Futuristic Silent Stars

[Mr.Sandstorm]

Uncharted Star 3FGH-EE
Planet Maltryk - Geostationary Orbit
Starship Ibn Battuta
Tardy Grade Lyro


"Most probably civilian. Quite civilian. It's a quite the 'luxury yatch'." Fernon said with conviction as he repositioned a screen of his station attached to a readjustable arm so Rerryn could see it from the door. The screen showed the frozen image of a sleek, decently sized silvery vessel firing a retrograde burn. It was hastily filtered to dim the blinding light of the exaust plume and reveal the coniform anatomy of the ship.

"This was from half an hour ago, while you were outside. It was exiting from High Orbit to an atmospheric reentry. It's now finishing the aerobrake and will slow down to subsonic flight in a few minutes."
With a few taps on his terminal, the image was replaced by a short video of the vessel's blazing reentry trail.
"Very amateur maneuvering, in my opinion. Look at the fireballs on the lower section of the trail." He pointed at a part of the bright blaze that was pulsing just slightly towards the tail, like if it had a profound meaning that only astronautists understand.
"They probably busted a cargo module right there. Whoever they are, armed or not, I beg to differ that they know what theyre doing."

Looking at his other screens, Fernon gave a small chuckle."I can see you already have scouting drones swarming the predicted landing site. I almost got to do that before you." He gave a wide smile to the woman as she moved to her station.
Soon tough, he cut the smile and put his atention back to the screens. "While youre at your normal routine of outpacing me, would you kindly report this to the landing party? In whatever details you deem necessary. I'll take this to Veles myself." he said at a hurried pace while tapping a report to the "mothline" to Veles.

//Message Sent

 

[Lyro]

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.

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Revrin beamed at Kyros - an expression his face's micro-motors struggled to render as a slightly wider smile than operative norms prescribed - and he reached for an even taller stack of papers.

"I am so glad to hear you say that," he replied as he sifted through the pile. "Maybe it's nothing, but better safe than sorry, right? Which is why I'd also like to show you this. You know that bird I told you was following me around? Nobody believed me, and I'm not saying I blame them, it's weird isn't it, but I reached out to the weather guys and--" As he finally found what he was looking for and pulled out a small stack of papers covered with penned-in personal notes, a pinging noise from his computer drew his attention to the screen, where a message had appeared.

"Oh, just a sec, looks like they've found something important." Revrin tapped the message's icon and quickly read through its contents, then read it over once more with widening eyes to confirm he had understood it correctly. "Impossible..." he mouthed, before switching the audio link back on, including all members of the exploration party this time and waving at both Kyros and one of the Odessas to come closer, pointing at the received message on his screen. "Magpie-- Magpie, please describe the situation. Are you positive the ship you identified isn't simply crashing? Do you have a video feed you can transmit back?"
Mr.Sandstorm Prizzy Kriyze Harmalite @Trasher

 

[Harmalite]

Beya Thalcyon

Location:
Charted Canyon, Maltryk
'Wild Blue Yonder'
D. Rex Mr.Sandstorm
Tardy Grade Snorble211

"Blah blah blah" came more racist blather from Zintosh; Beya made his best attempt not to listen and just make mocking movements with his mouth, but alas, the tin man's favorite, oh so creative slur managed to punch through his filter. He rolled his eyes as aggressively as possible. The carbine suddenly dropping in front of him briefly startled him, totally destroying the comeback he was carefully crafting by forcing him to struggle and maintain his posture without dropping the gun. Much heavier than it looked, and he didn't really appreciate how Zintosh acted like he owed him something. In the middle of demanding to know the plan that he had been told already (already sent that one to the stack, huh?), Zintosh's eyes widened at something out the window, lit up by a flicker of light.
"Holy... is that what I think it is?"

Beya turned around to see a glowing streamer descending towards the surface. He stepped closer to the window, having to cant his head up at an awkward angle to see the sky. It had the distinct look of a decelerating spaceship about it, and clearly on a landing trajectory, but a bit too... flamey? Whoever was piloting it wasn't doing a very good job. Come to think of it, we were the only landing party... who the hype is that?

His vambrace began to chime with a tinny, fluttering noise, a notification that the ship was receiving a message. Still looking out the window, he moved it closer to his ear. Rerynn's voice came through the speaker, though a bit too quiet for Zintosh to understand. Beya's face cycled through a multitude of expressions as he listened: Confusion, disgust, surprise, et cetera. His head moved slightly to track the minuscule glints of drones entering the atmosphere, on converging paths with the landing ship. The signal sputtered and gave way to a second voice, overlapping with the first. As per request, he probed through the ship's drone feeds looking for video to wire through... how convenient, the navigator had pointed all of them at the ship. A little overkill, but okay.
"It's clearly, um, attempting to land, looks manual but it might be just a severely damaged emergency system. It looks like they should make it in one piece. I don't know if that's a good thing or not."
A chill briefly washed over him. The ablative plasma trail surrounding the ship was still too thick to let any attempt at contact through... there was no way of knowing if this was a silenced ship until it was too late. It seemed like everyone was banking on the hope that the passengers were awake.

