[hr]
[center][h3]Adventure 1[/h3]
[color=00ff00][h1] Rift Runners[/h1][/color]
GM:Deserted[/center]

[indent][indent]Now hiring for new positions:

Privately funded expedition. You will need training no matter what, so every level of experience is accepted. I am looking for people that need something more than a classic job. Pay is GREAT, could count for college credit too I suppose. Expedition could potentially last up to a year without contact back home in potentially harsh environments, so make sure you are ready for it. Medical Team is already provided, but if you want to double up, great.

I am accepting people of all ages and work experience.[/indent][/indent]

[color=00ff00][b]The Application:[/b][/color]
That was when you first found the job. The posting was almost invisible, and you almost missed it. It was floating in a sea of scams, and crap-jobs friendlied up to appear as something else. In fact, you were reserved about even handing your information over to your current employer, half expecting there to be no response but an assault on your means of contact with a million salesmen peddling nothing that you wanted.

However, sure enough, there was a quick response, a quick interview, and eventually a quick job-offer. The men who interviewed and hired you were two fold. The plump and very bald (not even eyelashes) Victor Vincent, triple Ph.Ds in theoretical physics, quantum theory, and nuclear physics. Though he had every rite to lord his doctorates over you, he was a humble and quiet sort of man who seemed more nervous about hiring and interviewing than you were. His associate, Daubs McFarrell was a diametric opposite of Victor. Tall and gangly, covered in a beard and extra hair, and wore glasses that were probably manufactured in the 70’s. He had a lot to say (often coming across as accusatory) and never seemed satisfied no matter how eloquent your answer was.

These two had just gained numerous patents, and Victor was running this little dream child from infancy, and therefore was not a very well funded or well established business. Whenever questions arose about duties or operations he would simply answer. “Well, you would be the first.” or “We haven’t exactly got to that point yet, it is still in the experimental stage.”

However, they had budgeted a large amount for some really good healthcare and great pay considering your background was pretty unremarkable. But, still, life had opened a gap that let you land into this new job without any better options, regardless of how mysterious it was. Therefore when the phone call came back to you, and the offer was on the table; money seemed to be transfigured into oxygen and you could breathe and pay your bills again without that nasty acidic flavor in the back of your throat.

[color=00ff00][b]The Training:[/b][/color]
Your first week at work was remarkably normal. You were to be part of an expedition, might be out of contact for as long as a year. So the pay was actually non-taxable as well (which was totally awesome) the prospect of a year away from your comfortable lifestyle was a little disconcerting, but you were assured that the year was only if everything that COULD go wrong, DID go wrong. More accurate predictions was that it should last a month or less depending on how successful the trip was, but to be prepared if there were any complications.

Your training was in an empty machine shop that was rented. The cement floor and large garage door was the only permanent fixtures. Everything else was rickety desks, some aged office chairs, and dusty computers probably handed down from someone who had upgraded to the latest and greatest. Here, you were run through a series of simulations and explained how to handle various problems. Most of it was tackled via computer, but some of the tasks involved swapping out modules of equipment that you had no clue as to its purpose. Many of the parts had pieces of wood or poor welding jobs that screamed of hand-crafting. You were usually alone in your training, occasionally someone else sat at a station immersed in their own duties. When you showed a quick mastery, Victor was well pleased and assured you that your efforts would not be alone on the ship.

The ship? Well, of course the idea of a spaceship raced past your mind. In this day and age why wouldn’t it? It was possible, much of your tasks were out of the ordinary and you did not suspect that it would be a naval vessel since swimming and nautical terminology was blatantly ignored, such as references to “left” and “right” rather than “port” and “starboard.” But if it was a spaceship, where was there to even go for a month? The moon? Mars? Maybe a half-month out and a half-month back with NO destination in mind just to test out a new form of travel? This statement alone seemed fantastic and shot your assumptions into believing it a watercraft again, but not really settling on the idea.

[color=00ff00][b]The Expedition[/b][/color]
After a few weeks, Victor explained that everything was ready... that the expedition was going to commence. All that was lacking was orientation, and then departure. It was arranged to meet at the workshop in order to meet with the crew and then the rest of the day everyone would be free to pack and get their last minute affairs in order (your hourly wage was on Victor’s dime.) Then, the next morning, everyone was to collect at the workshop with luggage so that they could take a shuttle to the airport together without having to pay for parking.

And so our expedition begins. On that day, the sun seemed reluctant to rise and stubbornly lurked behind the rocky mountains to the east. Though late spring, it was far from comfortable at this time, it was down right cold. Even so, the temperature for your speck in Colorado was to shoot up to mid 90s once the sun had a chance to roast everything in its path, unencumbered by atmosphere, latitude, humidity, or clouds. Everybody clustered together at the locked doors, waiting for either Daubs or Victor to come along and open it for you... with doughnuts and coffee as promised.