N3v3rM0r3
Ezekiel
Pizza Box
RPM
Hos
rush99999
tadcfnaf
Syrenrei
Zeus23Feel free to ask me if you need/want more information. You are free to make stuff up too but ill ask you to alter it if its too insane...
Penny Member
STATUS: Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad. 19 days ago
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19 days ago
Current
Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad.
3
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27 days ago
She wanted to read, she wanted to write, but the main thing she wanted was something to fight
4
likes
1 yr ago
Make it clear that you don't need him to be reading Dante tomorrow. Also suggest it would be fun if you had a private language that you could use to mock English speakers in secret.
5
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2 yrs ago
Luckily history suggests an infinite ability for people to be shit heads ;)
1
like
3 yrs ago
Achmed the Snake
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Bio
Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.
Most Recent Posts
Rene felt a slight sting of guilt as Solae explained their situation to the child. To Dramaris it must have seemed a fairy tale simple and right. While Rene loved Solae he knew that being with him would bring social disgrace upon her. The nobility wouldn’t take kindly to her choosing to be with someone like him even if he survived the remainder of his term with the Marines and his sins were officially forgiven. Did he have the right to condemn her to the life of a pariah? This was not the time or place to discuss it and Solae had made it blindingly clear that he shouldn’t presume to make her decisions for her. Nodding he rose, turning to keep his injured side away from the child so as not to further distress her.
“I’m sure we can find something,” he said smiling encouragingly at the girl.
It turned out to be easier said than done. While they had made some progress organising the Bonaventure since they had taken her, there was plenty of stuff they simply hadn’t had time to go through. Most of it was trash that Rene would jettison the next time they had a chance but he did manage to find a locker in which some surplus clothing had been stuffed. Most of it appeared to have been taken from Syshin females that had been captured or sold to the previous owners and was too large for a child. Eventually Rene found a cleanish green jacket that would make an adequate fit for Damaris which he bundled up before returning to his quarters and changing into his own dry clothing. His uniform was as clean as it was likely to get and he pulled on his combat pants and boots along with the tan undershirt he had been wearing when the Rat Trap had been attacked. His field jacket was too obviously military so he pulled on a long sleeves spacers jacket over the top of it to give himself more of a civilian look.
Returning to the galley he found Solae breaking up a ration bar for Damaris. The girl was chewing enthusiastically on one of the previous pieces, clearly starving. Rene felt his own stomach grumble, though beef flavored protein rations didn’t exactly excite a lot of enthusiasm it had been hours since he had eaten anything.
“Sir Rene, the calculations for the pump unit are completed and it is now working within parameters,” a voice that it took Rene a moment to recognise as Mia’s reported. It was amazing how comfortable he had gotten with her breathy suggestive commentary. Solae and Damaris both looked up at him, the girl still seemed a little nervous but the food seemed to have eased some of her concerns. Rene felt a flush of embarrassment at having nearly struck the girl when she had jumped out at them. He extended his hand offering her the jacket. Damaris glanced at Solae who nodded encouragingly at her. The girl reached out and took the jacket with a thank you that was muffled by a mouthful of protein ration. She chewed several times and swallowed visibly.
“Are you a knight? Is that why she calls you sir?” the girl asked. Rene paused, a little taken aback by the question.
“I… I suppose I am,” he said after a moment. Whatever his technical legal status he conducted himself as a member of the nobility and tried to live up to the oath he had sworn when he joined the Marines. He supposed that made him close enough to a knight for the purpose of reassuring a child. Further conversation was interrupted by a ping from his chronometer. Thirty minutes to low tide. He felt weary and rung out, hungry and sore from his exertions already but the sooner they moved the better it would be.
“That’s my que,” he said ruefully and gave the girl a smile and Solae’s shoulder a squeeze.
The pump unit was heavy and Rene was sweating profusely by the time he had dragged it out of the caldera and down to the beach. At Mia’s suggestion he had improvised some skids out a sheet of structural plastic which made shifting the thing a good deal easier than it might have been. Dragging a hundred kilos of machinery across wet sand still wasn’t a pleasant task. Fortunately the rain had slacked, the cyclonic system was moving away to the north and dragging the clouds with it. Though the winds were still strong enough to whip the waves to a white forth, it was the calmest Rene had seen it since they landed on Panopontus.
The barge lay on the sand where the tide had stranded it, still ancored both to the shore and the rock by cables. Fortunately the barge had a boom for loading cargo and enough pulleys that Rene was able to rig some of the spare cabling into a sling to lift the pump into place. Once it was settled on the deck he opened the small chest of tools he had bought for the job and began to screw the unit into the deck, connecting the output hose to one of the bilge lines. The work was surprisingly satisfying, as a noble Rene hadn’t been expected to do much physical labor and as a Marine he had been expected merely to follow directions. Working on something that required him both to use his hands and his mind was stimulating.
By the time everything was connected the tide was already returning, the sea lappng closer and closer to the beached barge. Rene tossed the input line out into the water and then turned the pump unit on. The hydrogen fuel cell hummed to life, clicking several times as the catalytic reaction began. The power light blinked green and Rene switched the pump on, eliciting a deep thrum from the equipment. Taking a deep breath he bought the pump live by throwing the final activator switch. There was a brief cough as the pump primed the line and then a great woooooosh as it expelled the water and sand at high pressure, gouging a deep trough in the sand behind them. Rene turned the pump back to idle for a moment an the switched off. In theory the force of the pump should be enough to power the barge.