The speaker peaked, drowning out the other channels. Out came a thick, boisterous Russo-Cygnian accent that was noticeably louder; Beya winced and had to hold his arm away from his head.
"THALCYON! O'BRIEN! ROBOT! We have new orders. Come on to the bridge, we will discuss changes to the mission. All other crew, report to stations and prepare for takeoff procedure!"

Turning back to Zintosh, Beya's sneer returned, the looming threat of silence supplanted by hatred.
"No, it's a landing ship. Anyways, it's actually pretty convenient you already forgot the "game plan", we're getting a new one." Before the robot could respond, he began making his way towards the cockpit, making no particular indication for Zintosh to follow. "Wouldn't want you having to think about two things at once or anything"

 

[Lyro]

Malytrk Orbit
A streak of fire arced across the planet's sky as the unknown ship continued its improvised descent. Its exit from the stratosphere was marked by another series of odd maneuvers, as the ship began to sway back and forth from its predicted course, its movements becoming wilder with each attempt. Finally, however, its flight straightened as its pilot seemed to get a gain a understanding of its controls.

Its deceleration became more pronounced then as the ship neared its destination. The flames that had accompanied it throughout its re-entry began to dissipate, though its lower half was still glowing from the hurried approach. A clearer view of the ship was made possible now, showcasing the damage it had taken in the process. Several parts of the ship were broken or even completely missing, most notably a large cabin on its top which had seemingly been cleanly ripped off - probably some sort of observation deck, intended for pleasure and not utility. In addition to the damage incurred over the past half-hour, there were more ordinary signs of damage: pockmarks from stray space debris, missing paint sections - nothing particularly critical, but the kind of damage that regular maintenance was supposed to take care of. A name was written across its bow, in elegant, flowing script: "The Virtue".

Finally, the ship stopped, hovering above a clearing in a barren plain due West of the Magpie landing party, approximately 210km away from them and within the impromptu quarantine area. No thrusters were visibly firing as it began to land, indicating that it was using a dedicated agrav system to lower itself - another indication of the ship's high-class status, as few could afford the expense or the size of the required machinery. Its landing gear deployed after a small struggle and it hit the ground a bit too brusquely, its landing legs embedding themselves in the dry soil. All was quiet for several seconds, until something seemed to move behind the cockpit's glass. Shortly after, a door on its side opened and a landing ramp extended noiselessly to the ground.

Mr.Sandstorm Quillicious Tardy Grade

Maltryk Surface
The order given out by Beya spread to the rest of the landing party and was quickly obeyed, as each member made their way back to their ships and waited for further instructions.

Harmalite Snorble211

 

[Tardy Grade]

Uncharted Star 3FGH-EE
Planet Maltryk - Geostationary Orbit
Starship Ibn Battuta
Mr.Sandstorm Quillicious Harmalite Snorble211

"Most probably civilian. Quite civilian. It's a quite the 'luxury yacht'." Fernon said as he swung the monitor her way in a quick motion like the passing of a ball.

Rerryn tensed for a brief moment as the mechanical arm swung noiselessly toward her with the lit up screen. Nerves never quite the same after ... everything she's been through involving people. People were too unpredictable. Even the most advanced AI she'd met seemed to be on par with the most principle-bound humans. Even in their extreme natures, they stayed true to their course. Men were fickle. A moment's affection, another painful reflection. The moment passed soon and her heart rate became normal and nothing on her face gave away the lapse in composure.

Only Sparky detected the elevated heart rate as he was informed by the ship's AI before wordlessly filing away that information. She'd already informed him after finding out her work would be done in collaboration with other 'people' to omit minor spikes in her heart rate. When the bot asked why she simply placed it under the 'It's complicated' the folder that always puzzled the poor bot.

Her attention was on the screen as Fernon gave his thoughts on the matter of the ship.
"- you were outside. It was exiting from High Orbit to an atmospheric reentry. It's now finishing the aerobrake and will slow down to subsonic flight in a few minutes."
There was a moments lull while she rewatched the older footage to see its movements more clearly.
"Very amateur manoeuvring, in my opinion. Look at the fireballs on the lower section of the trail."
Her eyes did the most dramatic of rolls even as her head stayed in place. A skill she'd mastered during her training. Funnily enough, it wasn't taught in any of her classes. His words made sense but it wasn't to the detriment of those piloting the ship so much as the skill possessed by the person beside her. "Yes. Absolutely boorish. One might have thought that it was earth-pigs controlling it."

"They probably busted a cargo module right there. Whoever they are, armed or not, I beg to differ that they know what they're doing."

Those words were the ones she'd been hoping not to hear uttered by any one who'd seen the ship for it meant that someone had made a deliberate decision to land here in that state despite knowing what was happening all around them. Were they completely forced to land or ...?

