Futuristic &nbsp; The Frontier Initiative - IC/Main

Darth

ONI

saxon

Aeris

Tempestus · Jul 30, 2022

Laura Selassie

Laura wore an olive green WEP jacket made from cotton ripstop. It was surplus, of course, provided from a United Americas Air Force retail outlet. She wore matching pants and lace-up black boots. In her hand she clutched at her steel necklace, which dangled just underneath her UNWPA tags. Fanning the heart-shaped locket outwards revealed the letters "L.F.A.". Laura closed her eyes and exhaled slowly as the shuttle made contact with the ground. She looked over at Farrah and said, "Hun, I brought an extra field kit in my bag if you need it." Turning slightly, she unzipped her backpack to show a small first aid kit. Their checked bags held everything they'd ever need, and she knew her husband was prepared more than anyone. But he taught her to pack only the most essential items. That meant ditching her seven-volume Harry Potter series in favor of bandaids.

She would adjust her cap and rise from the seat, following Farrah's lead as the others exited the shuttle. Immediately, she heard a booming voice from the man in jungle camo. He stood on one of those massive flatbed trucks while giving his welcome speech. "Latecomers, huh? This Drennek sounds pretty strict..." she whispered in her husband's ear.

ANIMAL MOTHER · Jul 31, 2022

-as we continue to report on the aftermath of this riot. Infamous convicts such as Basri Gence, Aziz Batur, and Sever Sahan are counted among the dead...

The pixelated words throw themselves onto a pair of unfeeling eyes staring blankly at them. The little data reader they're displayed upon snaps shut; its screen fades to black and the message disappears as it turns off. Simon puts it back in a pocket and rubs his head. The trouble back home has solved itself, it seems. That’s one less thing to worry about, but it’s not making him feel any easier. Anxious, he takes a deep breath, lifts his head, and tilts his cap up to get a better look around him.

‘So this is Krasivvy?’ Simon muses to himself, still taking in the realization his own two feet stand on another world’s soil. It’s surreal, something back then was never even thought possible, yet he's here on a different planet entirely. Now Krasivvy would’ve looked just like it did in the travel adverts had it not been for the watch towers, fences that stretch for miles and crowned with barbed wire, and warning signs telling him what to do. Instead it looks like he’s walking right back into a more pretty-looking Red Mountain, not an everyday spaceport. He shakes his head. Everyone else coming here appears to be in better spirits, though. He looks over at them curiously to see if any of them feel the same way he does.

"Form a line and follow my colleagues to the main structure. The welcome party starts in half an hour but Administrator Drennek isn't very forgiving of latecomers."

Simon looks left, right, and shuffles forward to try and form a line himself. He stands there silently looking back at Michaels.

Worthlessplebian · Jul 31, 2022

Leo Beckett Cohen, Calypso's Corporate Covert Operative

The rattling transport. The shivering, pulsing engines. The silk-white clouds. All these sensations were familiar to Leo Beckett Cohen. A briefly-lived military man turned corporate spy for the corporatic bureaucrats. That is how Leo knew of these things... And yet, the man in the bluish-gray jumpsuit and jet-black jacket with Calypso's logistics division log plastered on the nape and shoulder shivered. This is quite different. Different in the knowledge that he is not on Earth anymore, but an entirely alien world. As he swirls the bean-enriched liquid in his steel thermos, Leo ponders just how much would stay the same? The upholstery on the seats weren't something to fawn over, that much he could tell you.

The transport wheels to a halt, eerily similar to one of those roller coaster rides back on Earth, though without complementary barf bags so that you could evacuate that morning's 'light' meal in safety and away from the sight of equally sick or revolted amusement park goers. Leo's hand slid up the polished steel of the thermos container, fingers dolefully passed over the grooves of the numerals--"IX" or the number nine, a significance only resonated with Leo--before thumbing the lid close and sliding it into his travel bag. The spy was spartan in travelling; less weight, more freedom. But as the ramp lanced to the landing zone and the ginger-bearded man shouldered his essentials, he knew that there are somethings you have to take no matter how cumbersome. At least for now.

Hidden between the layers of this burnt-wood gray carryall, an ingenious consolidation of modern engineering. A suit, light as air under the fingers but durable enough to ensure small calibers only blunt, not puncture. Rigour to withstand the elements. Tiny tools to prod and poke soft security. Cutting-edge Digitally Enhanced Adumbrating Dermis or D.E.A.D cloak to hide from all those pesky cameras. Except with all these fancy doodads, Leo detests this stifling, clown getup. It reminds him of those old thriller movies with sci-fi settings, he never truly found the love for them after all these years as they looked more dated by the day. A broken chagrin across his face, Leo smothers then turns inward his emotions. As a spy, he is first a liar and lying has to be good.

Michaels called them forth and urgently urged for them to meet with Administrator Drennek of Camp Endeavor.

"Ay, ay, Sir." Said the Spy with genuine enthusiasm. Genuinely-practiced enthusiasm.

Operation Commencing.

Viper Actual

Calibutcher · Aug 1, 2022

13 found himself discovering new displeasure for travel. While he had been powered down for the duration of their flight here to Krasivvy he was growing impatient now as he sat in the shuttle. He began to tap his metal foot against the floor before stopping suddenly as he realized just how much noise he was making. A few curious heads turned to look at him and he gave a curt nod and a wave of apology. “Just ready to make touchdown folks.” No one answered his small talk and he shrugged it off. They likely thought he was just another security bot.

Touchdown came and he stood before everyone else, the loadmaster yelled. “It is not time to stand yet!” 13 held up a hand and extended 3 fingers. His fingers dropped one after another and when the last finger dropped and the announcement to stand was given. The loadmaster just gave him a disapproving stare and 13 ignored it. He strode towards the rear hatch gave a casual salute to the loadmaster and walked off the ramp as it settled on the ground.

