Just going to note that the colors in my latest post appear to be broken. If anyone has the slightest clue as to why that may be, I'd like to know. I haven't been able to figure out how to fix it so far.
Civetta Member
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I write stuff, sometimes
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Cassandra Atkov
The Shrieks were quick machines; that, one could not refute. The one Cassandra currently flew skimmed across the ground of the alien planet at an easy several hundred miles per hour, speeds which, at such a low altitude in an area full of obstacles, would have anyone not familiar with the craft screaming until they found they couldn’t continue any longer. They were excellent scout craft; however, they were Nagasaki Conglomerate technology.
The problem with Nagasaki Conglomerate devices is that they was designed to be rushed out as fast as possible; this meant, therefore, that so many corners were cut it may as well have been a sphere. This was evidenced by the communications failure the craft had suffered shortly before launch; the engineering teams were not to blame, no, simply the fact that making sure a piece of Nagasaki Conglomerate engineering worked perfectly was an impossible act.
This does not mix well with the idea of aeronautics; as everything has a need to be perfect within nanometers, especially at such velocities. Flying this thing, Cassandra had only one worry; that it would hold together long enough to make it through the mission. Therefore; she was not surprised when she began to hear a ringing in her ears, and a building headache. Something she had experienced before; complications usually caused by a faulty cybernetics link.
Out of instinct, Cassandra went to run a diagnostics protocol.
>Running diagnostic on Cybernetics Link
>WARNING: Buildup detected in Capacitor Bank
>WARNING: Buildup detected in Capacitor Bank
>WARNING: Buildup detect-
As the cybernetics link blindly spat warnings at her; the ringing in her ears worsened.
More.
More.
And more.
Until Cassandra found that she was screaming without realizing; her eyes shut tight, instinctively trying to drown out the incessant noise.
Then, there was a climax, and nothing.
Opening her eyes, Cassandra found she was hurtling uncontrollably through the air.
While she had been struggling against the problems with her own craft; she hadn’t realized that the craft had skimmed one of the not-trees. Normally, the craft would be able to recover from such a collision, however, the capacitor bank, which had already become unstable, had ruptured during the event. Thus, the craft entered a state of emergency shutdown, leaving Cassandra in a beautiful state of equilibrium.
Well, as beautiful as it could be at several hundred miles per hour.
The problem presented, though, was that equilibrium tends to only last a moment.
With a crash, the craft found it’s way back down to the earth, sending a large amount of it flying to the sides. It continued this way for several seconds; until finally, it came to a rest several feet from one of the not-trees.
The fact that Cassandra had survived the crash in the first place was an incredible act of luck; by all rights, she could be a splatter of blood and scrap metal somewhere. After regaining her bearings, and without the cybernetics link screaming at her anymore; Cassandra became aware of the acute pain where her left arm was. Looking over, she quickly realized it had been burnt when the capacitors had ruptured; the only reason nothing was on fire was thanks to the sheer speed she had been travelling at. This look also revealed that her cybernetic leg had been exposed; no longer flush with the skin, but now a matte silver metal; oozing an unknown white liquid.
Dragging herself out of the confines of the hoverbike’s cockpit; Cassandra was relieved to see that the survival pack had remained firmly secured to the side of the bike. Quickly removing it from its confines, she opened it, and went about patching her wounds.
Once that was done, she stepped back into the cockpit of the Shriek. She’d rather not have to use the distress beacon in the pack; as the Shriek might still be functional. Tentatively running through the startup process, Cassandra eventually found herself a damage report.
>MASTER CAUTION: CAPACITORS, REACTION CONTROL
>MASTER ALARM: COMMUNICATIONS
Cassandra frowned. This wasn’t good. Going on a limb, she tried her personal radio.
“Whisper, Twitch. Do you copy?” She murmured, only now realizing the weakness of her voice.
When the radio replied with nothing but static, Cassandra let out a shuddering sigh. Thankfully, the transponder for the SQUAWK system on the Shriek seemed to still be working, so at least she would be able to communicate to the rest of the away team that she wasn’t dead. Or at least, she hoped so, with the electromagnetic interference. Acting as quickly as she could in her injured state; Cassandra went about her work.
