The Phoenix Labs (Test thread for the Phoenix Nebula)

Pigiron

Shipcutter
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LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
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Main thread | Interest thread | Test/drafting thread | Profile thread
тнє sтoяy

After centuries of turmoil, The Galaxy of Ordaeus has a chance at peace.
However, as sages have stated for millenia, peace is but the time of preparation before the next war.

The Empire of Ordaeus, a human-ruled coalition of systems have proven themselves time and again as a dominant force of the galaxy. Controllers of several critical resources and galaxy-wide production bottlenecks. Defenders of a staggering number of loyal systems, with a population in the hundreds of billions. Ship and weapons technology rivaled by few in power and none in supply. Their Galactic Navy; peerless in size, with extensive training and unmatched equipment. The aegis of an empire unmatched in all of history.

Unmatched except, perhaps, by a small group called The Resistance. To some? They are criminals. Scum that prevented the Empire uniting the galaxy and bringing about a golden age. To others, they are the last hope of a free galaxy, where all peoples are free to live life as they see fit, free of chains and the rule of a tyrant. Still others tell a tale of their origin; a movement started by Navies rising from the anonymity of the ranks of their fellows, and taking a stand against an empire they thought to be unjust, harsh, and regimented to the point of dehumanization. One thing is for certain, for better or worse these fighters have proven themselves courageous, skilled and lucky, time and time again.

The asymmetric war between the Empire and the Resistance raged for years. Many lives were lost, and it would have continued in that path if not for the plague that overtook the entire galaxy in the form of the Khivux. A parasitic species of slug-like creatures, they crawl in through the ear and take their host's brain, mind, body and soul as a personal slave. Once they happened upon the den of misery that is war, there was no stopping their takeover. Before anyone even knew they existed they had already taken several systems, not discriminating between the carefully controlled Empire systems or the wild freedom of the Resistance-backed systems.

The Empire and the Resistance were forced to band together to keep the galaxy safe, but even with the two old enemies working together, the Khivux continued their unstoppable march throughout the stars. Only one thing saved the Galaxy from enslavement: just as the Khivux bore down on the last systems not enslaved, a chemical admixture named simply The "Mindfire Toxin" was distributed out to all naval and resistance ships. A gaseous substance, when the Toxin was breathed in by a Khivux host it performed a dizzying sequence of reactions, that ended with the parasite dead, yet leaving the host relatively unharmed.

The year is now 5032, Imperial Calendar. With the last Khivux being hunted down on the fringes of known space, sides are beginning to form again. A truce, hastily agreed upon, starts to strain, fraying at the edges. The Empire, and by extension the Navy, has started preparing to return to it's old expansionist ways. However every action has an equal and opposite reaction; the old embers of resistance flare once again. "The New Resistance" grows by the day, eager to maintain this fragile fingerhold on freedom.
Tensions are running high everywhere. Ambition threatens to swallow whole the fragile truce. One thing prevents a return to the old war:

The Phoenix Nebula.

An almost mythical place. Seat of a mysterious ancient race long passed; a treasure trove of advanced technology. The source Of the Mindfire Toxin that saved the galaxy.

The only problem? The saviors that brought the weapon to Empire space; Those brave men and women that braved unknown reaches of the galaxy for a hail-Mary shot at salvation all died in the line of duty. Their ship's computer was damaged beyond repair, and their final desperate wormhole jump sent through a ghost ship demanding it's precious cargo be collected from amongst the crew's corpses. The Khivux were defeated, but now the spectre of that incredible place looms large.

Find the Phoenix nebula, find the power to rule, or save, the galaxy.

The Story///Rules///Profile Skeletons///The New Resistance///The Imperial Navy///Timeline///Reserved
 
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яuℓєѕ

1. Try not to keep others waiting too long and to avoid one-liner posts. Make each post at least a couple of paragraphs long, but by no means do you have to write a novel every time!

2. Join only if you are okay with conflict and if you are equally okay with losing said conflict. often conflict will be just as interesting to write if your character "wins" or "loses".
2a. If you're in a PVP situation, try to come to an agreement with the other player OOC on what makes sense in character for the outcome of conflict to be. You can also agree to simulate the elements of the conflict that are out of either character's control by using dice rolls as needed.
That is to say, if you are uncertain of the outcome of a situation with two characters (ie, in a standoff) then with the agreement of the other player you can figure out the outcome with dice rolls. Consider adding modifiers to one of the rolls, such as +1 or +2 if you both agree one side has an inherent advantage.
Also consider what would happen in the event of a tie, IE both parties get shot.
Ultimately, this is not meant as a nice, everyone-gets-along RP. It's more about the conflicts taking place and the possibility of losing said conflict.

3. Let's try keep the ratio of members even here. IE, there's a million Resistance members and three Navy sailors consider joining the Navy please!

4. No god-moding/auto-hitting, especially during battles involving entire ships. Anything that has a major impact on another player's character (Imprisonment, Injury, Death, etc) requires enthusiastic consent from that player.



The Story///Rules///Profile Skeletons///The New Resistance///The Imperial Navy///Timeline///Reserved
 
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ρяσƒιℓє ѕkєℓєtσи

Please read about which side you're joining before you actually apply to join it: Information about both Navy and Resistance can be found in the two posts after this one!
PM to Muffinphobia and/or me and we will post it in profile thread!
Please title Navy applications "We want order." And New Resistance applications - "We want freedom."


Code:
[u]Name:[/u] [first & last name here]
[u]Age:[/u] [minumum age 18. Ask ahead of time if you want a character younger than this.]
[u]Race:[/u] [Human, robo, alien, whatever, I merely request one thing - NO werewolves, vamps, ect. Sci-fi, not fantasy.]
[u]Home system/Planet/town:[/u] [Feel free to make up a system/planet/town, just please give a breif overview of what the place was like.]
[u]Chosen ship:[/u] [Pick out the ship you want to be on. If you have no preference leave this section alone and I'll just put you on one with other players.]
[u]Rank:[/u] [Captain, first officer, weapons master, head cook, ect- please check the existing characters on either side before choosing a rank!]
[u]Personality:[/u] [Traits. Just make a list/use short sentences.]
[u]Bio:[/u] [Paragraph minimum. Get creative! Also, include what tools/weapons they use. Five Tools/weapons max.]
[u]Appearance:[/u] [Image please. No IRL pictures please. if you need a picture edited I will be happy to help make adjustments (eye colour, minor alterations, etc.)]
[u]Puppet master:[/u] [your username here]


Also, if you wish to write about a System/planet/race, use the skeleton below. This is completely optional and in no way mandatory. PM to me and/or Muffinphobia.

Code:
[u]Alien Race:[/u] [b]insert name of race here[/b]
[u]Home planet:[/u] insert name of planet here
[u]Territory:[/u] Insert name of the number and nature of the star systems/planets controlled by the race (if any). Max number is five, not including home planet.
Canonically the Galactic Empire is meant to be the predominant force in the galaxy, and having another large contender would interfere with the Resistance/Empire dynamic we're looking to create. That being said, let us know if you think you have a good argument for a larger territory for your race, we'd love to theorycraft with you!
[u]Culture:[/u]
Write a paragraph about the culture here. Make this (and all slots, really) at least 4-5 sentences. What is the government like? Is it a democracy, oligarchy, etc.? Are they Empire aligned, perhaps already among the Empire's client races, or are they aligned with the resistance?
[u]History[/u]
Stick your history paragraph here. Try to get creative/detailed. If you get stuck, look at the other histories that have already been written. Talk about the population of the planet as well - is it populated? What specie(s) live there? Does it have empty space on it or is it densely populated?
[u]Economy[/u]
Write about the economy here. What do they primarily trade to other planets? Are they well-off economically or is it in a tough spot?
[u]Military[/u]
Write about the military here. What kind of fighting do they tend to do? Do they fight for Resistance/Navy? Do they fight for anyone at all?
[u]Technology[/u]
Technology stuff goes here. For instance: FTL travel. Do their ships primarily use Wormholes (instant travel, but makes a lot of noise) or Hyperspace (takes minutes or hours instead of seconds to travel long distances, but has other applications, like stealth and weaponry)
Where are they ahead of the rest of the universe, if anywhere? Where are they behind?
[u]Preferred Climate/environment[/u]
Will you freeze your arse off on their planets? Is it nice and sunny? Do they need to breath liquid arsenic to survive? Be as detailed with this as you like.
[u]Appearance [/u]
Do all members of the species share a certain characteristics? Are they Humanoid? any extra eyes or organs?
~~contributed by (your username here!)


The Story///Rules///Profile Skeletons///The New Resistance///The Imperial Navy///Timeline///Reserved
 
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тнє ηєω яєsιsтαиcє

The New Resistance is the rebel organization that rose from the ashes of the old Resistance coalition, after it was forcibly disbanded as part of a peace treaty with the empire. Now as the empire's ambitions convalesce, so too do those willing to fight for their freedom.

