wrong in the universe. Especially if there were no lifesigns on MARS, of all places.

Finally the tram stopped at the thick metal doors of the hangar, and Kyros took a deep breath before silently (well, silently for a mecha the sized of 4-5 bears taped together)taking a step forward and allowing the scanner to grant him access. His fingers twitched at the sound of the metal doors opening, and he bared the massive pointed teeth of the mecha.

Alright. Focus.

The J

 

[Dano]

Trashler Natealie Vulpes Vulpes
When Julie finally opened her eyes it took a minute for the blur to dissipate as her vision returned. Clutching her head she sat up, this was the worst hangover she had ever experienced. As it continued to throb she stumbled from the cryo lab, not realizing she had been encapsulated for over 15000 years or that the technician eating his lunch had his mouth open in disbelief. As she carefully walked down the corridor to where here quarters were, others stared at her as if they had seen a ghost. Some of the younger ones on board were laughing gleefully as they ran past, the noise boomed in her head as if a speaker had been pressed up against her head. Julie opened the door to ‘her’ quarters as another woman shrieked as she was walking from the shower to her bedroom for clothes in her towel. The scream caused Julie to come to attention and she screamed as well.



“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY QUARTERS?!” she said suddenly as she looked around and saw nothing of hers in the room. The woman held her towel tighter as she replied extremely timidly,



“Your quarters? I’ve been living here for the past 148 years.... Who are you?” her words had started to gain boldness as she interrogated Julie. Looking back at the woman she ignored her question and simply asked,



“Isn’t this Red 1023?” Julie was referring to the room location, it was in the red sector, on the 10th ‘floor’, the 2nd corridor and the 3rd room. Looking even more puzzled the woman cocked her head slightly to the right and replied,



“Red 1023? No one has used those location terms for over 6000 years…” the only reason the woman had known that was she was part of the personnel organization monitoring team.



“6000 years?” Julie’s voice echoed the confused look upon her face, “...wait what year is it?” she asked with a slight hesitation in her voice.



“It’s 18317, how come you didnt’ know that?” the woman asked, now more concerned than ever. Julie grasped her head with both hands and knelt down in the doorway,



“That’s impossible… I was intoxicated last night and headed back to my room to sleep it off… There’s no way I slept for…” Julie couldn’t do the math right now as the shock had really started to hit her, “.... It’s impossible… no one lives this long there’s no way I could have lasted this long, not even if I was in a comma… The only way to preserve life that long is….” and then it hit her. She must have somehow stumbled into the cryo lab and activated one of the pods. The other woman calmed herself and walked over to put a hand on her shoulder,



“It’s ok… I can help you figure this out. My name is Ari..” she said softly as she eyed Julie. They seemed to be approximately the same build so she had an idea, “Let me go get you some clothes, and you are welcome to take a shower if you want to help get your thoughts together…” There was no way for Ari to put it that didn’t make it sound like Julie lost everyone and everything she ever knew. She quickly moved to the other room and grabbed some extra clothes and a towel for Julie.



“Julie…. My name is Julie VonKrass....” she whispered before rising to her feet. “Thank you Ari…” she said taking the clothes and towel. Julie was in the shower for what seemed like forever as she tried to contemplate what she was going to do now. A couple times Ari heard a loud thud as Julie must have hit the wall with her fist in frustration. Fifty-two minutes later, Julie emerged from the bathroom wearing the one piece, light teal, zip up suit. She felt very uncomfortable as she sat in a chair next to Ari. “I…I don’t know what I’m going to do…” her voice was shaky as it was obvious she had been crying in the shower.



“Well that makes all of us…” Ari said with a worried smile on her face, “...We haven’t been able to communicate with anyone outside of the station for two weeks… No one knows what happened, it just stopped working. Many of us try to keep busy with our assigned jobs, but everyone knows that we only have so much power until everything fails…” Julie looked up at Ari,



“How many people are on the station now?” she asked, almost not wanting to know. The station held over 200 people back in her day, she could only image how big it must be now and the thousands of people that must be on board.



“28…” Ari replied as she looked away “... the station had moved to one of the far reaching points in the galaxy to serve as a point of reference for those ships patrolling the edge of the charted territory. Because of the reassignment, most people transferred and now we are left with a skeleton crew. The people you passed in the corridor were probably heading back to work from their lunch, otherwise you wouldn’t have seen anyone…” Ari stopped for a minute and pressed her lips together as she thought about her next steps, “...we should get you to see the station commander.” Julie sighed heavily, knowing that Ari was right. They needed to go see the station commander to figure out what they were going to do with her. As they got up and left Ari’s quarters, a yellow light was flashing, “What?!” Ari said in shock, “...someone’s docking for the first time since the comms went down! We need to go see who it is!” She grabbed Julie’s arm and they took off towards the docking bay. When they arrived they stood in awe as 10 awkward looking robots started moving their way. Ari didn’t know what to think as she slowly backed up, not knowing if they were hostile or not, leaving Julie standing there watching the technological masterpieces.



