The Sylvania Crew

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Ex Machina, Dec 16, 2015.

  1. [​IMG]


    The engines of the Sylvania rumble, a slight change in speed indicates the ship is slowing down. “ATTENTION! DESTINATION THRESHOLD. ATTENTION! DESTINATION THRESHOLD.” The Sylvania arrived at the periphery of the Zeta Reticuli System. A distant star like Earth’s sun, surrounded by orbiting planets.

    Ava, an android, worked the navigation system in the control room — She’s cunningly built, but no one would mistake her for a real human being. She types in a series of commands and within seconds the ship changes course, navigating in line toward Corinth Colony. She activates the shutters. She faces forward as the large metallic shutters vertically raises revealing a window. The entire forward bulkhead of the Bridge is a window: wall to wall, floor to ceiling. As the shutters raise she can see the shape and form of the planet Corinth. After a long moment she turns away. The ship’s nerve center and control room, remained empty and quiet, under the dimmed blue lights of the interior as she walks off.

    She walks the ship’s long central corridor. The ship is silent. The lights dimmed to blue. She is alone.

    The interior of the CRYOGENIC ROOM housed twelve plexiglass capsules, six on each side. Inside each sleeper freezer, are the shadowy shape of a human body rimed with frost. The smooth white crystalline frost begins to evaporate, and a form becomes clear. Ava is looking down on Armstrong whom is still asleep; Armstrong lies asleep in her underwear, her body is illuminated bright-yellow from the capsules lights. There are IV lines in her elbows and ankles. Ava looks at the monitor next to her capsule which shows a full body scan of Armstrong.

    Armstrong awakes, shaking from the cold, she looks around in confusion. Ava looks at her with her bright yellow goggles as if she is curiously studying her emotions.

    “Where am I?” Armstrong asked.

    “On board the Sylvania.” Ava replied. She introduced herself, and said, “Try to relax. Your mind and body are in a state of shock, as a result of stasis. All that is perfectly normal.”

    Ah. Ava the prototype. UniGen’s 80th series. One of a kind for now, but if she performs, she will be legion. It took a minute for Armstrong’s mind to reorients itself to the surroundings and recall her position again. She was June Armstrong, Director of Operations. And she was aboard the Sylvania, a Master-class star freighter.

    Armstrong sits-up on the edge of the capsule. She was still shivering, and her head felt like it can explode any minute. Ava gently wrapps a thermal blanket over Armstrong’s shoulders. It was soothingly warm. “Thank you, Ava.” She said.

    “My pleasure—” Ava leaves the shivering Armstrong and walks over to a control manual in the center of the room. She works the display monitor, moving intricate technical data across the surface with waves of her hand. Her eyes intent on what she sees. Reading at a speed no human could match. The eleven other cryogenic capsules open and the room is quickly illuminated yellow.

    “What’s our status?” Armstrong asked.

    “All systems are operational, ma’am. Oxygen levels at 100-per-cent. Automatic course set to Corinth Colony, estimated arrival time is six days, five hours and 31 minutes, to be precise—”

    Some of the crew begin to awake; a series of moans, groans and shocked whimpering comes from the opened capsules. However, one of the capsule is empty.

    Ava returns to Armstrong’s side. “There was one casualty, ma-am. Peter Norwick, the government inspector, died during hypersleep.” Ava looks toward the empty capsule. “I thought it prudent to remove the body first.”

    Armstrong closed her eyes disappointed. She will deal with this later, right now she wanted the pounding headache to cease. She stood up and lost her balance, if not for Ava’s quick reflexes, she would have fallen. “I’ll be fine." She forced herself on her own two feet. "Attend the crew, and ask the Doc to see me first thing.” She said, and slowly walked away.

    Ava turned on the heels of her boots. Some of the crew were already sitting up, others were puking their guts, and one of the Spec Op guys was doing pushups next to their capsule. “For the next several hours you’ll be feeling a constant sense of hunger, dehydration, weakness in your joints and limbs, and a mind grain. This means your blood has reprocessed and replaced the feline solution in your body. All that will pass. Drink plenty of water, drink plenty of fluids. Hydration aids muscle mass....”​
     
    #1 Ex Machina, Dec 16, 2015
    Last edited: Dec 17, 2015
  2. Doc
    "The Doc is already ahead of you. I'll meet you in the office after I check on these poor sods. I don't need another death before were even reach the goddamned planet." The seething anger and frustration was damn near palpable in the last sentence as the First Officer glared at Ava. That damned robot let a CIVILIAN die! Not only that, but he was vital part of this trip. If all their investors die, everyone would be out of a job and that blood would be on her hands. How in the hell was she supposed to explain that mess? Unfortunately for the remainder of the crew just trying to shake off the hyper sleep, they received the sharp end of her frustration. She examined each person in a systematic way: left to right, all around the room.

    "If you're out of your pod by the time I get to you, and you should be unless you're too busy fucking around, then stand where you are. Once I'm done checking you out, go to the Atrium and wait for the Captain's orders." Most winced under her rough ministrations as she poked, prodded, pulled and examined each member in turn. Once she deemed everyone was alright, she turned to leave, kicking that damned android with as much force as she could get away with (which wasn't much) before finally heading towards the rear of the ship to meet Armstrong.