Goals
- Galactic peace
- Checks and balances for any power block that threatens to tyrannize the Galaxy.
- Government in the form of a democracy, specifically a galactic senate.
- Freedom for any oppressed races who are being used as slaves.
- A focus on exploration of new planets and understanding new species.

New Resistance Ships (Most general operations are run by AI)
-The Cotopaxi
xxxxxxxHer Crew
xxxxxxx-Captain - OPEN! (but must be willing to theorycraft with Muffin, myself and the rest of the players!)
xxxxxxx-First officer - Gabi Burnett
xxxxxxx-Chief Engineer - Perseus Galatea
xxxxxxx-Weapons Specialist - OPEN!
xxxxxxx-Head of navigations/communication - OPEN!
xxxxxxx-Head of Informatics and computer systems- OPEN!
xxxxxxx-Chief Medical Officer - OPEN!
xxxxxxx-Any other position (A.I., Cook, ect), include on application and I'll put it up here.


The Story///Rules///Profile Skeletons///The New Resistance///The Navy///Timeline///Reserved
 
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тнε ιмpεrιɑℓ ɳɑvy

The Galactic Navy was formed to protect the Empire of Ordaeus. Their rule extends throughout the galaxy, although their grip gets progressively looser the farther one travels from their home star system.

Goals
- Galactic peace
- The Empire and it's imperial navy acting as an aegis over all the galaxy, preventing anything like the Paranoia War from ever happening again.
- Prioritising defense over exploration, allowing for new contacts only after all races are properly integrated.
- Avoiding petty squabbles with a centralised government that represents the interests of ALL people, not just a tyranny of the majority.
- Ensuring that indentured servitude is minimised only to penal legions and those races that accept servitude as a way to pay their way into being a full member of the empire.

Navy Ships (Most general operations are run by AI.)
-Imperial Navy Black Ops Light Cruiser The INS Ophelia
xxxxxxxHer Crew
xxxxxxx-Captain - Capt. Bernadette Angstrom
xxxxxxx-First officer - OPEN!
xxxxxxx-Chief Engineer - OPEN!
xxxxxxx-Weapons Specialist - Elazar
xxxxxxx-Head of navigations/communication - OPEN!
xxxxxxx-Head of Informatics and computer systems- OPEN!
xxxxxxx-Chief Medical Officer - OPEN!
xxxxxxx-Any other position (A.I., Imperial Diplomat, ect), include on application and I'll put it up here.

The Story///Rules///Profile Skeletons///The New Resistance///The Imperial Navy///Timeline///Reserved
 
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Timeline

5005 - The Empire Of Ordaeus begins an expansionist military campaign to take over all of known space. They are countered by a coalition of planets and species known at The Resistance.
5012 - After seven years of on-and-off war, the Empire and Resistance, weakened by extended conflict, are taken by surprise as seemingly out of nowhere, the Khivux, a race of insidious, mind controlling parasites are discovered already infesting multiple systems. After an emergency meeting between Resistance and Imperial Ambassadors, a temporary truce is declared.
No longer can one trust ones neighbor, friends, even family.
The Paranoia War begins.

5013 - With all sentient life fighting a losing battle, the Empire and Resistance join forces to try and defend the rapidly diminishing free systems. All sentient life is now fighting the existential threat that is the Khivux.
5015 - The Khivux make their way to Imperial space. The first Empire planet is taken.
5020 - Dina Amor and Lustre fall within the same month. A mass exodus takes place as populations evacuate the path of the rampaging Khivux.

5021 - The crew of The INS Troubadour, an Empire Black Ops ship, are discovered by Resistance forces. All computer storage seems damaged somehow, the crew are all dead, even the books and written manuals on the ship are scrambled, made indecipherable as the printed letters seem to have been rearranged on the pages. But there is one thing saved, a thick tablet of repurposed titanium, etched carefully with the equipment the crew of The Troubadour had on hand, with instructions on how to create a chemical weapon known as the "Mindfire toxin", that would target a unique quirk of Khivux physiology and kill the creature, with only middling damage to the host. The Resistance copies the information and sends it through to the Imperial Navy, but all Khivux ships in the sector bear down on the Resistance detachment that recovered the tablet and they are forced to leave The Troubadour behind, taking only the Tablet with them.
5022 - The Counteroffensive to the Khivux begins, and for the first time, the parasites begin to lose ground. First, ships are flooded with Mindfire toxin. sleeper agent hosts are discovered and cured. Eventually, planets are doused in the chemical weapon, doing irreparable damage to countless ecosystems... But purging the Khivux from the planets for good.
It's said the Mindfire toxin being used was like a pale white mist descending on the planet, glowing with a very minor exothermic reaction. "Like Heaven itself had descended, and the Khivux could not bear it's light." Lustre and Dina Amor are among the first planets recovered.
5024 - The final Khivux controlled systems are over taken, and after furious fighting, the hosts in the system are forcibly cured.
At last, the Paranoia War is over. Galaxy-wide celebrations are held.

5026 - A Galactic peace summit is held. New borders are drawn. A "permanent" peace deal is agreed upon.

The Empire made the following concessions:
The dishonourable discharge and imprisonment for the war criminal War-Admiral Maddox Abaddon. He is treated as an Imperial martyr after his sentencing.
An end expansionist overtures, on pain of a mutual defence treaty of the free planets of Ordaeus coming into effect, which promised the empire swift and united retribution from a truly united galaxy if the Empire tries ever again to become their overlord.

The Resistance made the following concessions:
The Resistance, as an entity, would be no more. The mutual defence treaty of the free planets of Ordaeus having now fulfilled the purpose they were purportedly working to resolve.
Select top figures in the Resistance were confined to a single planet of their choice, usually their planets of origin. The crew of the Resistance flagship, The Cotopaxi, to be scattered to the four winds. The Cotopaxi itself was lost and faded into legend, lost in the confusion of post-war bureaucracy.

5032 - The Empire begins to quietly gather it's strength, aiming to seek out the Phoenix Nebula and the power and retake their rightful place as heirs apparent to the Galactic throne. The New resistance is quietly formed, aiming to find the Phoenix Nebula first, and use it's power to maintain the fragile peace.


The Story///Rules///Profile Skeletons///The New Resistance///The Imperial Navy///Timeline///Reserved
 
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(- Hope you got your things together -)
(- Hope you are quite prepared to die -)
(- Looks like we're in for nasty weather -)
(- One eye is taken for an eye -)
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P.pngerseus' teeth gritted as he threw himself out of the airlock, an O2 transfer tube hissing as it detached from his salvager's hardsuit helmet.
Somersaulting slowly, Perseus tumbled into the salvage yard. Steadily he took a good hard look at the assortment of ship carcasses in front of him, surrounded on three sides by a great U-shaped salvage station. His HUD lit up, highlighting one in particular in blood red, flashing a warning beside it:
///REACTOR CRITICAL: IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED
Perseus subvocalised a command to his suit, and with a slight finger movement and a sharp hiss, maneuver thrusters spaced out across his harduit sprayed reaction mass, arresting his rotational velocity and moving him into a beeline for the highlighted ship.
For a few moments, Perseus was left in silence, hurtling toward it.
Below, the gold-tinged expanse of Lustre stretched out, silvery clouds sprawling across the planet, making the entire planet look like a Jeweller's fantasy.
Above, the smear of the hundreds of billions of stars making up the Ordaeus galaxy, twinkling in innumerable whites, blues, purples and reds...
"I'm clear! Thanks Perseus, I dunno what I hit, but the coolant's everywhere!" the voice crackled in Perseus' earpieces, breaking the moment of reverie. Another salvager, Takeo. Perseus spotted him, throwing himself from the wreck.

Perseus wished he could rub the back of his mitt across his forehead.
In the rush getting out the airlock he had forgotten to put on a sweatband, and brackish sweat was pooling up there. The zero-G was forming it into a wobbly lump on his gold-tinged brow, and he knew the salty liquid was going to get in his eyes soon.
Now here he was, in the hard vacuum of the salvage-yard, face to face with a half-salvaged ship and a very unhappy fusion reactor.
There it sat, amongst the ribs of what used to be an independent fuel tanker, nestled in a spherical plasti-glass cell of coolant, glowing with the eerie not-quite-real light of Cherenkov radiation. The reactor currently threatening the lives of Perseus and the six others in the orbital salvage yard had been top of the line in it's day, capable of powering not only the every need of the ship's crew, but also the colossal engines that moved the tanker from star to star through great spherical holes torn in spacetime.
Now here it sat, at death's door, mere minutes from turning it's coolant into equal parts burnt black paste and superheated plasma, dumping all it's energy into itself and the material around it in a catastrophic explosion, taking Perseus and a good chunk of the salvage yard with it.

