terrAIn

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illirica
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terrAIn

Post by illirica » Mon Jan 07, 2019 7:10 pm


Request Thread is here
Character sheets are here
OC is here

This RP is still accepting new members, you are welcome to join in!
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Well. I guess that’s the end.

Charlie Aspen sat back in the chair at the Trellis launchcom center, watching as one of Aerosmith Industries’ outdated freighters took off through the hyperjump. DZ-922-B4: Iris Blue, headed for Synergon. Apparently they were having a second go at the place. Charlie didn’t know too much about it, but his grandfather had been known to go on (and on, and on) about the last failed attempt of the world, back when it had just been a series of numbers. For someone who hadn’t even been anywhere near the place, old Pops had sure had a lot to say about it. Charlie thought most of his problem had been about that old AI core that they hadn’t recovered. Pops was a programmer, and those cores were insanely intensive to build and train. That made them rare, and expensive - but also programmers were weird, and got attached to the strangest stuff sometimes.

Charlie was used to watching things go. Trellis was one of Aerosmith’s massive stellar dispatch platforms, nearly the size of one of the colony starplats, but with a whole lot better engineering and a more competent staff. He watched missions like the Synergon attempt go out almost every day, to every corner of the explored universe, and sometimes just out into the unexplored areas to see what was there.

Sometimes he wondered what things were like out there, but after a while he would come to his senses and stick to the launchcom where he belonged. After all, he was pretty well aware of how often those things came back, and the answer was not as often as Aerosmith liked to pretend they did.

He raised a hand in mock salute to the viewscreen where no one could see or hear him. “Starspeed, you little bugger. Don’t get eaten out there.”

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Well, I guess this is the beginning.

Synergon appeared briefly as a jewel in space as the hyperjump faded away, then grew larger and larger as the Iris Blue moved towards it. There weren’t a lot of places to land the craft - most of the world was fairly heavily forested - but there was the remnant of an old scorch pad from… what, forty years ago? Forty years since it had been abandoned, who even knew when it had been built.

Siren Fischer certainly hadn’t been alive then. She was twenty-seven, born and raised in space on a series of corporate ships - not one of the starplats, thank you very much. She’d been working for Aerosmith Industries since before she’d been even close to legal working age, entering boring data points and fetching coffee for her father’s office staff since she was old enough to know her numbers. She’d been hired to the Synergon mission as quartermaster, putting her in charge of their supplies.

The reported supplies looked good. Plenty of high-quality equipment - not top of the line, but not too far off. Replacement units for everything, doubles for everything vital. Unfortunately, the actual supplies were not precisely as the reports would have everyone believe. Siren knew what was there, and the equipment was what she’d call “middling at best,” most of it the sort that looked like it had already seen some pretty heavy use, and was being shunted aside to make room for better equipment somewhere more important. Replacement units were a pipe dream - they had replacement parts, hopefully enough of them. A decent amount of raw materials… Siren just had to hope that the mechanics and engineers that had been assigned to the Synergon mission were of better quality than the supplies, otherwise they were going to be in a world of trouble.

The ship made it to the scorch pad - apparently their pilot at least knew what she was doing. Siren wasn’t in the control room, so she wasn’t really aware of the ins and outs of getting the Iris Blue down in one piece, but it happened smoothly enough. She was in the back, with the cargo, so that she could make sure no one did anything stupid with anything fragile once they arrived.

After a while, the seals cracked, and the Iris opened to the sky. The air smelled greenish-blue, for reasons she couldn’t really explain, and trees and vines grew in close to the edge of the scorch pad. There were prefab barracks in the cargo storage that could be assembled in a few hours - likely that would be one of the first tasks the crew needed to take on.

That, and finding somewhere to put them. The scorch pad was good for landing, and there were the remnants of old buildings off to the northwest somewhere, but they couldn’t be seen through the trees, and there was no telling what kind of shape they’d be in after all this time.

Of course, given what was in the cargo bay, Siren was wondering if it might be an improvement.
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Azra
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Re: terrAIn

Post by Azra » Fri Jan 18, 2019 9:51 am

"Are you sure about this Mango? You really want to go up there again?" A friend of hers remarked dragging luggage behind him in addition to Manaria's. He was going on a different ship but insisted on helping her until departure, though now it was just concerns taking up every thought. Which had Mana's eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head in annoyance.

Stretching a bit with a sigh she gave an answer. "Stop worrying about it, the accident was years ago on a shoty junker of a satelite positioned in the worst area at a rare instant. I'll be fine." It took her a few years to get over some paranoia but she really tried to shake off such things. She could either get cybernetics and continue doing what she loved, or get stuck grounded and afraid. So here she was instead in front of the Iris Blue.