“Solae, we are good to go here, the tide will be high enough in about two hours,” he told her over the radio, swinging his legs out over the edge of the barge and dropping into the ankle deep water with a splash. So far, so good.
“I’m sure we can find something,” he said smiling encouragingly at the girl.
It turned out to be easier said than done. While they had made some progress organising the Bonaventure since they had taken her, there was plenty of stuff they simply hadn’t had time to go through. Most of it was trash that Rene would jettison the next time they had a chance but he did manage to find a locker in which some surplus clothing had been stuffed. Most of it appeared to have been taken from Syshin females that had been captured or sold to the previous owners and was too large for a child. Eventually Rene found a cleanish green jacket that would make an adequate fit for Damaris which he bundled up before returning to his quarters and changing into his own dry clothing. His uniform was as clean as it was likely to get and he pulled on his combat pants and boots along with the tan undershirt he had been wearing when the Rat Trap had been attacked. His field jacket was too obviously military so he pulled on a long sleeves spacers jacket over the top of it to give himself more of a civilian look.
Returning to the galley he found Solae breaking up a ration bar for Damaris. The girl was chewing enthusiastically on one of the previous pieces, clearly starving. Rene felt his own stomach grumble, though beef flavored protein rations didn’t exactly excite a lot of enthusiasm it had been hours since he had eaten anything.
“Sir Rene, the calculations for the pump unit are completed and it is now working within parameters,” a voice that it took Rene a moment to recognise as Mia’s reported. It was amazing how comfortable he had gotten with her breathy suggestive commentary. Solae and Damaris both looked up at him, the girl still seemed a little nervous but the food seemed to have eased some of her concerns. Rene felt a flush of embarrassment at having nearly struck the girl when she had jumped out at them. He extended his hand offering her the jacket. Damaris glanced at Solae who nodded encouragingly at her. The girl reached out and took the jacket with a thank you that was muffled by a mouthful of protein ration. She chewed several times and swallowed visibly.
“Are you a knight? Is that why she calls you sir?” the girl asked. Rene paused, a little taken aback by the question.
“I… I suppose I am,” he said after a moment. Whatever his technical legal status he conducted himself as a member of the nobility and tried to live up to the oath he had sworn when he joined the Marines. He supposed that made him close enough to a knight for the purpose of reassuring a child. Further conversation was interrupted by a ping from his chronometer. Thirty minutes to low tide. He felt weary and rung out, hungry and sore from his exertions already but the sooner they moved the better it would be.
“That’s my que,” he said ruefully and gave the girl a smile and Solae’s shoulder a squeeze.
The pump unit was heavy and Rene was sweating profusely by the time he had dragged it out of the caldera and down to the beach. At Mia’s suggestion he had improvised some skids out a sheet of structural plastic which made shifting the thing a good deal easier than it might have been. Dragging a hundred kilos of machinery across wet sand still wasn’t a pleasant task. Fortunately the rain had slacked, the cyclonic system was moving away to the north and dragging the clouds with it. Though the winds were still strong enough to whip the waves to a white forth, it was the calmest Rene had seen it since they landed on Panopontus.
The barge lay on the sand where the tide had stranded it, still ancored both to the shore and the rock by cables. Fortunately the barge had a boom for loading cargo and enough pulleys that Rene was able to rig some of the spare cabling into a sling to lift the pump into place. Once it was settled on the deck he opened the small chest of tools he had bought for the job and began to screw the unit into the deck, connecting the output hose to one of the bilge lines. The work was surprisingly satisfying, as a noble Rene hadn’t been expected to do much physical labor and as a Marine he had been expected merely to follow directions. Working on something that required him both to use his hands and his mind was stimulating.
By the time everything was connected the tide was already returning, the sea lappng closer and closer to the beached barge. Rene tossed the input line out into the water and then turned the pump unit on. The hydrogen fuel cell hummed to life, clicking several times as the catalytic reaction began. The power light blinked green and Rene switched the pump on, eliciting a deep thrum from the equipment. Taking a deep breath he bought the pump live by throwing the final activator switch. There was a brief cough as the pump primed the line and then a great woooooosh as it expelled the water and sand at high pressure, gouging a deep trough in the sand behind them. Rene turned the pump back to idle for a moment an the switched off. In theory the force of the pump should be enough to power the barge.
“Solae, we are good to go here, the tide will be high enough in about two hours,” he told her over the radio, swinging his legs out over the edge of the barge and dropping into the ankle deep water with a splash. So far, so good.
Calliope gripped throwing knife as instructed and then with a negligent flick of her wrist sent it straight into the center of the target where it stuck with a quivering thudd. A cheer went up from a few of the disreputable mariners who were paying attention to the proceedings. Markus gave her a suspicious look but she merely shrugged her shoulders.
“Beginners luck,” she said innocently.
