Desolation

TO BE PROPERLY FORMATTED TOMORROW BECAUSE WIKI SUCKS.

Crew Quarters (IND Laughing Fox) - Star of Mercy ...........................................................................       The narrow passage opens up into a small wardroom. The space is ingeniously outfitted, the furniture and surfaces configured to serve either under

nominal local gravity conditions, or that provided by the freighter's own acceleration. Flanking the wardroom are a set of personal sleeping niches, with

each empty bunk module containing a bed with built in cabinetry and storage lockers. Forward, a fresher unit is located portside, while to the starboard is a

simple kitchenette. The room is softly illuminated, gentle light flowating down from coves recessed into the dorsal and side wall framing. The deckplates are

sturdy and and diamond gridded, providing a sturdy utilitarian finish to the space. ........................................................................... Thu Jul 17 23:03:33 3008 The lights are set at their dimmest level, simulating night and signifying the last watch of the day. A storage locker is here. A storage locker is here. A

storage locker is here. A storage locker is here.

Contents:                              Exits:  Captain's Quarters  Forward Hatch  Aft Hatch

Tirax arrives from Captain's Quarters . Tirax has arrived.

Aadzrian wanders out into the galley, heading for the fridge- but pausing at the intercom on the way by.

IND Laughing Fox Intercom Broadcast - Aadzrian -- >>>> From the Crew Quarters : Rise and shine, any-body stil in bed. Got an hour.

Rillitan enters from the ship's airlock. Rillitan has arrived.

Tirax follows behind Aadz, the two headed for the fridge.

"Hmm. Maybe I'll make waffles," Aadzrian remarks, then glances at the time. "...naah. How about just an omelet?"

"Ain't you be calling out about sleepin' if you're the ones in here wid' all the beds?" Rillitan calls as he walks in.

"...Aww.. no waffles?" sighs Tirax, waving at Rill. "Morning."

"Don't have the time to make them from scratch and they're only worthwhile from scratch. Hey, Rill." Aadzrian greets with a grin, raising a hand to wave.

"You want an omelet? Anyway, I'm wide awake, was just cleaning my gun."

"Fuck no." Rillitan grunts, moving towards the fridge too.

--- IND Laughing Fox Intercom Broadcast -- Main Hatch The ship's intercom beeps, indicating someone just tagged the ship's main hatchway buzzer.

"Just omelette for me then," Tirax says with a sigh. "...guess I'll get that."

"Okay, go ahead. I'll make a nice big omelette with ham and cheese and mushrooms and onions," Aadzrian declares gleefully, beginning to crack eggs into a

bowl and whisk them up.

Tirax punches in a keypad code and enters the ship's airlock. Tirax has left.

Rillitan grabs some fruit from the fridge and bites into it.

"Omelets aren't that bad for you, you know," Aadzrian informs Rillitan, turning to dice up ham and onion next, then slide it all into a skillet.

"Don't mean I'm gonna eat 'em." Rillitan replies, closing the fridge again and stepping back.

"Do you -really- think I'm going to poison you?" Aadzrian shakes his head, frowning a little as he carefully measures out spices for the frying ingredients.

"It ain't so much you, past habit." Rillitan grunts, "I don't so much like Omelette anyhow."

"Well, it's a stupid habit, 'cause I'm a great cook," Aadzrian announces firmly. "You should let me make just one thing for you and see how you feel about

it." A deft toss of the ingredients and he sighs slightly. "Anyway, doesn't matter right now I guess. Here's the plan. We go down to Greenville first,

collect a few quick samples. Then Deepcrest, then we'll go looking for a ship called the Katana, somewhere on the coast. Last, we're going to St. Benedict's

to check out the Dark for any indication of survivors."

"Why are we looking for this damn ship?" Rillitan mutters with a grunt. "What's important about it?"

"Before the NLM left New Luna, they left the Katana there set to monitor and record radio transmissions. If anyone might still be alive on New Luna, the data

on the Katana could help us find out," Aadzrian replies, expression solemn. He pours the egg into another skillet, watching it solidify and sizzle.

Tirax enters from the ship's airlock. Tirax has arrived.

Martin enters from the ship's airlock. Martin has arrived.

"Not a bad idea..." Rillitan murmurs, "For the NLM."

"Everyone gets things right now and then," Aadzrian says with an easy grin, adding the ingredients to the omelet he's cooking and flipping it over. "Right,

that's about ready."

Tirax slips in with Martin. "...Yay! Food!"

"Let's hope they can keep up the streak." Rillitan mutters, turning to the airlock door and shutting up.

Martin wanders in. "Gonna head back and get suited up."

Aadzrian nods agreement over to Martin, chopping the omelet in half with his spatula and serving up half to Tirax. "Eat," he suggests with a slight grin.

"Quick, and t'en we al suit up time."

Martin punches in a keypad code and enters the aft compartment. Martin has left.

--- IND Laughing Fox Intercom Broadcast -- Main Hatch The ship's intercom beeps,indicating someone just tagged the ship's main hatchway buzzer.

Martin enters from the ship's spinal corridor. Martin has arrived.

"I'm gonna wind up the engine." Rillitan mutters, taking a bottle of water from the fridge and making for the airlock door.

Aadzrian nods to Rillitan, turning to head that way as well as the buzzer rings. "I get t'at."

(Outside the door...)

Landing Bay  - Hancock Station - 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC) This incredible chamber sports almost a square mile of poured plascrete, all watched over by a high communications tower precisely centered in the

immense floor. Centered in the rock ceiling of this chamber is a field of lightly buzzing blue energy, allowing ships in and out with a minimum of atmosphere

loss. Cheery lighting fixtures line the walls, in stark contrast to the otherwise utilitarian nature of the bay. A set of tall steel double doors provide

access to the rest of Hancock Station, dwarfed by the great ship-sized hatches in the rock walls that allow entrance to the station's dry dock and shuttle

pad. 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC) Thu Jul 17 15:59:40 3008

Contents:                              Exits: Ace                               |SP| Shuttle Pad Wanderer Nixkamich                 |DD| Drydock DCV Everstar                           |IL| Inner Lobby Freelancer Calm  NLG Outcast IND Laughing Fox AFV Sentinel VAN Franklin IND Star of Mercy IND Iuppiter Lucetius

Aadzrian disembarks from the IND Laughing Fox.

With a soft hiss, the door to the Everstar slides open, allowing three canines of mixed sizes to tumble down the ramp. A moment later, their owner steps out,

dressed in the usual gray longcoat with the traditional mug of tea in hand.

Wether or not Nix is actually paying any attentiong to the goings on around him, is up in the air. No, his gaze is fixated on the Fox's hatch.

As if Nix's stare somehow compels it, the hatch softly whooshes open and Aadzrian pokes his silvery head out. He in turn is distracted, staring at Ace across

the pad for a moment before he looks to Nix with a blink. "Huh? Uh, hallo Nix! Good to see you but... why you here?"

Calm's hands release their clasp behind his back, gaze shifting to Ace for a moment, before slowly walking to the Fox as well.

Ace leans against the hatchframe, watching curiously and keeping an eye on the dogs.

Volgavian arrives from Lobby . Volgavian has arrived.

"Hello Aadzrian." Nix nods in a greeting, even if his voice is slightly detatched. "Traveling. Wandereing. Call it what you will." he answers on the topic of

his presence, but doesn't elaborate further. "I'm here because I've overheard that you are leading an expidition to New Luna. Came to offer my services,

should you require any extra help."

Snowstreak has arrived. Snowstreak disembarks from the IND Laughing Fox.

Aadzrian lifts an eyebrow at that, seeming slightly surprised. "You heared t'is? Did no know were so common news. Wel, come aboard t'en. I hope you bringed

your own gun, but can borrow a work-suit." He's standing mostly in the Fox's airlock, talking to Nix down below, Calm approaching the Fox and Ace watching

from the Everstar's ramp.

Snowstreak makes his way from the ramp quietly, his tail drifting lightly behind him at a steady and slow pace. His whiskers go forward as he looks around

and offers a little mew and kind wave. Present is his customary lab coat though the material beneath it looks a bit more padded then the normal casual kitty

clothing.

Nixkamich manages something crossing between a chuckle and a snort, quirking an odd sort of half-smile. "Yes. Well, on station, even as one as large as this.