Almost as if on queue, she was given a string of compliments from the older man that made her shift uneasily in her seat despite her best efforts. Best efforts. Hah. They never used to get any compliments for that. Excellence was expected of them. Nothing less given the resources spent on grooming their kind. She felt the strong urge to punch him but held back given he was on the line with Veles and any odd behaviour on their part might needlessly worry the other side.

She mentally worked out the best course of action was to kick his chair. Yeah! That'd show him! Stupid old man. And then she put up her left hand which immediately activated the 'Nailed it' protocol in Sparky ending in a crisp 'clap-clank' of metal on metal. Bringing the somewhat metal covered arm down she did as he asked with respect to relaying more information to the surface.

It didn't phase the man much thought as he and Zintosh began their own 'routine'. Nothing she did could likely phase the man once he tried to match wits with Zintosh. That's what caused her to follow his distracted gaze.
____

"Beya do you copy? We're getting readings that the vessel has halted but not connected to the planet surface. Can you verify? There's some minor interference and the scope of the ship makes the readings a bit unreliable. I repeat. Has the ship made landfall or not?" she asked Beya once she noticed him finally replying to her hails and words.

"Beya do-", she was in the middle of repeating herself while pulling a mic point closer to her mouth when Sparky chimed in almost happily.

"Rery I believe it's finally landed."

"But you just sai-" her eyes narrowing at the wrong intel he'd given her.

"It would appear to have simply been using its ships systems and unique landing sequence."

"Smart ass.", she swore as she put the mic back near her mouth.

"A-"

"No no no. Not another word."

"Beya I've been informed it's now landed... Proceed with caution. Over." she said while trying to get the probes to send more clear images.

 

[Natealie]

Time and Camilla always had a very interesting relationship. To her, it had not much meaning due to her case. With support, she could effectively live forever after all. Being uploaded to this body and having her mind backed up made her functionally immortal. So ten years kind of flew by rather quickly. One day she was a wanted criminal.

Then she woke up leader of all of civilization.

Over all this time she had taken in a myriad of refugees, created a super genetic cloning program, and had sent out agents on various expeditions to see what could be salvaged from before the silence. She had basically turned Veles into a utopia for the survivors, or at least as close to one as she could. Camilla had come a long way from being that transhuman girl who did human experiments a few years ago. Now she was essentially the leader of the world who did human experiments much less frequently.

Camilla was presently sitting in her office, going over a few files while simultaneously reading an ancient Japanese novel about legendary heroes battling to the death. True she could just upload it all to her mind at once, but sometimes she just wanted to be able to read it naturally. It felt better that way. These moments of respite were valuable to her, as she didn't have them often.

Truly her life was different now.

 

[Mr.Sandstorm]

Uncharted Star 3FGH-EE
Planet Maltryk - Geostationary Orbit
Starship Ibn Battuta

Harmalite Tardy Grade Snorble211

Kansh tensed for a second as Rerryn gave her standard rash "I get it" signal. He understood her conditioned discomfort with others, but this violent intolerance for positive feedback was still bewildering. Flattering is necessary for the health of the mind.
Besides, if she wanted him to stop the compliments that bad, she could have the decency to voice her complaints, not collide them against his chair.
Oh wait. No, she couldnt; he'd keep flattering her anyway.

He'd have let out a sigh, but the last decade with the woman, if she could be called that anymore, spoiled the gesture, as well as many others. Fernon sunk his attention back in the screens once again.
At least he would've if a thought hadnt caught him by surprise. The protocol.

An armyman named Tonus created it shortly after he joined the settlement. It was created to help deal with the threath of sudden death the salvaging teams faced everytime they had to interact with an abandoned vessel or outpost that could've been affected by the silence, which was all of them. It also included dealing with possibly silenced vessels making planetside contact and silencing the people on the ground as well.
How the hell did he forget that?

"Magpie, I preach you not to spring any alarms, but you need to do what you can to identify if theres a chance that ship could have been silenced, as soon as possible, of course. And if so, you know the protocol: All scanners shut down, all doors sealed in 10 seconds and atmospheric exit as soon as possible."

Letting go of the mic button, he distanced himself from his screens and turned to Rerryn.
The old man rubbed his forehead for a good five seconds
How the hell did he forget that??

 

[Harmalite]

Beya Thalcyon

Location:
Upper Troposphere, Maltryk
'Wild Blue Yonder'
Connected:
D. Rex Mr.Sandstorm
Tardy Grade Snorble211
Lyro
Cpt. Dimitry Zvezdov
Lt. Morgreave Wilston

"And we are off!" cheered the man in the pilot seat. Captain Dimitry Zvezdov's gruff, war-torn voice belied the childlike amusement he felt. "You know I am glad we aren't stuck peddling around dusty canyon looking for fossil. Not my idea of adventure, no?"

Beya didn't bother responding. Tucked away in the observation deck only marginally connected to the cockpit, he'd have to shout for them to hear, and probably have to repeat himself. Not worth it for small talk. The bridge crew melted back into a muted exchange of orders and general banter, all the while everyone with eyes on a viewport or camera was intently focused on the hazy horizon ahead, and the ship that lay there. The flamey glow of re-entry had peeled away long ago, as well as the flickering jets of the retrorockets after they had completed their valiant struggle in preventing the craft from adding to the planet's many craters. It was smoking, with clear signs of sustaining heavy damage even from a distance. But nonetheless, there it stood, shrouded in a small cloud of dust kicked up by the landing gear, encircled by a fairy ring of drones and their flickering holograms.