    Connor
    "Well, she's just a big bundle of joy as usual, ain't she?" Connor was glad to see that his thick Irish accent had survived the test of space and time and still rolled off his tongue just as naturally as it had before. "Oi! Ya awake yet or not?" C'mon Mort, wake yer ass up before she comes back to give ya a stingin'. You know she has a sixth sense for bullshite." Connor attempted to punch his younger brother in the chest, consciously avoiding the metal of his arm, to rustle him up a bit, just for fun. They'd been asleep for far too long and he'd need to make up for the lost time. Later he might rub it in his face that he, Connor, had managed to wake up before him. Yeah, Little Mort would owe him a whole pint, he reckoned.
     
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  3. Carson Smallwood
    Pilot


    When you spend the majority of your life hopping from ship to ship, cryosleep becomes a regular part of your life. Out of the group, Carson Smallwood was one of the first to regain his composure and shake off the effects of suspended animation. Carson had been waking up from cryo since he could walk. At this point, waking up nearly naked and freezing was about as eventful as a trip to the dentist. He sat up, coughing mucus into a paper cup. As his senses slowly crawled back into perceivable recognition, his ears cleared what had at first been a muffled bark into the sound of the first officer yelling about something. He remained there wearing almost nothing as the doctor came and checked up on him, still yelling while he cleared his throat and spit the mucus that came up into the cup. He coughed a little more before he was able to speak,

    "Yeah, good mornin' to you too." He mumbled as the officer poked and prodded.

    He was on his feet as soon as the nausea faded away. Most of the others were still getting up. He stretched, loosening his stiff muscles, groaning at the slight pain in his back and knees. 'I might be getting a little too old for this,' he thought. Despite that possibility, he was clothed and wrapped in his jacket fairly quickly. He was on his way out when he gave a little wave to the android.

    "Mornin' Ava."

    Wishing good mornings after cryosleep was a both an inside joke and a tiny habit he'd picked up on the ship he grew up in. Everyone on it used to do it, so he still did it despite how tacky or hokey it might sound. And he was well aware that there were no mornings in space, as many had pointed out before. It was just a friendly wake-up call. As he walked down the hall towards the atrium, he gave the ship's wall a small rub and muttered,

    "Mornin' girl."



    Connor Stefanowicz
    Spec Ops 2


    Connor hated cryosleep. Being defenseless and unconscious for so long went against all the self-taught ideas he'd programmed into himself. Anything could happen while you slept. He wasn't worried about dying of some heart defect or some weakness like the investor had, no, not him. He was 100% GV-22 material and a guy like him doesn't die from bodily weakness. No, he was worried about someone, anyone, taking advantage and snuffing him out while he slept. Cryosleep or regular sleep, it didn't matter, but at least with regular sleep you weren't stuck in a pod. And you didn't always feel like shit when you woke up.

    For a guy who didn't like cryosleep (or at least, didn't like it more than people usually disliked it) he recovered rather quickly although quite violently. He threw standard medical procedure out the window and tried to walk within seconds of waking up. His walk turned into a stumble and a fall at the foot of his pod. He grunted and swore as he fit the floor. He wriggled around for a little before he slapped both palms against the cold ship flooring and tried to push himself up. Fuck standard medical procedure, what his body needed was a kick to get it going again. His arms trembled as muscles that hadn't moved for months were being forced to work a lot harder than they should be after waking up. He coughed and speckled mucus onto the floor, but it didn't stop him from pushing up. His arms trembled but slowly he pushed himself up, albeit with a lot of difficulty.

    "Come on, you pussies..." he muttered through gritted teeth.

    He strained himself but eventually achieved one full push-up. And then another. And another. His dog tags clinked against the floor each time they rose and fell. He huffed with each push-up, puffing his cheeks each time his muscles bulged and fought against the artificial gravity. He gave himself a couple more before he sprung to his feet. Most people were advised against harsh physical activity after cryo. He wasn't most people. He was a soldier. Or the way his drill sergeant had put it to him and the other recruits way back in boot camp before shipping them off to one of the worst combat zones in the galaxy: "A mindless, tough, well-fucking-oiled killing machine."

    He turned on his feet, checking to see if his squad mates were up. Lukashenko in particular seemed to be having trouble. He was barely sitting up. He seemed unmotivated. As such, it was Stefanowicz duty to motivate him out of that pod. He grinned mischievously, and perhaps a little sadistically. He walked at a brisk pace over to his pod, his bare feet padding on the ground, and slapped Alex's back with his palms repeatedly like a drum.

    "Come on, Lukashenko, ain't no room for sleepy little bitches in this squad! Get up! Get the fuck up! You don't get a free ride cause you're new, fucking move it!"

    And yes. Stefanowicz liked to pick on the new guy.
     