As Julie stood there and they approached, one of them started speaking in a strange but somewhat familiar language. It almost sounded like one of the ancient ones from Earth but she couldn’t have been sure. It was when the second robot addressed her and asked if she needed help that all she could do was let out a slight chuckle, “Sure, why not… this day couldn’t get anymore messed up than it already is…” In the back of her mind, Julie wondered if her vodka stash still remained hidden in her lab, she was going to need it. Her lab! She had almost completely forgot about her lab. Julie’s mind started racing and her eyes darted back and forth trying to recall where it was and all of the work she had done. A small smile crept upon her face as she might finally have some semblance of normalcy after what she had discovered in the past few hours...

 

[Harmalite]

As he listened to the Ibn Battua's transmission, Beya's thumb scuffed the transmit button on the communicator. The gravelly old voice from the Ibn Battua sounded wise, comforting even. It was the kind of voice he hadn't heard since he left the Electra system for the last time. He glanced away from the glinting speck above the planet's horizon down at the radar console, giving him a chance to loosen his tightly-furrowed eyelids. The console presented him with the message, flashing patiently.

"I have no idea what is happening. I see the ship. I've got a transmission from it, let me listen to it" Beya said into the comm with a wavering but calm voice as he swiped the screen to the side, wiping into a jittery waveform. He'd heard the last part, but decided half-consciously to take the message one step at a time, for his health's sake. A lilting, artificial-sounding voice began to play. He let it play, and rolled it over in his head for a few seconds. No matter how robotic, there was an upsetting amount of stress in the voice. Beya wiped the console back to the radar display, where a grainy image of a shoebox of a spaceship and a pair of galactic coordinates greeted him. God, it was tiny. He was already committed to saving this poor soul, partly out of how much he could relate to his feeling of loneliness, and partly because he wanted to take on something that would stop him from thinking about the last sentence he heard from the Ibn Battua out of his head.

Too late, as always. Beya was hopelessly bad at distracting himself. He jerked the comm back to his face while his fingers flew across the dashboard, punching in coordinates and dialing in parameters. From the bowels of the Blue Solstice, the blink drive bellowed furiously, hardcoding the inputs into it's reality-warping field of influence.
"I've got the coordinates. Preparing to intercept, hyperspace drive is warming up. What do you mean the entire galaxy just went dark?"
He'd lost the composure, his voice was on stilts and almost hissing with disbelief. Beya paid no mind to the fact he was placing his trust in a complete stranger. But complete silence just didn't happen, not in this part of the galaxy.

Lyro Mr.Sandstorm

 

[The Gunrunner]

.

.

.

.

.

Merchant class, the 'Anglerfish'

Ship Status: Yellow

Food status: Critical
Fuel: Restock required
Hull integrity: Repairs required
Oxygen: Adequate
Crew Morale: Troubling
Injured crew: 89 wounded, 64 Red and currently unusable.
Usable crew: 147
Prisoners: Formerly 123, currently 24

Captain's report:

0500, three weeks prior, the Angler engaged classified employer's target, registered number 0672839. Whether a mutineered, stolen, or otherwise unlawfully commanded craft is unknown, but the crew have been officially recognized as pirates.
The latest skirmish hit us hard. I suspect they saw through our disguise before reaching optimal range - We've been meaning to fix the covers for our broadsides, but we didn't have the time until now. Casualties were hard and replacements will be needed. The wounded are unknown, but minimal recovery is estimated to be seventy percent. A maximum estimate hasn't been made.
More importantly, the fight hit our comms equipment and our engines. We were dead in the water without engines or long range until now, though the long-comms won't come back online. The engineering crew did a good job with what little resources they had. Food stocks were low and dropping fast, and we had to detract from our total prisoners. The rest are nervous, but there's no reason to think they're planning to fight the odds they have.
The Angler's destination is 7498.5-4342.7-2234.6-1231.2. The jump is expected to begin shortly.

Tonos sits up in his bed, smoke trailing from a cigarette in his mouth as he looks over the papers at his desk. The ashtray by them has a small hill of grey dust, and a collection of the priorly used cigarettes still sticking out of the surface. Tonos grumbles as he continues to shift through the papers, often swearing over the lack of luck he's had for the week. Considering the casualties and injured, he has to take more work than usual; he's been tasked with morale reports, ammunition stocks, and ensuring the engineers don't plan to mix something dangerous with something explosively dangerous. Working on page number thirty five, his head perks up when he hears his door slide open. The man comes in half-wearing his combat suit, the company's corporal insignia instead shown on the zero-G suit's shoulder. "Come on, Sarge, we got ourselves an issue out here." He doesn't bother asking, instead shoving the paper from his side of the desk and getting up to grab his suit.

