Status
Not open for further replies.

Snowflake

Oatmeal Enthusiast
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day, 1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Online Availability
Late morning, evenings and late evenings in CET timezone
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Futanari
Genres
Space Opera, Steampunk, Cyberpunk, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Dark-Fantasy, but also open for most things.


Scarsi sector


[spacer]The habitual goings on are interrupted when The Ship drops out of FTL with a rumble and shake, screeching and groaning with its rusty joints. The turbulence is nothing too bad, sure a few loose objects got slung around and anyone standing must have taken to the ground unless they managed to hold onto something. There IS however one slight problem. Ship's not supposed to shake at all.[/spacer]

[spacer]As any veteran spacer can attest to; There is no turbulence going in or coming out of FTL. So something must have went wrong to cause such an unpleasant drop. Sure enough, the console in the cockpit started beeping like crazy as soon as the ship stabilized. Reactor Flaw, says the little inscription beneath the flashing light. The noise it makes sure isn't helping with the situation either, but at least it's unmissable now. Truth be told, the instrument table has a bit of a character and often lights up at random, nothing that a swift kick can't fix but this time it feels oddly serious.[/spacer]

[spacer]All throughout the ship there is a power drain as lights grow dim for a moment and then reset to proper lighting. Whether the crew members were eating what would likely pass for lunch, exercising in the Rec-Room or tinkering in the Workshop they would definitely know without a doubt that something is wrong. After all, the ship had never acted so strangely before.[/spacer]

[spacer]On the engineering deck, the cause of the problem would be more obvious, as would its solution. The Catalyst for the Fuel Condenser had blown much like a fuse would. Not something that happens often but when it does... Well you might as well be trying to run with a spear inside your knee and you would still make it further than a ship without a working Condenser. Replacing it is going to be a problem however. There's bound to be something in the workshop to temporarily jury-rig the ship into working mode but a proper replacement would be needed.[/spacer]

[spacer]Luckily for everyone, they dropped out near a Junk-Planet E-42 or locally referred to as Dust. A useless piece of space trash for some, a Mecca of spare parts and illicit goods for others. Not without it's dangers; Every Junkyard has its guard dogs of course, these ones are particularly vicious to boot. Dust as its name might suggest was a desert planet until someone decided to use it as a designated deponia. Sure enough, scrap wasn't the only thing thrown there. Social outcasts, human trash, scum and those who preferred freedom over indentured servitude were sent there. Life on Dust nowadays is... Manageable or tolerable at best. Few stay there by choice.[/spacer]

[spacer]Another option was an Exchange Space Station. Your usual space gas/truck stop for weary travelers who need to sleep in a more comfortable bed, eat a real cooked meal or just need some company. Also the extra territorial grounds of Exchange of Light, a MegaCorp that manages all the money transfers and essentially owns the currency known as Credits. Most see these Exchange Stations as neutral grounds for business because of the way they handle the law on their grounds. Deals can be arranged there without fear of Republic coming after you, the Exchange of course takes a cut for provides this service of anonymity. They would likely have the required parts to fix the ship.[/spacer]
 

Jack Robinson

Professional Gunslinger
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
3:25-10:00
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
Male
Genres
Fantasy, Post Apocalyptic, Horror, Epic, Realistic
Jekyll

Everything was going pretty well. Relatively normal. Then the ship started screeching like a metallic banshee straight from the depths of engineering hell. Jekyll swore and checked the console. It was beeping in protest, and a warning flashed across it. "Reactor Flaw" it read. Jekyll swore again. Fantastic. He hoped the others wouldn't blame him. He was a bit of a sketchy guy, and not everyone had great opinions about him, considering he'd pulled the old switcheroo with their old pilot and sort of declared himself their new man for the job. Perhaps not his most noble trick, but hey, he needed a job, and once he navigated through that asteroid field with all those cool flips and stuff, he proved his skill, if not his character, to his new found pals. Relationships aside, the whole reactor flaw deal was not good.