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  4. Dot Rhodes opened her eyes to the resulting commotion of a crew awaking from cryo. She didn't rush to make a move, nor did she remain still and confused for longer than necessary. Her actions reflected standard procedure, carefully observed, even if she felt uncomfortable in her near-naked figure. She was pale, flat, and her once buzzed white hair had now become an odd new hairstyle; her only feminine feature was her size and natural muscle definition, much like that of a dancer though she was not.
    She stretched while she waited for her turn with the doc, did not complain when the doc was done, and silently looked at the rest of the crew before venturing to a standing position. She wasn't as used to the cryo as others, but she was young and had been exposed early to it. The dizziness was bearable although she might vomit later.

    Dot continued to stretch, slowly warming up her muscles and joints, and she continued to remain silent only non-verbally acknowledging others.

    Mortimer Faraday, on the other hand, awoke with a pained and irritated grunt. Cryo side-effects could chew on his arse all day long and it still wouldn't compare to the feeling of frozen metal attached to his torso. Surprisingly, he welcomed his brother's voice and touch even if it didn't make things any better.
    "Stop acting the maggot Connor" he said holding back tears of pain, "I'd take a bloody stingin' over this shite anyday!" He was struggling to move his mechanical arms, each treble a shooting pain up his nerves but it needed to be done. The doc could only do so much medically speaking. He had to do the rest.
    He'd been upgraded some time ago, but his body remembered the pain all too clearly. The new gadgets should've given him only mild discomfort, but the doctors said the problem was in his head.
     
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  5. Christiansen Darlington
    Navigator


    It was cold, colder than he could ever remember being, and dark too. There were muffled noises that sounded to Christian like they were a star system away, and then, very abruptly everything came to grasp. He coughed violently for a few seconds as he leaned forward from his cryosleep pod spitting a long string of... 'What the hell is that' Christian thought. It fell through the grates in the floor and Christian stepped out of his pod, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the strikingly artificial light of the room. Around him were the others, all awaking at their own paces. Christian thought to himself, proud for a moment at how well he had handled his first cryosleep, and then he threw up all over his feet.

    Moments later the Doc came by, instructed him to take long deep breaths and presumed to poke and prod his every surface until she deemed him fit. He walked to his wall locker and began to dress, while he looked around eagerly for his father.

    Alex Lukashenko
    Spec Ops 4


    Alex jolted awake, his heart pounding. Acutely aware of the cold Alex just lay there in his pod for a few moments before slowly sitting up. Cryosleep was no stranger to him, the training he had gone through to make it this far had involved a total of 787 days of cryosleep to move from facility to facility, planet to planet. He began his normal cryosleep wake-up ritual, giving a small prayer to Holy Trinity as he sat in silence. He finished the prayer just in time to receive a musical rendition of "Wake the fuck up" from Connor.

    "Christ, I'm moving won't you just lay off for a second" Lukashenko said, his Ukrainian accent putting strain on his 'w's. He Got out of his pod and was briefly inspected by the good Doctor, "Fit for Full I must guess" he said jokingly as she left his side. He clenched his fist noticing the lack of energy he currently had, much like any other cryosleep.

    He moved his attention back to Connor, "What say we get dressed and hit the galley, then over to the room with the weights?" he said, struggling to remember what the American word for "спортзал" was. He looked past Connor to Rhodes, "Ey, Rhodes, what say you to food and the weighted room?" he said as he grabbed his clothes from his wall locker.
     
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  6. She turned, not only to acknowledge but also to let the new guy know about the order of things. "Weighted room is off-limits Lukashenko," she said daintly, "but, though I might not be able to keep down food, I´ll say yes to trying it."
    She wasn´t much about keeping rank by way of excerting authority, she only wished to abide by protocol even if it were her captain she´d be correcting.
    With that said, she sternly walked over to Lukashenko´s side to reach for her own locker.


    Mortimer could almost hear the sound of steel rubbing against his flesh as he moved into a sitting position.
    "Fecking nuts on a gear-grinding plasma stick!" came the loud babble of the mechanic. He finished his efforts by punching his brother on the shoulder, hoping to impart on him some of that bloody pain except the sudden movement of his metallic arm only made him grunt lounder than before.
     
  7. Armstrong stepped out the shower feeling better. This was all she needed, a hot shower. She wrapped a towel around her naked frame, and padded herself dry with another. Moments later she was dressed in a dark suit, which made her look serious and all business. She cleaned up well. She sat on a white chair, that matched the decor of the room. It was a rather opulent space, richly decorated for visual stimuli and entertainment pleasure. This room was designed to entertain investors and corporate executives. But today it felt like a big expensive cage.

    She sipped on a warm cup of tea while reviewing video footage of the cryogenic room. She speed up the footage, stopped and froze the scene when she saw the android standing by Peter Norwick’s capsule. Then resumed at normal speed:

    Ava responded to Peter Norwick’s emergency. The UI of the body scan informed RED ALERT. She worked the monitor and opened the capsule. Peter was convulsing violently, suddenly his body went cold still.

    Armstrong read the recorded report from Ava’s memory banks and the medical systems analysis. Peter Norwick died from an transient ischemic attack. She ran a comprehensive diagnostics of the capsule, she was relief when it reported back the capsule was working perfectly.