Of course there was a plethora of ships vying for Mango's attention. Some looked like luxurious transport she could see even from here. They had sections taken out with opulent windows even with pools for comforting viewing of the stars. Or the ships would be covered in the sub systems that helped have the cleanest air and artificial climates, they were lavish but not what Mana was into. To much specialty and not enough pure mechanical charm. There was other ships that were far more her speed but they were hard to spot behind more militant vessels.

Ships that were bristling with shields and weaponry. The hexagon grids giving off a slight glow along the ships. Weapons that carried enough weight to strain the mag locks holding ships in place, barrels huge enough Mana could see herself climbing into them. Really though she was more into the frigates and smaller ships. The ones that were more about the delight of engineers and travel instead of other design functions. Nothing to Mana smelled better then just the metal and sterilized air left untouched as opposed to fragrances and other artificial uses. A ship looked best as just a paint job and the original design instead of drowned in radars or weapons and so on.
Mana took a seat just outside of the control room, she wasn't a pilot but during the start of the cruise she was taking reports on everything all the same. Just cause she didn't make a habit of piloting didn't mean the mechanics of it should escape her, rather the opposite. It was her job to know all the parts and how to fix them if need be. Anything she didn't recognize she spent most the flight studying up on to a point of expertise. It wasn't as much getting to know the crew as she'd like but the cyborg found it more integral to do her job and figured the rest would understand.

"We should take up camp beside Blue I think. Much as exploring is fun I think the comfort of steel is better then you know a tent next to a mysterious bush infested with alien insects below a questionably stable building." Mana remarked as she stepped outside. It was a lot of green, which was pretty but nothing that managed to captivate her. She couldn't take apart a tree with a screwdriver.

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Matvey
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Re: terrAIn

Post by Matvey » Mon Jan 21, 2019 1:27 am

The ship touched down with a thud, a clank, and the gentle hissing of working suspension. A moment's silence prevailed, full of anticipation, before giving way to the sound of easy relief.

"Ura!" Arrus cheered, a smile spreading over his face. He unbuckled his seatbelt and rose lightly to his feet. "That was a beautiful landing," the mercenary declared, as he stretched and shook the cramps from his limbs. "If only UPF pilots were as talented. I swear, I've lost at least twenty years of life to stress -- most of them couldn't land star craft for shit. Part of the reason I left."

Moving over to the front window, Arrus peered outside, a twinkle of childish curiosity in his eyes. "Proper explorers, aren't we? Ratifying a planet and all," he joked, the quip aimed at nobody in particular. Truth be told, he was happy to be here. Compared with the paramilitary work he'd been employed in these last years, Mission Synergon was like a breath of fresh air. It was nice to interact with civilian personnel, and there were even women on board: a welcome change from the gruff, bearded faces, and accompanying terse attitude he'd become used to. There was good money to be made on corporation-owned battlefields, but it tended to attract a rough kind of person.

Arrus navigated his way to the armoury with little trouble. The Iris Blue wasn't a small ship, but it couldn't be called large, either. Its size suited him well: there was always somebody on hand to kill the time with, and yet it never felt crowded. And there it was, his trusty Hyperion M24. Arrus took a moment to don his combat armour, pulling the protective plates firmly down over his Aerosmith flightsuit, and slung the gun over his shoulder. Time to get to work. With a brisk step, he headed for the exit platform.

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Matvey
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Re: terrAIn

Post by Matvey » Sat Feb 02, 2019 1:16 pm

James' hands balled tightly in his pockets as they approached the landing area. The ground below rushed rapidly towards them, threatening certain destruction. He knew better than anybody that landing was the riskiest part of spaceflight: if the craft had any design flaws, they would soon surface. Immediately, as if in answer to his doubts, the ship bellowed loudly. The reverse thrusters had kicked in right on time, roaring as they slowed the ship to a comfortable descent. James breathed a sigh of relief.

Slumping into his seat, James reached for his front pocket. His hand found his smokes. With one finger, he flipped the box open, raising it to his mouth to find a cigarette. Taking one between his teeth, he sparked his lighter and lit it up. There were a huge number of different relaxants on the market, and Aerosmith even issued their own drugs - in pill form, so that they wouldn't strain the ventilation; but lighting up had become a quaint ritual of his. He breathed in deeply, sucking a mouthful of smoke into his lungs.

The ship hit the landing pad with a thump. After a moment's pause, most of the crew seemed to jump to their feet. A few words, some laughter, and they hurried off to perform their duties. A lot of them were security staff, he supposed, and probably concerned with clearing the area - for their own safety, as much as anything else. James hung back, puffing lazily on his cigarette. There was plenty of time for surveying, and he could write his reports whenever he wanted. His last mission, also his first as a surveyor, had been extremely easy, and he had no plans to stress or fret over this one.

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