"Beya do you copy? We're getting readings that the vessel has halted but not connected to the planet surface. Can you verify? There's some minor interference and the scope of the ship makes the readings a bit unreliable. I repeat. Has the ship made landfall or not?"
Beya craned his neck to see around the nose of the ship from the cupola. In brief glimpses, the white speck was visibly distanced from its shadow, but appeared stationary. As he reached to open the transmittter to speak, another message came through.
"Beya do-"
His finger hovered over the button. Was there more, or...?A couple seconds of silence passed; he went for the response. On cue, the receiver opened once more. Oh for the love of-
"No no no. Not another word."
...
"Beya I've been informed it's now landed... Proceed with caution. Over."
Well okay then!
"Copy. Confirming that it's touched down. Any word about-"
"Magpie, I preach you not to spring any alarms, but you need to do what you can to identify if theres a chance that ship could have been silenced, as soon as possible, of course. And if so, you know the protocol: All scanners shut down, all doors sealed in 10 seconds and atmospheric exit as soon as possible."
And there was the answer. A spine-rattling, you're screwed kind of answer. Fernon's warning had come through on this ship's general channel, everyone heard but nobody flinched. Nobody spoke, either. The entire crew knew that this was coming. The silence had claimed countless salvage parties, and it wasn't going to stop in the foreseeable future.
"Understood. We haven't received any data one way or the other yet. We should know pretty soon, though." Beya said, detatched, as he pulled up the interface for a deep-resonance subspace flux scan.

Silently he pined for the days when peeling back the surface of reality to look at it's guts wouldn't have you find incomprehensible malignancy lurking underneath. As soon as the landing area came within range, the scanner would go about sniffing and prodding the local gravitational field for the telltale virtual "shadow particles" left behind by objects or energy in hyperspace. You couldn't directly observe them in there- no, that kind of practical thinking was what got people silenced. So the salvage parties from Veles had to make do like a blind man sticking his hand out the window to read braille on road signs.

Beya brought two fingers to his temple. It was a crude, yet elegant solution - even by just skimming the "surface" of the dimension, the whispers of residual data still managed to poke through, like catching the local news on a dental filling. The actual mechanism or patterns behind the silence weren't understood by anyone in any capacity (as far as the people of Veles knew, it was just any weird-looking thing that had only been recorded in the past decade) but that had no consequence here. Information is information. Beya never imagined that the blessing of neural implants could be a curse at all, but nevertheless the very second a pattern of dips and spikes, or maybe the period between blinking indicators, or the sound the wires made started making even a little bit of sense, the Wild Blue Yonder would become a flying morgue. Though just turning off his implants did have a downside: instead of a stream of marginally useless calculations, Beya's mind was filled with thoughts like "I sure hope the silence isn't painful" or "I am an idiot for agreeing to land and probably deserve this" or "at least Zintosh will finally shut the fuck up"

After a tense minute, the ship began to bank gently to the left, rolling into a wide orbit (about a kilometer's radius) around the landed ship until it was in the center of Beya's view- gleaming, white, busted up, but bougie as all hell. Seriously- whoever owned this thing must have been loaded to fly it around and wreck it as bad as they did. The Virtue, huh? How about the virtue of prudence? Meanwhile, the scanner made it's own, more useful observations about the ship and the space immediately surrounding it. Beya let his scowl drop and focused on the machine.

Briefly jolted from his focus by a stray thought, Dimitry lifted his chin, casting his voice to the back of the compartment in Zintosh's general direction.
"Robot. I am realizing it has been several minute but O'Brien is nowhere to be seen or heard of. Please stop tormenting scientist and see if she at least prepares her mecha in cargo hold as ordered." He pored briefly over the crew status indicator to his left. On station, on station, on station... "And also see why Lt. Grabenthal has turned off his communicator. He needs to be watching over that girl, so close to the engine. I do not trust her- and him, scheming perhaps? I would not take surprise on expensive vessel."
"Eh, give 'im a fair go, bloke's always flakin' out. Just hope he's awake... or alive" piped the copilot, briefly glancing up from his station with a smirk. The two shared a hearty chuckle.

. . .

Overall, it must have been quite the spectacle from the ground. Cresting the miniature sandstorm surrounding the ship was the Wild Blue Yonder, dragging through it a horizontal whirlwind of lacy peach as the party descended to prepare for a landing run, but not too far incase they had to scramble. Drone fighter escorts would be catching up soon, armed to the teeth.