Even after days without sleep, half a roast chicken and most of a bottle of rich Cogaran wine, Calliope slept poorly. In her dreams she stood upon a great spike of granite that rose out of a stormy sea. Her eyes burned with pale fire as she recited a might spell in a voice like a thunderstorm. Fiery runes burned all over her body till she shone like pillar of living flame. In her dream the spell built with an almost sexual excitement. Starlight streamed down to her leaving a heaven filled with black stars. The incantation built and built until she was breathless with wonder and terror at what it might accomplish. Stange constellation wheeled above her black against the sky and the wind whipped into wierd discordant song she couldn’t quite comprehend. She knew that if she could understand the song it would all make sense she just had to…
Markus shook her awake and she sat bolt upright grasping for a knife that was probably still under her pillow back in Calaverde. Sweat streamed down her face and her breathing was shallow and ragged. The pirate captain had taken a step back to give her time to collect herself. They were in the cheap room they had rented to get a little sleep before the recruiting ronde began. Realising she was naked she drew the sheets up to cover herself and cleared her throat.
“You ok?” Markus asked with an arched eyebrow. Calliope tossed her dark hair and climbed out of bed walking naked across to the wash basin of cheap chipped porcelain and splashing her face with the cool water within.
“I’m fine,” she declared as she picked up her trousers and wriggled into them before slipping her arms into one of the white silk shirts she had purchased with her pawned money.
“You seemed to be singing in your sleep,” Markus pressed as she sipped her feet into the long leather boots and buckled her sword belt around her hips. She shrugged as though this was of little importance as she finally buttoned up the shirt.
“Why did you wake me?” she asked, clearly changing the subject. Markus face split into a wolfish grin that made him seem younger and considerably more handsome.
“Its time to meet our crew.”
The Buggered Whale was one of several mostly vacant buildings on the dilapidated road which Markus assured her was Burgundy Street. A few shops, little more than ragpickers stalls and one dealer in what appeared to be decidedly questionable potion ingredients were still open but these were a clear minority against the shuttered and boarded fire traps that predominated the area. If this had been Calaverde Calliope would have seized the buildings and had them repaired and put to proper use but then the steep topography of her island kingdom meant that space was always at a premium.
The tavern itself was a three story building of stone and dark tropical timber. A sign, artiscally representing a sailor with his trousers down having his way with a whale, hung askew from a single chain. Torches had been thrust into cracks in the paving stones and lanterns lit the inside of the derelict building. Several dozen sailors were gathered around large barrels from which flagons were being filled with dark rich ale. The crazed dwarf she had met earlier was standing on the bar brandishing a tankard and yelling something about scouring the seas to the approving roars of the crowd. On the door of the tavern was a sign with the portrait of a villainous looking man in a tricorne hat that was evidently meant to be Markus. In neatly printed letters it read:
Sign on with Captain Markus. Two doubloons up front, rations, rum and fair shares. Get rich on the Sea of Swords.
“And speaking of our good captain!” Sketti roared as Markus and Calliope stepped into the tavern through the timbered frame that had once held the door.
“As salty a sea dog as ever I sailed with! Fearless, ruthless and lucky to boot!” Sketti shouted with a wink at Calliope that clearly suggested that the Captains luck ran in several directions.
“Beginners luck,” she said innocently.
Even after days without sleep, half a roast chicken and most of a bottle of rich Cogaran wine, Calliope slept poorly. In her dreams she stood upon a great spike of granite that rose out of a stormy sea. Her eyes burned with pale fire as she recited a might spell in a voice like a thunderstorm. Fiery runes burned all over her body till she shone like pillar of living flame. In her dream the spell built with an almost sexual excitement. Starlight streamed down to her leaving a heaven filled with black stars. The incantation built and built until she was breathless with wonder and terror at what it might accomplish. Stange constellation wheeled above her black against the sky and the wind whipped into wierd discordant song she couldn’t quite comprehend. She knew that if she could understand the song it would all make sense she just had to…
Markus shook her awake and she sat bolt upright grasping for a knife that was probably still under her pillow back in Calaverde. Sweat streamed down her face and her breathing was shallow and ragged. The pirate captain had taken a step back to give her time to collect herself. They were in the cheap room they had rented to get a little sleep before the recruiting ronde began. Realising she was naked she drew the sheets up to cover herself and cleared her throat.
“You ok?” Markus asked with an arched eyebrow. Calliope tossed her dark hair and climbed out of bed walking naked across to the wash basin of cheap chipped porcelain and splashing her face with the cool water within.
“I’m fine,” she declared as she picked up her trousers and wriggled into them before slipping her arms into one of the white silk shirts she had purchased with her pawned money.
“You seemed to be singing in your sleep,” Markus pressed as she sipped her feet into the long leather boots and buckled her sword belt around her hips. She shrugged as though this was of little importance as she finally buttoned up the shirt.
“Why did you wake me?” she asked, clearly changing the subject. Markus face split into a wolfish grin that made him seem younger and considerably more handsome.
“Its time to meet our crew.”
The Buggered Whale was one of several mostly vacant buildings on the dilapidated road which Markus assured her was Burgundy Street. A few shops, little more than ragpickers stalls and one dealer in what appeared to be decidedly questionable potion ingredients were still open but these were a clear minority against the shuttered and boarded fire traps that predominated the area. If this had been Calaverde Calliope would have seized the buildings and had them repaired and put to proper use but then the steep topography of her island kingdom meant that space was always at a premium.