Jekyll cleared his throat and pressed down on the com button. "Hello ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking." He said pilot because he didn't want to piss off the captain by referring himself as "captain." Strategy and all that. "In case you're deaf, unconscious, or ignorant, I'd just like to let you all know the ship just groaned and screeched like my grandpa used to do when you woke him up after a nasty night of drinking. You're all smart, I think, so I'm assuming you've realized that ships hurtling through space are not supposed to do that. There's a very nice planet up ahead. No cops, no nothing. If we need spare parts we can stop there. I dunno about you guys, but I'm a little low in the credit department, and I don't think we can afford a new reactor if there's too big a flaw, ya feel me? So...yeah. Just letting you know, I'm really feeling that junk planet. Looks great. Just, uh, might need to bring our weapons if we go there. Or, you know, we can just risk dying in the void of space and not repair the reactor...sorry, I'm rambling. I tend to do that when there's ship problems. Makes me anxious. Anyway, have a great day, let me know what the plan is. I'm fine with going to that Exchange Space Station a little ways away, but someone else is gonna have to pay. Yeah. This is Jekyll signing out."

Jekyll sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. The console was still beeping, the ship was shaking, and he was stuck in the cockpit. Ninety percent of pilots died whenever their ships crashed. That was not a good statistic. Jekyll was not planning on getting vaporized. He had plans. Big ones. And he couldn't very well fulfill them if he was turned into a bunch of floating dust particles. He pushed down on the com button. "Again, no pressure. We just need to work this out before we die. Heh heh."
 
  • Love
Reactions: Snowflake

Krag_Jorgensen

Working Title
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adept
Preferred Character Gender
No Preferences
Genres
Scifi (Firefly, Traveller, 40k),
Cyberpunk (Shadowrun),
Urban Fantasy (WoD, Scion),
Medieval Fantasy,
Modern,
Historical
"Can it, Flyboy I'm working on it." Came a gravelly response over the intercom. The Silas was currently on watch, alternating with the Head Engineer, whom he expected to show up at any time. He saw the sparks when the catalyzer blew and knew what it meant. He didn't have a replacement part, but he could probably rig up a temporary one. He needed a metallic vessel to hold the catalyzing electrolytes. He had heard stories from old ex-navy shipmates who had used cannon shells off the 40mm, but the ship didn't have one of those that he knew of. Perhaps one of the large beer cans the crew seems to go through. That would work, enough to get them into dock. . . Hopefully. He chimed the intercom. "Someone get down to Engineering with one of their empty Tall boys, tin foil, a roll of duct tape, and that moldy sandwich in the back of the fridge."

He then set about getting things ready, putting on heavy duty leather gloves and goggles. He switched off the catalytic converter and began taking out the busted part. The moldy sandwich was needed for the Mr. Fusion matter recycler, which seemed to give the proper jolt to the system they needed to restart the reactor.
 
  • Love
Reactions: Snowflake
C

Crono

Guest
The sudden lurch made Kim's rolly chair buckle over, sending her collapsing onto the floor. She lay on the steel bottom of her room for a short while, contemplating its strange comfort. The pilot came on, he seemed distressed but told her not to worry, so for a short while she didn't. Then she realized that what stopped the ship was probably a mechanical issue. Yes, that was likely it. She stood and began walking to the engineering deck, mentally narrowing down possible causes. Mr. Silas came on, requesting several suppies, identifying the issue to her as a blown fuel condenser catalyst. She skampered about the ship, quickly collecting all the things he requested (The Tall Boy was wordlessly stolen from someone's in-progress lunch and emptied) and arrived at the engineering deck. She added a smattering of liquid rubber to the can and donned her goggles, then she cut the holes to the appropriate size and moved to the converter.

Silas had just removed the blown catalyst, Kim studied the nature of its breakage and stored it in the cluttered back of her mind. While giving the sandwich she muttered "May I," before leaning into the area of note. She scanned the converter, and froze. Before her eyes the labels, the numbers, the wires, all melted into one inconceivable blob. Fear and confusion scraped across her face, it had never been this bad before or at least this long winded. She stood dumbfounded for a while before flailing the supplies into Silas's lap while blurting out something akin to 'you do it' and sprinting over to the sink to wash her face. The blurring stopped, but the fact was clear: her hallucinations were beginning to hinder her job. She cluched the side of her head, who in their right mind would keep a hallucinating engineer on the payroll? Kim crumpled into the sink, groaning lowly as the leaky faucet dripped onto her head.
 