>SQUAWK code changed to 7600
Similarly, the Shriek seemed to still be flightworthy. However, as to not risk a repeat of the incident with the ringing, she would have to do it fly-by-wire. While the survival pack did come with some essentials; it did not have the required materials, nor did she have the skill, to do much more than an impromptu bandaging of her injuries. In her wounded state, it would take far too long to walk back to the away team; and while the Beast command vehicle they had brought along was certainly quick, it couldn’t compare to the Shrieks, and who knew what could happen in that time.
Fingering the controls nervously, and although Cassandra was not a religious person, she almost had the urge to let out a prayer.
Filled with uncertainty, the Shriek began making it’s way in the opposite direction, now more of a pained scream.
FNG - Part Two
After the short and dirty introductions Hawkins had given to the rest of the pilots, Cassandra had been more than happy to distract herself with the craft she would be spending the next couple of hours with. She was already fairly familiar with the Shriek; being a Conglomerate piece of tech, it would have been surprising if she wasn’t.
Currently, the hoverbike rested on the floor of the hangar, having been been brought down when the hangar crews were informed it would be used on the mission today. The Shriek was a comfortable sight after so much Federation, Martian, and Armani tech. Slipping into the craft, Cassandra put on her helmet, and with so much as a blink, allowed her cybernetics to take over. Her vision filled with a HUD; it was crude, and decidedly militaristic, rather than some of the augments the Armani had, but it got the job done.
>Nagasaki Conglomerate Cybernetics Link engaged
>Connection with R-52 SHRIEK Revision 5601 successful
>User Recognized: 2nd Ltnt. C. Atkov
>Beginning flight checklist
>REACTION CONTROL: OK
>REPULSE THRUST: OK
>FUEL: OK
>ENGINES: OK
>CAPACITORS: OK
>IRS: ALIGN
>COMMUNICATIONS: ERROR: FAILURE IN MAIN BUS 3
Cassandra let out a groan. This was the first time using the Shrieks since the launch of the arks, and it was no wonder there was going to be a problem, just a matter of when and where. It was annoying, however, that it was now, and here. Regardless, this was her area of expertise, so the problem was trivial. With a quick flurry of tapping and swiping across the screens that comprised the Shriek’s dashboard; a temporary fix was put in place.
>MAINTENANCE OVERRIDE ENGAGED
>REROUTING COMMUNICATIONS THROUGH SECONDARY BUS 5
>CONTINUING WITH STARTUP SEQUENCE
>MAIN ENGINE START
With a sudden shudder and a hum, the engines of the shriek came to life. While the Shrieks were mounted with a capacitor bank to keep them powered; they relied on the power the main engines generated to keep them topped up, and were only used to start the engines initially. Once the engines were running, however, the rest of the craft would flare to life. It was a rather efficient way of doing things; however that means if you ran out of power in these things while the engines were off you would be dead in the water.
A whistle off to Cassandra’s left saw Sara Hawkins trooping up to where the two Shrieks were grounded, a survival pack over each shoulder, plopping one down at Cassandra’s feet with a heavy crunch. The survival packs were standard issue for recon missions, and because the Shrieks themselves had no ‘trunk’ to store materials, the pilots were stuck either wearing the bulky packs, or strapping them to their vehicles. The bulky packs contained everything they would need for an extended away mission- including a bivouac sack, multi-tool, combat tomahawk, a first aid kit, two 1-liter canteens, 3 days worth of food, and 4 days worth of ‘food-substitute’ nutrient pills, compass, and distress beacon, among other things. The packs also had a ARX-59 rifle and a few magazines of ammunition strapped to their side.
“Haven’t had to use one of these since basic,” Sara commented as she went about the process of strapping the pack to the top of her Shriek. It made sense, Armani were primarily spacefarers, not foot troopers.
Cassandra nodded in return, grabbing the pack and going about strapping it to the Shriek, “Same here, although the Con ones were a bit different.”