Krasivvy was wonderful. So much green. Even here from the tarmac, the lush landscape was impossible to ignore. He began examining everything he could as he walked across the tarmac using his sensors at their full range to soak in all the new knowledge he could. The open-air and new fauna made him swivel his head in several different directions as he looked at items of interest. His head quit turning at the voice of a man greeting the new passengers. 13 followed the instructions and quickly found where they were to line up. Along the way, he gave a cheerful wave to Michaels, “thank you for the welcome sir!” After which 13 made sure he was the first in line. He made a mental note not to be late for anything the administer invited him to. First impressions went a long way. He planned to make all of his perfection.

Togy · Aug 2, 2022

Delano Sirosky

"Be advised, any and all personal effects will be jettisoned into the vacuum of space should you fail to collect them from the shuttle by the time of the return trip," Dell droned to the passenger area before turning his attention back to the controls, easing up on the dropship's thrusters and settling the ship against the concrete of the landing zone with little more than a bump. Killing the engine and lowering the passenger area ramp, Dell ran one last system check to make sure nothing had been irreversibly damaged in the three seconds he wasn't paying attention before pushing himself out of the pilot's seat, his co-pilot following close behind. "Alright, everybody out. And I wasn't kidding, I know the waste disposal guys take personal pleasure in throwing photo albums out the airlock. You've been warned."

As the passengers began filing out of the ship through the ramp, Dell tapped his co-pilot's shoulder to catch their attention. "Hey, have you seen the toaster around?"

"The what?" The man asked, silence soon taking over as Dell absolutely refused to refer to the machine by their real name and forcing the man to figure it out himself, "You mean the FASF?"

"Tomato Potato, same difference. I just need to know if they can make whole-wheat golden brown. Know where they are?"

The co-pilot laughed then, clearly thinking he was joking, before watching Dell unveil a sandwich baggie of uncooked bread that had been squished into his pocket and subsequently realizing that the man had never been more serious in his life. "Alright then-I think I saw one board shuttle C, you can check there."

Dell could've kissed the man for gracing him with the information, but he decided to settle on actually learning his name so he didn't keep referring to him as 'The co-pilot'. Just not now, he'd get to that eventually. Maybe. At the moment, he was in the pursuit of science.

Rushing out of the shuttle, Dell nearly tripped on his own two feet going down the ramp, his legs feeling strange to walk on and his balance off-center. Going into cryo-sleep and waking up in an only partially gravitized spaceship for a year and a half did some interesting things to a man's sense of balance that no amount of company-mandated yoga was going to fix before going planetside after all. Despite how janky it felt to walk and the embarrassing number of times he nearly tripped on his own two feet just walking forward, Dell refused to be the first to have his legs give in on him and faceplant into the concrete three feet out of the dropship.

Spotting the tin-man through the crowd of arriving colonists taking up position as first in liner, Dell started off towards them. Was it rude, disrespectful even, to ask a sentient weapons platform if it could act as a toaster? Probably.

Shamelessly cutting ahead of the people filing into line behind 13, Dell presented the machine his sandwich baggie of bread. "Alright, so this is out of the blue, but can you toast my bread? The curiosity's been killing me ever since we got de-frosted."

ONI · Aug 2, 2022

whir

Though for some aboard the drone of a mechanical whirs were unbearable, for Farrah it only came to invoke fond memories—though only within the comfortable confines of retrospect—harkening back to those final few, hectic jumps into Egypt in the company of brothers. Funny how one's most frightening memories can become almost comical if you'd only survived them. In a way the drawn comparison of an over active imagination served to relax his nerves. A fainter tisk of disbelief drew him back to reality, his head wound energetically toward a voice, only to study the contents of an aid bag. "Hm?! Oh that's great but I think I should be set!" he reassured Laura with a brief, wonky grin. He tugged passively at his bracelet as a boot padded rampantly at the bloodtray's deck in anticipation.

They came to a firm stop and he was up, doubly sure to check in on Laura. His was a careful but rather swift dismount.

Light streamed into the bloodtray and for a while was simply too much for Farrah to contest. Funny how the eyes got light shy after so long on ice, how lungs formed on a neglected world damn near rejected the rush of purity that now flowed through them. At least at first. His body protested for what felt like an eternity, eyes unable to fixate on anything but the sporadic directional markers printed against the hard, dreary concrete of the flight deck.

Michael's voice boomed over even the wind down of thrusters and instantly locked in his attention, almost instinctively as the man's words carried over, Farrah smoothed out his Ranger brassard and smartly donned his beret. UN blue, embellish by a Frontier and Colonial Administration cap badge with Security Division backer. Without even much thought he'd guided them into the larger formation.

He managed a stifled laugh as Laura spoke, downed a nod and opened his mouth to speak yet grew distraught in a sudden sweep. Eyes wide as he stared at his wife in horror. "Yo! I didn't turn off the light in the kitchen!" he gasped in dismay.

Not even an adventurer can escape a bad utility bill.
"Engines whir and whir till they don't no more" - Highly enlightened man, 2120.
Points if you play them at the same time loud.

Solar Daddy · Aug 3, 2022

Burke Hartmann would lie through his teeth should he be asked if he was excited to meet his new home. He'd say something dreary and nihilistic, like, "No no, this is just a place to earn a paycheck, same as anywhere else. This isn't home. I'm here on a mission; no time to fool around or take in the sights." Sure, he would say that. But one glance at the corner of his lip tugging up, or the bounce in his legs as he stood from the netted seat, to the deep inhale when he exited the craft. It was clear as day, Burke was jovial to encounter a new planet, find new secrets, uncover new possibilities. How many friends could he make at the tavern? Did they even have a tavern? Who here could find the best booze this side of Luna? Exploring was what Burke did, and loved. Nothing made the Moon-resident happier than uncovering a mystery or finding the truth in the chaos. Who knew what an entire planet of possibilities had for him?