Krag_Jorgensen

Working Title
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adept
Preferred Character Gender
No Preferences
Genres
Scifi (Firefly, Traveller, 40k),
Cyberpunk (Shadowrun),
Urban Fantasy (WoD, Scion),
Medieval Fantasy,
Modern,
Historical
Silas sat down on a crate to steady himself as he busily stripped the wires using a pair of lineman's pliers. He jumped slightly as Kim dumped the supplies in his lap and rushed to the sink. He paused for a moment, confused. Did she get something on her face? Now was not the time for that though as the fuel pressure needle continued its movement towards the red. The shutdown failsafe had not fully triggered. Fortunately the feeder valve had shut off and was not spraying the room with hot fuel and catalyst

The old man staggered a bit as another jostle hit. He stuffed a ball of foil into the bottom hole and sealed it with duct tape. The top hole he left open to fill with liquid. The engineer grabbed the bottle of catalyst solution and started filling the top. Florescent green liquid splashed off the top, spilling onto his hand. He winced in pain as the chemicals burned. After getting enough into the can, he mated the can with the mounting bracket and carefully put the feeder tubes inside the top, surrounding them with tin foil and duct tape. The temperature alarm started going off as the pressure started to mount. With hand still burning, and now slightly red, Silas shoved the wires into the tin foil before applying several more layers of duct tape.

"Alright baby, work for me." He said, flipping a switch marked "Condenser Catalyst" A high pitched whine escaped from the monstrosity that was the replacement part, but it soon quieted down as the fuel pressure needle slowly started going towards green. Now he needed to reset the system. He unwrapped the sandwich, it had blue and green spots and stunk, but it would work. He smushed the stuff into the matter recycler. It seemed to prefer organic material. He powered down the reactor, killing the lights on the ship before flipping the switch on the recycler. The lights came back on as the reactor started up.

"Alright flyboy, she should hold until we dock. Just don't try any fancy flight tricks. Hey Syd, put the rock down and prep some neutralizing cream." Silas said, as the chemical burn started to blister.
 
  • Love
Reactions: Snowflake

Jack Robinson

Professional Gunslinger
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
3:25-10:00
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
Male
Genres
Fantasy, Post Apocalyptic, Horror, Epic, Realistic
Jekyll

"Well whaddya know, I guess we won't freeze to death in the vacuum of space after all," Jekyll responded over the com system. "Question for ya Mr. Riesling, does a barrel roll fall under the category of fancy flying tricks? Because I think we could all use a good barrel roll every once in a while. Gets the blood pumping, ya know? Seriously though, great job. I'm glad we have an old dog like you on our side." Jekyll laughed and returned his attention to flying. The planet was just up ahead, and he could see the space station as well. They should have plenty of time to pick their poison. In the end, it was up to the captain to choose. All Jekyll could do was fly around and do fancy tricks and make sure no one hit them with any lasers and stuff. A simple life, but it was one he enjoyed.

Jekyll adjusted the ship's speed, slowing it down a bit more than he would've liked. But it was a safe speed, one that would ease the minds of everyone else on board who didn't have his adrenaline junkie attitude. He began flying the ship toward a sort of midway point between the planet and the space station. Might as well. Besides, he hated having the ship sit still. Made him feel vulnerable and alone, a feeling common among space travelers and the like. Traveling through an endless void tended to have that effect. He looked to the planet's surface and sighed. He wasn't a fan of landing on planets, especially ones he'd never been to before. There was always a feeling of imprisonment, of there being no escape. And Jekyll needed a clear route of escape. You never knew when your whole world could come crashing down.

He ignored that idea and thought about the uses of landing on the planet. They could get some junk, load it up, sell it at the space station, and Jekyll could send his cut back to mother. Help her pay the rent. It was a rough life on the planet of Jingo IV, but at least she was safe there. At least there were people there that could defend her in case that...thing came back.

No. Now was not the time to think about that monster. Always made him feel uncomfortable.
 

The Wanderer

Mysterious Stranger
Invitation Status
,
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks
Preferred Character Gender
Male
Genres
Any.
Eric/Spider

If there was one thing that Eric despised more than when someone touched something of his, or the times where a quiet job went loud.

It had to be when he was bored. And had nothing to do.

Not saying he didn't have things to do. There were still plenty, such as making plans for future upgrades and potential jobs. But, those tasks were for the future. In the present, however. There was nothing to do. He had already tinkered with his drone, eight times to be exact. Went over any footage his drone had collected, and archived it for potential future use. Checked his gear for any needed maintenance. And repairing whatever needed it.