Takeo, the greenhorn, had been given the ship to break despite multiple warnings to the yard manager that newbies with less than a few weeks on the job were not to be saddled with the horrible things until they'd at least had basic nuke training.
But as always, the yard manager had pushed his people too far too fast and now everyone was in danger. Head in the game, Perseus. Perseus licked his lips, tossed his head slightly to get the sweat out of his eyes, and began subvocalising and gesturing commands to a swarm of delicate 10cm spider-like salvage drones, that began to climb from slots in his backpack and throwing themselves into action, preparing to tease the reactor's base plate from the ship's Plas-titanium hull.
"Easy... Easy..."
One or two drones had already given their little synthetic lives, as overheated coolant began to spray from lines haphazardly cut by Takeo a few minutes previous, before the warnings had started blaring over site comms and Perseus was dragged in to help.


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Ever since the resistance got it's claws into Lustre the whole planet's been steadily descending into anarchy. Perseus couldn't let his anger effect his work, but the thoughts continued; Nobody follows protocol anymore. Everyone's looking to "break with tradition", even if it means ending up as a thrice-damned stick of charcoal floating in thrice-damned hard vacuum!

A string of commands ran drones to a nearby bay, collecting grav plates and grav rings, the plates for close-range grav manipulation and the rings for longer distance grav-tunnel setup. They moved swiftly through the vacuum, shepherding the devices with little bursts of propellant from tiny thrusters at the end of their back legs.
A similar hive of activity prepared a specially built emergency containment system a hundred or so meters away, a straight shot from where Perseus calculated the reactor's egress point would be. Warnings about radiation levels and high material heat came in thick and fast now. Perseus spoke nervously, mostly to his drones; ”Alright fellas, we're only getting one shot at this-"
The last bolt pinged away as the reactor, coolant chamber and all, began to roll through the vacuum, down the tube of artificial gravity, toward the waiting containment system, with it's stasis grid and auxiliary coolant systems "warmed" up and ready.
The graviscanner built into Perseus' helmet took readings of the reactor's journey as Perseus made fine adjustments to the grav rings. It wasn't his first emergency egress tunnel, and it certainly wasn't going to be his last, if he could help it.

A moment of silence, punctuated by the sound of Perseus' heartbeat, and-

///REACTOR NEUTRALIZED

A long exhale.

”Alright Takeo, go ahead and finish this up. I've gotta get to my section and make a start on my ship."
Perseus turned away as Takeo sent through a confirmation. Spider drones made their way back to Perseus, skittering across his hardsuit, making their way to their charging nooks in his backpack. Perseus began floating between derelicts, towards the husk that would be his responsibility this shift.
With the emergency over, Perseus almost subconsciously took stock of his gear:
- Eight spider drones, down from the usual twelve. Now nestled in their charging nooks in his backpack, the little drones were built with two laser cutter legs, four multitool legs(containing the basics like pliers, screwdrivers, electrojacks, etc), and two maneuver thruster legs. The little guys took months of training to learn, and it took years of practice to learn to control more than one or two at a time. Perseus was proud of his abilities, but he'd seen people orchestrate the actions for thirty of them at a time, not to mention the AI-controlled swarms you sometimes found out in the lawless fringe systems.
- One plasma cutter, magnetically attached to his left outer thigh. Capable of firing a thin plasma beam that, in the space of a few minutes, could cut through most types of ship hull and structural elements. The cutter had some issues with certain types of armor, that usually required deconstruction from the inside, but it got the job done where the Spider-drones' little cutters couldn't manage.
- One grav-grapple, magnetically attached to his right outer thigh. Able to pull Perseus and another solid object toward each other (if used on a very heavy object, it would pull Perseus toward the object, a light object would get pulled toward Perseus, and an object about the same weight would meet Perseus in the middle.)
- An extended-spectrum Analyzer HUD, built into his helmet, with capability to switch to three views aside from standard: Infrared (for heat sources), gravimetric (for density and mass measurements, as well as the visualisations of artificial gravitational fields) and Spectrometer (to get an idea of the materials he was observing, at a glance).

Gear checked, Perseus looked up at the ship he was slated to destroy today-
And a lump formed in Perseus' throat.
Stencilled larger-than-life on Cryo-titanium armor, pock-marked by the unconcealable marks of years of freedom-fighting, punched by mass-driver impacts and burned by Plasma-fire, was a name.
Subject of his father's bedtime stories.
Subject of a million whispered rumors.
The ship that was sighted in a hundred systems at once.
The ship that sowed the chaos of freedom into the minds of billions.
The scalpel of the mad surgeon that was Hyde Burnett and his crew of misfits.
The flagship of the biggest underdog story in known history.

THE COTOPAXI

Shouldn't this be in a museum or something?
It can't be the real one, can it?

Perhaps... Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to look around a little, first.



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(- Don't come round tonight -)
(- Well, it's bound to take your life -)
(- There's a bad moon on the rise -)
 
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The dreams were becoming more frequent and more terrible the closer her ship traveled to Lustre. Sometimes, she dreamed of things that had come to pass. The light leaving her mother's eyes as Gabi beat her fists against the protective glass separating them. Elazar lowering his blaster from her face and turning his back on her, vanishing into a cloud of fire and smoke. The cheers of her shipmates as Titan disappeared on the distant horizon, tinted orange and pink by the setting sun. Others were the strangest visions that she couldn't begin to explain to anyone, least of all herself. She saw Elazar dead, eyes empty and staring, in a grand throne room at the feet of a cloaked man she knew only by reputation, not by face. She saw a man with gold skin extending his hand to her, and for reasons that eluded her she trusted him more than even Zama. But other times she saw the gold-skinned man dead at her feet, laying next to Elazar (the Emperor nowhere in sight this time), and her deep satisfaction at it terrified her.

Now, her worst fear confronted her: a Khivux settled in Zama's ear, feasting on his brain bit by bit. The whites of his eyes ran red with blood as he screamed at her to run.

She awoke by bolting upright in bed, covered in a sheen of sweat and tears, her own scream mangling her throat. She dragged her sleeve across her eyes and took several deep breaths. Everything was fine. Zama was fine. Elazar was probably also fine, although who the hell knew, really. The Emperor was worlds and worlds away. The Khivux were gone, and the gold-skinned man didn't even exist. She was dreaming of one only because she knew any Lustrians she met on this trip would look like that. Everything. Was. Fine. She continued to repeat this in her head until it was almost believable.

Once her heart rate had slowed to a normal pace, she swung her legs over the side of the bunk and crossed the room to the 'fresher. After a quick shower she headed to the cockpit and checked in on her ever-faithful droid, BD-13. "How much time is left until we arrive?" she asked, wincing at the rasp in her throat.

Five minutes, he chirped in a series of beeps and whirrs.

"Alright. Same drill as before. Do not come back for me until my signal." She paused and rested her hand atop its rather flat head. "Maybe we'll get lucky this time," she added in a softer tone, then turned and headed for the back of her small scouting ship.

In the back, she pulled on the New Resistance's standard-issue hardsuit over her normal attire, making sure that the chip containing a holovid from Zama was safely tucked in her pocket before zipping it closed. She strapped her blaster to one thigh and her knife to the other, though she knew the chances of actually using it were slim to none. It was more of a good luck charm than anything else. She eyed the disruptor rifle hanging on the wall for a brief moment, but ultimately decided it would be overkill in friendly airspace and left it be.

Minutes later, the ship dropped out of hyperspeed long enough to launch her from the hatch at its top and then disappeared just as quickly in a silent flash. She went to activate the HUD built into her helmet but paused as her gaze dropped to the salvage yard and planet beneath. For a moment, she forgot her mission and was awestruck by the sight of quicksilver clouds swirling atop a golden surface. Better than searching deep space by a long shot. She made a mental note to show it to BD when he returned for her.

She tore her eyes away from the planet's surface and refocused on the salvage yard. Pieces of scrap, all of varying shapes and sizes, floated lazily between larger pieces and even entire ships. It was difficult to tell with the naked eye which pieces of junk were taking the path she needed, so she activated the HUD and did a quick scan of the nearby debris. After a minute, she spotted it: a chunk of durasteel just big enough to hide behind. Before it had the chance to float out of range, she used a short burst from the jetpack on her back to propel into it and awkwardly wrapped her arms around it as best she could, praying nobody assigned to infrared had noticed her ship drop in briefly or the fact that someone in a New Resistance suit was clinging to a piece of old garbage. The secrecy and sneaking around probably wasn't necessary, as the New Resistance had made quite the name for itself here and anyone she came across would probably be quite happy to help, but she felt the fewer who knew about the objective of this mission, the better. She used her vantage point to scan the yard for any signs of her query, and after a few minutes her heart jumped into her throat and began beating rapidly. Finally, after months of following up on dead ends, there it was. The Cotopaxi was within reach.