Hartmann paused once his feet hit the ground, scanning the horizon of his new planet. Sure, the gates and fences and painfully plain tarmac weren't much of a sight, but the weather was beautiful, and there was no time to enjoy the embrace of the now than right after a nearly two year cryo-sleep. Burke kept his excitement down with a small mental note. You're here because of Otto. Make sure to thank him sometime, yeah? Burke looked up at the pale blue sky and imagined his late friend and colleague. The one who should've been seeing this view instead of daredevil Hartmann. As much as Burke hoped the thought would ground him, make him realize it wasn't all celebration and joy, that just wasn't true. The excitement was in his soul now, the adrenaline pumping through his body. As he admired all the people gathering, Burke made sure to shift his attention and force himself to focus on Michaels, committing what he said to memory.

And who could delay? A celebration in thirty? Burke was near the front of the line, ready to not only meet Drennek, but to enjoy an arrival festivity. To meet new friends, learn great stories, drink great drinks. Burke probably stood out from the crowd with his brightly colored work jacket, complete with reflective strips on the arms and collar, not dissimilar to a fireman's outfit. He gripped the heavy canvas bag - almost as big as the Hartmann kid himself - slung over his shoulder with one arm. Bring it on, Krasivyy. Hartmann's home.

Viper Actual · Aug 6, 2022

As the large crowd of newcomers formed an uneven line Michaels nodded approvingly. Among those forming up were Morgado and Levkov who were some of the new additions to SecDiv and DevDiv, respectively. The former cleared his throat and positioned himself next to 13. Nodding at the security bot Morgado extended a hand towards the machine and spoke;

"Morgado, BGA. I didn't get to say hi before we got herded into the shuttles. From what I've heard we'll be working closely together." The contractors chuckled and shrugged. "Assuming I don't get eaten first of course."

Just then one of the shuttle pilots emerged with... is that bread?

Morgado promptly coughed and backed up a couple of steps, feeling unsure about the whole interaction.

"Alright, so this is out of the blue, but can you toast my bread? The curiosity's been killing me ever since we got de-frosted."

Raising an eyebrow, Morgado blinked and glanced between 13 and the pilot. A faint smirk had appeared on his face as if amused by the entire situation. Leaning in towards the pilot Morgado chuckled and said "Hey hijo, you're talking to one of the most advanced sentient weapon systems known to man. I'm pretty sure it can do much more than just toast your bread."

Standing not far away was Artem Levkov who was carrying two rather large duffel bags in addition to the hiking-style backpack on his back. Currently he wasn't paying too much attention to the whole 'standing around in an orderly fashion'-thing and appeared more interested in rapidly typing away on a worn datapad. He glanced at the Selassie's momentarily, his gaze lingering especially long on Farrah's UN beret. His scarred face slowly turned into an amused grin as his eyes darted between the two of them.

"That would be one big utility bill," Artem said, chuckling. He continued to stare at the couple for a few more silent moments before looking back at his datapad, muttering something inauadible.

Once the crowd had stopped shuffling around Michaels clapped his two hands together. "Good enough!" He said aloud before jumping off the flatbed and down onto the tarmac. "Follow me and- please- don't wander off until after the briefing."

The security officer smiled briefly. "Let's go."

And with that the crowd of newcomers began to move. Flanked by SecDiv personnel on all sides the group looked more like a crowd of prisoners being escorted than anything else. While walking towards the main structure dominating the center of the colony several passerby's greeted the group with nods, waves, salutes and more. Members of the 1st Krasivyy Expedition greeted them as well though they all bore a mix of weariness and relief as they carried their personal belongings towards the shuttles.

One chapter ends and another begins, all on the same day.

Upon reaching the structure the group had to walk through a heavy-duty airlock which in turn shuttled them directly into a wide industrial-looking corridor. Signs, cameras, monitors, PA-speakers and lights seemed to line every inch of the place that wasn't covered up by panels with warning labels on them. The corridor was wide enough for six people to walk through it shoulder-to-shoulder and as Michaels and the SecDiv staff ushered them forward the newcomers would pass other adjacent corridors and hallways of varying sizes.

To reach the central mess hall the group had to walk for some ten minutes. Upon reaching the mess hall the interior aesthetic changed drastically with metal paneling being switched out for sleek ash-grey polymer walls with barely anything breaking up or disturbing the smooth surface.

Shaped as a semi-circle the mess hall's far wall was lined with bunker-style reinforced slit-windows over looking most of the tarmac. Tables, chairs and other furniture were all stainless steel neatly arranged and divided evenly throughout the entire room.

Currently there was a significant number of people inside ranging from SecDiv contractors in military fatigues to LogDiv staff in construction coveralls and admin staff wearing custom-tailored suits in dim colors. All of them were seated on the right side of the room facing the far wall where several monitors had been assembled for the sake of the briefing.

With the newcomers entering several of those already present inside turned to look at their newly-arrived colleagues, bunk-mates, neighbors and rivals.

Michaels and the others quietly urged people to leave any large bags on the tables farther to the back of the room or to keep them at their feet. Meanwhile several junior-level administrative aides were using devices to scan ID's of the newcomers to sign them in. One of them grimaced upon being faced with 13 standing in front of them but eventually found a subdued military QR-code on the chassis that could be scanned.

Eventually all of the newcomers had been seated on the left side of the room with ample space between most of the people despite numbering to some one-hundred and fifty people.

Michaels silently excused himself and positioned himself at the far wall next to several other senior members of the SecDiv staff. The room fell silent when a door suddenly opened behind the crowd followed by the sound of high-heels tapping the polished mess hall floor. Some heads were turned whereas Michaels and several other members of the senior staff seemed to straighten up a bit.

Dressed in seemingly premium-quality business attire while carrying a datapad in one hand was none other than Administrator Drennek. She walked through the central aisle that separated the newcomers from the others and took up position in front of the many monitors and wall of senior personnel without even much as glancing at those seated before her. Nodding to herself, Drennek handed over her datapad a member of SecDiv whom wore a Calypso patch on their arm before clasping her hands together and looking up.

She smiled and studied the faces looking at her. It was the kind of rehearsed smile one would perhaps show at a charity event or perhaps at a press conference. The type of smile that wasn't much more but a mask.