She took the rifle from the pack, and briefly inspected it. She lamented that she had left her own weapon on the Ark; she’d’ve preferred something with a bit more stopping power. The weapon was, obviously, in pristine condition, so there was no maintenance to do.
Turning to Sara, Cassandra inquired, “Is there a plan once we’ve launched, or are we going as the crow flies?”
“We’re going to be working with Ark-Sec to scout around the planet surface- think of it like a joint-operation. As far as what we'll be doing specifically. We're going to be pathfinding for the main convoy- finding the quickest path towards the source of the EM disturbance, with the least amount of interference.”
“Sounds good. How soon do we launch?”
“Right now.” Sara replied with a solid clap to the hood of Cassandra’s Shriek before jogging back to her own.
Nodding, Cassandra resolved herself and gripped the Shriek’s controls. First mission, here we go.
The noise in the hangar was drowned out by the reverberating hum of the Shriek’s gravity repulsors as the small vehicle lifted into the air, idling steadily about a half meter from the floor of the Nyx. The lightweight craft bobbed and lightly bounced as weight was shifted on the craft. As the Nyx’s hangar doors open, the Shriek’s engines roared to life and the vehicles screamed out of the hangar bay, proving their namesake earned by their high pitched engines.
Cassandra found herself staring at a half-empty mug of coffee, in a nondescript coffee shop near the edges of the hub. It was nothing special; and took most of the flat metal styling that most of the Ark followed. They had good coffee, though, and that was enough for Cassandra to have come here for the few days since the rather eventful launch. Although it was early afternoon within the Ark, there was never an inappropriate time for a good cup of joe.
Cassandra took a sip of the coffee, letting out a disappointed hum when she realized it had begun to cool. Finishing the caffeinated drink, she returned the mug to the shop, before briskly making her way into the bustling streets of the hub. It was currently afternoon on the Ark, as was dictated by the large screen that made up the roof of the hub. Advertisements occasionally streamed across it; typically for one of the many shops that made up the hub.
She yawned, even though she had just drank her coffee. Her first few days on the ark had been rather uneventful, as she had been in one of the squadrons on standby during the launch. However, after said launch, she had been reassigned to the 7th Grave Robbers due to the death of two pilots during the fight to keep the devastators at bay. While she, personally, had nothing against the Grave Robbers, she had yet to introduce herself to the other pilots, past the squad leader, Sara Hawkins, who she had met briefly during an interview.
She wouldn’t have the time to consider it, though, as her PDA let out a sharp ping from her pocket. She pulled it out, to reveal the voice of Noah, the ship’s AI.
“Miss Atkov, your presence is required for an away mission in the hangar” He droned.
“Thank you, Noah, I’ll head there now.”
Without a word, Noah disappeared, and Cassandra quickly made her way to her quarters, which would not take long, as they were located fairly close to the hub. The fact that they were sending an away mission surprised her; unless there was something special to note about one of the planets in the system that they had arrived in, the scouting party’s sensors should have been more than enough to get the data they needed. Even then; why were they sending a fighter squadron along? Were they expecting devastators?
Quelling her thoughts, Cassandra opened the door to her quarters. The room was, by all means, barren; the view screen remained blank, and the only personal possessions that were in the room were her clothes. She changed into the slate-gray flight suit, leaving her gun, and quickly made her way to the nearest transport to make her way to the hangar. The trip was short; and she was quickly greeted by the gleaming hull of the Nyx.
In stark contrast to the blocky design of the Arks, the Nyx was sleek, and Cassandra took a moment to appreciate the flowing curves of it’s design. The boarding ramp was currently down, and at the bottom sat two guards. It appeared the rest of the Grave Robbers must have already boarded.
With a salute, she recited her name and rank, “2nd Lieutenant Cassandra Atkov, 7th Grave Robbers, reporting for the away mission.”
With a nod, the guards allowed her onto the ship, and she trudged up the ramp.
Cassandra took a sip of the coffee, letting out a disappointed hum when she realized it had begun to cool. Finishing the caffeinated drink, she returned the mug to the shop, before briskly making her way into the bustling streets of the hub. It was currently afternoon on the Ark, as was dictated by the large screen that made up the roof of the hub. Advertisements occasionally streamed across it; typically for one of the many shops that made up the hub.