News tends to travel quickly." At the question of personal armaments, he just nods at his battered duffle on his shoulder. "I have my own equipment, yes."

Volgavian pads into the landing bay, humming cheerfully to himself as he starts making his way for the Laughing Fox as well. He looks suited for about...

nothing.

"Alrigh'. Go on." Aadzrian moves out of the way of the door, only leaving a foot in to hold it open. "And Snow... if you coming to New Luna, get back on

board. We about to going."

Snowstreak nods to Aadz "Alright, mmm- going aboard, sir." He turns and starts up the ramp quietly, tail moving slowly about behind him Snowstreak boards the IND Laughing Fox. Snowstreak has left.

IND Laughing Fox Intercom Broadcast Tirax -- >>>> From the IND Laughing Fox's Hatch Intercom < : Aadz? We need to get going...

Nixkamich nods once, moving to head inside. Nixkamich boards the IND Laughing Fox. Nixkamich has left.

Volgavian pauses, watches, then waves. "Okay! Wish luck, Aadzrian!"

"One moment," Calm notes pleasantly enough, untying the AF bandanna and offering it over. "Room for one more, I assume? It is an off-duty offer, won't come

again. Mostly because you'll be gone."

Aadzrian offers Volgavian a pleasant grin and a wave, blinking at Calm's offer. "Yeah, sure," he agrees, nodding away. "Same t'ing to you- no has enough

heavy-duty guns, but can lend a work-suit. You coming, come on!"

Ace gives a whistle which brings the dogs back to the ship, the three obediently trotting up the ramp.

Volgavian stands back and just watches, smiling.

Calm eyebrow quirks, then moves on ahead.

Calm boards the IND Laughing Fox. Calm has left.

Volgavian just stands back and watches the brave explorers take off into the night!

Aadzrian boards the IND Laughing Fox. Airlock  - ...........................................................................       An amber warning light washes the simple airlock, chasing dull shadows across the gray hullsteel walls. The airlock is sized for approximately five

crew, with ample space for their gear and equipment. Sturdy access panels and equpment lockers frame the room, providing a sparse atmosphere of simple

utility. Along one wall there is a rack for five EVA suits, along with ports for keeping the suit systems charged and online. Forward a sturdy hatchway leads

into the freighter's command section while a second identical hatchway leads aft.. ........................................................................... Fri Jul 18 00:31:48 3008 The lights are set at their dimmest level, simulating night and signifying the last watch of the day. A storage locker is here.

Contents:                              Exits: Freelancer Calm                     Aft Hatch Doc Cat in a Coat Snowstreak        Forward Hatch Wanderer Nixkamich  Masochist Tirax 

Aadzrian boards through the ship's airlock.

Tirax is currently changing into his worksuit. Just like Nix.

Aadzrian steps back in, reaching for the intercom. He nods to everyone gathered, but instead of addressing them speaks over the system, then heads aft

himself.

IND Laughing Fox Intercom Broadcast - Aadzrian -- >>>> From the Airlock : Okay, every-body. We are ready. Suit up, t'en when dress, head to bridge. Rillitan, take us off when I gets up t'ere.

Finishing his suiting up, Nix leaves the helmet off his head to be carried in one hand while the one grips his duffle. Without another word, he heads toward

the bridge, doing as instructed.

Nixkamich punches in a keypad code and enters the ship's forward compartment. Nixkamich has left.

Snowstreak steps back into the airlock quietly, his ears flicking as he slips off his labcoat and begins looking through his equipment locker for his

worksuit. His tail flicks behind him as he slips it on then... puts his labcoat back on over it. His tail sifts slowly behind him as he looks to Aadz and

mews "Ready captain... um, mew." He pulls the PAR from his locker too and slings it on over his shoulder.

Calm enters, looking to one of the worksuit. "Mine, I hope." He pauses as he spots the Pulse Assault Rifle being tugged free, head craning slowly to

Aadzrian.

Tirax blinks as he finishes suiting and Calm walks in. "...Har har very funny, what're you doing here?"

"Feel free to taked it," Aadzrian tells Calm with a wink, then he informs Tirax, "He want to come along and I am no saying no to extra gun. Excuse me." He

finishes his journey aft.

The hatch slides to the left, allowing passage into the wardroom. Crew Quarters <IND Laughing Fox> - Star of Mercy ...........................................................................       The narrow passage opens up into a small wardroom. The space is ingeniously outfitted, the furniture and surfaces configured to serve either under

nominal local gravity conditions, or that provided by the freighter's own acceleration. Flanking the wardroom are a set of personal sleeping niches, with

each empty bunk module containing a bed with built in cabinetry and storage lockers. Forward, a fresher unit is located portside, while to the starboard is a

simple kitchenette. The room is softly illuminated, gentle light flowating down from coves recessed into the dorsal and side wall framing. The deckplates are

sturdy and and diamond gridded, providing a sturdy utilitarian finish to the space. ........................................................................... Fri Jul 18 00:38:23 3008 The lights are set at their dimmest level, simulating night and signifying the last watch of the day. A storage locker is here. A storage locker is here. A

storage locker is here. A storage locker is here.

Contents:                              Exits: Accountant Martin <IC>                 <CQ> Captain's Quarters <FH> Forward Hatch <AH> Aft Hatch

Martin is currently looking over the contents of a small case that is slung over his shoulder.

Tirax enters from the ship's airlock. Tirax has arrived.

Aadzrian is heading right for the captain's quarters. He nods to Martin as he goes, saying, "If ready, go to bridge."

Snowstreak enters from the ship's airlock. Snowstreak has arrived.

Tirax stalks into the quarters, growling, heading for the captain's quarters himself. "...-One- wrong move and I -will- shoot him," he tells Aadz's back.

Martin lifts a brow. "What...? Shoot who?" The Martian asks as he closes the case up.

Aadzrian sighs a little, telling Tirax tersely over his shoulder, "Do not need t'is, please. Calm," he adds Martin's way before slipping through the hatch.

You head into Captain's Quarters <IND Laughing Fox>. Captain's Quarters <IND Laughing Fox> - Star of Mercy ........................................................................... The kapitan's quarters are small but well appointed and highly organized and tidy. The walls are paneled with a dark red wood and the floor covered in a

thick grey carpet that muffles the sound and gives the room a dark and hushed feel to it. Two other doors lead out from the room, one to a small fresher unit

and the other to a small walk-in closet.

A king sized bed takes up the far corner of the room, the bookcase headboard sparsely filled with a few books and knick knack, looking emptier for how much

space wasn't filled. A desk with a computer unit sits in the opposite corner, an old-fashioned green desk lamp casting a circle of light on the floor.

Lastly, a small wetbar and two stools take up the third corner, a locked cabinet with a stained glass door hanging on the wall behind it. Other than the

silver ring with the feathers and cards linked to it hanging over the bed, the room is devoid of any real decoration or personality.

........................................................................... Fri Jul 18 00:45:48 3008 The lights are set at their dimmest level, simulating night and signifying the last watch of the day. A flak jacket is here. Tirax's weapons locker is here.

Aadzrian's weapons locker is here.

Contents:                              Exits: The Hugger                             <O> Out

Tirax arrives from Crew Quarters <IND Laughing Fox>. Tirax has arrived.

"Neither did I," mutters Tirax. "Can't believe you pulled that on me. At least I'll have my fucking cannon on me now," he says, heading to his locker.

"He just showed up and asked if he could come," Aadzrian growls. "Damn it, Tirax. I really don't even want to hear it right now. Deal with it." He sets about

putting his MCA on.

"He stays in -front- of me, for one," Tirax retorts, arming himself with a grenade, the cannon, which he attaches to his PAR, and then slings over his back.

"...Would take the tangler but I don't have room."

"I thought you were over this. Fine. He stays in front of you." Aadzrian claps the armor into place, sets the seals, and fastens the weapons. That done, he

turns to head out.

"Yeah, I really get over people threatening my life, just like that," mutters Tirax, holding the helmet under one arm.