While the scanner continued to look for anything of note, Beya opened up a console labeled "magnetoacoustic resonation module". From the nose of the ship extended a mechanical gimbal headed by a device that looked like something of a cross between a subwoofer and a satellite dish, which traversed for a few seconds until its laser designator locked on to an appropriately thin, malleable section of the hull. At the operator's command it unleashed a concentrated torrent of electromagnetism that quickly found harmony with the frequency of the gleaming metal, inducing a tinny, booming vibration- a vibration that perfectly matched the voice of Beya. Well, almost perfectly: some clever modulation granted his voice the semblance of authority that he wished he didn't need to pretend to have.

"Virtue! Any surviving persons on board or disembarking, you are to remove power to all hyperspace communication and storage devices immediately and establish contact in any way possible. This craft is now under custody of Veles Expeditionary League. Do not attempt any agressive or paraspatial actions."

 

[Lyro]

Veles

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The images came back to Veles slowly, but what little Revrin saw worried him. A ship? A moving ship? One which had managed to land? Had it too escaped the silence? It wasn't out of the question. Even though they had been trying to find survivors for the better part of the past decade, there were still vast swathes of space that hadn't been examined. And yet, the rumors...

Camilla would want to know, however, even if it was just a potential new recruit. As he continued monitoring the situation, his left hand began to type out a message for Camilla, inviting her to come to the communications hub.

"Looks like it's a pretty good ship," he added out loud to Kyros. "Hopefully it's salvageable after what it's just been through. We could use it for holiday cruises or something." He smiled weakly back at Kyros, but his power core wasn't in it, and he quickly turned back to look at the images coming back.

Natealie Prizzy Kriyze

Maltryk Surface
"Virtue! Any surviving persons on board or disembarking, you are to remove power to all hyperspace communication and storage devices immediately and establish contact in any way possible. This craft is now under custody of Veles Expeditionary League. Do not attempt any agressive or paraspatial actions."

The challenge was met with silence, save for the desolate whisper of the wind and the low whine of the approaching drones, which took up their respective positions around the ship. All told, the combined firepower was enough to instantly kill any living creature and destroy a substantial portion of the ship; the perimeter wasn't getting much safer.

As he watched, Beya's scanner began to tingle slightly, indicating some ongoing hyperspatial activity. Not much, and well below measured silenced thresholds, but still significant enough that it could not be considered a defect of the measurements. Somewhere aboard that ship, a hyperspatial transceiver was active.

And then, suddenly, the activity plummeted, before cutting out entirely, no more than thirty seconds after Beya's ultimatum had rung out. It was followed by a loud, clear pinging noise as a loudspeaker was turned on aboard the Virtue. From it there came a man's voice, deep and rich but with undertones of concern. "Please don't shoot," it said haltingly, as if every word was unfamiliar to it. Its accent was unplaceable, being close to galactic neutral without quite matching it. "I surrender. I will be exiting the craft soon. My hands will be up, indicating my lack of hostile intentions or capabilities."

The speaker cut out, and a few seconds later a man's figure appeared at the top of the ship's exit ramp. His hands were held high in the air - ridiculously high, even, lending him something of a comical appearance - but his movement was steady and assured. However, as he cleared the ship's exit, several things became apparent.

Firstly, the man was gifted with canonical beauty, one of the constants across most human cultures even after all this time and divergence. Strong, well-toned limbs and a handsome, chiseled face were marred only by the man's posture, as he moved slightly hunched over, his steady pace occasionally stumbling as he moved down the ramp.

Second was his attire, which provided little in the way of cover save for the essentials, while also remaining as foreign as his accent. As far as could the observers could make out, he was wearing some sort of light, flowing robe, albeit one which exposed his arms, parts of his chest and most of his legs to the surrounding air. One might have wondered why he was not shivering in the chilly Maltryk air, ill-equipped as he was to deal with it, until one noticed the patterns covering his body.

Intricate networks of crisscrossing lines and geometrical shapes appeared to have been embedded in his skin, some of which seemed to very faintly glow in the dim light of the fading day. A trained eye would have recognized these as a series of dermal implants, albeit implants of a significantly higher complexity than any comparable offer on the market before the Fall, if the size and number of the lines was anything to go by. At this time, only a few were visibly active, presumably countering the effects of the cold, but there was no telling whether more implants lay beneath, or if the glowing lines even indicated activity.

The resultant effect was a figure which, while not straying too far from a base human pattern, was distinctly alien - and perhaps in more ways than one.

Harmalite Mr.Sandstorm Tardy Grade

OOC
I will be moving over the course of the following week, so I may not be as available. I will still be around however, and hope to resume posting soon. I would appreciate it if there were some new posts by then, especially for those of you who haven't posted in a while.

Giyari Harmalite IctoraPost D. Rex Slop Mr.Sandstorm Natealie Prizzy Kriyze Quillicious Snorble211 Tardy Grade The J @Trasher Zahzi welian

 

[Lyro]

Veles
Outside of the communications room, life continued on Veles in much the same way as it had for the past nine years. A small distance away from the colony's main settlement, on the planet's small yet bustling spaceport, an ordinary traffic routing computer was having a bad day.