He hurries along through the hallway with the man, adjusting the straps for the shoulder-plates. His rifle hangs from its sling, banging against the ceramic-steel cuirass. There's a large bustling around him in the spacious halls of the ship - Men rushing to and from the armoury, coming out with rifles, shotguns, armour, but nothing higher. Dull, but flashing lights along the walkway mark the path to the armoury, gunnery platforms, docking bay, and bridge. It was standard procedure for combat scenarios, meaning something went wrong. "Pirates? Captives?" The corporal shakes his head, turning a corner into the dockway "I haven't heard anything, but I think we'd know already if it was that." The corporal leads Tonos inside, where his squad and three others are waiting for them. They merely gesture to them to show notice, then go back to what they were doing. By the dockway stands their captain, holding a PDA under his arm. Tonos joins with the group, and only then do they stand straight and turn to their commander. It seems they were just waiting for the last two. The captain sucks in a breath, handing the PDA over to one of the squad leaders.

"Welcome to Hellion station." he grumbles, annoyed in the moment. "That's a greeting three hours late." Aside form the sergeant holding the PDA, the men look at each other oddly, then back to him. "We've been here for three hours? What's taking the resupply so long?" The captain gives a false grin, "That's why you're here." He grunts, clearing his throat. He grabs his wrist behind him and begins pacing to his left and right - "The first half hour was spent requesting docking rights, checking our comms equipment, scanning their comms equipment, and sending our requests continuously from there. The hour following then was to set ourselves up and use an unarmed reconnaissance drone to see what's happening. We lost its signal almost immediately after it boarded. From then, we've been waiting for government response. Nothing. According to scans, equipment part of basic hourly and daily routine are being ignored. The station's just... frozen." He halts his pacing, turning on a heel back to the teams. "Two teams are going in with a wired transmitter running back to the docking bay - You can't lose that kind of signal unless someone cuts the cord. Tonos' and Walker's squads are staying behind as reserves if you need support to get out of there." He puffs out a breath, looking over the squads. Their helmets block their features, but he doesn't need to see them directly to know they're likely reacting much the same way he did. "Any questions?" Before a man stands, he adds "We don't know what could have caused this. Any other questions?" He sits back down, and the others just stand or sit in silence. "Then get ready." He thumbs a radio attached to his collar, transmitting to the bridge-crew: "Extend the bridge."

The ship whirrs lightly, a covered tube extending from the side of the scrapped craft. It reaches out slowly, interior crew manually adjusting its connection to fit correctly to one of the station's emergency docks. They had reason to assume it would lead into a separate area that would lead to the civilian sections, being part of one emergency evac protocol. Failing that, it may lead to areas which normally fall into lockdown during emergencies, like life support rooms or engineering. Though they didn't have the blueprints and couldn't be certain. The bridgeway's magnetic seal engages around the docking entrance, and additional locks are slowly added to strengthen the connection. It reaches its adequate amount, and they call back to the dockway: "You're clear, team. Go on ahead."
Lyro

 

[ManicMuse]

.

.

.

.

.

Parker

"Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right."

Scene Details

​

Location: Cockpit
State of being: I'm not crazy
Nearby: No one
OOC:
@: Lyro , Mr.Sandstorm , Harmalite

"Blue. Bluuueee. Blu. Why blue? What blue? Blue for you and me too."

Parker's fractured mind passed the time it took to travel to the cockpit, by batting around the meanings of the blue light, which had lit up in the engineering room. Sauntering into the small room, her compact form stopped dead in its track. On the far wall beside the navigation center, the pair of hazy red orbs stared, locked on the blue light. "Blue here too. What are you, blue?" Her mind continued to mull over the meaning. Cautiously, her stubby bulking silhouette drifted toward the console. One of the few, that were not fully pulled apart, surprisingly. Powering on the screen, which resided there, it took a few moments for the information to load.​

-Navigation Error

-Impact with #D-C105690 (Classified Planetary Asteroid) Emanate

-Recalculate Course

-Correct Course

-Error Pilot, Correct Course

-Emanate Danger

-Collision

-Collision

-Error, Course Correction Required

***Impact Warning***

***Manual Correction Required***​

This was turning into a busy day. Parker huffed, creating a cloud of mist. The system was being rather dramatic. There was still a good two hours before she would have actually hit the asteroid. Pulling up the details of the planet sized asteroid, her gaze shifted over the data, seeking required input for course correction. That is when it struck her. It was a massive rock. So massive, is should have been a planet. Instead, it was nothing but a cold, lifeless rock. Of all the massive planetary sized rocks she could have run across, it had to be this dead, shell of a planet.

The mass of the gloves coating her fingers made it hard to make exact key strokes. Peeling back the layers of fabric, revealing tiny pale bony fingers to the cold, she made fast work, inputting the corrections. Ensuring to pass right by the massive dead planet, in the course correction.