You head into Crew Quarters <IND Laughing Fox>. Crew Quarters <IND Laughing Fox> - Star of Mercy ...........................................................................       The narrow passage opens up into a small wardroom. The space is ingeniously outfitted, the furniture and surfaces configured to serve either under

nominal local gravity conditions, or that provided by the freighter's own acceleration. Flanking the wardroom are a set of personal sleeping niches, with

each empty bunk module containing a bed with built in cabinetry and storage lockers. Forward, a fresher unit is located portside, while to the starboard is a

simple kitchenette. The room is softly illuminated, gentle light flowating down from coves recessed into the dorsal and side wall framing. The deckplates are

sturdy and and diamond gridded, providing a sturdy utilitarian finish to the space. ........................................................................... Fri Jul 18 00:53:21 3008 The lights are set at their dimmest level, simulating night and signifying the last watch of the day. A storage locker is here. A storage locker is here. A

storage locker is here. A storage locker is here.

Contents:                              Exits: Doc Cat in a Coat Snowstreak <IC>      <CQ> Captain's Quarters <FH> Forward Hatch <AH> Aft Hatch

Tirax arrives from Captain's Quarters <IND Laughing Fox>. Tirax has arrived.

Aadzrian pauses to check the lockers, then heads forward without a look back or another word.

The hatch slides to the left, allowing passage into the ship's bridge. Bridge <IND Laughing Fox> - Star of Mercy ...........................................................................       The hatchway opens up to a small metal platform, which overlooks a compact command center. Light filters out from hidden coves, providing an even

illumination across the bridge consoles. A rainbow of telltales and monitors add a touch of color, breathing life into the functional and utilitarian space.

A few steps down, the bridge workstations are arranged in a rough semicircle, following the shark nosed form of the ship's bow. Two stations face forward and

are centered beneath the main canopy. The other two workstations face the port and starboard, one on each side of the bridge. The space is tight, with arely

enough room to move when all the stations are occupied. ........................................................................... Fri Jul 18 00:54:29 3008 The lights are set at their dimmest level, simulating night and signifying the last watch of the day.

Contents:                              Exits: Accountant Martin <IC>                 <AH> Aft Hatch Freelancer Calm <IC> Wanderer Nixkamich <IC> Bounty Hunter Rillitan <IC> Weapons Console Communications Console Engineering Console Navigation Console

Waddle, waddle, waddle. The worksuit wearing Calm wanders back the way he came.

The armor-clad bulk of Aadzrian appears in the doorway, jaw set and a coldness to his expression that speaks of being quietly irate. Nonetheless, his voice

is level and calm as he announces, "Okay, we ready. Let us go."

Tirax enters from the ship's airlock. Tirax has arrived.

"Yeah whatever jack." Rillitan grunts, "We are a-go." the Timonae leans forward and pulls back on the controls. The ship's engines hum as it rises and moves

towards the docking bay exit.

Nixkamich doesn't comment, he simply picks up his helmet and places it over his head, latching the airseal shut. Sliding the reflective visor down over the

visible part of his face, he's pretty much ready to go. At that he leans back in his chair and enjoys the ride.

Snowstreak enters from the ship's airlock. Snowstreak has arrived.

>> Outside the Ship: The IND Laughing Fox lifts off and departs the docking bay >> Outside the Ship: Local Space <L49 System: New Luna> >> Outside the Ship: - New Luna Local Space ZMO - 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC) Quiet and pristine is the sector of space where L49 rests, on the very edge of the central cluster of populated stars. Two planets revolve about the

yellow star, one set comfortably within its habitation zone, while the other is much more distant. Far back from the two planets, two thick asteroid belts

can be seen, and a thin asteroid belt sits slightly in from the nearer planet.

The local space is quiet and empty, with no other starship to keep one company. Only the normal telecommunications chatter can be barely overheard

from the planetary orbit. 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC) Thu Jul 17 17:00:07 3008

Contents:                              Exits: Tranquility                            <NL> New Luna Orbit L49

>> Outside the Ship: The IND Laughing Fox departs from the Hancock Station's docking bay

Martin hunkers down and opens his case. "Where the speakers put into place?" He asks idly.

"Here is plan." Aadzrian settles himself in the captain's chair a little uncertainly before they get going, having some difficulty and only managing to get

half-seated in his PCA. "Firs', Green-ville. Is least likely to has working defense if Phyrrians t'ere. We take samples. T'en go Deepcrest, take samples.

Find te Katana as by Martin direction. T'en, last, we check te Dark for survivors." Glancing to Martin, he says, "We al-ready haved speakers, te intercom

system."

Tirax makes his way onto the bridge, fully armed, waiting in silence.

Calm is still moving around, getting used to the extra weight of the sealed suit.

"I have the last known location of the ship. If it still works and we got a spare pilot.. I say we take it to help with refguees. I can pilot at least. The

Dark is a cave system near Saint Bendict where we had planned to move people into. If there is anyone still alive, that is the best place to look." Martin

explains as he rises to his feet. "

"I can fly it if need be." Nix masked helmeted gaze states over in Martin's direction. He begins to rummage through his duffle bag slowly at that.

"That sound like good idea," Aadzrian agrees Martin's way with a nod. "Now, we -hope- t'at wil be no Phyrrians, but te situation is very un-known. Be on

guard every moment down t'ere, and I want a watsh-man- any-body got extra sharp eyes? Also, if is any-body here lacking proper weapon, I has a pulse assault

rifle extra, or assault rifle if prefer. Speak up now."

"Right, someone want to bring up manual coordinates for Greenville, and then all the other freakin' places you jus' said, cause I ain't readin' beacons

anywhere." Rillitan mutters, bringing the ship down, heading towards the upper atmosphere. The Timonae glances over his shoulder at Nix and snorts.

Snowstreak wanders after the group, having tugged his labcoat off and fished some borrowed holsters out of the airlock. He keeps tugging at the worksuit in a

few spots, wriggling things to try and get used to the material. Stuffing fur into novoprene is a lot like filling a balloon with sausages. It works but just

doesn't quite feel right. The Demarian looks to the captain then slides on his helmet.

Tirax reaches out and pats his plasma cannon, still attached to his PAR. Silence, still.

"I will," Calm responds, still moving about. In fact, all he seems to be wielding is a knife strapped to the suit. "I'll take the PAR, since you got so many.

An' I'll volunteer for that spot."

Martin rolls his eyes. "If you have a proper map, it should still be marked even if it isn't there. I can lead to the ship and the cave system if needed."

Martin says.

Aadzrian tosses the extra PAR slung over his shoulder Calm's way, noting dryly, "Not -so- many, but enough. Al-righ, good. Martin, can you helped Rill find

where am going?"

"If your willing to part with the assualt rifle, I'd be gracious to accept the offer." Nix replies in that same dead detatched tone of his. "If not, I'll

make do with what I have."

Snowstreak takes in as low breath then jumps in spot a few times, sort of bouncing to get used to the weight of the material. Think it to be of the feline to

have a mind for comfort at a moment like this. He takes in a slow breath before finally affixing the helmet fully in place.

"Fuck that you militia prick, I ain't looking through the nav-map for the arse end of nowhere on New Luna. You bring it up for me? We get places quicker,

/please/." Rillitan rolls his eyes and sighs, "I know Greenville, so you can take your time."

"Wow, you're bitter." Calm notes with the worksuit's cheery audio system.

"Play nice and shut up, Rill," Aadzrian tells the other Timonae with a quirked brow. "...Please." That said, he glances to Nix. "Is in... one of te lockers,

can go grabbed if want it. Make sure put it back where you found it, so I can find it again under al te ot'er guns."

"Fuck off you skinny prick and act civil." Martin barks out as he pulls off one glove and starts to type at the computer. "Friendly crew you got here

Aadzrian." He says absently as he starts pulling things up.

"...If we find a Phyrrian, I really want its head," Tirax notes dryly, putting his helmet on. "You play nice too, Martin."

"Hey I didn't start throwing insults, cap." Rillitan mutters, smirking a little at Calm's remark before actually shutting up.