It had started in the early hours of the morning when a service-bot had informed it one of the landing pads would be out of commission for several weeks, following a minor incident that had shattered the ground and destroyed the site's electronics. Hours of planning had been thrown away because of this turn of events, and the computer was currently busy with the necessary recalculations. At least most of the ships that would be coming and going would be automated - fellow r-types were much easier to deal with than the humans.

It was therefore of little surprise when an unscheduled emergency arrival of a manually piloted ship was detected and its calculations were interrupted. A ID request to the ship marked it as the Transient Luminary, one of the colony's few true scouting ships. It had been approved to explore a part of the galaxy that had been known for housing borderline habitable planets that had not yet been colonized. It wasn't due back for several additional days, however. Had something happened?

"VL-403 you are not on our schedule," it sent out to the ship as it made its descent from the upper atmosphere to the colony. "Acknowledge and wait for permission to land." A few seconds passed then as the computer waited for a response that wasn't coming, before it tried again. "VL-403, I repeat, you are not yet cleared for landing. Acknowledge." What was this one up to? Its course was all wrong too. If it kept going like this, it would miss the spaceport entirely.

Only then did a response from the ship arrive. The computer took some time to process it, as it had somehow become garbled during transmission. However, even once decoded, the message made little sense to it. What did it mean by that? It was about to ask for clarifications when its sensors informed it that the ship was now visible and flying directly above the colony at an alarming speed.

The external cameras on top of the observation tower whirred and rotated to track the flying object as it flew over the settlement and towards the spaceport. It didn't stop there, however. It kept going past it, flying towards the outer limits of the valley in which the colony was nestled. "VL-403, reckless flying is not allowed so close to populated areas," the computer sent, this time with some urgency to its tone. "Reduce your speed now or we will be forced to--"

With a bright orange-blue flash and a terrible noise that could be heard all over the valley, the spacecraft crashed into the side of one of the surrounding mountains, and all transmissions from it ceased.

 

[ManicMuse]

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Parker

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

Scene Details

Location: Colony

State of being: Lazy

Nearby: Miner

OOC:

Life on Veles had come with a rough start for Parker. Speech had come back with exposure to others but social skills were still something that Parker struggled with. Despite having time to work on them with others as they floated through the endless darkness. Once established on Veles, it was clear that Parker was still a bit off. It had only taken a few dozen out bursts before one of the few remaining doctors suggested some pharmaceutical aid. Between that and agreeing to bring Parker's ship down for her to live in, Parker settled into life in the colony for the most part.

After finishing off a cup of what was considered coffee, Parker wandered down the corridor of her ship. Colorful, murals now coated the scribbles that had covered many of the walls in the ship. The cargo bay had been converted into a shop. Pulling the lever as she wandered in, the hanger door dropped open signing the shop was now open. Grabbing a stool, Parker set it down behind the counter top that had been bolted into the flooring of the door. Not even ten minutes went by before a middle aged man, coated in dust can rolling up on a transport, pulling a sled behind it.

"Hopin' you got some magic fingers girl. My bot got caught up in a rock slide."

Dismounting the transport, he pulled back a tarp on the sled sending up a cloud of dust. Parker frowned as some of the dust, rippled up into her face. Giving a cough and working to wave away the offending dust, she leaned over the counter. Lazily resting and elbow on the counter she gave a snarky laugh. "Where is the rest of it?"

"It's all there. All of it but the leg. That was stuck under a boulder."

"It'll be cheaper to build a new one mate. Let me know if you want me to buy the scrap metal off you. I'd give you a fair price."

Parker climbed over the counter and wandered over to the sled. Looking between the Miner and the crushed bot, she gave a sigh. Given the grim look on the guys face she could tell the bot was important to him.

"I don't got the credit to afford a new one."

Parker rubbed the back of her neck before rolling up her other sleeve, "Alright, leave it with me. I'll do what I can. I make no promises though." Unhooking the sled from the transport and accepting a hand shake from the grateful man, Parker offered him a wave as he departed. Turning and looking to the crunched pile of tin, Parker gave a long sigh, "It's going to be a long day."

 

[Natealie]

Every day that passed was another day in which Camilla debated giving her job to so other poor unfortunate soul. To give context however, she loved what she did. Not because she loved holding power or being in control, but because she was helping to shape the future. Maybe even help change a few misconceptions about her old work while she was at it...

But the pressure was constant. She was the one making decisions about the survival of the rest of life itself. It was a crushing weight on her very soul, and something which she would never get used to. It really sucked, to say the least.

After hearing about the incident, she made it a point to free up time. There was no doubt that she was going to have to answer questions, comment on, and do something about this. It was a pain, but it was also her job. What really sucked was that they had lost several people and the ship itself. Resources, including life, were not the easiest to come by. Every single one counted.

With a troubled mind and a heavy heart, Camilla began to journey to the crash site to investigate.

 

[Harmalite]

Beya Thalcyon

Location:
Quarantine Zone, Maltryk
'Wild Blue Yonder'
Connected:
D. Rex Mr.Sandstorm
Tardy Grade Snorble211
Lyro
Cpt. Zvezdov
Lt. Wilston [copilot]
Lt. Codewright [navigator]

Maybe they didn't hear it?