Which now left him where he is now. Sitting in his chair in his room. Listening to Mozart's symphony "No. 40 in G Minor, K. 550." One of his personal favorites. Preferring to listen to it whenever he needed to think.

However, before he could put a thought to future endeavors or whatever needed to be done, he barely caught the edge of his desk as the ship suddenly jerked and make strange noises. Not ones that were typical to a ship of this design and age. But the type of noises that caused him to be worried. Before long, the pilot or "Jekyll' spoke over the intercoms. Explaining what had happened, adding some of his quips to make the grim situation a little lighter. Something that could be admired. And not too long after Jekyll was done speaking. Silas spoke over the comms, explaining what he needed. Perhaps the things he needed for the reactor.

With haste, Eric walked out of his room. Wearing what would be called "casual" clothing for him. A simple long sleeved shirt, cargo pants and boots. Gloves, goggles and half face mask.

As he went to help Silas with obtaining the items he needed, but as he did this. It would seem another crew member had already completed the task. Her name was Kim, or at least that the name he thought she had.

Soon, Silas spoke over comms once more. Stating that their problem was temporarily dealt with. Well, there went some of his worry. But now, it would seem the crew would have to "appropriate" a new reactor. Something that could easily be done with the crew's various skillsets.

Heading back to his quarters, he went about changing into his "work" clothes. Slipping on the stealth suit, which fitted him like a glove. Tightening the suit in places to make sure it would hinder his movement. After that came his goggles and rebreather. For the rebreather, he made sure the straps were extremely tight, as to make sure that no airborne toxins would get in. Same with the goggles, making sure it was set to regular vision as to not blind him.

He grabbed his weapons and gear. Putting the drone in a special holster on his back. And went to the mess area to await the Captain's decision on where they should go to get their replacement reactor.
 
C

Crono

Guest
Given some time to think with half her torso in the sink, Kim calmed down. Silas clearly thought little of her episode in front of a active mechanical issue and no other crew member knew of her hallucinations. However her condition was worsening, the medication she needed was expensive and rare. She would have to stealthily procure it without anyone knowing, something she was rather incapable of doing. She pulled her self out of the sink (only hitting the nozzle twice) and moved over to Silas. "Uh- my eye." That was the explanation she offered, this is going to go so easily Kim, your almost like a verbal ninja. She directed attention to the scrapped together solution and managed a smile at its ingenuity. Upon seeing the chemicals on his arm she quickly fetched a rag and wet it before offering it to him, "that bores holes in my cromes, better wipe it off." Just as quickly her mind jumped over to the topic of a proper replacement. "I think we should look into other options since a scrapped one would most likely be," she paused, "well, crappy." She was getting tired of portions of the ship being entirely composed of rust and/or held together by duct tape and hope.
 
  • Like
Reactions: Snowflake

SolarFlare

Excelsior!
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
One post per day, 1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female
Braddock

Growing up in a rather humble lifestyle of wheeling, dealing, and killing, it was sometimes difficult to comprehend the direction Brad's life had taken. He was a captain of a scrappy little ship and blessed with a few talented hands to help him on his quest. Sure he had commanded forces of much greater magnitudes in times past, but this was something else entirely. Call him a romantic but there was something special about this whole star travel business. There was no telling what they would face in the future, but he knew he could count on his crew to fight at his side and kick some tail in the process. Something quickly snapped him from his nostalgic haze back into the reality of the situation. The ship rumbled like it was going through heavy turbulence, which would be fine if it weren't for the fact that this is space and no such thing existed out here. He had been staring at a spoonful of nutri-paste while his mind drifted elsewhere, most of it had dripped off the spoon by now. His pilot informed him on the situation, and his first-mate was handling the short-term repairs. His lunch received further ruin when the head engineer stole the beer right from his hand for what better have been spare parts.

He grumbled a bit, slightly miffed at having his barely started beer killed before it's time, and got up from his seat. Brad dropped the spoon back in the bowl and flipped the switch on his mobile communication device. He cleared his parched (Grrr..) throat and addressed the crew, "Well, it seems our ship could use some TLC. Opportunity is on our side on this day however, with two viable options for our potential replacement. Considering our pool of credits has been drawn low, we are best off to try our luck on Dust. Even if we don't happen to find adequate parts we can shore up the costs for proper replacements at that station with whatever else we may recover on our trip." He coughed almost done with his spiel, continuing on with a more humorous tone, " And Silas? You owe me a drink."
 