"Welcome," said Drennek. Her voice had a slight rasp to it. "Welcome to Krasivyy." She gestured towards Michaels whom seemed to reflexively raise his chin slightly in response to the gesture which in turn was mirrored by other SecDiv staff. "I'm sure Michaels has already explained as such but this briefing is paramount for the security of yourselves, your colleagues and any loved ones that may have joined you on this great journey."

Drennek's smiled turned into a slight smirk. "I'm Administrator Drennek and appointed chief of this colonial endeavor. On Camp Endeavor I oversee the overarching corporate and colonial operations. I am a liaison to both the ICCA and the UN, though the latter has their own formal representative here at Camp Endeavor. In simple terms I'm the closest thing most of you will have in terms of a 'boss' though I personally prefer much less dramatic titles such as that."

"While you are here, be it on behalf of a corporation or as part of the ICCA's colonization effort, you are all expected to contribute to Camp Endeavor in one way or another. The Frontier Initiative has no room for dead-weight or driftwood and you have all been selected to be here on the basis of being capable to contribute with either one or several talents. All of you will have a section supervisor to report to, whether it be someone overseeing the colonial Hab-Zone or a member of our local staff divisions."

Drennek paused before continuing; "Furthermore, there will be no conflicts within these walls. Whatever corporate agendas and politics you may have been involved with are irrelevant here. Survival is always our top priority, followed closely by achieving the objectives given to us by the BCC and United Nations. If you are found guilty of a crime while on Krasivyy you will either be locked up and detained, stripped of your privileges and left outside the perimeter fence or summarily executed."

Michaels seemed to look down briefly at the mention of the final and most brutal punishment. Execution on the Frontier was not to be taken lightheartedly.

"All of you will be issued a datapad that is linked to the Krasivyy internal data system and, by extension, the ICCA's galaxy-spanning information network. You will also be issued a survival kit that is to be worn at all times when outside the perimeter. You may not remove any items from this survival kit before that as it is for emergencies only, containing medical supplies, water filters and a transponder beacon that our search-and-rescue teams can home in on."

One member of SecDiv seemed to produce a large pouch seemingly out of thin air and held it up for everyone to see. It had a bright orange color to it with a single reflective stripe next to an empty velcro panel, most likely for a nametab.

"Operations outside the Endeavor perimeter are only allowed between 6 AM and 9 PM. These fifteen hours are what we refer to as 'daytime' here on Krasivvyy with days ending past 26:00 or 16 PM for those of you don't know Zulu-time. You will be issued safety guidelines and handbooks on your respective datapads following this briefing which includes a limited encyclopedia on what wildlife and plants to steer clear of as well as regions surveyed by ICCA staff. Beware that there is still much we do not know about Krasivyy and it is important that you stay out of restricted zones as marked on our colonial maps."

Drennek sighed. "Any questions?"

ANIMAL MOTHER

Becker

Darth

ONI

saxon

Aeris

Calibutcher · Aug 6, 2022

13 was still enjoying looking at the distant foliage when his focus shifted to the man approaching him. He turned and quickly identified Morgado. 13 met the man's handshake with enthusiasm. “A pleasure to meet you, Morgado,” A slight pause and 13 found a personal file and knew the general details about the man. “I will endeavor to keep you from being eaten. Though with your weapon proficiency-” 13 stopped as a pilot approached him with bread.

13 tilted his head and a sharp laugh escaped him, he responded after Morgado who was technically correct. “Well pilot, I have never been offered such a question.” 13 took the bag with slices of bread and considered it for a moment. “I think I could, though this does not seem to be the time to do so. Please share with me your comm info and I shall demonstrate this at a later time.” He began to pack the slice of bread into the module on his back. “May I hold onto these until then?” He queried though he was already storing the bread for later.

Such a question could be seen as demeaning or off-putting but 13 had long ago resolved that humans would like to test the limits of his kind. Most of these more peculiar questions were ultimately harmless, and he found that more often than not answering them or accomplishing them as long as the query was without malcontent resulted in a better relationship with the person. A pilot would be a great person to have as a friend. And if toast was the price of potential friendship 13 would gladly pay it.

With this first matter resolved he returned his attention to Morgado, “ I understand you do good work in weapon development. I believe after I have more time to asses this planet I would like to discuss some ideas for a weapons system that may be beneficial to me in warding off the possibility of you or others becoming plant food.” 13 carried on with Morgado as they were summoned to move on to the briefing.

The size of the complex was impressive for a colony still so early in its infancy. It would only grow more impressive with the newcomers brought here and with luck, he would see to the expansion of the border for this colony.

They reached the mess hall and 13 enjoyed watching the confusion on the man's face as he tried to figure out how to scan him in, eventually, 13 relented and pointed out a QR code on his chassis. He quickly found a place to sit near the edge of the offered seating arrangement laid out for the newcomers.

With such a large group it took a while but everyone was seated and Drenneck took to the stage for the awaited briefing. Her message was simple and to the point. 13 was glad this was not a long meeting. The prompt for questions arose and 13 quickly raised his hand and called out his first question. “The supplies for the survival kit largely do not apply to me. I already have a transponder as well as a full Comms suite. Shall I be exempted from the kit?”

Viper Actual

Worthlessplebian · Aug 9, 2022

Leo Beckett Cohen, Calypso's Corporate Covert Operative

To the outside world, Leo acted like a kid in a candy shop. Ogling at the complex with all its intricacies, construction, and marvelous size. A smile as wide as the Grand Canyon -- though after the explosive ordinance incidence, the once majestic red rock gorge is now a size or two smaller but the expression still stands. Of course, this is a mirage. A ruse to dupe people into his role; spycraft is a delicate game after all. And what better pretence than a plucky, early-30s, transporter with an impressionable nature for the job?

The spy spun his Cheetah keychain over his finger as his gaze temporarily shifted down from the marvels to the other arrivals. Most were speaking, others were reserved for their own reasons. Even a genuine, matrimonial pair. Huh... He thought, scratching his dullish, rough, red hair. Before shrugging his shoulders. Good for them.