Fat chance, if the speaker was tuned any higher their bones would have exploded. That thought, though, was not nearly as unnerving as the ever so faint blips that began to occur on the subspace probe, little translucent squares of white jiggled across the static-black screen from left to right, little tombstones. It looked like just about the lowest-energy hypercast you could make before you were just playing around with positrons, but a hypercast nonetheless.

"Captain!?"

Zvezdov turned around with an adrenaline fire in his eye and the ship jerked with him, veering centimeters off its landing trajectory in a fit of tremors. He's almost been conditioned to associate the boy speaking up during observations with terrible, terrible events. The emptiness in the eyes of a silenced espatier could put the fear of God in any man's-

"N-nevermind." Beya said, quieter, and unsure. "Just fluctuations. I'm reading zip on everything" Apparently, the signal vanished as soon as it appeared. No trace of it could be found on any instrument, frantically as he checked: It was so short that he couldn't even locate the general area it came from (maybe down to the kilometer if he spent all day on it). Did that mean it was safe?...??? Although, if they managed to turn the signal off so quickly, it probably meant that they caught the blasted thing just in time without being silenced. Good pilot.

"Please don't shoot. I surrender. I will be exiting the craft soon. My hands will be up, indicating my lack of hostile intentions or capabilities."

Weird pilot. Something about his weird voice didn't sit well with Beya or the rest of the crew- but it was probably just some Outer Rim yokel with a busted translator. Beya practically smooshed his face up against the window to get a from his front-row seat as the ship pulled in for a landing, perpendicularly to the open door. He hardly noticed as the copilot and navigator too rolled their chairs up to look over his shoulder, craning their necks like a pair of ducks. The man stepped out onto the ramp; their faces dropped into a mix of awe and confusion like a switch had been flipped. In their awkward positions they simply watched the oddity of a fellow through scrunched-up faces as he stumbled, if you could call it that, out of his ship. The glowing, scantily-clad fellow, in such frigid air he seemed to be gathering frost as he walked. He's kind of hot... Beya remained silent.

"What is'e, is he like an alien or something." muttered Wilston. The men looked between themselves- then all at once they sprung out of their chairs and rushed towards the anterior-ventral airlock.

---​

Clad in the dull sky-tones of their bulk-insulated Expeditionary uniforms, the cockpit crew jumped down to the surface of Maltryk one at a time (and the first time, despite having been there for several hours) leaving three puffs of dirt as they went. A good delay later, Beya flailed out after them, landing on his knees and then his face with a muffled thud. Wow, it's really that bad? he thought to himself as he dusted himself off and knocked the side of his helmet, spurring the implants back into action and kicking a bit of dust off the visor. He wiped the rest off, leaving a big smear that showed his quite flushed face.

The other crew were staring at him.
"It's, uh, heavier than it looks!" he remarked, jerking his toolkit for emphasis. His dumb grin met blank eyes. It really was pretty heavy, but never was Beya one to pass up an opportunity to mess around in an "entrepreneur's" ship. Truly works of wonder they were, so much function to support that form. So he brought all the toys he could.
"c-come on. Let's go find out what's up with that guy."

With a heavy crash, the posterior airlock dropped it's ramp, and four armored men clattered out with their rifles trained on the newcomer. The captain waved his forearm in a circle, and they maintained their aim while fanning out in front of the ship. With his stance wide, he strode forward out of the shadow of the Wild Blue Yonder; Beya followed closely abreast, while the other two followed in their steps and their hands hovered nervously over their guns.

 

[Slop]

The Archivist | Location: Nexus, Veles' Moon
​

The Archivist's mostly-mechanical body jerked so suddenly in response to the loud crash that had interrupted his rest. Having his train of thoughts abruptly cut-off had always been something the Archivist hated.

Gripping the armrest of his antique leather armchair a bit too harshly, the troubled 'cyborg' got up and shuffled his artificial feet across the aged wooden floors - past the towering bookshelves and towards and enormous stained reinforced window meant to replicate those you'd find in the cathedrals during the old Earth era.

What he saw through said window were colourful and glittery dust-like particles that was leading to Veles. They shimmered and floated - motionless, in dead space. The Archivist couldn't help himself but feel the urge to investigate. He was but doubtful that something had crashed onto Veles. And so, after God-knew-how-long, curiosity had sparked inside of the old fart once more. With that, he darted off into ghe hangar, getting himself onto his space-limo.

 

[Lyro]

Maltryk
The kind of hot pilot unsteadily continued his walk away from his ship, stumbling occasionally when the wind buffeted him. As the members of the Wild Blue Yonder's expeditionary force approached him, more and more of his features became apparent to them. For one thing, the lines covering his body were even more intricate from up close than they had seemed from afar: no matter how hard one squinted, one could always make out more of the fractal-like designs etched into his skin. And, for another, through a myriad of abnormalities in his body language, of odd twitches of his face and uncanny symmetry of his features, it became even clearer that they were dealing with someone who was not quite human, not even by the most generous definitions of panhumanity.