After taking a deep breath, she again used a short burst from the jetpack to nudge the chunk of durasteel in the right direction, careful to stay on the opposite side from where she thought the base of operations for the salvage yard workers might be. Forcing herself to match the motions of the floating debris and not make a beeline straight for the ship was the ultimate test of her patience, but at last she was able to let the durasteel go and found herself floating just a few feet from the stenciled letters. She ran her fingers over it, doing her best to ignore the shaking of her hands and the tears rapidly forming at the corners of her eyes. How many years had it been?

Cry about it later, she admonished herself, then went to check if the boarding ramp was down. She found that it hadn't been disengaged properly, but time and the general wear of being in space for so long had caused a small gap to open, one just big enough for someone her size to squeeze through. Before going in, she activated the long-range comm built into her suit and said, "BD…you're not going to believe this. We found it." Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and continued. "Based on its appearance, I'd say it's been here for a long time. Alert the Resistance quietly."

Maybe the smart thing would have been to wait for backup, but she couldn't help herself. Using a final burst from her jetpack, she propelled herself through the gap and inside, completely unaware of the fact that the ship had caught someone else's eye, too.
 
if i'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?
my tears ricochet
The dreams were becoming more frequent and more terrible the closer her ship traveled to Lustre. Sometimes, she dreamed of things that had come to pass. The light leaving her mother's eyes as Gabi beat her fists against the protective glass separating them. Elazar lowering his blaster from her face and turning his back on her, vanishing into a cloud of fire and smoke. The cheers of her shipmates as The INS Ophelia disappeared on the distant horizon, tinted orange and pink by the setting sun. Others were the strangest visions that she couldn't begin to explain to anyone, least of all herself. She saw Elazar dead, eyes empty and staring, in a grand throne room at the feet of a cloaked man she knew only by reputation, not by face. She saw a man with gold skin extending his hand to her, and for reasons that eluded her she trusted him more than even Zama. But other times she saw the gold-skinned man dead at her feet, laying next to Elazar (the Emperor nowhere in sight this time), and her deep satisfaction at it terrified her.

Now, her worst fear confronted her: a Khivux settled in Zama's ear, feasting on his brain bit by bit. The whites of his eyes ran red with blood as he screamed at her to run.

She awoke by bolting upright in bed, covered in a sheen of sweat and tears, her own scream mangling her throat. She dragged her sleeve across her eyes and took several deep breaths. Everything was fine. Zama was fine. Elazar was probably also fine, although who the hell knew, really. The Emperor was worlds and worlds away. The Khivux were gone, and the gold-skinned man didn't even exist. She was dreaming of one only because she knew any Lustrians she met on this trip would look like that. Everything. Was. Fine. She continued to repeat this in her head until it was almost believable.

Once her heart rate had slowed to a normal pace, she swung her legs over the side of the bunk and crossed the room to the 'fresher. After a quick shower she headed to the cockpit and checked in on her ever-faithful droid, BD-13. "How much time is left until we arrive?" she asked, wincing at the rasp in her throat.

Five minutes, he chirped in a series of beeps and whirrs.

"Alright. Same drill as before. Do not come back for me until my signal." She paused and rested her hand atop its rather flat head. "Maybe we'll get lucky this time," she added in a softer tone, then turned and headed for the back of her small scouting ship.

In the back, she pulled on the New Resistance's standard-issue hardsuit over her normal attire, making sure that the chip containing a holovid from Zama was safely tucked in her pocket before zipping it closed. She strapped her blaster to one thigh and her knife to the other, though she knew the chances of actually using it were slim to none. It was more of a good luck charm than anything else. She eyed the disruptor rifle hanging on the wall for a brief moment, but ultimately decided it would be overkill in friendly airspace and left it be.

Minutes later, the ship dropped out of hyperspeed long enough to launch her from the hatch at its top and then disappeared just as quickly in a silent flash. She went to activate the HUD built into her helmet but paused as her gaze dropped to the salvage yard and planet beneath. For a moment, she forgot her mission and was awestruck by the sight of quicksilver clouds swirling atop a golden surface. Better than searching deep space by a long shot. She made a mental note to show it to BD when he returned for her.

She tore her eyes away from the planet's surface and refocused on the salvage yard. Pieces of scrap, all of varying shapes and sizes, floated lazily between larger pieces and even entire ships. It was difficult to tell with the naked eye which pieces of junk were taking the path she needed, so she activated the HUD and did a quick scan of the nearby debris. After a minute, she spotted it: a chunk of durasteel just big enough to hide behind. Before it had the chance to float out of range, she used a short burst from the jetpack on her back to propel into it and awkwardly wrapped her arms around it as best she could, praying nobody assigned to infrared had noticed her ship drop in briefly or the fact that someone in a New Resistance suit was clinging to a piece of old garbage. The secrecy and sneaking around probably wasn't necessary, as the New Resistance had made quite the name for itself here and anyone she came across would probably be quite happy to help, but she felt the fewer who knew about the objective of this mission, the better. She used her vantage point to scan the yard for any signs of her query, and after a few minutes her heart jumped into her throat and began beating rapidly. Finally, after months of following up on dead ends, there it was. The Cotopaxi was within reach.

After taking a deep breath, she again used a short burst from the jetpack to nudge the chunk of durasteel in the right direction, careful to stay on the opposite side from where she thought the base of operations for the salvage yard workers might be. Forcing herself to match the motions of the floating debris and not make a beeline straight for the ship was the ultimate test of her patience, but at last she was able to let the durasteel go and found herself floating just a few feet from the stenciled letters. She ran her fingers over it, doing her best to ignore the shaking of her hands and the tears rapidly forming at the corners of her eyes. How many years had it been?

Cry about it later, she admonished herself, then went to check if the boarding ramp was down. She found that it hadn't been disengaged properly, but time and the general wear of being in space for so long had caused a small gap to open, one just big enough for someone her size to squeeze through. Before going in, she activated the long-range comm built into her suit and said, "BD…you're not going to believe this. We found it." Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and continued. "Based on its appearance, I'd say it's been here for a long time. Alert the Resistance quietly."

Maybe the smart thing would have been to wait for backup, but she couldn't help herself. Using a final burst from her jetpack, she propelled herself through the gap and inside, completely unaware of the fact that the ship had caught someone else's eye, too.


(Notes: Zama is Dina for uncle.
Picture of BD-13.
Pictures of Gabi's blaster and knife.)
cursing my name, wishing i stayed...
Code by Jenamos
 
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Alien Race: Lustrians
Home planet: Lustre
Territory:
the Lustrians have mining and financial interests in several systems, but only have full control of four systems: Lustre, Shockri-la, Freezeweld and Kavor's Rage.
Lustre - The Lustrian homeworld. A forge world steeped in a golden sky, bedecked with silver clouds. Enormous forge-complexes smatter the surface, with factory-farmed seas covering 60% of the planet's surface. The Capital - Crossweld, a great fortification-circled tower containing the beating beuraucratic heart of the Lustrian Oligarchy.
Shockri-La - The first Lustrian colony, The main world of this system is a moon orbiting a gas giant named Sanhim just outside the goldilocks zone of the Red supergiant star at the centre of the system. To facilitate terraforming and life on the moon Shockri-La has a complicated system of stellar mirrors orbiting the gas giant with it, heating the surface of the once-frozen moon. Shockri-La is the location the Lustrians made their first contact: with the Folk-Of-Storms, a race of gas giant dwellers.
Freezeweld - freezeweld is a ringmoon built around an Ice giant (a planet similar to Uranus or Neptune). The planet the ring is built around is named Blue-Eye. This system is the main source of water, ammonia and methane supplies for Lustrian industry elsewhere.
Kavor's Rage - A series of permanent asteroid habitats and shipyards, Kavor's Rage is a once-pirate controlled system that gained the ire of the entrie Lustrian race after they assaulted an unarmed colony ship. Kavor, a once anonymous Lustrian that lost his family in the attack, rose through the ranks of the Lustrian government at a meteoric pace, eventually attaining a place on the counsel and visiting a three decade long crusade of vengeance against all pirates anywhere near Lustrian space. Kavor is credited as being the first Lustrian to truly turn the entirety of Lustrian manufacturing capability to wartime ends, the policies and wartime protocol penned by the man himself are still referenced by modern generals and war ministers today, and Kavor's single-minded rage is the reason pirates in the sector tend to avoid unarmed Lustrian ships to this day.