  • Like
Reactions: Crono

Jack Robinson

Professional Gunslinger
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
3:25-10:00
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
Male
Genres
Fantasy, Post Apocalyptic, Horror, Epic, Realistic
Jekyll

The captain announced his decision. Jekyll was a big fan of the guy. He was a natural leader, he knew his stuff, and he was practical. He hadn't killed Jekyll because he saw how valuable he was as a pilot, and for that, Jekyll was incredibly grateful. He tended to make the right decision more often than not in Jekyll's eyes, such as in this case. Dust was just ahead. Jekyll set the coordinates for a landing site and steered the ship toward Dust. He flipped on the ship's scanners and surveyed the planet's surface. There were some potentially valuable minerals deep below the planet's surface, which would be helpful if they were a mining team. More importantly, there were a fair number of lifeforms. Jekyll made sure to select a landing site with the fewest number of carbon based organisms nearby, just in case they were landing on a hostile planet.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, we're gonna take a quick detour on Dust. Scanners indicate a fair number of lifeforms on the surface. We're gonna be landing in Sector Delta-90. Shouldn't be too many people or monsters nearby. My advice? Bring a gun, just in case. Never know when giant squid people might pop out of the ground and start chewing on your face. I'm sure it's happened to someone before. But seriously, folks, let's stay safe. We can't afford funeral expenses," he finished dryly, "We should land on the planet's surface here in about fifteen to thirty minutes. In the mean time, relax, prepare yourselves, and maybe someone come in here and massage my shoulders. The whole shuddering thing made me a bit tense. Thanks guys. Jekyll out."

The ship, in all its haphazard glory, creaked and groaned toward its destination. The planet was essentially a giant ball of sand. Jekyll scanned the planet again. There was a nice plateau that they could land on in Sector Delta-90, about ten or twenty feet above the ground. Surrounded, of course, by trash. Perfect landing conditions, provided they didn't combust during their descent.

Jekyll chuckled. Landings. Gotta love 'em.

"Fasten your seatbelts, folks! Do we have those? Or did we sell them...hmm...hold on to something, folks! Landing process commencing in T-minus five minutes."
 
  • Like
Reactions: Snowflake

Krag_Jorgensen

Working Title
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adept
Preferred Character Gender
No Preferences
Genres
Scifi (Firefly, Traveller, 40k),
Cyberpunk (Shadowrun),
Urban Fantasy (WoD, Scion),
Medieval Fantasy,
Modern,
Historical
Sydney put down her dataslate, her story was getting rather good which somewhat annoyed her. That the old fool had injured himself. She stopped by the Infirmary to pick up some supplies. Neutrailizing gel would get rid of the chemical residue on the skin, and padded bandages would protect the inevitable blisters that were forming. She carried the equipment in both hands, passing through the common room and nodding at the captain, noting his displeasure.

By the time she had gotten to the reactor room, there was a small crowd. "Out of the way, Medic coming through." She said, muscling her way past the head engineer with her shoulder. "Alright pops, show me your hand." She ordered, readying the tube of cream. The old man did as he was told, not phased by the woman's attitude. While not ideal, Sid's personality was a small price to pay for experienced medical care. The white paste covered the man's hand, Silas winced a bit. It hurt, but it meant that there were still nerves. "Looks like a minor chemical burn, nothing too serious. Change bandages every day and air it out. I'd also advise basting the ham with your other hand for the next week or so, you don't want those blisters to pop."

"You're one to talk." Silas shot back with a smirk, "Don't think I don't notice when you steal my batteries. Those medical devices you seem to use drain an awful lot of power." The older man chuckled a bit. The ship did seem to go though more batteries now that Sid was around, but that was to be expected as they now had someone with proper medical equipment. He still needled her about it on occasions such as this.

"I'm surprised Ironhands over there didn't handle that stuff. It would sure make things easier for me." Sid quipped, her eyes resting on the head engineer's augmentations. She had worked with her share of augs as a Steiner Guardswoman, mostly making sure that their new limbs didn't kill them. She really didn't know the mechanics of the limbs themselves, but in a pinch she could splice nervous tissues to the interface connectors with reasonable skill.
 