The tavern itself was a three story building of stone and dark tropical timber. A sign, artiscally representing a sailor with his trousers down having his way with a whale, hung askew from a single chain. Torches had been thrust into cracks in the paving stones and lanterns lit the inside of the derelict building. Several dozen sailors were gathered around large barrels from which flagons were being filled with dark rich ale. The crazed dwarf she had met earlier was standing on the bar brandishing a tankard and yelling something about scouring the seas to the approving roars of the crowd. On the door of the tavern was a sign with the portrait of a villainous looking man in a tricorne hat that was evidently meant to be Markus. In neatly printed letters it read:
Sign on with Captain Markus. Two doubloons up front, rations, rum and fair shares. Get rich on the Sea of Swords.
“And speaking of our good captain!” Sketti roared as Markus and Calliope stepped into the tavern through the timbered frame that had once held the door.
“As salty a sea dog as ever I sailed with! Fearless, ruthless and lucky to boot!” Sketti shouted with a wink at Calliope that clearly suggested that the Captains luck ran in several directions.
Chapter 1 - Starfall
December 12th
This could not be happening. Hieronymus Mauser stumbled blindly down the alleyway. The cool autumn wind tore at his naked flabby body and he cried out in pain as fragments of broken glass dug into his bare feet. He was a flabby man, soft from decades of complacent power with thinning hair and a sagging gut. Although he appeared to be in his fifties his real age was closer to thrice that. Wizards aged slower than regular mortals, though the march of time would claim them if no worse fate rose up to swallow them.
Such a fate intent on swallowing Mauser. Limping along he turned back to look down the alleyway, the shadowy form of his pursuer flicked across the graffiti covered tunnel, a flash as quick as moonlight. Mauser hurled a torrent of spell fire back down the alley, the golden fire igniting everything vaugle flammable. Trash burst into ugly black orange infernos and a lone trash can melted to slag before the onslaught of arcane violence. There was a momentary silence broken only by a distant dog howl and the wail of a car alarm, then there was a sultry feminine laughter which dripped with cat like cruelty.
“Who are you!” Mauser screamed, his voice high and tiny with panic. There was a flash of movement to his right and he turned and fled blindly down another alleyway. Mauser was the head of the Council of Seven, a coven of powerful wizards who kept the peace in Detroit. He was accustomed to being in control, to having power of the situation, it had been decades since he had felt physical danger the reminder of the sensation made his guts curl. Even for this area of economic wasteland the streets were suspiciously empty, where were the vagrants, the homeless, the drug abusers who haunted these desolate stretches of the city? How was it that he found himself alone amidst hundreds of thousands.
The naked wizard ran wheezing over a section of cracked asphalt that had once been a parking lot, unsure of where he was running save for a generalized desire to find some other living soul that might ward off the terror that was stalking him. Something whipped past him on his right and he spun and unleashed another blast of arcane fire, blowing in the front of a boarded up convenience store. More mocking laughter sounded, sourceless and devoid of humanity. The wizard could feel the things malice as a cold choking terror around his heart, pushing in on his arcane senses. Could it be that the vampires knew he had stumbled across their little game? Surely they wouldn’t dare come at him directly and this thing, whatever it was, was like no vampire he had ever felt before.
LImping on his injured foot and leaving bloody footsteps the naked wizard ran across the street and into an abandoned park. It must have once been a place where children had played and bored parents had flirted with one and other but years of neglect had taken their toll. Tall trees reached up like skeletal fingers from beneath the ground. The grass, brownish and unwholesome, brushed his calves as he ran across the overgrown flower beds that had long ago choked on weeds. Rusted playground equipment creaked in the wind. Even through the burn of adrenaline the cold was getting to him now, searing his lung and burning at his nose, ears and genitals. How had he ever allowed this to happen. He tripped and stumbled down a small incline hitting something unyielding, freezing and hard enough to bloody his nose.
“No! No!” the wizard shrieked as he tried to push himself up. He realised that he was on a sheet of ice. Perhaps it had once been a duckpond at the center of the park. Slipping and sliding he pushed himself to his feet and then froze. A figure was moving down the gentle slope of the ponds bank.
“No, no, no,” he repeated though now it was a desperate whisper rather than a terrified scream. Mauser shook his head as though he could deny what was happening by sheer force of will. Desperately he began to incant the only spell he could think of that might save him but it was already too late. It had been too late for a long time he realized as the figure stepped onto the ice. She was beyond him. THe figure stepped close, fingers as cold as ice reaching forward and touching the wizards lips with a gentle shushing sound. The incantation faltered and failed. Again there was silence. In the clear winter sky a shooting star streaked overhead, vanishing into the darkness as quickly as it had appeared.
“Please,” the wizard blubbered, hot tears running down his face.
“Shhhhh,” the figure said in a catlike tone, and then, with an almighty crack, the ice gave way, plunging Hieronymus Mauser, head of the Council of Seven and Hierophant of Detroit, into the ice blackness below.
We have a pretty good soup here. Ill get the first post up in the next day or so
“I see,” Junebug said as Taya breathlessly reported her encounter with Neil. The Mercenary captain’s face betrayed no emotion that the younger woman could read. Taya waited breathlessly for some further reaction or comment but Junebug merely continued to walk down the hallway. Several Terran crewmen were moving in the other direction with brisk urgency. Taya side stepped out of the way as they rushed passed.
“Is that all you have to say?” Taya demanded, clearly irritated by the lack of response from Sayeeda. The captain stopped and turned to face the woman.
“What do you want me to say Taya?” she asked, her voice cold and clinical as a galcier.