Leo's attention was grabbed--or appeared to be grabbed when Michaels clapped his hands and called them over after jumping down to the tarmac. He caught his keychain mid swing and proceeded to follow the others with an ordinary, endearing smirk.

Leo deposited his belongings at the table, the hyper-advanced stealth suit nuzzled betwixt the fabric layers imbibed with micro thick sheet of alloy to prevent both smell (in case of "lunar" dogs), sound and energy detecting/penetrating devices. Though in Cohen's opinion, this is a tad overkill but Calypso did not wish to risk any difficulties with getting their agent onboard with the Frontier Initiative.

He sauntered over to the junior-level administrative aides, poor b*stards with dullard tasks. He reached with two fingers into a breast pocket then flicked his ID card to present it.

Proceeding with the introductory routines whilst ignoring all the SecDivs kitted out in the latest gear. Leo found a semblance of himself in Administrator Drennek; perhaps it was the practiced smile (though his body language is obviously superior) or the way she carried herself, Leo found an iota of admiration for the lady. He nodded along with her speech about Krasivvyy's goals, stances, and policies. Namedropping the UN and BCC too. His smirk grew wider when she mentioned that no corporate slants were or should be present here as survival is pre-eminence.

The highly advanced weapon system was the first to go, asking a question which baffled Leo. So instead of allowing Administrator Drennek to waste her time, he would answer it for her.

"Hey, ro(bot)-buddy. While you might not need the kit, someone else will. Think of it like driving a car, everybody has a first aid kit in their trunks in case of a crash. If the person really damaged their car badly, their first aid kit might get torn up or ruined so somebody will come out with their own and help them, that's why you'd need to carry one as well."

Viper Actual

Mentioned:

ONI

ANIMAL MOTHER · Aug 9, 2022

Simon's weary eyes dart across the faces of those around him while Drennek speaks on about the rules and regulations of Krasivyy; sometimes awkwardly meeting the eyes of the others as he looks around. Though he had chosen a seat in a rather inconspicuous spot, he's unknowingly making his lack of interest a bit apparent with the almost faint look of frustration, or perhaps anxiety, etched onto his face. Regardless of whichever one it is, it's clear at least Simon wants to get up and go exploring what little he can of this new world all by himself, or at least get to working as soon as possible.

Speaking of which, a statement by Drennek peaks his curiosity enough that he slowly raises a hand while she asks if anyone has any questions.

Viper Actual said:
"Any questions?"

"I have." Simon says, his thick accent almost making him hard to understand. "I work as independent contractor. Will I still have supervisor?" he asks; his hand sinking back down once he's done asking his question.

Darth · Aug 10, 2022

Welcome to Krasivyy...

Lindström sighed. It was hardly welcoming. It seemed anything but. It was like landing in a prison, complete with razor wire and guard towers. Stepping off the shuttle was nauseating, and Lindström had to pause every few steps to keep his balance. The long period of stasis had done a number on his motor functions. The worst of it was the headache, a throbbing pain just above Lindström's left eye. He rubbed his temple and took a few deep breaths before following the crowd.

It was strange walking among the group. A rough mixture of people from all over. Lindström glanced around, each face distinct yet still drowned out by the crowd. He saw intellectuals clad in labcoats, tall and brawny characters which Lindström assumed to be security officers, and the periphery personnel draped in coveralls and jumpsuits. Everything felt excitingly new, stepping out onto the surface of this alien world was unlike anything Lindström had experienced before.

He followed the loose cohort into the interior. Lindström was put at unease as security ushered them into the building like a herd of cattle. Usually, Lindström would be on the outside looking in. Lindström felt strange to see the roles reversed. He resolved himself knowing that with time, his position would be far more secure. Of course, Lindström thought, he should exercise caution. It was the first day after all.

They finally came to a stop in a mess hall, as he entered an employee scanned his ID on his lanyard. Lindström elected to take a seat at the outermost table, closest to the front. He tried to sit alone, but the seats next to him were eventually filled. After some time, Drennek, the Camp Administrator, went into her introductory spiel.

"Any Questions?" she asked.

Lindström had only one, which he kept to himself of course.

When can I get to work?

Viper Actual · Aug 14, 2022

“The supplies for the survival kit largely do not apply to me. I already have a transponder as well as a full Comms suite. Shall I be exempted from the kit?”

"Hey, ro(bot)-buddy. While you might not need the kit, someone else will. Think of it like driving a car, everybody has a first aid kit in their trunks in case of a crash. If the person really damaged their car badly, their first aid kit might get torn up or ruined so somebody will come out with their own and help them, that's why you'd need to carry one as well."

Drennek looked like she was about to respond to the question when the man in LogDiv gear beat her to it. Nodding, Drennek smirked briefly while clasping her hands together. "As already pointed out, yes, you will still need to carry it. It is standard procedure for all of our automated personnel to carry additional equipment and gear depending on the mission or team that they're assigned to- there are no exceptions to this rule."

"I have." Simon says, his thick accent almost making him hard to understand. "I work as independent contractor. Will I still have supervisor?"

Drennek nods. "Yes and thank you for the question. All civilians will be assigned to a SecDiv specialist or senior colonist who in turn are responsible for their respective group in the event of a security threat or curfew though generally all of our colonists that fill some sort of independent or civilian capacity have a much higher degree of autonomy than those of us employed by a corporation or those that are contracted by the United Nations."

As she finished, Drennek's eyes glanced over those in the crowd with clear or otherwise highly visible UN markings before landing directly on Lindström. Her gaze appeared to stop for a brief moment and anyone looking close enough would be able to see the slight hint of a smirk on her face. The administrator raised her chin slightly and moved on, averting her gaze.

ONI · Aug 14, 2022

As whatever wave of fear had washed over the man trickled away steadily enough, his bewilderment was cut short. An amused scoff escaped at an off-the-cuff comment and Farrah's head wound back to spot the man who'd dropped it with a smirk.

A short and sweet nod was offered Artem's way, though not without a critically hitched brow. The doctor definitely had that mad scientist look down and it didn't seem like he tried. "That's for sure the kinda guy who works with you." He muttered side-long to Laura and scratched behind his ear with a thin smile.