  • Like
Reactions: Snowflake

Snowflake

Oatmeal Enthusiast
Original poster
Invitation Status
, ,
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day, 1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Online Availability
Late morning, evenings and late evenings in CET timezone
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, Futanari
Genres
Space Opera, Steampunk, Cyberpunk, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Dark-Fantasy, but also open for most things.
Dust - Sector Delta-90


[spacer]With the temporary replacement for the catalyst in place the ship managed to operate within a seemingly acceptable margin. Which was a bit odd since that should not be the readout on the instruments. Oh well, everything seemed fine for the moment so there was nothing to worry about other than the re-entry. They say that re-entry is supposedly the hardest skill a space-pilot has to learn, blasting through the atmo so fast the air around you starts to combust from friction all the while compensating for gravity and acceleration in order to hit the tiny bullseye on the dartboard of a planet. Suffice to say the ship needs to be properly equipped as well. A small breach during reentry can cook the ship from the inside. So you will probably expect that Primary Buffer Panel being knocked loose during re-entry is a big deal, yet somehow this had happened to the ship multiple times now and each and every time, the crew replaces it a piece of scrap temporarily and nothing bad happens during the next re-entry.[/spacer]

[spacer]Dust, the trash planet. A massive space Landfill. The planet used to be planetoid until they threw so much garbage it gained more mass and was now on par with smaller ones. As far as native flora and fauna went the only thing still alive were the Rust-Worms and they are only alive because they switched from eating silicates in the sand to eating iron in scrap. The atmosphere is fake obviously, maintained by a terraformer somewhere halfway across the planet and within some warlord's control until another one dethrones him or her. The regulars of Dust are hardy folk not known for their fine appearance, most of them are wrinkled, filthy and red of skin due to a mixture of chemicals and sun. Despite looking like they are always sunburnt they are in act fairly resistant to it. The Nexus has little information regarding their culture or politics. It does however stress that most of the people there are either Outcasts, Exiles or descendants of those and are considered dangerous. The Republic in turn offers no law enforcement support to Dust as there is no actual Government there and there are no taxes or exports for them to care about. It is in every sense of the word, no-man's-land.[/spacer]
[spacer]The ship landed upon a plateau and upon touching down revealed that beneath the layer of sand was something that must have been a mountain once but is now mere feet above the trash filled ground. From there a simple, ramshackle settlement could be seen, getting to it wouldn't take more than half an hour. There were walls around it built from torn ship parts, heat shields, loading ramps and god knows what other panes of metal and scrap, beyond it was a number of smoke stacks and a few scrap roofs sticking out. The very air of the planet seemed to give off a metallic smell and taste, like iron and copper, like blood.
Sun was high when the Crew landed, they would have about 6 hours of sunlight beating down on them. It was perhaps irrelevant to point out that his planet had high day temperature and that hydration would be important. And as one might expect from a planet covered in trash, drinkable water would probably be hard to come by.[/spacer]
 
Last edited:

Krag_Jorgensen

Working Title
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adept
Preferred Character Gender
No Preferences
Genres
Scifi (Firefly, Traveller, 40k),
Cyberpunk (Shadowrun),
Urban Fantasy (WoD, Scion),
Medieval Fantasy,
Modern,
Historical
With his hand wrapped, Silas began thinking of what they would need to do next. He excused himself to go and rest before doing anything else. They would probably have to replace the primary buffer panel, that was easy enough. Finding a catalyzer would be more difficult. He expected the locals to wait until the evening when the sun was not so oppressive before trying to approach them. He had been on his share of trashy planets, but not to Dust specifically. He looked out the porthole and saw what passed as a settlement. He couldn't make out any corpses or skulls decorating the walls of the settlement, but he wasn't about to write off the possibility that these inhabitants wouldn't try to capture their ship to get off this hellpit. It's what he would consider doing if he had to live here. Some may try to get passage off this planet through honest means. They may offer goods, services, or their daughter's hand in marriage.

Still, they might be able to bargain for the parts they needed. They had supplies that could be useful for people such as these. Sydney was an experienced physician with a reasonably stocked infirmary. To the right people, she could be worth her weight in gold. He and Kimiko were good with machines, something that may come in handy possibly trading work on some important machinery for parts. They also had comparatively better access to power and likely some of the more advanced machine tools. They could probably fabricate some of the harder to find parts for other machines. Still, he didn't want to be here for longer than they had to be. Their supplies were not infinite.
 