-Course Correction Received​

The blue light flicked off. Little less than two hours before it would be here. While replacing her gloves, she inspected the stop watch again. The small translucent screen with yellow numbers, slowly ticking down, reminding there was still eleven and a half hours to go. Knowing regret would plague her later, she decided to eat early. Collecting her rations for the commissary, she returned to the cockpit.

Taking one of the binders and ripping free a plastic cover, she folded it meticulously. Then climbing up onto the captain's console, and began to scrap away at the layer of ice which had coated the entire observation deck window. The make shift, windshield scrapper was by no means the best, but it did the job. Parker kept at it until every bit of ice was scrapped away. The asteroid was much closer by the time the work was done. Taking in the view of the massive dead planet, Parker nestled up on the dashboard beside the window. The several layers of clothing between her and the various controls provided a great buffer.

Carefully and ceremoniously unpacking the MRE, she laid it all out before her. The labeling suggested something called, 'peanut butter and jelly sandwich.' With the massive rock now taking up the entire window, as the ship began its approach to pass it, Parker sunk her teeth into the moist chunk of food. It was cakey and dry at first. Thick rich bitterness was offset by an overly sweet tang. The entire mass of the meal stuck to her teeth like glue, forcing her tongue to rub against the globs, trying to wiggle them free. Choking down the blob, she quickly followed it with a swig of water. Continuing the process, attempting to enjoy the meal, she stared out, longingly at the massive rock. Attempting to will it into a living planet, with people upon it to save her.

Tears swelled, blurring the robot accuracy of her eyes. Dropping the food defined as a sandwich, a hand disappeared into the cloaked hood of her outfit, grasping the bridge of her nose, as she sobbed. Warm salty tears drizzled down her cheeks, draining down onto her lips and chin.

'So alone. Always alone. Forever alone, ' the words echoed through her mind.

Then, he appeared. Despite the layers of clothing, she felt his simulated breathe on her neck, sending shivers down her shoulder, leading into her spine. "Poor Parker," he purred the words into her left ear, each word echoing. "It should have been you that day, you know."

Parker knew this argument well. She had it many times with him. Tossing the meal aside, she scrambled to her feet, attempting to clamp both hands over her ears. "NUUUUUHHHHHH! Dead! Dead! Gone!" Her broken voice screeched, filling the empty space.

The blue eyed orb of a robot watched from the doorway, not daring to even offer up a whimper. Instead, it disappeared, whizzing back to the cafeteria. Any bot that had survived this long knew Parker's fits never ended well for anything robotic.

"Stop it. You are such a foolish girl. It's not too late. Just change the coordinates. You can end this now, my dear," the voice of her dead husband slithered about inside her dead. Like a virus that would not die.

Parker began to shake uncontrollably. A panic attack was setting in. Breathing became short and erratic, blood pressure spiking, a tightness was clamping down over her chest. Prying one of her hands free from her ears, she ripped the glove away, with her teeth this time. After a few panicked swipes through her pocket, she felt the gun. Wrapping a shaky hand around the trigger, a jerking movement pulled it from the pocket. Pressing the barrel against her neck, she could feel her racing pulse as the barrel rest against her flesh. Squeezing both eyes shut, she pulled the trigger.

A needle darted out from the barrel injecting a dose, deep under her flesh before retracting. Tossing the device aside, Parker cast her gaze upon the asteroid. The voice still whispering in her mind. Balling her tiny hands into fists, a primal raw scream of despair erupted from her. Beating against the ship's reinforced glass with all her might. The screams descended into bubbling sobs of protest; soon enough as the drug induced calm followed a few minutes later. With the sedative taking hold, Paker's limbs grew heavy. Dropping to a knee, she attempted to fight the darkness, as it set in. Unable to fight it any longer, she collapsed on the dashboard of the ship. With the deadman's taunts still echoing in her mind.

"It will be better when you wake. He will be dead, again. He's always dead when you wake up."

 

[Giyari]

Mood: Lonely

Location: Outer Norma Arm

Company: -

@'s: Quillicious

Other: -

The blink drive kicked in once again, plotting the desired course through the black as the lone pilot reached for a bottle of green fluid. Nash, a "priority cargo" courier. She had been given a data job for some undisclosed company, the name didn't matter, only the drop off contact. The entire journey should have taken her two, maybe three days, but here she was three weeks later. Her contact had failed to show up, and now there was no life to be found at all...

Taking a sip of the liquid as she hit the relevant triggers on her flight controls to activate another jump, Nash watched the stars she could see from her cockpit stretch and warp as the blue wave of hyperspace swept over her small ship. This was the 5th jump today, and likely to be her last.

The whipping mist and colours of hyperspace coated her ship for a few seconds before the next sun on her route slowed into view. An M class star on the outer edge of the Norma arm. On one side, the entire profile of the Milky Way spread across the "horizon", on the other... nothing but black and distant galaxies, like untouchable jewels glimmering in splendour.