As if to confirm the impression, the creature spoke once more then, his voice carried unnaturally far by some unseen mechanism. "Many greetings to you, Velesia-- Velenit-- people of Veles," his voice said haltingly in that same unplaceable accent, along with a small hint of fear. "I intend to cooperate to the fullest extent of my ability." Less than 25 metres separated them now, and the man stopped, hands still held high. "I stand ready to face the consequences of my actions as mandates your local configuration of justice. No matter how dire the situation, there is no excuse for illegal parking."

Harmalite

Veles
The site of the crash was quickly swarming (well, as big a swarm as a small colony of three hundred people can muster) with automated emergency services searching for survivors and assessing damage, though it did not take long for the AIs to recognize that there was little that had survived intact. The entire ship had broken up, its parts strewn all over the mountainside. Here was a wing piece. Over here was a turbine. And there, almost exactly at the center of the debris, lay a charred corpse surrounded by the remnants of the cockpit. The medical bots' programming compelled them to evaluate whether resuscitation was possible, but even an old-fashioned mobile telephone device could have crunched the numbers in a matter of seconds. The body was barely recognizeable as human, having been dismembered by the shock of the crash and burned by the explosion. Even now, some parts were still smouldering.

Around it, however, a few parts had managed to survive mostly intact. The ship's fusion core had thankfully maintained integrity - not unexpected, considering they were designed to resist almost any kind of damage. Even more welcome however was the news that its hyperdrive seemed almost pristinely preserved, minus a few superficial defects that could be repaired; large hyperdrives were Veles's most prized commodity, being in short supply and beyond the colony's ability to produce. But perhaps most important of all was the ship's black box, which had managed to safely ejected from the ship seconds before it crashed. It had safely floated down to the ground, thanks to its automatically deployed parachute, and was already being escorted back to the colony for analysis by the time Camilla arrived.

ManicMuse Slop Natealie

 

[Harmalite]

Beya Thalcyon

Location:
Quarantine Zone, Maltryk
Disembarked
Connected:
Snorble211
Lyro
Cpt. Zvezdov
Lt. Wilston [copilot]
Lt. Codewright [navigator]
Pilot of "The Virtue"

The four men stopped just short of ten meters from the stranger. It took a few tense seconds to parse his words and another few to figure out if they were hearing him correctly. For a moment the only sound was the pummeling of boots from the security detail, who moved into a closer formation around him with their gunstocks nestled firmly in the crooks of their elbows- each clocked in as a red point that danced across the intricate line-work of their target's chest.

Zvezdov nudged Beya with his elbow and whispered from the corner of his lips.
"By code Iota 5. If he is clear..." the captain made a quick gesture with his thumb to the two men behind him, "If he is not..." he pointed to the two closest guards. Beya nodded in acknowledgement, and then was sent forwards with a suprising slap on the back.

As he approached, he was weirdly conscious of his own breathing and the shock of his footfalls. He heard ringing. This doesn't feel real, came a thought from far away, as if a shout from the back of the auditorium. The detached feeling was almost like a feeling of scientific shellshock. Having not been around in the world for too long, his time at Champion Electra had never shown him anything that couldn't be fit neatly into the laws of physics. The Silence may have upended that for a time, but the mystery that surrounded it and how everyone hid from it on Veles made it nothing more than another hazard. When studying it, he at least knew where to start. The ringing increased in volume.

Subvocal Telemyography said ERROR! speech pattern not recognized.
Acoustic Triangulation Suite said No source detected. Please ensure both ears are uncovered and try again.
ImplantFinder Pro said Search session terminated at (16777216 nodes). System has run out of memory.
Human Kinematics Analysis said database error: incorrect kinematics regime detected. Update/Repair database at IPv20:66.098.098.101.QEZR

The implants would have been happy enough to give up, but he kept pushing them to overheating because he didn't like the answer his own senses could give him. If there's anything humans are naturally good at, it's recognizing when something is just off about someone. At least the fractal search turned up some really pretty looking Julia sets, as if that was any consolation when they were embedded in human skin with more iterations than his eyes could resolve. Now he stood in front of this adonis-like but twitchy, gleaming... thing, and began to re-think his first impression. Still, like a good little astrophysicist, he violently suppressed the ETI hypothesis, even when that little voice in back of his mind kept screaming WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU???

"Keep your hands..." he glanced upwards at the stranger's unnaturally extruded arms, "above your head and do not move. If you have any biohazardous, radioactive or toxic... materials or any weaponry, please declare them. You will be... detained for further questioning. If you are injured or malnourished, care will be provided." Beya paced in a tight circle around the pilot, wiping across his skin with a holographic cyan glow from the vambrace. Thanks to the wracked nerves he was doing pretty well to avoid stutters and voice cracks, although he sounded out of breath and was clearly reading off a script. As he started mentally registering data from the holoprobe he started to calm down a little bit. Now he had some nice numbers to look at and maybe even make sense of, and he was more used to studying numbers than studying spacemen. At least in a scientific way.