She yawned, even though she had just drank her coffee. Her first few days on the ark had been rather uneventful, as she had been in one of the squadrons on standby during the launch. However, after said launch, she had been reassigned to the 7th Grave Robbers due to the death of two pilots during the fight to keep the devastators at bay. While she, personally, had nothing against the Grave Robbers, she had yet to introduce herself to the other pilots, past the squad leader, Sara Hawkins, who she had met briefly during an interview.
She wouldn’t have the time to consider it, though, as her PDA let out a sharp ping from her pocket. She pulled it out, to reveal the voice of Noah, the ship’s AI.
“Miss Atkov, your presence is required for an away mission in the hangar” He droned.
“Thank you, Noah, I’ll head there now.”
Without a word, Noah disappeared, and Cassandra quickly made her way to her quarters, which would not take long, as they were located fairly close to the hub. The fact that they were sending an away mission surprised her; unless there was something special to note about one of the planets in the system that they had arrived in, the scouting party’s sensors should have been more than enough to get the data they needed. Even then; why were they sending a fighter squadron along? Were they expecting devastators?
Quelling her thoughts, Cassandra opened the door to her quarters. The room was, by all means, barren; the view screen remained blank, and the only personal possessions that were in the room were her clothes. She changed into the slate-gray flight suit, leaving her gun, and quickly made her way to the nearest transport to make her way to the hangar. The trip was short; and she was quickly greeted by the gleaming hull of the Nyx.
In stark contrast to the blocky design of the Arks, the Nyx was sleek, and Cassandra took a moment to appreciate the flowing curves of it’s design. The boarding ramp was currently down, and at the bottom sat two guards. It appeared the rest of the Grave Robbers must have already boarded.
With a salute, she recited her name and rank, “2nd Lieutenant Cassandra Atkov, 7th Grave Robbers, reporting for the away mission.”
With a nod, the guards allowed her onto the ship, and she trudged up the ramp.
Hey, looking to join in the fun.
Pangs of pain shot through her right leg as she tried to put any sort of pressure on it, and her lungs complained of their abuse as she shuffled along the hard, laminate floors of the station.
This was Cassandra Atkov, currently trudging towards a lit booth within the Chinese Martian Space Station.
Her red hair was tied into long ponytail with some scraps; her clothes were rugged, and abused. She was horrifically thin; one might think she’d be blown away by the wind, if space had wind.
No more than a week before these occurrences, there had been an… Incident, in the Kuiper belt. Some pirates had attacked a defenseless mining ship, expecting to find some treasures inside. This mining ship, of course, had held Cassandra Atkov, who was acting as the engineer at the time. She had been struck in the leg by a flying rock during the commotion, and had been the only one able to make it to the escape pods. She was discovered by some Kikasec security men, who, for an obvious price, hauled her back to the mining station orbiting Pluto. From there, she was hauled by a medical ship and given the barest minimum treatment on her way to where she was now, with nothing but the clothes on her back.
Moving back to the present; the booth she shuffled towards bore a cheaply made sign above it, stating, “Jafar’s Great Job List!” and under it, “Looking for rookie mercs!”
As she approached the booth, a fat man with a cheap suit turned to her, boisterously stating, “Ey, lady, lookin’ to be a merc, huh? Opportunity of a lifetime!”
Giving the man a somewhat bewildered look, Cassandra spoke, her voice rough from lack of use; “...Yeah, I think I’ve, uh, exhausted other opportunities.”
The man jumped right back into action, “Well you’ve made the right choice, see! Trust me, merc work will be some of the best work you’ve ever done!”
“Hmph, that your motto or something?” She muttered, before speaking to the man again, “I’d hope so.”
With an exaggerated grin, the man started again, “Wonderful! Great choice, lady. I just need you to sign some paperwork, and we can get you started with a job involving a solar farm on Mercury. Don’t worry, we’ll provide transport!”
“Alright.” Cassandra stated, nodding.