“Well anything would be a start,” she replied in exassperation.
“It is down time, he is free to have dinner with whomever he likes. Is it ideal that he is cozying up to a Terran Millitary Inteligence operater?” She shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps Neil was trying to get information, perhaps Woods was, perhaps they were just legitmately having dinner. You couldn’t control everything in the field and you would drown if you tried. Sayeeda turned and strode off towards the hanger bay.
“Weren’t you going to get some food?” Taya called after her.
“Not hungry,” Sayeeda called without looking back.
--------------------------
*Bing* *Bing* *Bing*
“All hands prepare for extraction,” an automated voice declared over the public address system. Junebug looked down at the chrono display on her wrist unit. They were about an hour ahead of what the computer had projected but such variations in space and time were hardly uncommon. Carefully Sayeeda lowered the weights she had been lifting setting the bar down on the rest and sitting up. A moment later the color seemed to drain out of the universe and it hung for a second in a monocrome so sharp and pure it seemed to sear her eyes. Then the color was back and the November Sky was back in the real universe.
Sayeeda felt as though the air changed its taste and that the world seemed a little more vibrant. The Terrans claimed they had shielding that protected against the effects of long term immerstion in the RIP but the psychological effects could not be completely mitigated. The RIP wasn’t part of the universe in anyway human biology expected to experience it. Sayeeda stood up and headed for the shower to wash up before reporting to York. She hadn’t seen much of Neil or Taya in the last two days. She had been busy training herself on a number of Terran weapons she wasn’t familiar with. She had also started a side project of sneaking Terran equipment onto the Highlander during the night shifts. Disguising weapons and munitions in more mundane supplies wasn’t difficult. The Marine guards seemed to be fairly relaxed and the few times she had been challenged a vague mention of York’s name had been enough to quell their questions. The arsenal aboard the Highlander had been steadily depleted over their various adventures, and Junebug figured the Terrans owed them about forty million credits in compensation for the aestimobium.
Junebug let the water run down over her body, sluicing away the sweat of her hour long workout with jets of lukewarm fluid. She was just reaching for the control when the ship lurched sideways with a violence that pitched the mercenary into the wall. Claxons exploded to life and there was another massive boom that seemed to shake reality.
“Alert Red, General Quaters!” the PA directed calmly. Sayeeda climbed out of the shower, pulling on her combat pants without bothering to dry off. Thrusting one arm through her t-shirt she stepped into the hall. Her hand rested on her pistol, though more for comfort than any expectation of actual need.
“Cykali to York,” she said but received only the ping of an engaged signal. On a military circuit a higher ranking officers transmission would squelch a lower one, so York was clearly busy with whatever crisis was befalling them. The ship shuddered a second time and this time Junebug felt a tingle of static electricity prickle her skin.
“Unit,” Junebug said, queing the transmission to Neil and the others.
“No idea what is going on, stand by.” A gravely voice came back immediately.
“November Sky has exited jump, the Chalcedon cruisers Eastern Star and Sycantha have engaged the November Sky with mass driver fire.” How Sven knew that Sayeeda had no idea.
“Say again? Are you saying we are involved in a fleet engagment?”
“Is that all you have to say?” Taya demanded, clearly irritated by the lack of response from Sayeeda. The captain stopped and turned to face the woman.
“What do you want me to say Taya?” she asked, her voice cold and clinical as a galcier.
“Well anything would be a start,” she replied in exassperation.
“It is down time, he is free to have dinner with whomever he likes. Is it ideal that he is cozying up to a Terran Millitary Inteligence operater?” She shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps Neil was trying to get information, perhaps Woods was, perhaps they were just legitmately having dinner. You couldn’t control everything in the field and you would drown if you tried. Sayeeda turned and strode off towards the hanger bay.
“Weren’t you going to get some food?” Taya called after her.
“Not hungry,” Sayeeda called without looking back.
--------------------------
*Bing* *Bing* *Bing*
“All hands prepare for extraction,” an automated voice declared over the public address system. Junebug looked down at the chrono display on her wrist unit. They were about an hour ahead of what the computer had projected but such variations in space and time were hardly uncommon. Carefully Sayeeda lowered the weights she had been lifting setting the bar down on the rest and sitting up. A moment later the color seemed to drain out of the universe and it hung for a second in a monocrome so sharp and pure it seemed to sear her eyes. Then the color was back and the November Sky was back in the real universe.
Sayeeda felt as though the air changed its taste and that the world seemed a little more vibrant. The Terrans claimed they had shielding that protected against the effects of long term immerstion in the RIP but the psychological effects could not be completely mitigated. The RIP wasn’t part of the universe in anyway human biology expected to experience it. Sayeeda stood up and headed for the shower to wash up before reporting to York. She hadn’t seen much of Neil or Taya in the last two days. She had been busy training herself on a number of Terran weapons she wasn’t familiar with. She had also started a side project of sneaking Terran equipment onto the Highlander during the night shifts. Disguising weapons and munitions in more mundane supplies wasn’t difficult. The Marine guards seemed to be fairly relaxed and the few times she had been challenged a vague mention of York’s name had been enough to quell their questions. The arsenal aboard the Highlander had been steadily depleted over their various adventures, and Junebug figured the Terrans owed them about forty million credits in compensation for the aestimobium.