His attention was raked away as the Michaels made for the tarmac. "C'mon. Looks like we're heading on."

-

The group filtered through the corridors without incident but the thought of a robot only a metre or two at his 'six', combat-capable model no less, unsettled him and frequent shoulder checks served to put him at ease, even if his unease was outwardly displayed.

He adjusted his grip about the duffle bags and trailed along in their ranks. Passing each reinforced threshold was another spectacle. Farrah peered out a sloped viewport nearer his right to admire the world beyond the wire for once, it seemed he'd acclimated to a point. It wasn't the greatest view and the viewports weren't exactly the most plentiful there but he wasn't complaining. Soon enough it was his turn to make past the last partition.

In all honesty it wasn't until they had reached the mess itself, that a sense of seriousness in the expedition really struck him. Brown eyes studied the reinforced, semi-circular protrusion that was their place to eat. The windows more akin to a pill-box than any canteen and subdued background. It earned a faint shake from the would-be ranger and he shared a look with Laura. "Definitely not what I was expecting, I'll be honest."

Farrah put his reservations aside quickly enough, however, as the room had been addressed and it was best one listened. He'd looked over to find Michaels no longer centre stage, instead met by one of those of the poster exec-types.

Dead-weight and driftwood, she coined it. A funny way to say administration. The medic saw little immediate need for them, he doubted they action a rescue or work metals. Perhaps he was too quick, maybe not, either way his internal back and forth was cut short by the sullen look Michaels made at the mention of capital punishment. His brows knitted as his lips tightened. Even so far from Earth, somebody had to wear a suit and tie.

Something about the accents that bellowed over whispers, caused him to smirk. In fact he'd finally stopped to think about scale of this operation.

Terrans, Martians and more, shoulder to shoulder for the future of a mankind.

Solar Daddy · Aug 18, 2022

Burke took in all the sights he could on their way to the mess hall. Even if most of the place's drab walls were blank, sterile even, Burke was interested in committing the place to memory. He'd be here for - hopefully - the rest of his life, so he might as well get familiar right away. Occasionally, the lanky surveyor would adjust the heavy back straddled over his shoulder with one arm, but otherwise was quiet, steadily walking along with the rest of the herd. He listened in on the conversation going back and forth between the nearby security droid and its new friends. He found their banter amusing, even smirking a bit without directly engaging. Burke had no intention of getting to know anyone just yet. He was more interested in waiting until he met those he'd actively be working and living with. After all, why hit it off with a 10 if she operated on a different schedule and different part of the compound? Burke's mind began drifting on that topic, only snapping back into his boots when they arrived at the mess hall.

"Charming," Burke said under his breath with a grin. He expected nothing less from soulless corporations running things. When they had a say, it was always minimal in accommodations and maximum in productivity and efficiency. If anything, Hartmann thought the place was missing some pro-corpo propaganda posters, encouraging him to perform well, put pride in his work, that sort of thing. He was sure there were some around the place, somewhere. And Burke was going to be the one to draw a mustache on all the eager faces of the posters. The new free time activity only grew his anticipation to be let loose into the fray.

Just as before, Burke looked on with amusement at the poor admin trying to figure out what to do with the hulking robot ahead of him. Burke's eyes shifted to the exact spot of the label on his chassis; the Hartmann kid had gotten familiar with the model after a disaster at one of their production facilities left the place filled with noxious gas and exposed fire hazards. He'd been one of the few selected to enter the building and survey the problem with potential fixes. He was informed about the danger these robots could've posed should they have accidentally been activated in the disaster. He'd spent a full night reading up on their components, capabilities, the like. They weren't the exact same model as this one, but it was close enough that some of his prior experience was still apparent. When it was his turn, Hartmann stepped forward, produced his ID, and proceeded past the checkpoint effortlessly with a quiet "thanks."

Burke sat himself among the crowd of fresh deliveries, somewhere in the sea of a hundred or so people. His bag was placed at his feet, with one foot resting atop it. Burke leaned a bit out of the edge of the seat with one arm against the table, instantly getting casual and comfortable. The chairs could've had some cushioning or better back support, but they weren't the worst he'd experienced. When Drennek made herself visible, Burke stared at the formal lady as she made her way to her makeshift stage and listened intently to her words. She was just another corporate face, nothing different than what Burke dealt with back on Luna. Just tell them what they want to hear, he thought. The truth doesn't matter to administrative types. All they care about is profit, profit, profit. Cutting all expenses except themselves.

When the options for questions arose, Burke decided to remain quiet. Any questions circulating in his head were better oriented towards a supervisor, senior surveyor, or someone similar. The head of everything on the planet had more important things than his questions.

Worthlessplebian · Aug 29, 2022

Leo Beckett Cohen, Calypso's Corporate Covert Operative

Leo folded his arms, nodding mindlessly along with Drennek's elucidation of the state that they will find themselves when their subsequent tasks were dolled out to them. This is another layer to the facade, of course. The corporate agent finding that he'll have to dodge a SecDiv or disgruntled, possibly inane senior colonist is the one fear that he did not want to waste time. His mind, enshrouded with his face, concocts elaborate but ultimately explainable social lies to excuse suspicion away, far away; though he would have done this regardless, but the lack of prior briefing and this wrench in the gears forces him to begin earlier than he would have liked. It cannot be helped.

He slung his carryall from his shoulder, thumping it front and centre while waiting for more questions to be asked, answered. His hands were placed firmly on his sides. Calypso's administrative levels certainly knew how to drag out these permanently tiresome introductions. He would begin to suffer callbacks to when Calypso first approached him for recruitment. He had been living in a middling, European village perpetually stuck in the early, modern centuries with none of the flare, contemporary commodities, or sensibilities. A perfect place for an experienced agent to lay low, take in that beautiful country side. Nearly unpolluted by humanity's necessities. Before it all came crashing down when a pair of fleet cars and bargain-basement hubcaps rolled into town with all the subtlety of a raging hippopotamus chasing a bull in a fine china shop. At first, he thought a government agency had dredged up an obscure mistake that he made along the line of disappearing. He isn't perfect after all, but soon found himself to be hounded by a bigger enemy. Boredom. Their representative pitched sales pitch after sales pitch, finally cracking Leo from the verbal diarrhea.