Culture:
A former bastion of collectivism, Lustrians underwent a cultural revolution after Human first contact.
Specifically the Resistance message sparked a heated debate amongst the Lustrian people, with a powerful wave of Individualism and advocacy for personal freedoms becoming a new school of thought for the formerly almost eusocial Lustrian people. Thankfully the change in mindset did not cause too much division in the Lustrian population, and they managed to weather the storm of social change with surprising adaptability.
Nowadays the Lustrian people tend to try and find a harmony between the need of the one and the needs of the whole. Lustrians are fiercely loyal to the Lustrian government; The ruling elite of the Lustrian people, named the Council, along with all upper-oligarchs, undergo a brain surgery named "The Oath" upon being sworn in to public service that restructures their brain to consider all Lustrians as members of their immediate family. Between this treatment and careful AI assistance processes, the Lustrians have a little more luck avoiding the issue of corruption and greed in government positions.

The Lustrians are one of the main supporters of the Resistance on the galactic stage, however they are open to trade and diplomacy with the Empire.

The Lustrian language bears similarities to Braille when written and phonetically is a kind of flowing hyper-compact series of syllables, with new learners often struggling to catch their breath when talking to a native speaker.

History
Lustrians are an example of convergent evolution; their planet was superficially similar to earth, with some differences. in prehistory. Lustrians evolved from endurance hunters, much like humans, and developed in much the same way humans did, however early in the diaspora of Lustrians across Lustre an almost eusocial structure was selected for, causing the Lustrians to have a much larger family structure and a selfless attitude towards their communities.
Lustre has gone through many tribulations since then, and has been through multiple ecological and climate collapses throughout the years. Lustre bears the dubious honor of being one of the few home worlds that needed re-terraforming three times before the Lustrians eventually figured out how to avoid pollution and mass extinctions.
Lustrian recent history is heavily influenced by their first contact with humans in the early 5th millenia, as discussed in the culture section.
The Lustrian Territories were hit incredibly hard by the Khivux, with the close-knit nature of Lustrian life causing the parasites to spread like wildfire. A national day of mourning is held every year, with addresses from the Lustrian Oligarchy often falling into despondence and angry reiterations of promises to send military assets to track down and exterminate all remaining Khivux in the galaxy.

Economy
Lustre and it's sister systems are known as centers for production, with the main exports being consumer electronics, spacecraft, and complicated alloys. Imports include food, such as non-fish protein products, desserts and snack foods, along with organic chemicals and terraforming machinery.

Military
Kavor's Rage houses the majority of Lustrian offensive capability, a force that, while it does not match the Empire's numbers, is well equipped and trained enough that it may give the Empire pause if it seeks to take any Lustrian territory.
Lustre itself is host to five gigantic PolyArmament Defense satellites, recently refitted to modern standards. These giant orbital batteries are capable of outputting anything from railgun blasts and missiles through to plasma lances and laser batteries.

Technology
Lustrians are industry leaders in material sciences and artificial reasoning. Lustrian AIs are built from the ground up to be "part of the family", so much so that many lustrian AI are granted citizenship and wages for the work they complete.
Lustrians are behind on terraforming and climate science, to an almost embarrassing extent.
Most Lustrian ships are fitted with loud but fast Wormhole drives, with ships focusing on rapid response, overwhelming first strikes, and other sudden assault tactics.

Preferred Climate/environment
Lustrians have a metabolistic need for argon, as it's non-volatile and un-combinative nature allows it to be part of the process that cleans away a naturally occurring Lustrian hormone called Toxicant-Fixing Ludrenaline.
Lustrians breathing Argonless air will get Lethargic and breathless after a couple of minutes, begin showing symptoms of hepatic shutdown within ten, unconsciousness coming after around 40 minutes and death occuring in around an hour.
However this Ludrenaline allows the Lustrian respiratory system to withstand a lot more punishment than humans of similar size. Particulates, Carbon monoxide, ammonia gas, and sulfurous fumes are middling irritants, rather than a mortal threat. Thus Lustrians are far more resistant than humans to diseases like black lung,

Appearance
Lustrian skin is a flecked dusty gold. It is theorized that this allowed early Lustrians to blend in with the smog of golden argon-based mist on their planet.
Lustrian eyes are similar to human eyes, with a white sclera and black round pupil, but their irises are usually either red, brown or gold, or some mixture or midpoint between.


~~contributed by Pigiron
 
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elAzAr : weApons mAster

Sihor pi potuna deget. Yicican dul ilelugor semevel ne. Utitim sale we orowen tarolo acisofey ret towepe xaseman. Senane yib rare lede darumi cemeyi! Pobe sateti atalose rini vu gabul idotepi. Onemep umovil ovit deto nerad neleheb gimieten sagoy adekien ribolal! Upal anorer nole bin lepet lege ron cum ne! Hes si citah deti mesaler tel ren ga! Var cup damewu cuda ha rocelar gate; kenat ce fie gana seco. Teco upieli qa toxe cates gosas li pocopir. Hosesun hitu pol toce uyinere seri age. Nepa tepe meb wi aniru ho. Bifop lalax cup roy. Ikahitac rabewey ataceno ramu.

Mi sonam ece ho atay patevin xuhelo tis. La esanie ribopar ohado po letota axacayom ahetenol qorori. Edi yay rarona. Nal corasal etit retisic nar terakit. Rir pel detite sosep nuluc tiem soyere yevuc yah? Line tuper zolur yosoti ho. Pi xecol felo usa enosi ri emirecen toniric. Aya ninu mar iduh sarat noc la; torar adogo so isinowud! Leco aba pad. Iyiponeg yeta juma begara eyadute asato, honoc cu sieminec quhare rim ohihele. Non ragape tatutur te letar iwuze le tusec. Pohe fe sel hew. Ienerub tiredev ber lohakon toy lo ieti iric kalumaf uvienotas, ropit tage eliegawe icetage bidehe! Royuto peg pitener ina; te aruxodas leyenes pe anomig.

Nobene nado yarido ruri ieye asiresir tedene! Ni nili ler. Binos su nieril usasie yicaga opoca tad roribac? Ocutano no ner. Ocafu icilun unibot taxe cediena hu ulecafay. Onehulig diep cud polimec efunage sielare dilire osopaduc; cisepa rup kelocab amage. Sedo nace nayo bim timiro rac ihe ene iyir. Lu pap sewi olel lecey rilor doroner tat. Edete wiyali no sit lu! Fum cewe lamut se fuc ofasa noyu tudo. Taberul ye melid oyihien domoda torosof misa la tew ape. Uto keya ulapil yone.

Xo oresenuc ret.

Rereda telelo rananac ri onis anohot. Citecog wo emacie gineri fie. Se etori ohir ducuhi tis parasos ten raru. Necira doni soni fuced! Wirayap enep na ya to oteditas: Cadod penesip segev ne yesome pubelon ne be iha esilena! Ne la hanieto toliko ehe begat anehe uvanu nadahim rehes.

Nan tet bol tepa; bit re tuli: Rirati delam ienerite le lam omipel. Sadeh amobeva lat; devegac sit ralak nela te, lunule terir esoduf osos atudes ledise holohet cege cineno atalu. Ugemepu gon uveday be ne tepevo. Pehoged oteyay pi orug laletiv lorati vevere ienod! Hulisag ter nariseh lunar cot so batasos ture totopot apogariel. Re eces re etune tum mu ca: Dipun otere yowide mehale oye sodiwi satir reri.

Satocis nosaci menitel wahac sas ges. Bilepat piwe cawie tetaha gon rusibih aje na. Dil ge fiti: No gif ieyutetie baneri enuki bo nocic nogib yit bine. Yera le hebo nuye enoromer icisu ezen. Ilopomis lutu se lig ril netur. Yalec del oracit.

Te cate lemamat rosob ri ehituhin hedi la. Tanis rino esowelal. Nel kes fones ni, ane rebe ilena: Seg kebeleh unumune cuma. Miyule tob curovo kiemel roni rur gahutos atelu. Le erelu ge hoteref. Emahut oyorepet asi! Nepov comali honieyin esiesorieb! Begaw digo himori, arati menir icelade nipawe woha ihokali oter dice rota; exatige azimi na giehu tifida latafu eli eto kitu mote. Asiyute araho tihisic ne vone so refie hesipeb. Riweda ehiyocu itesosem. Ta huhidal cera ocot ce nite. Sok seyetay redarem uvot genis cocalem hel lecason eminatem ne! Lir setan xeca.
 