>> Outside the Ship: Changing vectors, the IND Laughing Fox heads towards an orbit around New Luna. >> Outside the Ship: New Luna Orbit <L49 System: New Luna> >> Outside the Ship: - New Luna Local Space ZMO - 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC) The orbit about New Luna is relatively clear of clutter and traffic, with only a handful of weather and communication satellites to keep the planet

company. Starships seldom tarry in orbit, either descending to the surface or quickly acclerating outwards to escape the effects of L49's flare activity. 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC) Thu Jul 17 17:16:24 3008

Contents:                              Exits: New Luna                               <DL> Deepcrest Landing Pad <GL> Greenville Landing Pad <BO> Break Orbit

"Thank you, Aadzrian." Nix states, moving up and out of chair. He nods at Aadz. "It will be returned. Lest none of us return, then there may be some

difficulty with doing such." Then he ducks after the aft hatch.

Nixkamich punches in a keypad code and enters the ship's airlock. Nixkamich has left. Nixkamich enters from the ship's airlock. Nixkamich has arrived.

"No-body making it better by return fire," Aadzrian remarks simply. "We al adults here wit' a common goal way bigger t'an any of us or our egos. We here to

make a diffy-rence. Any-body no on board wit' t'at can stay in te cargo hold. But I sure we wil has no more pro-blems."

"I for one have plans for a long life," Tirax murmurs from inside his suit.

"Hoorah, you buncha freerangin' laddledee civilian globetromping good-till-we-die bastards. Let's save a few cattle and shoot a few 'bots!" Calm says with a

fist pump and waddles to the door.

Snowstreak twinges his ears forward though it is hidden in the cowl of the worksuit. He mrruffs quietly "Please... everyone be calm. This is going to be

worrysome enough..." He reaches up and tries to comb back his mane but- clink- denied by the helmet.

"He has the right idea." Martin nods as he pulls his glove back on and glances over at Calm. "Somebody brought the scientific equipment right?"

"We has a box lead-line for taked samples back. We are no doing any science, jus bringing part of New Luna to people who can does science," Aadzrian

explains. "And report to letted t'em know if safe for t'em come down t'em-self."

Tirax sighs, shaking his head at Calm's words. "...Oh this is going to be fun," he murmurs, looking up at the ceiling.

Going over the rifle's features with a deft, while gloved hand, Nix nods at the weapon and slings it over his shoulder, before moving back to his duffle.

First the blade comes out, latched and secured to his back, the hilt poking out from his right shoulder. Then the heavy pistol, strapped to his waist. The

warrior is far to preoccupied to participate in the pissing contest. Y'know, too concerned about staying alive and other such novel ideas.

Rillitan looks up from his controls for a moment, frowning, "We do know if the air is safe t'breath, righ?" he asks as they pass through the atmosphere and

the hot red that filled the view screen dies down.

"We..are all wearing worksuits and armor for a reason." Martin lifts a brow over at the Timonae. "We ready to land yet?"

>> Outside the Ship: Braking thrusters activating, the IND Laughing Fox descends through the clouds towards the planet's surface. >> Outside the Ship: Jungle <Wilds of New Luna> >> Outside the Ship: - New Luna - ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^       This humid jungle is somewhere between Pitchton and Greenville. It is south of the equator but not south enough for it to make much of a difference.

The high triple canopy jungle obscures much of the sun, leaving the jungle floor in perpetual gloom. The underbrush is surprisingly thin among the giant

hardwood trunks. The Raella Mountains are to the southwest. A few streams gurgle through the jungle, probably originating in said mountains. To say the area

is off the beaten track would be an understatement. """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" Thu Jul 17 11:28:38 3008 The sun begins to slowly rise over the mountains, bringing the morning mist.

Contents:                              Exits: <TG> Towards Greenville

"Air pro-babble no too safe," Aadzrian admits. "As Martin say, t'at why te work-suits and armor. No-body sets a foot out-side te ship wit'out being all seal

up and ready."

"NUclear fallout, gotta love it," Tirax says dryly.

"...yeah, where should I put 'er down?" Rillitan asks, as the ship approaches Greenville.

Snowstreak flits his tail slowly behind him as best he can with it sealed in a custom-fit worksuit. He looks to the consoles then to the viewscreen again,

all the while remaining as quiet as a mechanical chicken with no batteries.

Nixkamich moves to stand near the aft. Worksuit sealed? Check. An array of weapon? Check. Ready to go? Double check.

"Greenville is the first stop. Try around the harbor so we can get water samples too." Martin says.

"Go to-ward Green-ville, looked for some-where flat to set down," Aadzrian advises Rillitan.

Tirax falls back into silence. Waiting.

"Yeah, yeah. Try and get close as I can for ya." Rillitan grunts, "..shit, if I'm getting left behind, I got a Pulse Assault Rifle one'a you can take....

Here, this'll do ya." the Timonae nods as the ship slowly lowers to the ground and sets down.

"Okay lets go shall we?" Martin asks as he already starts to make his way back.

Calm punches in a keypad code and enters the ship's airlock. Calm has left.

Nixkamich punches in a keypad code and enters the ship's airlock. Nixkamich has left.

Martin punches in a keypad code and enters the ship's airlock. Martin has left.

Tirax punches in a keypad code and enters the ship's airlock. Tirax has left.

"You can come too if you like," Aadzrian tells Rillitan with a faint smile, turning to go. "Jus suited up firs'."

07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)

Jungle <Wilds of New Luna> - New Luna - ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^       This humid jungle is somewhere between Pitchton and Greenville. It is south of the equator but not south enough for it to make much of a difference.

The high triple canopy jungle obscures much of the sun, leaving the jungle floor in perpetual gloom. The underbrush is surprisingly thin among the giant

hardwood trunks. The Raella Mountains are to the southwest. A few streams gurgle through the jungle, probably originating in said mountains. To say the area

is off the beaten track would be an understatement. """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" Thu Jul 17 11:40:16 3008 The sun begins to slowly rise over the mountains, bringing the morning mist.

Contents:                              Exits: Masochist Tirax <IC>                   <TG> Towards Greenville Wanderer Nixkamich <IC> Accountant Martin <IC> Freelancer Calm <IC> IND Laughing Fox

The Fox sets down on the edge of the devastation wrought by the nuclear bomb dropped on Greenville. The damage is surprisingly minimal for being on the edge

of the city, sickly warped forest clinging to life not too far beyond where the ship landed- perhaps an encouraging sight.

However, the devastation that once was New Luna's most populous city is far from heartwarming. The shells of buildings loom dimly ahead, wreckage strewn all

about, the air thick with heat and mist. Further into the former city, no buildings reach towards the sky at all. All seems quiet, devoid of the sounds of

tropical life.

The first thing Nix does is keep that rifle forward, using the inside of the ship as cover, peeking the rifle and his shoulders out of the airlock to get a

decent view of what he's looking at. Wherever he looks, that rifle points, sweeping from side to the next, searching for anything that could pass as a

Phyrrian.

Calm is ahead of people, hardly waiting till the ship is parked before sliding down the ramp and jumping off the still settling end. Like something out of

the holovid, rifle sweeps left and then right, and then he moves forward to take up a scout position, apparently more comfortable in the worksuit then he let

on. He activates the cooling vent, bursting himself with a surge of air conditioned air from his reserve.

Martin steps out of the Fox, a that small case slung around his back is pulled out. The Martian says a few things softly in Martian latin then opens it up.

He flips the recording device on. "Hope to get a few signals." He says absently as he pulls out a few bronze statues out and goes to kneel, his brown eyes

darting around.

Tirax slips out of the Fox, heading down the ramp, looking about with a frown, rifle and cannon fully charged and held in his hands. Pointed at the ground as

he looks around, of course.

Rillitan has arrived. Rillitan disembarks from the IND Laughing Fox.

Aadzrian comes off the ship behind most everyone else, but moves forward to take up position not too far behind Calm, his helmet having been secured before

he stepped out. His eyes sweep around behind the glass, confronting the wreckage.

The airlock closes behind everyone, indicating that it is again being opened from the inside.

Snowstreak steps off the ship, keeping far to the back of the group. His tail wisks behind him again as he looks around, just keeping nice and quiet and sort

of cautious really. However, his footfalls are as soft as the falling of satin onto silk.

Nix finally moves out from his cover, side-stepping down the ramp, all the while keeping his rifle jammed snugly into his shoulder and continuing to sweep in

areas that others aren't looking, making sure to keep his back to the group and never to the outside. He follows along, moving toward the front left side. He

puts up a hand, sigaling an alert, slowing his pace. "I hear movement." he states over his comms, pointing his rifle in the direction he heard the sound

from.