Junebug let the water run down over her body, sluicing away the sweat of her hour long workout with jets of lukewarm fluid. She was just reaching for the control when the ship lurched sideways with a violence that pitched the mercenary into the wall. Claxons exploded to life and there was another massive boom that seemed to shake reality.
“Alert Red, General Quaters!” the PA directed calmly. Sayeeda climbed out of the shower, pulling on her combat pants without bothering to dry off. Thrusting one arm through her t-shirt she stepped into the hall. Her hand rested on her pistol, though more for comfort than any expectation of actual need.
“Cykali to York,” she said but received only the ping of an engaged signal. On a military circuit a higher ranking officers transmission would squelch a lower one, so York was clearly busy with whatever crisis was befalling them. The ship shuddered a second time and this time Junebug felt a tingle of static electricity prickle her skin.
“Unit,” Junebug said, queing the transmission to Neil and the others.
“No idea what is going on, stand by.” A gravely voice came back immediately.
“November Sky has exited jump, the Chalcedon cruisers Eastern Star and Sycantha have engaged the November Sky with mass driver fire.” How Sven knew that Sayeeda had no idea.
“Say again? Are you saying we are involved in a fleet engagment?”
If your going to demand people approach RPs a certain way then you are absolutely going to foreclose options.
As for not socializing, go write a novel if you are so allergic to personal interaction.
Group RPs are much more unreliable than 1x1s but even there you need to buy into other peoples visions or incorporate those visions into your own, that is the nature of collaboration. Even so about 70 percent of my RPs die in the planning stage because it becomes obvious that we are interested in different things.
Don't be too prescriptive in you interest checks. Its a turn off to feel like your partner already has everything nailed down and you are just along for the ride.
Finally with regards to RPs dying due to half hearted posting, active communication can help but some days or weeks people arent feeling it and its work just to get a reply of any kind up. That has to be accepted if you want to write with people long term.
I don't use the discord and I still have 3 or 4 rps which have been satisfying over the long term and my interests are fairly niche. Kiss the frogs.
As for not socializing, go write a novel if you are so allergic to personal interaction.
Group RPs are much more unreliable than 1x1s but even there you need to buy into other peoples visions or incorporate those visions into your own, that is the nature of collaboration. Even so about 70 percent of my RPs die in the planning stage because it becomes obvious that we are interested in different things.
Don't be too prescriptive in you interest checks. Its a turn off to feel like your partner already has everything nailed down and you are just along for the ride.
Finally with regards to RPs dying due to half hearted posting, active communication can help but some days or weeks people arent feeling it and its work just to get a reply of any kind up. That has to be accepted if you want to write with people long term.
I don't use the discord and I still have 3 or 4 rps which have been satisfying over the long term and my interests are fairly niche. Kiss the frogs.
@POOHEAD189 I think that really is the appropriate choice.
@POOHEAD189 A Dwarfcistador? A conquistadwarf? I'm conflicted.
Snowflakes drifted down over the artificial hillock at the end of the training hall. York, or Woods took a very literal approach to training for cold weather. The entire hall was blanketed with snow, packed down to ice where the Marines were still forced to conduct their daily PT. Perversley they seemed to blame the crew of the Higlander for this development despite the fact it was clear they had been shanghaied into the whole endeavor.
“Now remember, squeeze dont pull, breathe in, breathe out, breath halfway in…” The submachine gun in Taya’s hand chattered six or seven round burst. The target a holographic soldier about fifty meters away flew appart in a cloud of pixels. A wireframe of the same man appeared a few meters infront of them. Red glowing marks indicated where two rounds had struck, one in the shoulder and one in the right hip. A third glowing dot appeared over the man's head, indicating a near miss.
“Control the length of your burst,” Junebug said encouragingly, “the recoil is lifting the muzzle and making the shots go high.” Both women were laying on their chests on the hill. They were dressed in identical Terran issue combat gear, full body suits with ceramic armor plates protecting vital systems. Neither woman was wearing a helmet although they had been available, instead Junebug had insisted on simple shooters goggles to protect their eyes from the biting wind that was being pumped into the training hall.
“How do you do that,” Taya asked in exasperation, having received the same advise in various forms for the better part of an hour.
“YOu only ever tell me to breath, squeeze and control the burst.” Sayeeda chuckled and picked up her own submachine gun and checked the load. The weapons were made to simulate plasma weapons though, for the sake of the ship, they actually fired ceramic training rounds.
“Well when you start doing those things, I’ll give you more advice,” Junebug said with a grin.
“Dynamic pattern, randomize,” Junebug said and worked the slide to charge the weapon. A soldier appeared down range and she fired a three round burst. He was replaced by another and another at differing ranges and positions. Junebug continued to fire in two or three round bursts until the weapon ran dry. The figures materialized in the scoring zone, each with a two or three centimeter grouping in their center of mass, save for one which had appeared prone and sported two red dots on his forhead.
“Again.” This time Taya managed a three round burst and scored two hits one low in the groin and the other in the sternum.
“How often do I need to do this?” Taya asked as she slipped another magazine into the weapon.
“Every chance you get, I try to do something everyday,” Junebug replied, reaching over to make a minute adjustment to the younger womans grip.
“Don’t you get tired of it?” she asked putting down two more holographic opponents with middling accuracy.