  • Useful
Reactions: Snowflake

SolarFlare

Excelsior!
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
One post per day, 1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female
Braddock

The captain looked up from his issue of "The Junktown Peddler" when he realized they had now arrived to their destination. He hardly had to glance out the view port to know this place was so rife with scrap and garbage that it was almost composed moreso of artificial material than planet. He didn't know whether to be disgusted or amazed. His homeplanet was known for its scrap, but it wasn't so choked with debris that life left it. Perhaps they would get lucky? It was often the case in these settlements that the denizens of the area would be unaware of the value of most of the more obscure items, making it rather easy for well learned travelers like them to make a quick buck off their ignorance. Brad wasn't fully sure if things would work out like that, but it was worth a shot. His crew was obviously too competent to become prey to a place like this. He put away his magazine and started pulling on his armor, eager to get through today. Once he was all suited up he instructed the crew over the intercom as he walked into the docking room, " Alright, we've arrived at Dust folks. Planets like these are pretty tough, I'd think it best if everyone brought water with them. Keep your skin well covered, as both the sun and air are going to be pretty aggressive today. We should be sure to scope out any bartering opportunities as they become available, most of the supplies we have on hand will be quite valuable to desperate places like this. With that in mind, let's get this done." He waited near the exit for the others to gather before they started the long trek.
 
  • Like
Reactions: Snowflake
C

Crono

Guest
OH GOD SYDNEY KNEW. Kim froze up in her slightly shoved position, her previous carful plan was breifly tossed into the air as panic struck her. That steely glance, that comment, that... And her brief lunacy ended. Kim relaxed her posture, Sid probably would have told everyone already if she intended to. She seemed to be rarely motivated in things that weren't directly related to her, still the matter was concerning. Kim would have to keep an eye on her, and it was with this clearly incorrect assumption that she left to suit up.

Dust wasn't exactly what Kim had in mind, but the need to avoid heavy spending was a pressing one. She muttered a few complaints into her helmet before clicking it into place, she wasn't about to get face tetanus from rust flakes or falling. At the capains discression she packed extra water with a couple days worth of base supplies, she also brought a few of her more small and versatile tools and her so-called plasma cannon, which was essentially just a usefully broken plasma cutter. She had installed hefty wheels with supports on the 'cannon' a while back, to avoid her carrying the ludicrous thing. She pushed her weapon over to the exit and offered a respectful nod at the captain she only slightly disliked right now.
 
  • Like
Reactions: Snowflake

Jack Robinson

Professional Gunslinger
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
3:25-10:00
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
Male
Genres
Fantasy, Post Apocalyptic, Horror, Epic, Realistic
Jekyll

His landing was smooth. Precise. Dare he say it? Perfect. Jekyll gave himself a literal pat on the back. Everything about the transition from space to planet had been done expertly. Sure, the ship had shuddered a bit and he was still a bit nervous about that whole missing part, but at least they wouldn't get sucked into the endless void of space. He got out of his pilot's chair and snagged his plasma pistol and blowtorch. He attached both to his belt and heeded the captain's instructions. He was always eager to explore new planets. He only hoped it wasn't ruled by some alien god that feasted on souls. That would make for a hell of an adventure, though.

He walked out to where everyone else was assembling. His face was covered by a bandanna, and he wore a pair of goggles over his eyes. He had just about every square inch of skin covered. He was good to go.

"How's it going folks? Hope you all enjoyed that landing. I think it was definitely one of our better ones, better still because you know, we didn't die because of that faulty catalyst or whatever. So...what's the plan? This way?" He pointed toward the nearby settlement. "Or that way? Or both ways? Are we splitting up? Because if there does happen to be an evil space god of sorts that feeds on humans, that'd make it easy for it to, you know, feed on us. But you know, whatever you guys want. I'm just the pilot." He made sure he'd filled up his canteen. Long hikes through the planet weren't exactly his favorite, but he'd be damned if he had the opportunity to explore a new planet and he didn't take it. It'd be another one to add to his little list. Something to tell mom about when he visited.
 