"Something inside the city," Tirax says over internal comms. "...We got anything to check radiation levels?"

"I got a counter here somewhere." Martin says as he keeps kneeling. He closes his eyes and says a quick prayer for the dead and lines up the statues. The

Martian then rises to his feet. "I heard something too." Martin says as he half raises his rifle and pulls out a small device from his case.

Calm does one better, moving right toward the city as quietly as he can. He lightens the visor even more, filtering the contrast.

"I hear too," Aadzrian confirms lowly. "Sound kind of... metal. Calm, be care-ful." He swings a bundle off his back, taking out a square case with multiple

compartments. Working carefully around his clumsy fingers, he pulls out a set of vials. "Okay. Nix, watch Calm's back. Martin, take readings. Tir, come take

sample of nearest veggy-tation. Snow, take soil sample. Okay?"

"Are we going to go into the city?" Tirax asks curiously, moving to find a plant and yank it out of the ground.

"Was just about to." Nix's dour voice states over the comms, then beginning to move after Calm, his steps growing as quiet as possible.

There is a hissing of hydraulics as the airlock opens once again, "Fuck knows if I got this fully sealed." Rillitan grumbles over the comms as he steps out,

rolling his shoulders and pulling his rifle up. He stays just inside the airlock for the moment, grumbling occasionally.

Snowstreak starts to reach for his hip while shouldering the PAR to retreive his geiger counter. He takes it out of the case at his hip along with a small

biometrics meter. The kitty begins to scan at the atmosphere, keeping near the ship for the time being. Nitrogen levels, oxygen levels, CO2, plutonium,

uranium, Adamantium, kryptonite... if he can think of it, he starts to check for it in the atmosphere.

Martin glances at the counter and frowns a little as he starts to read the radiation levels of the area they are in. "Hope this suit works.. I want kiddies

someday.. but it aint as bad as one would think." Martin says as he lowers the device, letting it hang off his belt, the Martian readies his gun to cover

those sneaky folks.

"I want a water sample from harbor," Aadzrian says after a moment, exhaling. "So, yes. I t'inks we should go into city? Any ob-jections?" He glances at Snow,

chuckles and takes the soil sample himself, sealing it into the case.

The mist clusters heavily, making it harder to see Calm and Nix from some distance back. Nothing else appears, but if they continue in that direction, they

will soon be lost to sight.

Tirax sighs, shaking his head. "...Snow, try listening to orders, we're in a dangerous patch and I'd like to see us all get out of here as quickly as we

can." Bringing the plant back he holds it out to Aadz. "No objections."

Snowstreak twinges his ears and murmurs "Sorry...." and then murmurs to Aadz "No objections."

"Sure.." Martin nods his head and starts to follow the two, hoping to move fast enough to keep them in sight and if not, well not to trip over anything.

Rillitan steps down the ramp, walking to stand by Snowstreak and, for a moment at least, observe what he is doing.

Calm doesn't care, he keeps moving, low to the ground but as quickly as the conservative posture allows. Nix is kept in mind, not moving to far to break eye

contact between the two. The rifle remains at guard level.

"Is not a pro-blem, t'ose readings pro-babble more import-tant t'an jus soil samples. Keep it up, Snow," Aadzrian accepts the plant and slots it into the

case as well, closing it up. "Okay, guys. Come on, on-ward." He climbs to his feet and continues as well after Martin and the two at the front, still some

distance behind.

In the distance to the main group, much closer to Calm and Nix, a repeated chirping like a record stuck on infinite scratch suddenly goes off, along with a

bright red light that pierces the mist. Half-buried within a nest of rubble, something twitches...

Continuing to move at a dark and quiet pace, Nix keeps his rifle pointed out at shoulder-level, in keeping with making sure the barrel is aimed at wherever

he's looking. Calm is just enough in sight to keep in a safe amount of distance, but he move on through the pea-soup of fog, deeper into the city.

"We're only getting basic readings though," Tirax reminds Aadz. "Don't have time or equipment for the rest. And you're running this op, so we need to be

following what you say to the letter, otherwise bad things happen." But he just follows into the city, rifle still held at the ready, but pointed at the

ground. At the sound, though, Tirax frowns. "...That sounds bad."

Martin starts to power up the underslung plasma cannon and lets out small sigh. "Fuck.. its going to be a long day." He murmurs.

"What sounds bad?" Rillitan asks, shouldering his rifle as he moves to follow after Aadzrian.

Snowstreak keeps following along, quiet and just keeping an eye on the geiger counter along with samples. If it is a contaminated atmosphere, you'd have to

worry about other things too. If the ground contained any sort of salts, the thermo-nuclear denonation could fuse hydrogen atoms into ionized particles,

making the air not only radioactive but acidic as well. Or basic if you get hydroxide ions. Also the effects of sub-terranian effects. Never know if an

underwater spring got vaporized, leaving room for a cave in or... oh, wait, beeping. The Demarian perks his ears.

Calm throws himself backwards, a whisper of motion, and if agile enough, straightens and whips around to face the sudden movement. He fires.

Nixkamich backpeddles from the sound, swiveling his aim at where the red light comes from. He doesn't hesitate as he moves, strafing as he pulls the trigger

in small burst of fire.

"Shit," Aadzrian swears lowly into the comms, glancing around. "Everyone, catsh up to t'em! We defy-nite got trouble." He takes off running as much as his

MCA allows, a massively loud clanking toward the sound of fighting.

A terrible electronic shriek sounds as the pile of rubble Calm and Nix shoot flails, pieces of unidentifiable debris flying. There's silence a moment, that

stuttering chirp silenced. And then? Through the mist, it sounds again, at just a slightly different pitch. And again, and again... a chorus of chirps all

off-key, a horrible cacophony, stuttering through the cloudy air.

Red light turns all the misty air to scarlet, but no weapons fire yet- only the noise, and the deafening flashing.

"Oh... shit," Tirax mutters in Timonese, running at full pelt for the others.

Snowstreak cocks his ears forward though it is hidden by the visor. He murmurs something unintelligible in Demarian before starting to run towards the sound

of shooting. As he runs he stuffs the sensor back in his pocket while unshouldering the PAR from his... well, shoulder!

Martin darts forward, something can be said about MCA training. The Martian tries to pick his way through the rubble as he first off his first burst, and

tries to get up real close if he can.

"Oh /hell/." Rillitan mutters, "Why is everyone running /t'wards/ the violence." the Timonae doesn't move with everyone else, in fact he seems more concerned

with making sure there's somewhere to run back to.

Calm waves at Nix sharply, motioning to the left and the right, desiring to form a flanking assault team as their group is most likely rapidly approaching to

play backup. He then taps his comm once, twice, then he begans to move left by circling around some of the ruins. "Guys, caution, me and the Qua are shifting

positions to support, don't get jumpy." When, or if he can get to a comfortable position near some hard cover and angled away from the source of the

conflict, he'd settle down and attempt to be stealth(ier)

"We've got trouble." Nix says over the comms for the understatement of the day. Moving closer to Calm, he sets his back to the other man's own to keep their

flanks guarded from the red lights that being to surround them. "So..." he mumbles, keeping his aim up. "...this how you envisioned your day to do?" he says,

moveing slowly with man to take up more covered position.

"T'ere no as many as sound," Aadzrian urgently hisses into the comms. "Martin and I are te heavy armor. Come up here, Martin." He boldly advances, keeping

himself somewhat in the middle of things. "Every-one else, take cover..."

The light and sound finally resolves itself into something beyond an unclear menace. The sound of treads announces itself in the distance as five figures

roll closer, surrounding the group. As they reach visible range, something is apparent as very, very wrong.

In size and shape they resemble Phyrrians, but their surface is not a sleek silver- instead they are patchwork beings of rusty metals of many sorts, lights

and limbs seemingly misplaced. Some have four arms, some have none- some are peppered with melted holes. And all chirp brokenly in unison, though one stops

to ask of the group at large in its skipping voice, "Ob-ob-ob-jective? I....I....iDENtify."

Martin successfully shoots... into empty mist.

Tirax pulls to a halt, not shooting at the Phyrrians. "...The war's over," he announces breathlessly. "The Overmind declared it so."