Calypso did sweeten the deal with their blood money rolling out of their suitcases. Money accrued from various legal, legal yet morally detestable, semi-legal or criminal investments. He plainly did not care, he had been a professional— denying that amount of money wouldn't be right, do right by him. Eschew the morality of accepting the corporation's nefarious money. So several jobs, or assignments— the higher-ups do so love their double entendre—later Leo had found himself in the midst, claws, of the transporter to Krasivyy.

Viper Actual · Aug 31, 2022

With no further questions being presented Drennek nodded to herself before speaking once more; "That'll be all for now. Each of you will now be handed a datapad and an encryption key used to unlock the device, though you may change your own passwords freely afterwards. Be sure to keep it charged and close by as we use the internal comms to relay work orders, schedules, news and more through them and the various monitors around the colony."

She glanced to Michaels who stepped forward. "Once you have booted up your devices you may leave the mess hall as the device will tell you where your bunk, dorm or housing is located. It also has a map- use it, people."

The SecDiv officer glanced at his wristwatch. "In approximately fourteen hours we're putting most of you to work. Time is money and whether the United Nations like it or not this is still a corporate operation. That being said, get some chow later at dinner. Stop by the infirmary if you have any meds you need to collect or the armory if you are expected to fill an armed role. If you have any questions for me I'll be at the SecDiv command post a couple of floors up, same goes for the colonial administration and the UN liaison."

ANIMAL MOTHER

Darth

ONI

saxon

Calibutcher · Aug 31, 2022

He looked to Drenneck expecting her to answer, he already suspected he knew the answer. He had spoken up with the simple question for a few reasons. In a group as large as this people could have trouble feeling motivated to ask questions in front of a large group. He hoped his trivial question would help others feel like they could speak as well. This came true when someone other than Drenneck answered his question. 13 turned and met the gaze of another newcomer. He scrolled through the faces of the passengers until he found the name of the man who answered his question. Leo B Cohen a member of Calypso here with Logdiv. 13’s gaze lingered on him for just a moment as he noticed the man seemed to have some extra wires running under his shirt. It could be any number of things from something simple like a pacemaker or extra comms, but the suspicions that surrounded the Calypso origination made 13 wonder if he should be wary.

Regardless of the man's extra tech or supposed shady associations, he was clear and concise in answering his question. 13 nodded in understanding and agreement. “The logic is sound. Thank you, Leo.” The small pack that he would have to add to his kit would not make a large difference for him. He estimated the weight of the pack as Drenneck held it up for the people to see it should not be a hindrance to him. It would require one simple modification. He would paint it to match his frame. He would not however ask if painting it was allowed.

His question was answered he sat back and waited for any other questions. He was ready to start exploring the planet as soon as they could be allowed. Fortunately, there were no further questions.

Upon their dismissal, 13 retrieved a Datapad with the Encryption key and collected the aforementioned emergency kit. With 14 hours to spare he was in no rush but set upon the armory as soon as he could. He felt a tad incomplete not having any weapons on him. So as he strode into the armory it was a relief to see an assortment of options to choose from. While his loadout could vary on the mission type 13 still favored certain types of weapons. He took a .50 cal semi-automatic rifle with 15-round mags as well as a pistol. With a rifle attached to his back and a pistol at his side, he felt right again. Another stop to a supply depot and he took care of painting his emergency kit.

Now all that was left was to address a question he was actually still unsure about the answer to. How could he toast bread? He pulled out the small bag with two slices of bread and considered them carefully for a time. He turned the bread end over end until the solution came to mind. "Ah," He said audibly to himself. "That would certainly do the trick." He activated his comm and sent a message to the pilot who had inquired about his bread toasting abilities. " Pilot Sirosky are you available? We need to talk.-"

Togy · Sep 3, 2022

Dell grinned like an idiot, finally having something to look forward to after seven hours of pre-flight checks for a thirty-minute touchdown. He didn't know what Morgado thought he should ask. Was it really that weird to ask the first man-made device to pass the Turing test if it can toast a bag of whole wheat? Well, probably, but it was likely questions like those that gave the robot in front of him sentience. What else would he ask, anyway? 'Hey, 13, is it just a complex series of If/And statements making up your code that lets your CPU pass as a human consciousness or do you genuinely possess a soul?' In Dell's experience, questions like those generally weren't reserved for first meetings, so toast it was.

"Sure," he said, chipper as he jotted his comm info on the plastic of the sandwich bag, "It's a date!"

Everything else proceeded in an uninterestingly orderly fashion, Drennek sitting them all down and giving them all the laws of the jungle. Summary execution? So no trials then, just guilty until proven guilty. That didn't bode well in the slightest, especially since that kind of power was left in the hands of corporate entities whose only concerns were turning a profit. He could only hope that the UN would step in and handle trials, or they could be looking at a penal colony. Dell honestly didn't know if that had already been established on his contract when he'd signed, and he was really starting to wish he'd actually read the damn thing. But could you blame him? He got the files at 3AM after an all-nighter of cleaning a downed cargo hauler off the Polaski dome's runway on Luna, and it had been at least twenty pages of dense legalese. He'd decided to read it in the morning before promptly forgetting about it.

Dell would have liked to ask if their bodies would be shipped back to their home planets or if they would be buried on site, but, again, he wasn't sure if that had already been stated on the contract so out of fear of sounding redundant he stayed silent.

The lot of them were set loose on the colony not soon after, and a few minutes later, Dell was sat on a desk in the air control tower break room with the other newly arrived pilots, some of the Krasivvy veterans crowding around the sole coffee machine. He'd had to sit through what was easily the second most dreaded part of his job: Orientation. Second to paperwork, of course.