“My old CO once told me that no matter how good you are, the man who will kill you is out there and he is probably training.” Taya shook her head.
“That's a little morbid,” she said, reaching for another magazine. Junebug placed a hand on her wrist.
“That's enough for today,” she said standing up and brushing the snow from her armor. The internal temperature regulators kept her warm but her face was starting to get frost bitten. Taya duplicated the gesture, making sure the gun was on safe before slinging it over her shoulder.
“Back again tomorrow?” Taya supposed. Junebug smiled broadly.
“Now you are getting it.”
Twenty minutes later they were out of their borrowed armor and drinking hot coffee as they head towards the gymnasium where the ships computer had pinged Neil. They passed crewmen at work at a variety of stations, some of them smiled or called greetings to Taya. The cross training she was getting bought her into closer contact with the regular crew than Neil or Junebug enjoyed. Suddenly Taya vered left where Junebug had expected her to go right. Frowning she opened her mouth to correct the youg woman but Taya merely guestured urgently. Junebug followed her down an unfamiliar access way that was devoid of crewmen.
“I’ve disconnected the surveillance feeds in this corridor,” Taya said quickly as her captain joined her. Junebug nodded indicating she had heard the statement but not amplifying it.
“I was going over the Highlander now that we are getting close and I checked on some of the Terran mods,” she went on glancing around furtively.
“I found a remote kill switch in the thrust drive controller,” Taya said urgently. Junebug frowned. The Terrans had installed some significant upgrades in the last few weeks, mostly to the sensor suites and the communications gear, bringing it up to fleet standards so that the freigheter could keep in touch with the November Sky with encrypted comms.
“What did you do?” Junebug asked her face stoic. Taya shrugged her shoulders.
“I pulled one of the leads and left it there, and I asked Lonny to run some diagnostics on the down low, but where there is one….”
“There are bound to be more,” Sayeeda finished. It was logical that the Terrans would install some safeguards against them making a run for it before they fulfilled their end of the deal but the idea of the Highlander being filled with remote access hardware didn’t fill her with confidence.
“Have you told Neil yet?” Junebug asked. Taya shook her head.
“No time, I only learned how to disconnect things here because of the surveillance tech lessons they have been giving me.”
“Let him know as soon as you can, but don’t do anything obvious about it, maybe he and Loney can come up with a way to scrub the ship in a hurry.” They emerged back into a familiar corridor and they both fell silent. They should be arriving within the next few days, and it seemed there was alot they still needed to do.
---
“I guess you will just have to promise to take it easy on me,” Woods said, rolling her eyes.
Without preamble Woods lashed out driving a palm into the top of Neil sternum and sending the pilot sprawling backwards. She was stripped down to gym shorts and a brown pt shirt that was already clinging to her. The tattoos on her arms shifted and rippled beneath her lean taught muscles as she sprang forward cat like, sweeping Neil’s legs out from under him with a well placed kick. Neil fell flat on his back and Woods pounced but he rolled aside before she could land on top of him. He shoved her sideways and used the momentum to spring back to his feet. Woods tucked into a roll and came up like a cobra arms spread in an unfamiliar fighting stance.
“Not bad,” Woods conceded in a mildly amused tone.
“Thank you for noticing,” Neil replied feinting to the right before aiming a round house blow at the Terran Commandos midsection. Woods pivoted with the punch robbing it of most of its force before driving her elbow into Neils chest sending him stagger back once more. She grinned, her expression wolfish and not to dissimilar to how Junebug looked right before she was about to kill someone.
There were a half dozen other soldiers in the gymnasium, some were lifting weights but most had stopped to watch the sparring match. Woods was relaxed her shoulders slightly slouched, looking almost feline in her graceful movement.
“So I had a question to ask you,” she said. Neil leaped forward driving a fist at her. She swatted the blow aside with her forearm and lashed out with a kick but Neil, anticipating the move danced backwards and grabbed her ankle, twisting and throwing Woods of balance. She went down and he dived after her landing on top of the soldier and pinning her to the floor. There was a round of applause from the onlookers. As the soldiers began calling encouragement and placing bets.
“What question?” he asked, raising a cocky eyebrow. She hit him hard in the kidney driving the air from his lungs as she rolled atop of him. A thin sheen of sweat running over her pale skin.
“Are you and Cykali together or what?”
@POOHEAD189
“Now remember, squeeze dont pull, breathe in, breathe out, breath halfway in…” The submachine gun in Taya’s hand chattered six or seven round burst. The target a holographic soldier about fifty meters away flew appart in a cloud of pixels. A wireframe of the same man appeared a few meters infront of them. Red glowing marks indicated where two rounds had struck, one in the shoulder and one in the right hip. A third glowing dot appeared over the man's head, indicating a near miss.
“Control the length of your burst,” Junebug said encouragingly, “the recoil is lifting the muzzle and making the shots go high.” Both women were laying on their chests on the hill. They were dressed in identical Terran issue combat gear, full body suits with ceramic armor plates protecting vital systems. Neither woman was wearing a helmet although they had been available, instead Junebug had insisted on simple shooters goggles to protect their eyes from the biting wind that was being pumped into the training hall.
“How do you do that,” Taya asked in exasperation, having received the same advise in various forms for the better part of an hour.