Snowstreak jogs towards Aadz then slows, his paws still holding the PAR as he halts- looking towards the machinery with head tilting. He keeps the rifle

semi-held upright, like a drunk in a batting cage- he is ready for action but not quite sure what is going on. He murmurs "I... thought Phyrrians were...

less, um, yeah- what he said..."

"Shoot them!" Martin barks as he nods over at Aadzrian. The Martian moves along with the Timonae, his rifle readied as he eyes the contraptions. "Really!

Talk to them once we run away! Come in peace but fuck if I am letting them get the jump on us." Brave brave Sir Martin then pulls the trigger as he aims at

one of the four armed ones as he starts to backtrack.

"..." Rillitan manages, as he stops moving towards the group again.

Calm doesn't open fire, not yet. Nix is apparently ignored, though he motions for the man to move about and take his position as he circles back and around

the man.

Well, Nix was going to listen to what was going to be said, but apparently thats not likely to happen now. Still, he takes his position up agasint a section

of old battered concrete barrier. He keeps his aim trained on the group of partially dismantled Phyrrians, moving again once Calm takes a postion. Back and

forth kind of thing; one watches out for the other.

"Oh, you -dumbass-!" Aadzrian shouts at Martin, looking highly irritated as he lifts his Mk6. "Open fire, every-body! No choise now." He targets one of the

other Phyrrians, lining up a shot and squeezing the trigger.

Screaming sirens go off as Martin's shots tear down one of the Phyrrians in a blaze of energy. "ENEMY," one of the bots begins, and then they all echo it

over and over with that ear-grating dissonance. "ENEMYENEMYENEMY!"

The one Aadzrian shoots reels but isn't down yet, and simultaneously all of the four remaining open fire- one on Calm, one on Nix, one on Aadzrian and one on

Martin. The others, slightly further back, are so far spared.

"You stupid, murderous, dumb -fuck-," Tirax growls at Martin, opening fire on one of the unharmed Phyrrians. "Should fucking shoot you myself and leave you

here."

Snowstreak gruffs softly as he jogs up behind Aadz and begins to shoot, his muzzle twinging as he raises the assault rifle and begins to fire. The visor

thankfully hides the look he wears upon his muzzle as he begins to, well, open fire! He tries to target the Phyrrians that are opening fire, his chest

swelling beneath the worksuit as he takes in a sharp breath. And thus he pops his black-powder cherry.

"We killed one for making noise. Think they would have been happy after that?" Martin asks as he ducks down low and tries to find some cover. "They would

have seen it and been a little pissed that we killed one already." The Martian growls as he peeks up and fires his own shot at one of them, his breathing

getting heavy in the bulky armor. "We talk to the next group." He says absently.

"Think they might be more pissed that we kept on going, fuckwit." Rillitan shouts down the comms as he, too, raises and fires at the nearest robot.

Calm seems to be 'moving' away from the conflict, actully. So when he is opened fire on, he leaps forward and rolls gently back to his feet, a scar of ozone

where he was. Then? He sprints south, apparently having forgotten Nixkamich. He 'should' be heading toward the harbor, leaving the firefight swiftly one

could hope.

Nixkamich doesn't comment in terran, but he swears a litany of words in Navajo, the only descerable word being used is 'jarhead'. Anyways, he opens fire on

the closes Phyrrian to him, which is most liekly the one closest to him.

"Get the sample," Aadzrian hollers to Calm as he flees, "and we can pul out! But be care-ful!" Jaw setting into an angry line, he jogs forward closer to the

Phyrrians and lets loose another barrage of energy fire. "Fucking -hel-, Martin, hope is no 'next group'!"

Whatever one can say about previous decisions, the Phyrrians certainly seem determined to fight now. Tirax's shot staggers one, leaving it whirring in

distress- Martin's barrage finishes it, leaving only three standing. Snowstreak clips the one Aadz had shot but it remains standing. Rillitan is luckier,

utterly obliterating another with perfect precision shooting. Nix's firing finishes off the already injured Phyrrian, leaving two upright, and one of those

Aadz clips to slow it down.

They are utterly silent now suddenly, all chirping ceasing but for the discharge of their muzzles, leaving Calm alone to flee safely as they now focus on

Rillitan and Tirax for their success.

Tirax hisses as he dodges out the way of the incoming fire, barely encumbered by the worksuit. "If there is a next group, Martin, you'll be on the ship

anyway." He opens fire on the Phyrrians again, strafing them as he moves.

Snowstreak isn't accomplished enough to strafe with a pulse rifle, not yet. He just keeps his attention on the ticking amalgamations, firing and firing and

shooting and sending trigger pull after trigger pull at the 32nd Century Clockwork Contrivance

Martin kneels down and takes aim at one of the Phryrrians and opens fire. "Next group or not, not the question right now." The Martian grumbles as he doesn't

move for his spot. "Ya'll head back to the ship. Gonna leave me here, now would be the right time." He says as he remains in place. "Second guessing isn't

going to fix anything. They could have killed us all, they could of been here to hand out big robo snuggles but now isn't really a great time."

Outnumbered and erratic in the ways they flail to avoid the fire, the patchwork Phyrrians can't hold out under the coordinated onslaught. Tirax utterly

eradicates another and Snowstreak renders the last barely functional, steady beeping and warning lights that look like they were once part of a car's

dashboard screaming alarms. Martin's shots tear with uncanny aim through the air, abruptly silencing the sounds.

All around in the muggy afternoon, silence returns.

"Woah!" Rillitan yelps, jumping to one side as a shot flits past his suit, "That was a /little/ close." he manages, moving to one side to find some cover

before it appears he doesn't need it. "Any movement?"

Calm just continues ahead! He won't stop until he gets to where he wanted to be! Calm has left.

"I... t'ink t'ey gone," Aadzrian sighs, holding his gun at the ready and warily looking around. "I no hear anyt'ing. Every-body okay?"

"Quite fine," Tirax says in a low growl, checking his weapon's charge.

"Yeah.. okay." Martin nods as he stands once again. "Okay.. well..." He then starts to move over towards the wrecked Phyrrians. "Be back to the ship in a

second.. gonna look for a hardrive.. or maybe one of them can.. well isn't completely dead." He says absently.

Snowstreak fires a few more times into that last machine before shakily lowering the weapon as if it ached to keep the weapon trained anywhere but on the

possible threat ahead. He is standing entirely on the fore of his feet, legs tensed up as if any moment he might charge forward and start tearing into the

metal. He murmurs through the com "F-fine... I'm fine..."

Aadzrian looks all around slowly, and then lets his glass-walled gaze focus on Martin. "Martin. You promise to me you no gonna shoot at anot'er group t'at

act t'at way, and you stay out here. I no wanna lose a gun and I ex-pect you learned from t'at, yes?"

"Don't bother, Aadz," TIrax snorts. "We've probably lost our chance at any peaceful resolution, that noise would have been heard for nearly half a mile at

this distance."

"If they made it through the blast, there might be some left in the other cities. The radiation would have ruined any transmitions hopefully. Maybe

Deepcrest. Don't be a pessimist." Martin says as he stoops low to look at the wreckage for anything to completely destroyed. "Come on..talk to me." He says

softly. "Tell me I was wrong." He says as he pokes around. "Still want a head?" The Martian asks turning a little to look at Tirax. "Not going to shoot

anything till they give me a good reason.. but aint the most friendly guy sometimes."

The Phyrrians are unmoving. It seems every last one of them is well and truly shot to pieces, and no other sign of life stirs anywhere nearby.

"No mate, /I/ aint the most friendly guy sometimes... You, you're a fucking idiot." Rillitan snorts, shaking his head.

"Okay. He make a mis-take. We talk about it later. We stil on a job," Aadzrian orders everyone firmly. "Martin, you know not to does t'at again. Now, I t'ink

we should wait for Calm. I know him and any of us is likely to only maked it hard for him if t'ere is enemy. When he come back, we go on to next stop."

"You were wrong," Tirax states tersely to Martin, even if the comment wasn't directed to anything living, shaking his head. "No, I don't think so." That said

he turns to look around, keeping a sharp eye out.

Snowstreak continues to clutch the pulse rifle, his ears kept back as he swallows and looks down at the weapon. He raises his head and looks around again,

slowly turning and doing a full 360 look-around before he shakily manages to lower the weapon, sling it on his shoulder and once again begins pulling

samples.