"Another dead port, great..." she muttered as her Corvid exited supercruise, a bang sounding as her ship accelerated down from near light speeds to sub-light thruster power. Swinging around the lifeless hull of the port, Nash approached the automated fuel depot and activated the fill process. A small valve unclipped from her under one of her ship's hull plates as mechanical arm from the station stretched out to fix itself on tight and do it's thing. The readings on her displays lit up as fuel pumped across, but that was the least of her worries. She was running low on supplies, specifically potable water. There was only so many times you could recycle water before it went bad.

Food however was not a problem. A few days back she had managed to "salvage" a container from a drifting trader barge. The occupants had seen better days, apparently "taking the easy way out" of the dire situation they had come face to face with. It was nice of them to leave the airlocks open once they were done though.

Nash flipped a few switches and brought up a map of the surrounding systems. All she needed was an ice belt and everything would be fine for another week or so.

"Ahhhhmmm... Ah, there. HIP.. 1... 3... Yeah that looks good. Two jumps rapid quick." she sang to herself as the fuel arm disconnected and set the Corvid free once more.

She hummed a few random notes as the sub-lights drifted her enough out of the stations perimeter, before the HUD highlighted her destination and began it's countdown.

\3...
\2...
\1...
\\ENGAGE

Once more the familiar blue wave enveloped her ship, stretching the stars around her into streaks of light as her ship fired off through space to her next destination.

"How many more days is this gonna go on."

 

[Mx.Trinity]

Xizi a.k.a. "Baby Nuke"
Natealie Dano

//Warning //Warning

Would you shut the fuck up!? I KNOW!

The blaring alarms silenced at her outraged plea; Xizi cranked the manual controls as far back as she could causing the ship to drop into the atmosphere. The metal behemoth was vibrating uncontrollably causing the entire interior to jitter unpleasantly. Her eyes came up to meet the windows of the cockpit briefly - which were blindingly bright showering the inside with a bright white light the exterior of the ship burning up.

Fuck I can't handle this...

She pressed her boots into the floor as she leaned back as far she could leveraging the controls. She slammed her hand on a button signaling the metal shutters to close on the cockpit windows.

Status update please!?

The A.I. Onboard chimed in as requested "we are currently anticipating terminal velocity and turbulance that will continue for approximately 5 minutes."

She scoffed, still leaning all the way back and leveraging the controls.

Lock controls, raise shutters in 5, correct angular momentum, leave the engine's off and allow drift. Understood?

"As requested."

Almost like magic the controls locked into the position they were currently in. The rumbling from the exterior still vibrating through the cockpit. She sat back in her chair giving a sigh of relief finally. She hadn't the opportunity to recall the events leading up to this disaster.

3 WEEKS AGO//

Xi sat in the cockpit of the ship examining a holographic screen that was covering the cockpit's windows. Her fingers dragging through countless documents of recorder information regarding transit times, stock piles of equipment, food, water, and receipts from business transactions. She leaned back brushing her bangs back and sat there for a moment before hastily getting up and opening the cockpit door.

Keep the ship on course.

"Acknowledged"

She shook her head for no apparent reason, proceeding into the main hall that lead all the way to the engine room. All other rooms positioned on the left and right of the long corridor. The interior was quiet with nothing but the clang of her boots against the metal flooring as she made her way to the inventory room. The door automatically slid open allowing her to step inside and take a further examination of all products aboard.

However because she'd just got back from trading with a client the only thing that remained was a briefcase lockbox. Xi knodded almost as if she had predicted this in the first place. Pressing her back against the nearest wall and looking up at the bio-luminescent lights before speaking.

Please correct the stockpile information we have nothing aboard the ship at the moment. Also analyze any discrepancies. I need to know if something was lost in transit, how many did we have when I boarded with them and how many did we have before the exchange?

"Currently there were 400 high grade, unlicensed, and unlabeled plasma magazines. 130 BFG's of the same kind, type, composition, and weight. Upon exiting..."

The AI paused briefly

"I am seeing the same weight as when they were brought on. Analyzing documentation it appears there was an improper input, most plausible reason is for user end manual error."

Alright... thanks for telling me I fucked up...

Xi had a strange agitation with the A.I. she'd never had issues with it, however it didn't make being on the ship alone any easier. With none of her previous crew present she was left with all the daily routines and tasks of a large plantation, weapons market, and medical supplies.

She got up and headed towards the door of the stockroom. Suddenly without warning everything powered off, the emergency lights came on strobing red across the entire room notifying of a situation.

She gripped the handle of the door but it wouldn't budge, a small wave of heat washed over her as her anxiety kicked in.

HEY! Tin-can let me the fuck out of here!

The A.I. was unresponsive.