“YOu only ever tell me to breath, squeeze and control the burst.” Sayeeda chuckled and picked up her own submachine gun and checked the load. The weapons were made to simulate plasma weapons though, for the sake of the ship, they actually fired ceramic training rounds.
“Well when you start doing those things, I’ll give you more advice,” Junebug said with a grin.
“Dynamic pattern, randomize,” Junebug said and worked the slide to charge the weapon. A soldier appeared down range and she fired a three round burst. He was replaced by another and another at differing ranges and positions. Junebug continued to fire in two or three round bursts until the weapon ran dry. The figures materialized in the scoring zone, each with a two or three centimeter grouping in their center of mass, save for one which had appeared prone and sported two red dots on his forhead.
“Again.” This time Taya managed a three round burst and scored two hits one low in the groin and the other in the sternum.
“How often do I need to do this?” Taya asked as she slipped another magazine into the weapon.
“Every chance you get, I try to do something everyday,” Junebug replied, reaching over to make a minute adjustment to the younger womans grip.
“Don’t you get tired of it?” she asked putting down two more holographic opponents with middling accuracy.
“My old CO once told me that no matter how good you are, the man who will kill you is out there and he is probably training.” Taya shook her head.
“That's a little morbid,” she said, reaching for another magazine. Junebug placed a hand on her wrist.
“That's enough for today,” she said standing up and brushing the snow from her armor. The internal temperature regulators kept her warm but her face was starting to get frost bitten. Taya duplicated the gesture, making sure the gun was on safe before slinging it over her shoulder.
“Back again tomorrow?” Taya supposed. Junebug smiled broadly.
“Now you are getting it.”
Twenty minutes later they were out of their borrowed armor and drinking hot coffee as they head towards the gymnasium where the ships computer had pinged Neil. They passed crewmen at work at a variety of stations, some of them smiled or called greetings to Taya. The cross training she was getting bought her into closer contact with the regular crew than Neil or Junebug enjoyed. Suddenly Taya vered left where Junebug had expected her to go right. Frowning she opened her mouth to correct the youg woman but Taya merely guestured urgently. Junebug followed her down an unfamiliar access way that was devoid of crewmen.
“I’ve disconnected the surveillance feeds in this corridor,” Taya said quickly as her captain joined her. Junebug nodded indicating she had heard the statement but not amplifying it.
“I was going over the Highlander now that we are getting close and I checked on some of the Terran mods,” she went on glancing around furtively.
“I found a remote kill switch in the thrust drive controller,” Taya said urgently. Junebug frowned. The Terrans had installed some significant upgrades in the last few weeks, mostly to the sensor suites and the communications gear, bringing it up to fleet standards so that the freigheter could keep in touch with the November Sky with encrypted comms.
“What did you do?” Junebug asked her face stoic. Taya shrugged her shoulders.
“I pulled one of the leads and left it there, and I asked Lonny to run some diagnostics on the down low, but where there is one….”
“There are bound to be more,” Sayeeda finished. It was logical that the Terrans would install some safeguards against them making a run for it before they fulfilled their end of the deal but the idea of the Highlander being filled with remote access hardware didn’t fill her with confidence.
“Have you told Neil yet?” Junebug asked. Taya shook her head.
“No time, I only learned how to disconnect things here because of the surveillance tech lessons they have been giving me.”
“Let him know as soon as you can, but don’t do anything obvious about it, maybe he and Loney can come up with a way to scrub the ship in a hurry.” They emerged back into a familiar corridor and they both fell silent. They should be arriving within the next few days, and it seemed there was alot they still needed to do.
---
“I guess you will just have to promise to take it easy on me,” Woods said, rolling her eyes.
Without preamble Woods lashed out driving a palm into the top of Neil sternum and sending the pilot sprawling backwards. She was stripped down to gym shorts and a brown pt shirt that was already clinging to her. The tattoos on her arms shifted and rippled beneath her lean taught muscles as she sprang forward cat like, sweeping Neil’s legs out from under him with a well placed kick. Neil fell flat on his back and Woods pounced but he rolled aside before she could land on top of him. He shoved her sideways and used the momentum to spring back to his feet. Woods tucked into a roll and came up like a cobra arms spread in an unfamiliar fighting stance.
“Not bad,” Woods conceded in a mildly amused tone.
“Thank you for noticing,” Neil replied feinting to the right before aiming a round house blow at the Terran Commandos midsection. Woods pivoted with the punch robbing it of most of its force before driving her elbow into Neils chest sending him stagger back once more. She grinned, her expression wolfish and not to dissimilar to how Junebug looked right before she was about to kill someone.
There were a half dozen other soldiers in the gymnasium, some were lifting weights but most had stopped to watch the sparring match. Woods was relaxed her shoulders slightly slouched, looking almost feline in her graceful movement.
“So I had a question to ask you,” she said. Neil leaped forward driving a fist at her. She swatted the blow aside with her forearm and lashed out with a kick but Neil, anticipating the move danced backwards and grabbed her ankle, twisting and throwing Woods of balance. She went down and he dived after her landing on top of the soldier and pinning her to the floor. There was a round of applause from the onlookers. As the soldiers began calling encouragement and placing bets.
“What question?” he asked, raising a cocky eyebrow. She hit him hard in the kidney driving the air from his lungs as she rolled atop of him. A thin sheen of sweat running over her pale skin.
“Are you and Cykali together or what?”
@POOHEAD189
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