"Nobody really knows if I was completely wrong." Martin says as he stands and dusts his gloves off. "But yeah it was a premature. The Katana is in a cave

further up the coast. It might still be intact." He says idly as he slips his weapon behind him and collects whatever might be electronics and puts in his

case. "We leaving now?" The question is directed over at Aadzrian as he turns to look over in the direction Calm went off to.

"Like I say," Aadzrian repeats himself patiently, "when Calm return, t'en we go for quick samples off Deep-crest and a trip to te Katana." He seems quite

calm himself now, an unmoving pile of armor as he gazes over their silent surroundings.

Snowstreak twinges his whiskers and murmurs to Martin "Be careful, if that metal has been around then it is as radioactive as the ground beneath us..." He

twinges his whiskers though and then continues doing a preliminary scientific study. He grabs what looks like a 2' diameter pipe and drives it down as far as

he can into the ground before pulling it up and capping it off. Yes, science cat is all sciency.

"Yeah, probably best not to take it onto the ship, actually," muses Tirax. "...Hope the sciencey types appreciate the work we're doing down here so they can

come do their analysing. Also hope it helps."

"I don't think it'd be a good idea for 'em to come down without a freakin' escort, mind." Rillitan says, looking across to Tirax.

Martin shrugs his bulky shoulders and drops the bits. "I hope we got a proper decon set up. All our stuff is going to be glowing afterwards. And if we find

people.. them too if they were close to the bomb." The Martian says as he idly looks around. "Science folks can set up camp here.. seems to have cleared up..

but Deepcrest has less things to worry about. Radiation and all that fun."

"Wait, wait." Aadzrian takes the case off his back and opens it. "You could put some of te Phyrrian in here. I t'inks may be use-ful. Hope Calm back soon.."

Snowstreak twinges his whiskers slowly as he mrruffs over a sensor "Radioactivity can be decontaminated over time. Local vegetation will seep it out of the

ground and air and, with some proper farming and crop rotation- it can be reinhabited." He keeps his muzzle down as he speaks though. "Captain, would you

like me to go find Calm?"

Tirax shrugs lightly. "Not our job to decontaminate it. Just need to get it ready for the other lot to come down and do whatever they want to do."

"I was talking about decontaminating our worksuits and equipment. Probably going to have to do the entire ship." Martin says as he picks up the bits again

and hands them off to Aadzrian.

"Firs-" Aadzrian turns on his comms, calling softly, "Calm. Report." He awaits an answer, though nothing seems to come. With a sigh, he tucks the bits into

the lead case and nods to Martin. "We are gonna puts te dirty stuff in te cargo hold, I hire a team to clean it when we get back."

Rillitan stands there, looking unuseful.

Tirax sighs softly, waiting in silence.

"Guess thats a no." Martin says idly as he glances around. "Okay..." He murmrurs absently. The Martian looks back then shrugs as he wanders over to Aadzrian

and uses his exterinal speakers at a low setting.

Snowstreak breathes out, looking towards Aadz in silent expectance before he asks "Maybe the ionization is degrading communication range?" Pulse Assault pose scowls a little, uncomfortably. "Where... te fuck... is Calm? Shit, guys. No reply- we better go looked." Aadzrian scowls a little, uncomfortably. "Where... te fuck... is Calm? Shit, guys. No reply- we better go looked."

IN THE MEANTIME....

07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)67.235.128.122

Greenville Wetlands <Greenville, New Luna>(#8023RDnrF)

Tall grasses and thick lilypads come up through the water here, creating a tangled web just above the water's surface that is teeming with life.

Tiny, wren-like birds make nests in its protection, as do small rodents and amphibians. Buzzing, deep purple flies and the like keep a constand high droning,

and a low, base warbling can be heard periodically from several directions at once. The grasses taper off as they stretch into the deep water. Through this

bustling ecosystem a 40 or so foot wide causeway has been cut into the thick flora to allow marine passage, and leads to a small dock. The dock itself

stretches for almost a quarter mile before reaching a muddy shore, and begins to follow a rough path between farmer's fields. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Thu Jul 17 13:22:35 3008 The intense cornflower sky looms over the midday.

Contents:                              Exits: Freelancer Calm <IC>                   <TP> Towards Pitchton <BW> Boardwalk

Silence continues to reign here, the wetlands at the edges of the city baked to flat and brutal mud. The windswept remains of what might have been ships

blown in from the sea stretch out, weathered and tattered relics that bear little hint of their initial forms. The boardwalk's gone, but progress in that

direction towards what may be water out beyond the mist seems possible, if one picks through the mud.

Calm looks to mud for a second, pondering just a short second. He then pushes ahead, hoisting gun high to keep from mud to setting into the precise

machinery.

The mud doesn't give too much under Calm's feet, maybe only an inch or two- the hard crush only barely cracks to reveal the soft gooey layer underneath.

Nothing moves in the general vicinity, the desolation unyielding as one progresses through the misty air, rubble rendered vaguely menacing by the fog's

suggestion.

Boardwalk: Washington River <Greenville, New Luna>(#19187RDnr) - New Luna - 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)67.235.128.122 Split logs of some light pale wood are roughly shaped into this gently swaying boardwalk. The rough-smudged wood winds along the estuary a half-dozen

feet from the muck below. The walk parallels a lazily winding channel of the river as it braids with the others across a sea of tall grasses rooted in soupy

mud and punctuated by more or less solid hills, eventually ending at the base of a small hill. Like the river's branches the boardwalk takes the path of

least resistance, winding around the occasional waterlogged tree or silted-up dead-end branch of the river and trails off as thr ground solidifies far from

the coast. Bridges leap other small streams that trickle out into the broad muddy expanse of river. Small signs of life are evident all around birds

especially scurrying in the grasses and cutting long clean paths through the air; their squeaks and cries only emphasise the habitual quiet of this place.

The organic scent of decay hangs heavy on the air. Thu Jul 17 13:31:40 3008 The intense cornflower sky looms over the midday.

Contents:                              Exits: <RF> Research Facility <WL> Wetlands <WR> Washington River <IH> Independence Harbor

Calm continues along, picking haste over caution. He's in a hurry, despite the suit's lack of real agility. He clears the vent, again buffering himself with

fresh air inside the sealed unit. His visor swings back and forth along with the rifle's barrel.

Ahead the faint sound of water can be dimly heard, though the mud grows no softer. The outlines of Independence Harbor become visible, between the shattered

wreckage that juts up sharp from the ground.

And even with that, Calm shows little fear, still pushing ahead at near the same path. He does crouch slightly as he gets closer to his goal, tension

displayed mostly by the shorter and quicker steps and the twitch of his rifle. Of course, he's whistling inside his suit, an irritating note over the open

comms.

Independence Harbor <Greenville, New Luna>(#19204RDnr) - New Luna - ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^       The land and sea meet uncertainly, salty blue ocean water giving way to thick hummocky estuary mud in a whisper of spent waves. The silt-laden waters

of the Washington River snake out of the muck, pouring a fertile brown stain across the ocean. Sea birds with enormous wingspans wheel and cry like

calligraphy against the sky. The long light wooden finger of the Independence Docks stretches out through a clear stretch of ocean with several small boats

tied along it. It leads to a broad wooden platform of roughly split logs that's set on a patch of relatively dry ground and tethered against the lift of the

tide. Upon this are some few wooden sheds and coils of rope, half-repaired boats and sailcloth. Crisp ocean scents struggle for dominance with brown organic

decay and the smell of fresh wood. """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" Thu Jul 17 13:40:16 3008 The intense cornflower sky looms over the midday.

Contents:                              Exits: NLS Pride of Bacchus                   <LP> Landing Pad New Luna Transit Ferry                 <BW> Boardwalk NLNS Vancouver                         <WR> Washington River NLS Kismet's Kiss NLS Raven NLS Reaper NLS Magpie

Underneath the footing changes suddenly- mud gives way to... glass. Nuclear glass, the sand smooth and utterly treacherous, anything that was on the harbor

gone and blown away. Salt from evaporated ocean water clings to the glass in thick white powdery layers, but only a small distance out, sickly water laps at

the uneven slick shore.