With an irritated growl she grabbed the handle of the cockpit door practically crushing it as it warp and whined inside the grip of her hand, forcing the door open. She made a sprint for the cockpit to see what was going on; having to pry open the door once again.

FUCKING USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!

She burst into the piloting space and rushed over to the windows examining the exterior. They were drifting through space.

[Shit... did I just get hit with an EMP? No... that wouldn't make sense... the automated emergency system is still working.]

She turned around and grabbed Bobcat off the wall of the cockpit and stormed out of the room towards the systems maintenance hatch.

Mother fucker think you're sneaky?

She approached the hatch which was located on the floor just before the engine room and turned the lever getting on one knee balancing Bobcat on it before leaning down to examine the interior of the shaft, her nightvision clicked on as she peered through the darkness. Nothing but pipes and wires. The system's box was still closed as well. Her eyebrows furrowed curiously. The ship was designed to last and the parts she got were quality they'd never have passed inspection if they were fault. There would be no reason her systems were offline. She stood up after closing the hatch and turning the lever in place.

2 weeks passed before the AI came back online. The original course had been interrupted greatly and everywhere she had come upon after the AI came back online was either ghostly quiet or distress beacons. She never stopped by any of these ships and began to realize what happened to her ship seemed to affected all ships. Her theories are a wide spread, intentional, malfunction of manufacturer systems which seemed unlikely given all of the different kinds. Her other theory currently is something akin to a solar flare that only briefly knocked everyone offline... but why was she still hearing distress signals weeks later?

Currently -

"As you've requested the shutters have now been opened."

Finally...

She came back to the cockpit having taken a bathroom break and situated herself examining the planet they were now descending onto.

Any signs of life or colonization?

"Yes there appears to be life here, of complexity. Unlikely to be plants, exercise caution."

Yeah no shit... Any place to land?

"Yes there appears to be structural integrity here as well. There is a visible dock approximately 10,000km to the east. What are your orders?"

Prepare the ship for landing, automated control.

She stretched her arms and legs out in her chair and yawned being grateful for the silence once again. After a while passed the A.I. alerted her of their decent. She got up grabbing Kitten from the wall; a massive rail-gun styled weapon. Capable of mass destruction rather flesh or mechanical. She lugged the whole thing to the door with two hands, adjusting it to sit the right way in her grasp.

What is the integrity of the air on this planet?

"Breathable"

Open the hatch.

"On your command."

Do it.

The main side hatch to the ship hissed opening slowly with hydraulic pressure. She stepped out into the blaring sun onto the docking pad. It was a city appeared to be abandoned and overgrown by greenery.

Examining the hull, alert me of any presence.

"Acknolwedged."

With that she began inspecting the exterior of the ship for any torn, broken, or bent pieces.

 

[The J]

Marcia stalked, almost silent, through the corridors aboard the drifting ship. It was eerie, how it must have been half-constructed and half-grown, and it gave her the feeling of being inside a giant monster, hearing its guts rumble and veins churn every now and then.
She'd been hoping that it was worth exploring for loot, but sadly there wasn't too much to be found. Weapon racks were locked up tight, and she had yet to come across a cargo hold. There were no crew in sight, and it was about as abandoned as she had hoped and expected it to be judging from the outside.
Until, that was, she heard a mechanical roaring sound, followed by many loud clangs and hisses. Someone must have been here, she realised, and she frantically scrambled for cover as she realised that two massive doors were opening right in front of her.
She could see it from her hiding space, but hopefully it hadn't seen her yet. The mech was enormous, maybe the size of four or five bears taped together. It teeth were bared, and it looked wary. She must have set off a silent alarm that released the beastly thing, but she'd no idea when.
Marcia knew that she had to move before it came too close. She'd never beat it in open combat, but she might be able to get away before it could catch her. There was a large overhead beam, hanging from a chain, just above the mech. If she could just get it to swing down... maybe it'd buy her some time. Some.
Taking aim, she carefully pointed her assault rifle at the chain she needed to break. Even one very good shot would be likely to miss, but she had quantity on her side. She fired at the chain with a loud salvo of five shots, but missed. She fired off six more before the chain was hit, and it immediately snapped in two, releasing one end of the hanging beam, which swung straight for the mech.
She hoped to every god she'd heard of that it at least slowed it down, but before it hit she fired a few more rounds its way as well, just in case. Back down the long corridor she ran, dashing from cover to cover, not even looking back at the monster behind her.

Prizzy Kriyze

 

[Tardy Grade]

She'd felt hope.​

The process of launching yourself into the vastness of space is an immensely powerful one.

Unlike most other events you can feel yourself at it's focal point, at the centre of it all. Akin to riding an enormous wave, or being pushed and lifted by a huge hand, or shaken in the jaws of a monster with little else on it's mind than to stir up those meat bags you call organs.