As the man moved further into his booth to grab the paperwork, he muttered inaudibly, “That is, if you don’t drop dead in the drop pod. Jesus.”
Name: Cassandra Atkov
Gender: Female
Affiliation: None
Appearance: Slim build, caucasian, with red hair tied into a long ponytail, along with hazel eyes. Suffers some medical conditions due to experiences mining in the Kuiper Belt. She’s a fair height, at just under six feet tall. Her body has a number of scars, and she tends to carry around a pocket knife with a design of an eagle on it’s handle, being one of her few, if not her only possession.
Previous Experiences & Expertise: Has a fair bit of engineering knowledge regarding ships, but is otherwise inexperienced.
Current Status: Homeless, starved & desperate.
Other: Even though it may have only been her Great-Great-Great-Grandfather that was Russian, Cassandra can still hold her alcohol and holds a preference for Vodka. Her heritage also tends to show when she’s drunk.
This was Cassandra Atkov, currently trudging towards a lit booth within the Chinese Martian Space Station.
Her red hair was tied into long ponytail with some scraps; her clothes were rugged, and abused. She was horrifically thin; one might think she’d be blown away by the wind, if space had wind.
No more than a week before these occurrences, there had been an… Incident, in the Kuiper belt. Some pirates had attacked a defenseless mining ship, expecting to find some treasures inside. This mining ship, of course, had held Cassandra Atkov, who was acting as the engineer at the time. She had been struck in the leg by a flying rock during the commotion, and had been the only one able to make it to the escape pods. She was discovered by some Kikasec security men, who, for an obvious price, hauled her back to the mining station orbiting Pluto. From there, she was hauled by a medical ship and given the barest minimum treatment on her way to where she was now, with nothing but the clothes on her back.
Moving back to the present; the booth she shuffled towards bore a cheaply made sign above it, stating, “Jafar’s Great Job List!” and under it, “Looking for rookie mercs!”
As she approached the booth, a fat man with a cheap suit turned to her, boisterously stating, “Ey, lady, lookin’ to be a merc, huh? Opportunity of a lifetime!”
Giving the man a somewhat bewildered look, Cassandra spoke, her voice rough from lack of use; “...Yeah, I think I’ve, uh, exhausted other opportunities.”
The man jumped right back into action, “Well you’ve made the right choice, see! Trust me, merc work will be some of the best work you’ve ever done!”
“Hmph, that your motto or something?” She muttered, before speaking to the man again, “I’d hope so.”
With an exaggerated grin, the man started again, “Wonderful! Great choice, lady. I just need you to sign some paperwork, and we can get you started with a job involving a solar farm on Mercury. Don’t worry, we’ll provide transport!”
“Alright.” Cassandra stated, nodding.
As the man moved further into his booth to grab the paperwork, he muttered inaudibly, “That is, if you don’t drop dead in the drop pod. Jesus.”
Name: Cassandra Atkov
Gender: Female
Affiliation: None
Appearance: Slim build, caucasian, with red hair tied into a long ponytail, along with hazel eyes. Suffers some medical conditions due to experiences mining in the Kuiper Belt. She’s a fair height, at just under six feet tall. Her body has a number of scars, and she tends to carry around a pocket knife with a design of an eagle on it’s handle, being one of her few, if not her only possession.
Previous Experiences & Expertise: Has a fair bit of engineering knowledge regarding ships, but is otherwise inexperienced.
Current Status: Homeless, starved & desperate.
Other: Even though it may have only been her Great-Great-Great-Grandfather that was Russian, Cassandra can still hold her alcohol and holds a preference for Vodka. Her heritage also tends to show when she’s drunk.
We don't bite... particularly hard.
Edit: First character sheet is up.
Edit: First character sheet is up.
<Snipped quote by Civetta>
And your preferred location of the mark on her being?
Legs or torso would be preferable.
@Civetta Very nice entry. Would you prefer I have a Vigil come creeping up on Cassandra while she sleeps, or you wanna handle it yourself?
Having a vigil creep up on her while she's asleep is fine, saves me some trouble later.
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