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(This is the way-too-long version. final version below.)
Perseus Galatea, son of Orion Galatea. That's how Perseus has been known his entire life. Since childhood, Perseus has had great expectations placed on him, living in the shadow of his polymath father, Orion Galatea, the man's ambassadorship responsible for the historic Lustrian connection to the Resistance, war hero, recipient of numerous prizes for contributions to the fields of robotics, astronautics and genetics. A hero of his people.
Orion's four children, engineered from genetic information from himself and his human wife Layla, Are yet another example of Orion's polymath genius; a triumph of Xeno-compatibility. Not simply hybrids, they are children of a fully compatible genetic base, fully compatible, that is, with both Humans and Lustrians.
With Perseus being the eldest, but all his siblings being born talented and intelligent as their father and mother, life was a constant struggle for his father's attention. Orion greatly encouraged any path his children showed true dedication to, but four children and a million projects meant only so much dad-time was available.
Infuriatingly, Orion was an amazing father. Even when the entire family had to evacuate Lustre while the children were very young, no project was so important that Orion couldn't take the time to read his children a bedtime story every night, without fail, until they were old enough to want privacy at bedtime. No foreign ambassador so vital to meet that he missed a single birthday party or science fair.
When Layla disappeared, leaving the family without a mother, Orion stepped up, doing everything he could to ease the grief of the children, despite having lost so much himself.
The most aggravating thing about the whole affair is there is just no reason to be angry with him.
And yet, despite all that, despite his brother and sisters finding fame and acclaim in various fields at ridiculously young ages, despite having all the support he could possibly need, Perseus failed.
When he was young, he said he wanted to be a doctor. Then an astrogator. Then a marine biologist. But really, he didn't know what he wanted, aside from the kind of attention his siblings got with their amazing talent, the young prodigies steadily growing to peek from their father's shadow;

Ophiuchus, younger than Perseus by a single year. Skipped years of schooling so fast it made Perseus' head spin. By the age of 22 he was part of the group of state scientists responsible for a new metamaterial named Arumite, a form of ship armour that could react to laser fire in seconds, altering its refractive index to resist laser fire almost as well as a high-power shield, at a fraction of the power cost. These days he's working on alloys for megastructures. Space elevators at a fraction of the cost. There are whispered talks of a Lustrian version of the Dyson sphere.

Aquila and Libra, the wonder twins - The two women, younger than Perseus by three years, famous at seventeen throughout the galaxy for customizing and flying a ship that blasted through several realspace speed records, With Aquila rapidly becoming a goliath in the astronautical engine tuning scene and her twin sister Libra being widely regarded as one of the most capable pilots in the galaxy.

It was during a trip off-world to see one of Ophiuchus's feats of genius that the inspiration for passion finally hit.
He was 19, his brother was already so accomplished, his sisters showing sparks of brilliance far beyond his own, but finally, Perseus knew.
He had been watching an engineering show about ship building. Not the fragile, mad things that his sisters worked on, but the stalwart, dependable tankers that ferried ammonia and methane from the Lustrian colonies to the homeworld.
Perseus spent that week poring over blueprints and design documents. He had so many ideas; efficiency and reliability improvements, real, valuable stuff. It might not be galaxy-shattering stuff, but it was his.

Becoming a Lustrian shipwright, one who fully grasps the dual aptitudes of engineering and architecture needed by the craft was a long road, and Perseus never had the extra-ordinary spark for learning Ophiuchus had; Perseus read and reread the material for the qualifications, carving it into his brain a page at a time.
But after a strenuous six years he stood, graduating from his studies, taking the prestigious oath of the engineer in front of the counsel.
After he graduated, the job offers assaulted him like a swarm of piranhas on a lamb chop. Great expectations were placed on him from all directions; his professors, the Lustrian governmental organisation he joined, even his family were blowing up his comms with messages that read like congratulations but felt like deadlines. Rapidly the dream became a nightmare. Desperation to be exceptional became paralyzing fear; perfectionism strangling ideas in their cribs; anxiety reaching a fever pitch. Trouble sleeping. Mistakes. Mistakes that fed into panic that fed into more mistakes until-
A big mistake. An oversight in a hull design that would have seen ships shear themselves in half well under redline stress. Between this and the compounded pattern of growing sloppiness, not even his family's reputation could save him. He washed out. Washed up. Burned out at 25.
His career ended with disappointment from everyone he spoke to. He couldn't face his family. Not as a failure.
Perseus stopped attending family gatherings. He knew what their reactions would be; the soft hesitancy of his sisters, trying to avoid humiliating him. The awkward silences with his brother.
Not being able to look his father in the eye.

A few months of failure job searching. Perseus had gained a reputation as the black sheep of the Galatea family.
Where the rest of the family turns everything they touch to gold, everything Perseus touched turned to shit.
Eventually, Perseus found himself on UBI, hiding out in a backwater fish-farm town, the habitation towers stinking of saltwater. Perseus fell into the habit of drowning his sadness, contemplating what might have been.
At his lowest point, in that tiny apartment in an out-of-the-way part of Lustre, Perseus opened the window, barely large enough to squeeze through, and looked out, breathing deep the smog. He's still not sure what made him step back inside.

Shortly after that, his father tracked him down. Orion had been looking for months, apparently. Pulled strings in the government, hired some private investigators.
The two men sat down amongst the bottles. Both tried to speak a few times, until:
"I'm sorry for making you feel like you had to be... Me. I'm sorry... I just want you to be happy. Take a break, if you need it. The Galaxy will be there when you get back. You don't have to be anything. Just be you. I love you. Orph and the girls love you. Whatever you do, if you like it, I like it." They spoke deep into the night. Perseus cried. Orion cried. Eventually Perseus agreed to move back in with his father for a while, no matter how much it stung.

Later, he realised how close he had come to letting the bottles drown him.

No longer paralyzed by the spectre of failure, having already hit rock bottom, Perseus looked for simple, honest work.
On his 26th birthday, he left the Galatea household once again. But this time, he travelled up.
The orbital salvage yard was happy to have a graduate. they usually took washouts from the Engineering academia. In turn, Perseus found a place where he could prove his competency in an environment that felt positively low stress, even when he was juggling reactors on the cusp of meltdown. He found friends there. People he didn't have to worry about expecting the impossible from him. He could do good work, cutting up those old ships. Steadily, self-worth began to take root. His knowledge of ships and their architecture, from the computers to the plumbing, made his yard the most productive in orbit.

Still, every now and again, Perseus pauses in his work, and gazes up at the stars, thinking about what it would be like to build something, and ride out to dance among them.
 

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Name: Perseus Galatea
Age: 26
Race: Lustrian
Home system/Planet/town: A larger residential district on Lustre called Araforge. He grew up in his father's property, which is several floors of one of the nicer habitation towers.
Chosen ship: The Cotopaxi
Rank: Chief Engineer
Personality:
Direct and Unsubtle: Perseus does not stand on ceremony and says what he thinks when asked. Certainly not a yes man. This has got him in trouble before. Perseus also tends not to keep secrets and is terrible at lying, and knows it. Terrible at poker.
Collaborative: Perseus loves to teach, to show people things and make connections over shared knowledge. He loves the feeling of a plan coming together and has long dreamt of building a ship with a group of friends or colleagues.
Trouble-shooter: Perseus is a problem addict. If there is an issue that piques his interest, he's been known to only take breaks to sleep.

Bio:
Perseus Galatea, son of Orion and Layla Galatea. Half Lustrian, half human. With a father known far and wide as a famous inventor, diplomat and war hero, Perseus has been living in a great man's shadow his entire life. Growing up as the eldest of four, especially after his mother was lost to the Khivux, felt like a constant struggle for his father's attention. However, regardless how busy he was, Orion still had time for all his children. No project was so important that Orion couldn't take the time to read his children a bedtime story every night. Ophiuchus, the second eldest, is Perseus' only brother. He was touted as a genius from a very young age and works on Lustre developing materials to be used in megastructures. Aquila and Libra are the two youngest: twin sisters that got into spacecraft tuning and racing at 17 and have broken numerous realspace speed records since.
Naturally, Perseus felt a lot of pressure early in his life to be extraordinary, with such talented family surrounding him. His brother and sisters found fame and acclaim in various fields at ridiculously young ages, so Perseus felt like a failure for not being a supergenius.
Eventually Perseus found what he thought was his calling; becoming a Lustrian shipwright, a role that blends ship engineering and development.
After a strenuous six years he graduated from his studies, and job offers came in droves. Great expectations were placed on him from all directions; his professors, the organisation he joined, even his family were blowing up his comms with messages that read like congratulations but felt like deadlines. Rapidly the dream became a nightmare. Desperation to be exceptional became paralyzing fear; perfectionism strangling ideas in their cribs; anxiety reaching a fever pitch. Trouble sleeping. Mistakes. Mistakes that fed into stress that quickly turned to panic that fed into more mistakes until-
A big mistake. An oversight in a hull design that would have seen ships shear themselves in half well under redline stress. Between this and the compounded pattern of growing sloppiness, not even his family's reputation could save him. He washed out. Washed up. Burned out at 24.
He couldn't face his family. Not as a failure.

A few months of failed job searching later, and a frazzled Perseus had gained a reputation as the black sheep of the Galatea family. Where the rest of the family turns everything they touch to gold, everything Perseus touched turned to shit.
Eventually, Perseus found himself on Universal Basic Income, hiding out in a backwater fish-farm town, the habitation towers stinking of saltwater. Perseus fell into the habit of drowning his sadness, contemplating what might have been. It was a dark time.