The ship shakes and vibrates, and you are pinned hard down into your seat by the acceleration .You know that it's impossible to fight against it and so you simply let the sensation win. As one set of engines finishes and the next starts, you are thrown forward and then shoved back. The excess weight of the vehicle is jettisoned and heads back for refueling at the base while you carry onward.​

The weight of many times the gravitational force of that on Mother Earth being faced for many minutes is oppressive, like a bed of metallic sand pouring on more and more until you can't tell if it's ceased increasing or your body has just decided any further updates are pointless lying, until suddenly, after maybe four minutes, the engine shut off and you are instantly weightless. Magic. Almost as if a massive yoyo had been grinding against you before dragging you off along with it.

Quite the sensation. Each time she went through it there was no decrease in the thrill it sent through her. Safe as the process had become a gamble was always a risk and not a sure bet, not matter how good the odds are in your favo-

"Rery, there appear to be more debris that previously estimated on the current path. It is still the most optimal route. Please brace for impa-"

A sickening jolt passed through the hull of the ship that had only just settled to a minor vibration from it's previous sojourn through atmosphere.

"Retract and angle all panels for the most efficient glancing format-"

Another hit followed by the sensation of scraping a nail across a car door. She knew this was only going to get worse the longer they stayed in the scope of the space rocks and thus decided to waste some resources early rather than risk any more damage to the ship she wouldn't be able to repair without the proper parts.

"Ai! Deploy the emergency explosives cache. 30% of it." she said through grit teeth. If they needed a quick resource run then they'd have to be even more frugal than the manual guidelines advised. The AI followed up on the request as best she could. It still took 3 minutes as reached the midway mark in the belt.

The containers were jettisoned and Ai took care of the demolition work as Rery turned up the opacity of her helmet to max and shut her eyes.

The silence of space didn't mean you couldn't still feel it. The pull and push of other nearby events. The vibrations that traveled intensely through a solid object. Who said that you couldn't hear screaming in space? Screaming seemed like the only thing her ship was capable of a dark moment before ..

"We've cleared the belt. Damage assessment underway. A space walk is a likely need to fix large hull breaches. Losses in paneling foun- " Before Ai had even begin compiling a list Rery had unbuckled and initiated artificial gravity and gotten her tools. It was only at the door of the exit bay that she asked.

"... What happened to the signal? Do you still have a lock?"

"I'm afraid we lost too many comm panels to detect it at this range. I could re-"

"No offense Ai, but you don't know the meaning of the word fear." She said as the compartment sealed off, pressurized and the outer door opened wide.

 

[Mr.Sandstorm]

The Pleiades
Private Vessel "Ibn Battuta"

The temperature rise in the neighbouring ship signaled Fernon of his new traveling companion before he had even responded:
"I've got the coordinates. Preparing to intercept, hyperspace drive is warming up. What do you mean the entire galaxy just went dark?"
His left eyebrow rose slightly. How could he be unaware of this?

"Well... I can see you must have been away from populated space for a while. I've been travelling trough The Pleiades. I was looking for insight on what atrocities happened here... I had to stay away from comercial routes myself, actualy; the Taurus proved unbearingly intolerant to people like me ever since I reached this region. But nonetheless, I was still visiting some colonies and settlements when it happened. I saw it-- well, I... I witnessed it, rather."

He scratched his beard, making for an unsettlingly long pause. He was always good with his words, but even now he couldnt describe it properly.

"...in a moment's notice, all channels just went dark. I myself didnt notice it until I tried talking back the station I was leaving. Then the planetside bases. Then the hyperspace obesrvation relays. Not even the mining fleets on the outer orbits were responding. I assumed it could have been a Taurus weapons test and left the system immediately, but every other system I blinked to was equaly silent. I insisted in thinking it was a Taurus experiment until I finnaly made it out of the Pleiades borders; my, uh, my hyperspace communicator was broken, so I couldnt know any better than to reach for a neighbouring sector. Completely useless! Everything is just sheer silence! I cant even find any working hyperspace comm's anymore!"

Beginning to demonstrate genuine desperation in his voice, Kansh recollected himself. He started prepping his own ship for another jump, both not to look like a talking rock and to get his mind a few inches out of the hole he was diving into.
"I cannot explain what's happening. Soon, I might not even want to know what's happening, but... whatever happened, it couldnt have been a simple mass equipment failure."
The hyperspace module of his own ship began to bellow and energize, tough in a very controlled, monotone manner- the mark of an impressively well-kept machine.

"I should have eventualy heard something from the other systems I visited after this all started. No, whatever happened didnt just break equipment. It did something to the galactic population."
......