They were briefed on everything they needed to know: Their flight schedules, assigned aircraft, roles, and co-pilots along with vital information like the planet's atmospheric qualities. So far, pretty much everything relating to that topic was similar to Earth with only a few minute differences.

Dell had never been to Earth before, the closest he'd ever come being mock flight simulations set on the planet. His shuttle had one of the rougher flights entering Krasivvy's atmosphere and it was clear to see why. He'd wondered why he'd been hired when he clearly lacked the flight time on Earth all his coworkers had, but one look at everyone's credentials put it into picture. Dell had logged more exo-atmospheric flight time than any other pilot on Krasivvy.

He hoped that meant he'd spend more time outside the atmosphere than not, because the truth was that he was bored. He wouldn't have even gone to Krasivvy if he weren't pressed for cash, preferring his career in private security vastly to logistics. But as it was, he was still swamped in medical bills and his premature career wasn't going to be revived anytime soon, so Krasivvy it was.

He was let out a few minutes later with the necessary information to do his job, drinking coffee straight from the pot and combing through his schedule when his comm signaled a message. Not a minute later he was running across the colony, grinning like a dumbass and spilling coffee as he ran.

Dell skidded into the armory, coffee sloshing out of his pot and onto the floor before he began shotting off questions.

"-How did you figure it out? Electric discharge with one of your LEDs? Short circuit? Manually blown fuse? Do you turn off your AC or do you just expose a wire and caveman it? I don't know the specifics of your platform-er, body?-so I'm just running on assumptions here." Dell stopped talking just long enough to inhale his pot of coffee before looking down and noticing the spill. Momentarily looking around for anything to soak it with, he shrugged and threw his jacket on it.

"Nice cannon, by the way," Dell glanced to the rifle, using his foot to wipe the puddle with his jacket, "What'd you tear it off of? An LAV?"

Solar Daddy · Sep 6, 2022

Burke received his datapad and quickly began to fumble around with it as he fled the mess hall. He was eager to throw up his bag and suit into his private quarters and go exploring the second he was able to, so his primary objective was finding his bunk. He once again slung his bag over his shoulder and headed out along with a mass of people all probably doing roughly the same as him. Burke took a bit to get oriented with the device, trying to personalize it at the same time as finding what he wished. It took longer than Hartmann would like to admit, but ultimately the surveyor got his destination set and began on his way to his quarters. On the way, he tried keeping track of as many things as he could like building locations, vehicle bays, general outpost layout, that sort of thing. He was intent on trying to memorize whatever he could, since digital maps such as the one presented to him wasn't his style. Memorization was key above all else to Burke.

The idea of sleep bored Hartmann, but it was a necessary evil. He lived to work, and if he wanted to be sharp for his first day of labor, he'd need to get a good deal of rest to start it off. He'd spend roughly the next six hours situating himself in his new sleeping quarters, grab some food, maybe explore the compound a little, then spend the remaining eight or so hours getting well rested for work. He wished he could skip ahead to his shift, the boring in-between time of landing and beginning always bugged Burke. He'd offer to start working immediately if he could, but he knew even someone as dedicated as Hartmann needed good, solid rest after the kind of stasis they'd all been subjected to on the ships to Krasivyy.

When Burke found his dorm, situated among many others like a college live-in apartment, he was surprised to find how spacious it was. Sure, it wasn't much more than a couple square feet, but he expected little more than a bunk and a locker. Having at least enough space to separate a few different utilities like a fridge and microwave felt like luxury to him. Already, Krasivyy was looking to be a better experience than the sum of his years on Luna, amidst cramped section housing for all the blue collar Herschel Industrie workers.

Hartmann spent the next handful of minutes unpacking his belongings, which didn't amount to much. A few sets of clothes went into the lockers he was provided, his singular book and the precious gas mask he set up on available shelf space. Burke smiled a bit at his almost completely barren room, save for his handful of personal items. Already, this room felt more like a home than anything Herschel Industrie could provide him. All he needed was to stop by one of the outfitters to collect his various limited-availability tools and survey equipment, and it'd be like he was right back where he was before the big leap, just with a shiny new apartment to top it all off.

Now, though, it was time for Burke to find every last nook and cranny he was allowed into on this outpost. He set off with nothing else but his datapad and his unyielding love for exploration.

Viper Actual · Sep 13, 2022

Endeavor Armory

As Dell came barreling into the armory several SecDiv contractors paused momentarily and looked up. Some even eyed him with a faint smile while others muttered. A member of LogDiv wearing a heavy-duty overall and reflective jacket nodded approvingly to Dell before giving the SecDiv guys a glare, hinting at some sort of conflict between the branches.

Dell stopped talking just long enough to inhale his pot of coffee before looking down and noticing the spill. Momentarily looking around for anything to soak it with, he shrugged and threw his jacket on it.

"Ahem," said a feminine voice. Not far away stood a woman wearing boots, uniform trousers and a white undershirt with a SecDiv baseball cap on her head. She had her arms crossed over her chest. Gesturing towards the jacket on the floor, the woman spoke- primarily directed at Dell rather than 13;

"Mind telling me what your stinking LogDiv jacket is doing on my polished armory floor?"

Togy

*

LogDiv Dormitories

Just as Burke left his room a man approached him, smiling as he did. "Ah! Just the man I was looking for!"

Extending a hand the man, wearing typical LogDiv clothes with a Terradyne Heavy Engineering patch on his utility vest, could be identified as 'C. Hendricks' by the corporate ID-card strapped to his uniform. "I'm Carl, on paper I'm the chief of Mining and Survey Operations but in all honesty I'm just a guy that enjoys playing around with heavy machinery."

Hendricks let out a hearty chuckle before continuing. "Listen, our other surveyors are either busy on assignment or on leave. That means I got work for you as early as tomorrow- if you're up for it." The heavy and stocky man scratched his neck and lifted his cap briefly. "Apparently those UN-fellas want to check out a uncharted sector so it'll be a joint UN-LogDiv mission. I think SecDiv is sending some guys over too for security- it looks bad on the quarterly report if one of the UN reps gets eaten by a plant, right?"