  • Like
Reactions: Snowflake

Krag_Jorgensen

Working Title
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, 1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Adept
Preferred Character Gender
No Preferences
Genres
Scifi (Firefly, Traveller, 40k),
Cyberpunk (Shadowrun),
Urban Fantasy (WoD, Scion),
Medieval Fantasy,
Modern,
Historical
Sydney was slightly taken aback at Kim's mild freakout, but quickly regained her composure with an indifferent sneer. She had no desire to set foot on the planet if she could help it and it seemed that most others were going to investigate. She suspected that they might try and trade her services, but for now she wanted to finish that chapter. The dashing (and buxom) Captain Steele needed to rescue her mild-mannered love interest from the tribe of randy space amazons. She picked up her supplies, watching Kimiko's tense movements as the engineer left. She followed, watching as the other woman prepared her plasma cannon. "A little excessive isn't it?" She asked. It seemed to her that approaching a settlement armed to the teeth would send the wrong message. She was a little perturbed when Reisling joined them. Still, he was the resident merchant and would likely be useful. He was also the most reasonably armed, with just his cutlass. "I think I'll hang back and watch the ship." Syd finally said, leaning back on a bulkhead near the group that was forming.

Silas a bandana and had a pair of goggles resting around his neck as he approached the group from his cabin. "Captain, if I may make a suggestion. Why don't we wait for the early evening, no use spending sweat in the midday sun." He offered a suggestion, hoping it would be at least considered.
 
  • Nice Execution!
Reactions: Snowflake

The Wanderer

Mysterious Stranger
Invitation Status
,
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks
Preferred Character Gender
Male
Genres
Any.
Eric/Spider

Seems that they were going to pay the scrap planet a visit. Eric had done a few jobs on planets like this when he was first starting in his line of work.

Seeing as he was already covered up, and wearing his rebreather. The planet's atmosphere and climate wouldn't cause him much discomfort. He would have to change the filters more often than usual. Which left him with the objective of staying hydrated. A task that would somewhat hinder him, as he wanted to stay light, but also have enough on him so that he wouldn't be making trips back and forth between the ship and the nearest settlement.

He could just go with the option of simply "acquiring" some water from the locals, but who knows what has been done to the water. And seeing as he wanted to avoid catching some type of illness, he would have to take some water with him.

Deciding to take a decent sized canteen along with him. It would be a bit clunky, but he'd find a way to make it work. After filling it with water, he secured it on his suit.

Meeting up with the other crew members, he waited to see what course of action would be taken in regard of getting the materials needed for the repair of the reactor. He hoped that they could slip in and get what they needed and get out without attracting too much attention.
 
  • Like
Reactions: Snowflake

SolarFlare

Excelsior!
Invitation Status
,
Posting Speed
One post per day, 1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female
Braddock

Ah.. to see his crew assembled before him once more, it was almost enough to bring a tear to the warlord's eye. They might not be the die-hard group of friends he knew they could be, but the group still had a mutual respect for one another that would allow them to accomplish the feats of storied space crews. Brad had a bit of a starry look in his eye as he considered the question presented by his first mate, as well as the general question posed by his pilot.

" It's a good thought Silas, but knowing a planet like this it could be dangerous to be rooting around in it for too long after dark. No telling what kind of goons would be active during the night... Unless you think we can get in and out of the place rather quick? You've got a good brain about you grey-hound, so I'll trust your judgement on the situation." He turned to his engineer with an amused expression on his face, " The plasma cannon shouldn't be necessary, the rugged terrain is gonna make that thing hell to lug around. Not to mention how it might rouse some unwanted attention from trigger happy locals. Nice thought though."

He gazed out the view port as he ensured all the energy cells on his plasma shotgun were firmly in place.
 
C

Crono

Guest
Kim shifted uncomfortably when Syd commented on the 'cannon' (she refused to think of it as a official weapon) and opened her mouth to explain how she couldn't afford a light armament. She then closed it with the captain's words. She thought the type of people who understood gunshots better then speech would be held at bay by a blaster that could punch a hole through their best defenses in one shot, but it was heavy, so she didn't voice her opinions. With a nod the weapon was returned to her room and replaced with a heafty wrench. She promptly sat on the floor incase the choice to wait until evening was finalized and began to lightly absorb herself in tapping the wall of the ship at different points, every so often letting a unidentifiable 'hm' sound escape her mouth. In reality she was looking for weaknesses or pockets of space in the hull, but this was rather hard to decipher. After a bit she mumbled, "The people here will be built to take every opportunity, we should seem capable of putting up a serious fight, but not profitable enough to pay off for it. If we go around offering professional services, why wouldn't they just kill the rest of us and keep the professionals?"
 
Status
Not open for further replies.