"I'm just glad I found another living creature. Come on, I'm initiating the Blink. Let's go. If we're still here, It's better to assume there are others; we should find them eventualy...."
Hyperspace Entrance Initiaded

Harmalite Lyro

 

[Vulpes]

Jack gasped. His eyes opened to reveal a constantly growing station through his cramped cabin. His surprise grew as he also saw a lush green planet to his left, which he was presumably now in orbit of. It's blue atmosphere glowed around it's circumference whilst streaks of white and green littered the surface, which was dominated by blue. Jack was very confused by how he'd never heard of this planet. Still he pressed onwards to the station. He could feel himself sliding forward slightly as his maneuver thrusters slowed his ship down. After an achingly long time to come to a stop, a few hundred metres from the station, Jack waved his left hand, which was greeted with a glowing blue hologram, he then contacted the station.
"Hello? I'm jack, I've been travelling here for about 2 weeks, everyone on my planet disappeared and I was hoping to find someone. May I dock?"
He waited, tapping the metal plating on his wrist to stimulate himself. After a minute he received a reply from a sympathetic sounding lady
"Permission granted, please come in and we'll see how we can help you."
"Cheers babe" he responded both confidently and jokingly. After weeks of just floating, Jack handled the ship pretty badly as he slowly maneuvered his hatch to the corresponding hatch on the station. The vessel moved around like a bee on LSD, until eventually colliding with the station.

Jack sprinted out the door as they hissed and pressurised. Knocking over the piles of empty boxes in his cabin. He violently pulled his helmet off to reveal a rather worn looking head. Jack usually looked youthful and pristine, but not now. "Oh my god there are people!" He shouted obnoxiously as he stood before a group of robots and humans. He approached the robots and a lady speaking to the robots, looking at the reactions of the bystanders as he did, enjoying their giggles or shocked faces at his unconventional ways.
"I've been in a ship for two weeks and I smell like shit! Please help me." He smirked as he spoke.
"Is it just me or has everyone just disappeared?" He added as he prodded the lady's (Julie's) shoulder lightly.
"Sorry" he whispered to her, "just a reality check."
Dano Trashler Mx.Trinity Natealie

 

[D. Rex]

It was dim in the smoke filled cockpit. The lights were all off, save for the bit of blueish light coming from the monitors and and the stars out of the forward viewport. That and the dim red glow of the cherry of a lit cigarette. The smoke from it easily visible, and being slowly sucked towards the vents. The cigarette perched neatly between the lips of a young redheaded girl. She sat there alone in the dark, in the copilots seat, that was above and behind the captains chair. It was a large and comfortable seat. Soft too, but the cushions were an ugly faded beige, with most of the fuzz rubbed off. A few stains and burn marks, but in relatively good condition otherwise. The redheaded girl, wore only a grey tank top and undergarments. After three weeks of nothing, pants were the least of her worries. Might as well be comfortable if they werent going anywhere. She was curled up, with the knees of her bare legs against her chest.

Her fingers played over the buttons, as she once more attempted in vain to try and reset the comms system as if it would somehow cause the silence to break after at least a hundred failed attempts so far. It of course ended in the same result as every previous attempt, and with a sigh of frustration she smothered the butt of the cigarette in a ceramic ashtray balanced precariously on the armrest. It was full by now, but she couldn't be bothered to empty it. Sure, there were alternatives to smoking. But as stressful as things seemed right now, only nicotine laced plant matter would do.

It had been a harrowing three weeks since space went silent. Not even a whisper. Orders were simple though. Don't waste fuel. Especially after what attempts they did try ended up in failure. Though, they couldn't drift forever. And the Captain would no doubt want to find somewhere to land. Bailey returned to what she was doing, looking through the star maps, checking for nearby space stations aND colonies. Or even just an inhabitable blue planet they could land on. Surely this would all blow over soon.

Bailey looked up, as she heard a slight patterning against hull. It had almost sounded like the static of a radio for a moment. But no... probably just some minor space debris. Or that was what she thought until something slammed into main viewport. Bailey knocked over the ashtray as she nearly jumped out of her seat with a loud yelp as she thought they collided with a space rock. With a pounding heart she calmed herself down. No alarms, no damage. As she looked up to the viewport, she saw that the upper half was covered with something dark red and chunky. Like blood.

"...the fuck?" She uttered. It was blood. He stomach churned slightly. Uhg...Did they hit a wayward body? No. There was way too much blood for that... as she looked, she could start to see more spattering hit the windshield. More like pecks of frozen rain.

Bailey leaned forward to her console, sifting through the cameras and scanners. There was a ping as a more thorough scan picked up something not far off. A ship. She was barely getting a power reading from it. And preliminary scans wasn't showing any notable signs of life.

The teenagers hand reached over and switched on the onboard comms, "Captain, you need to take a look at this. We have a cruiser nearby. Not seeing any activity from it."

Her first thought was that it was either abandoned, or judging from the blood, maybe it had been pirated. Either way. She doubted the Captain would pass on the opportunity to see if it had anything of value left.

The J welian Prizzy Kriyze Zahzi