Eventually though, his father tracked him down. They spoke deep into the night. Perseus cried. Orion cried. Eventually Perseus agreed to move back in with his father for a while, no matter how much it stung.

Later, he realised how close he had come to letting the bottles drown him.

No longer paralyzed by the spectre of failure, having already hit rock bottom, Perseus looked for simple, honest work.
On his 25th birthday, he left the Galatea household once again. But this time, he travelled up.
The orbital salvage yard was happy to have a graduate. they usually took washouts from Engineering academia. In turn, Perseus found a place where he could prove his competency in an environment that felt positively low stress, even when he was juggling reactors on the cusp of meltdown. He found friends there. People he didn't have to worry about expecting the impossible from him. He could do good work, cutting up those old ships. Steadily, self-worth began to take root. His knowledge of ships and their architecture, from the computers to the plumbing, made his yard the most productive in orbit.

Still, every now and again, Perseus pauses in his work, and gazes up at the stars, thinking about what it would be like to build something, and ride out to dance amongst them.

Appearance:
1657657289859.png

Puppet master: Pigiron
 
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Extended bios, which is all Pigiron's fault

Gabi
She was born to Jekyll Burnett and Stefon Ricmous in the year 5005, in the early days of the old Resistance's conflict with the Empire. She has an identical twin, Hyde Jr. (notoriously known as Elazar these days), though she keeps this fact hidden from everyone. Her early childhood was unique, to say the least, as she grew up on The Cotopaxi surrounded by its crew. Everything changed, of course, the day the Khivux arrived. Her mother was a research scientist and as such was one of the first to attempt to study them. The attempt led to her being infected and isolated in a quarantine room aboard the ship. Her father, who had always thought more with his heart than his head, insisted on being with her in her final moments, which led to his being infected as well. Gabi watched her mother die from the other side of the glass, and her father less than 24 hours later. She had just turned nine.

There was only one person Jekyll had entrusted her children with: her beloved older brother, Hyde. It was her final wish that he take care of the twins, so he did the best he could with all of his other responsibilities. Any personal time he had, he devoted to Gabi and Hyde Jr. They stayed with him aboard the Coto at all times, as he believed that was where they were most safe. After all, everyone he trusted and loved were aboard that ship. There, they learned about their interests. Hyde Jr. found he was best at combat while Gabi found she was best at sneaking around and overhearing conversations the adults didn't necessarily want her in on. The twins stayed close as they grew from children into teenagers, even if Gabi had a feeling that her brother wasn't always honest with her about what was happening both to him and in his head. Any precious time they had planetside they spent as a family on Zhar, which Gabi considers her home. She knows very little about Dinaxis, as most of the knowledge about it died with her parents, and she's never seen it with her own eyes.

When the twins turned 18, Hyde Sr. offered them a choice: they could stay with him aboard the Cotopaxi if they wished and continue fighting the Khivux, or they could pursue other opportunities such as education. Hyde Jr. took him up on the latter and disappeared for a brief time. Gabi stayed and continued to shadow her uncle, if for no other reason than wanting to cling to the family she had both in him and in the crew. She tried convincing Hyde Jr. to stay, to no avail. In the end, she knew she'd made the right choice: watching the last of the Khivux being wiped from the galaxy with her uncle at her side remains her favorite memory to this day. She was 19 at the time.

After the Khivux had been defeated, Hyde Jr. returned. He wouldn't say where he'd been, but she could see a fundamental change in her brother that frightened her. It wasn't just his appearance - it was his personality, his aura, for lack of a better word. There was an edge to him that hadn't been there before. Rumors began to swirl that he'd disappeared to avoid the final battle, to avoid helping the cause. That he didn't want to be a part of it, that he'd betrayed them all. It was nonsense, of course. Gabi knew that. But Hyde Jr. took it all to heart and allowed the resentment to build. It all exploded on the day of the Galactic peace summit. For reasons that Gabi still doesn't fully understand, her brother lost his temper and started a small skirmish towards the end of negotiations. To her shock and dismay, he sided with Empire sympathizers, all the while blaming their uncle for the rumors that had been going around about him. She tried to calm him down, but it ended with her being knocked to the ground and with a blaster pointed at her nose. That was the last time she saw him. Afterwards, he took up residence on the Empire's home planet, and re-emerged a few years later as Elazar, though few on the Resistance side recognize him with the mask.

With her brother gone and her uncle permanently exiled on Zhar, Gabi has spent the last few years feeling lost and purposeless. Somehow, helping her uncle when he needed it turned into a legacy and a legend that she feels she shoulders alone. She has started to resent it somewhat, and is starting to understand why her brother ran from it. She rarely tells anyone her last name these days. Most of her free time over the last two years has been spent bouncing from planet to planet on the edge of the galaxy, doing low-profile espionage work, when she stumbled across something startling: the Empire was starting to recruit again. She went straight to Hyde with this knowledge, who helped her put together a crew, some new faces and some old, quietly. They've been countering this move by the Empire in as much secret as they can, and two months ago her new captain sent her to find The Cotopaxi, which had been lost after the summit.

For weapons, she carries a knife of Dina origin that her father left to her, her uncle's old blaster, and a disruptor rifle that her brother helped her build. She also possesses a rare Dina ability known as suthasa, or the ability to see potential futures through dreaming. However, she has no idea that the ability has a name or even exists. So far, she's mostly been able to explain events away as coincidences, but she may not be able to keep that up for much longer.
 
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Elazar
Elazar was born as Hyde Burnett Jr. in the early days of the old Resistance's conflict with the Empire. He remembers his parents fondly: his mother as a kind but distracted research scientist and his father as a devoted father and mate. His twin sister, of course, was his best friend. They told each other everything. Of course, nothing good can stay forever, and his world began to crumble the day the Khivux came. The day his mother got sick was the day the first seed of resentment was planted in his heart. He couldn't believe that she would risk losing her life, losing her children when they were still so young, all for...what? To understand something they should all run very far away from? All he could do was sit slumped on the floor and watch as his sister beat her fists against the glass, tears streaming down her face. After their parents had passed, he held his sister as she cried her eyes out, no tears falling from his own eyes. He was too angry at them to grieve.

Hyde Jr. knew that his mother's final wish had been for his namesake to take care of them, and so he tried to put on a brave face and make the best of a bad situation. However, he found that as he grew from a child to an adolescent that he simply did not understand Hyde Sr. The man was far too kind and patient, giving crew members second chances where they didn't necessarily deserve them. And worst of all, he never quite seemed to believe that some of the younger, pluckier recruits would go out of their way to pick on Hyde Jr. They wanted to see if he could live up to the reputation of being a Burnett, and so as a result he learned to defend himself early on. He knew Gabi thought it was a natural preference he had, like she did for spying, and he simply didn't have the heart to correct her. After all, he didn't possess the natural charisma that she and his uncle seemed to. Instead, he kept most of it to himself and let others make any assumptions they wanted about any injuries he received. In fact, by the time Hyde Sr. realized something serious was going on, it was too late - Hyde Jr. just shrugged and said he could handle it. And in truth, the older and stronger he grew, the easier it became. Apparently he'd lived up to his name just fine, and had earned the begrudging respect of the other crew mates.

On their 18th birthday, when Hyde Sr. offered them the choice to leave or stay, it was a no-brainer for Hyde Jr. He'd heard that the Dina Amor had a deadly form of hand-to-hand combat they favored, and he was dying to know more despite his uncle's warnings that the planet was dangerous and best to be avoided. And so he set off for Dinaxis without telling anyone, promising silently that what he learned would help him protect both himself and his sister. Dinaxis was just as unforgiving as Hyde Sr. had said and more. However, in the two years that he lived amongst the nomadic tribes he learned a great deal. When he returned home, his skill would be unparalleled and he could take over for the old man who was currently weapons master. He could pass on what he had learned to others. He could finally make a difference in the conflict with the Khivux. As his training neared completion, however, he received word that it was all over. It put a bit of a damper on his plans, but he still returned to The Cotopaxi to ensure that his family was safe and well.

The last thing he expected to see in Gabi's eyes was fear. And yet when they reunited, it was written all over her face. He hadn't changed that much during his time on Dinaxis...had he? The ice planet had been the first place he felt he could call home after the death of his parents. He'd like the trips to Zhar they'd taken whey they were kids, sure, but it wasn't home. Not like Dinaxis was now. Being with his people had satisfied some primal part of him that he couldn't properly explain to anyone. He felt awake for the first time in years. As he reintegrated into life on the Coto, he could see that his sister's reaction to the changes in him wasn't unique. Everyone avoided him, even those he thought he could call friends. Hardly anyone would look him in the eye, so he kept himself and trained alone most day. It only took a couple of days of him being back for the rumors to start: that he'd disappeared to avoid the final battle, to avoid helping the cause. That he didn't want to be a part of it, that he'd betrayed them all.

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. He'd left them to help!

Hyde Sr. and Gabi took his side, of course, but that did very little to stop rumors. After all, that's what everyone expected them to do. One night, he couldn't take it anymore. He took a small shuttle to the closest planet to get a breath of fresh air. While he was drinking his sorrows away at a bar, he was abducted and taken to the Emperor of all people. It was like the Emperor could read his mind: he knew all about his resentments, his fears, his training, and now the discord that his reappearance on The Cotopaxi had caused. He sympathized with him in a way nobody else did, not even his own sister. He told him of the paradise that could be his if he began to work for the Empire. After all, the days of the Resistance were limited - the entire organization was about to be extinct. Everything he'd gone away to learn, wasted. Unless...

As the following days went by, Hyde Jr. was wildly indecisive about what to do. Should he tell anyone what had happened? Did the Emperor have a point? It all came to a head at the final round of negotiations. He couldn't believe how stubborn the Resistance was being now that their existence was basically no longer needed. The Empire had agreed to every major concession they'd wanted. In the end, all it took was a smirk from the wrong person, one of the recruits who'd given him trouble when he'd been a teenager. The years and years of resentment spilled out into one terrifying moment of zero self-control. He saw red, and when he came to himself again he was pointing his blaster at his sister.

He couldn't bear the shame. His fate was now decided, and he disappeared with the Emperor. Now, he is Elazar. He firmly believes he has killed any sentimental part of himself that once stood for the Resistance and for his family. Now, he lives to train and to develop weapons in the event that another attack against the Empire is launched. He considers the captain of his ship his mentor, along with the Emperor himself.
 
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We Want Order.

Name: Velshia Tordren

Age: 29

Race: Deskasra

Home system/Planet/town: Caldros System: 3rd​ Planet from the sun Velkof: Village Felshial. The Caldros System sits deep in the Shoe-Horn Nebula. A relatively new nebula that is particularly dense and difficult to navigate. Even with proper sensors. Here dwells the Deskasra. A people with mild, broad psionic sensing. Who were, when they rose to the heavens, able to gradually find their way out into the wider galaxy. Rapidly running into Imperial scientists who had long held the nebula as an exciting study of a fresh solar nursery. Their traditional ways and strict sense of duty rapidly integrated themselves into Imperial thinking. Always willing to step above and beyond to do their duty. Tragically, due to the comparatively advanced technology of the Empire, much of the traditional technology of the Deskasra has simply been lost.

Chosen ship: INS Ophelia

Rank: Head of Informatics and Computer Systems (Specializes in slicing both into computers and into minds due to history as an Imperial Agent.)

Personality: Velshia, Vel to her friends, is one of exceptional calm. A stalwart pillar despite her relative lack of experience in the position. At least, if you went by the "official" dossier. She hums often; playing some aged song from her distant homeland across her mind that, more often than not, are hymnal in nature. Velshia has a pension for getting lost in her head. Losing the thread of conversation at random points. However, whenever she's on point, Velshia is quick to relay any critical information with thorough detail that was borderline bred into her from her training. Quietly underneath, even to herself, is an identity crisis waiting to happen. She has so often been a servant of the Emperor that the serious suggestion of being anything else, from a respected source of course, is bound to cause issue.

Bio: Velshia was born and raised for the explicit purpose of becoming an agent. There wasn't a choice in the matter. The empire had been wanting more agents and the Deskaran people made that want a demand. Not that she ever really had issue with this. It was her duty after all and, while other peoples may balk at such a regime, few understand the need. Across the worlds, there is suffering. And suffering can only be faced as one. These beliefs have been imprinted upon her for her entire life.

Velshia was removed from her birth family and given to a family consisting of retired agents. These parents immediately began the process of training her mind. Specifically, the ability to extract the thoughts of other individuals. Unwilling individuals. Long hours of meditation and just as many of practice. Discipline and control to lead to perfect and precise extraction. Picking apart defenses, sorting through lies to achieve the ultimate goal: the truth. When she became an adult, 23 standard years, she was shipped off to the academy on the First Imperial Ecumenopolis. As was the nature of her race, Velshia and her peers stood out in their interrogation scores. Yet, as a happy accident as she calls it, Velshia found a natural inclination for computer operations. Perhaps it was how she approached her mind reading, extraction process that lent herself to computers. In a word: methodical. Nothing too fast, considering the angles. Piece by piece, building and picking apart layers and layers of code to create and deploy programs to worm her way into any system. Outside of this, Velshia is seen as a fairly standard agent passing with fine marks by all her teachers.

From there she has served faithfully. Working her way through the ranks and was later "transferred" to more traditional naval operations onboard the INS Ophelia. Proper papers in hand, she walked onboard the vessel as the Head of Informatics and Computer Systems.

In her spare time, Velshia enjoys reading religious texts of all variants. She herself would've been a priestess of Cassadrel if she had remained with her birth family. A fact that even Velshia herself is unaware of. As this more liberal exploration of faith has yet to interfere with her prowess, no handler has seen fit to discourage her in this.

Velshia keeps her neural crown close to her at all times. Same with her X-3 standard blaster, kept secure on her hip with her basic slicing array of tools. Disguised as a common datapad. The more advanced set, sadly, has to remain in her quarters as it's a full pack that needs to be lugged around on her back and would, understandably, raise a few eyebrows if they were not aware of her origins with Imperial Intelligence.

Appearance:
1657675756156.png

Puppet master: Verran
 
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We Want Freedom

Name: Reginald Meadows

Age: 39

Race: Human

Home system/Planet/town: Orion - 57: City of Tander

Chosen ship: The Cotopaxi

Rank: Chief Medical Officer

Personality: Older than he ought to be. Least, that's how he sees it. Says that a lot too and is a damn dab hand at poker. Wry smoker but is a straight enough shooter when he's on the operating table and he's bloody in charge of that. Got two ears too so if you need to talk, he'll listen more than yammer.

Bio:
Reginald Meadows felt he led a fairly standard life for most of his life. Most of it… Lived in the core worlds. In his youth, he sought to become a medical researcher. A doctor even. With schooling and time, Reginald successfully got there when he was thirty years old. By then, he was married. Marian. Two kids already growing up on his income working in a pharmacy and Marian's job as a HR secretary, Jeremiah and Delilah. With his doctorate and experience in hand, family supporting him, and the future seeming wide open, despite the continuing Khivux invasion and the continued Paranoia War, Reginald launched applications across the planet.

After an exceptionally long background check, Reginald was accepted in as a medical researcher and Doctor at the Golden Emblem facility and hospital. At the time, he assumed the extensive check was due to the war. After all, sleeper agents could be anywhere. At the time. He dug into his work with gusto. Eager to be a part of the front that sought for a cure for the parasite plague. That was how he saw it, anyway.

Marian died. Reginald looks at a picture of his family. The one memento of his old life.

After the war came to a close and the accords signed, Reginald hoped for an era of peace to raise his two kids in. He lost himself in the task. Work becoming mindless and family becoming what he lived for. Yet, as the months went by, he gradually began to notice that his research projects, his work, drifted away from healing. From helping people. Suddenly, Reginald found himself neck deep in weapons research. And not just any. Biological terror. Doomsday devices to spread plague across entire systems. Some of death. Some, taking inspiration from the parasite, to dominate minds. Contingency devices. Every galactic entity had them. Right? That's what his superiors claimed, though he didn't ask them. Not directly. Reginald had enough sense to know that drawing too much attention to himself with questions was likely enough to draw the attention of Imperial Intelligence. And he had no desire to do that. His family would be safe, he felt, but not himself.

He could not remain, sadly. Not in good conscious. Nor, his gut whispered, could he simply back out. Reginald had seen too many classified files for too long to be allowed that. There was only one thing to do. Very carefully, Reginald began making contacts outside of the facility. Black market contacts. There he found an information broker and, after discerning the individuals capabilities and relative integrity, defected. Destroying countless databanks of information on his way out. While he assumed that everything had been backed up anyway, he hoped to slow the continued research into such horrific projects. After being sequestered safely away into the Resistance, the broker in question went to ground. For Reginald's part, if he's ever asked what he did before joining up, he feigns that he sold his memory of it to the broker as payment for getting out. Leaving his own mind blank about the affair. So long as the broker remains hidden and isolated from all communication, the truth will remain buried. Hopefully.

The man carries around his trauma kit whenever he's not in the medical facilities of The Cotopaxi. A picture of his family and a pack of cigarettes. Not much else. Fellow's not the fighting type.

Appearance:
1657683415776.png

Puppet master: Verran
 
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@Verran really like these profiles! Don't worry about Velshia's picture, it looks plenty sci-fi to me. It's awesome, love the vibe it gives!

If you want I'll give some more in depth grammatical and narrative feedback after I get home from work. Would you be ok with that?