In the distance, up the slope to the landing pad? Something gargantuan and metallic looks down over this scene, motionless as anything else.

Calm freezes, caught in the open with no where to go. He laughs, a soft amused note. Instead of worrying with the metallic issue, he braves the glass and

A little time and a little care and the water is reached, nothing threatening. That great metallic shell remains towering and casting its shadow, but from

here nothing can be determined.

Calm takes a small vial from the suit, not perfect but suitable for the object in question. He kneels to take the sample of the water with one hand, rifle in

the other, still half-turned to watch the metal giant with his peripharal vision.

Nothing moves in that twisted mass, and the water does what water does- flows into the tube.

Calm seals the tube, slots the strange reward, and then rises to his feet and begans to move toward and up. This time, he's moving to the metallic mass. look

The silence of utter desolation slumbers here in this metallic graveyard. When one gets up to the landing pad's surface to view it, the metal shape reveals

itself as an amalgamation of several things. Central is the remnant of a twisted, broken, fallen communications tower of unbelievable size and scope, no

longer able to communicate anything. The hollowed shells of great Phyrrian warships surround it, barely anything intact but the faintly recognizable hulls.

Calm moves up to the wreckage, slow and somber. "Things die, in brilliance, or decay. You suffer both." He moves about, silent footsteps, the shadow of a

living man himself, amongst the realm of the dead. One hand, slow and sure, reach out to touch the metal with the thick glove of his suit. "I wonder how he

felt. That day." He pauses for a moment considering, looking to his gun for a moment. Then he starts to climb, shutting off the comm station.

The comm station seems to have no power and life, its support struts wailing in protest at supporting even Calm's weight- yet it holds, and nothing seems to

change by the man's action. The metal remains sleeping, too grand and too wrecked to be affected by human hands. Over the comms in the suits, Aadzrian's

voice crackles softly, cut off in mid-word just as Calm turns off the system: "Calm. Re-"

Calm ignores it, climbing to an elevated station to look over the world for a moment, to take in what there is to be seen.

Ruin and wreck.

The ocean still laps below at the harbor, but not a building stands in the heart of the city, a hundred-foot radius entirely cleared. Further out from that

one can trace the decreasing effects of the bomb as tenacity is rewarded, some buildings maintaining some degree of upright status. The mist clings to

everything, softening all, rendering many things as mysteries.

Calm stands tall, visor slowly swivelling. The rifle is held at low guard for a moment, forgotten. A deep breath, shaky, and then a choked sob. He gulps down

the recycled air, on the verge of hyperventillating, rifle swinging free from his off hand to dangle barrel down near the shaky perch he had chosen. Vertigo,

sharp and intense, may explain the swaying, and he tears his gaze away from the Blight on the land.

07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)`

Back in the city...

Tirax freezes, shuddering a little. After a few seconds have passed he takes in a deep deep breath. "...Ho...holy -shit-," he whispers softly. "...Aadz!!! We

gotta get down to the harbour, I think something's happened to Calm!" That said, he starts sprinting that way.

The Martian goes ramrod straight as the younger of the two Timonae speaks. The Martian pulls up his rifle then starts in that direction as fast as he can.

Rillitan closes his eyes for a moment before frowning and moving after the others, "What is it Tirax? He's fine..."

"Go, go!" Aadzrian shouts without a moment's doubt, nodding to Tirax and sprinting after him. "He is fine -now-, Rilli-tan. Timonae, t'ough, Timonae see te

-future-!"

"Rill -is- Timonae!" Tirax calls back, still sprinting that way. But it's a long way to the harbour.

"Fuck that I ain't seen the future shit." Rillitan mutters, before moving into an all out sprint with the others.

Greenville Wetlands <Greenville, New Luna>

Tall grasses and thick lilypads come up through the water here, creating a tangled web just above the water's surface that is teeming with life.

Tiny, wren-like birds make nests in its protection, as do small rodents and amphibians. Buzzing, deep purple flies and the like keep a constand high droning,

and a low, base warbling can be heard periodically from several directions at once. The grasses taper off as they stretch into the deep water. Through this

bustling ecosystem a 40 or so foot wide causeway has been cut into the thick flora to allow marine passage, and leads to a small dock. The dock itself

stretches for almost a quarter mile before reaching a muddy shore, and begins to follow a rough path between farmer's fields. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Thu Jul 17 14:21:41 3008 The intense cornflower sky looms over the midday.

Contents:                              Exits: Bounty Hunter Rillitan <IC>            <TP> Towards Pitchton Accountant Martin <IC>                 <BW> Boardwalk Masochist Tirax <IC>

Snowstreak has arrived.

The ground here is naught but mud, flash-baked mud that is hard on the surface but somewhat gooey underneath. Old ruined ships dimly squat scattered around,

more lumps than anything else. Not a sound of life can be heard but the sound the party makes on their way.

Martin stumbles along, the mud and his MCA not a good mix at all. "Ships..?" He murmrus to himself as he readies his rifle and turns on the motion sensor on

his suit. "What's goin on?"

Snowstreak is a Demarian- muddy ground is a specialty. His deft feet easily work over the mirky ground as he goes. He PAR is still tucked over his back as

teh kitty seems to favor footfall over firepower.

Independence Harbor <Greenville, New Luna> - New Luna - ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^       The land and sea meet uncertainly, salty blue ocean water giving way to thick hummocky estuary mud in a whisper of spent waves. The silt-laden waters

of the Washington River snake out of the muck, pouring a fertile brown stain across the ocean. Sea birds with enormous wingspans wheel and cry like

calligraphy against the sky. The long light wooden finger of the Independence Docks stretches out through a clear stretch of ocean with several small boats

tied along it. It leads to a broad wooden platform of roughly split logs that's set on a patch of relatively dry ground and tethered against the lift of the

tide. Upon this are some few wooden sheds and coils of rope, half-repaired boats and sailcloth. Crisp ocean scents struggle for dominance with brown organic

decay and the smell of fresh wood. """""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" Thu Jul 17 14:28:11 3008 The intense cornflower sky looms over the midday.

Contents:                              Exits: Accountant Martin <IC>                 <LP> Landing Pad Masochist Tirax <IC>                   <BW> Boardwalk Dice                                  <WR> Washington River NLS Pride of Bacchus New Luna Transit Ferry NLNS Vancouver NLS Kismet's Kiss NLS Raven NLS Reaper NLS Magpie

The familiar contours of Independence Harbor are still visible, as one forges through mud which remains hard. The sound of the ocean can be faintly heard in

the distance, growing louder and louder as one comes closer. As the wind stirs the mist, a great behemoth of metal can be seen atop the cliff of the pad,

looming upward at a crooked angle towards the sky.

And then... the beach. It's treacherously slick, a blasted glass surface to which powdery vaporized salt from the ocean clings. As the group reaches the edge

of the former sand, a shot rings out up above at the landing pad, distant but sharp.

Silence is all that follows it.

Aadzrian halts, panting from the effort of moving his MCA-clad bulk, staring upward at the landing pad. "...-Shit-," he whispers."

Tirax carries on running, settling one foot onto the glass sand and to his surprised, skidding across it. Amazingly he manages to keep his balance, using the

sand to speed him along towwards the landing pad. At the shot though, he looks up at the sky. "...Too late," he says, horrified. "...Too late."

Martin lifts a brow at the sound of the shot. The Martian curses lowly in his native tongue as he tries to move towards the sound of the shot. All movement

stops dead as he looks over at the metal thing. "Hera's droppy tits.. what the many hells is that thing?"

"Shit." Rillitan murmurs, still moving forwards.

Snowstreak bounds along before coming to a slow, stumbly stop behind the group. He stops and then looks up towards the pad at the staccato of shots. He

murmurs "Well... on the bright side, Phyrrians use lasers, right?"

From above, there is a sign of motion- something slight, at first, almost like a slither. Something that moves almost unwillingly, bit by bit, sliding down

the side of that metal amalgamation. From this distance, it is nothing but the suggestion of an action through the fog- at first.

Whatever seems to hold its progress in check dissipates, suddenly, at a point seemingly chosen at random. The form tears loose, hurting through the sky

limply. Proximity resolves its features, four limbs, arms outspread like wings that do nothing to arrest its flight.

And with a distant, echoing splash, a human body in a worksuit plunges into the sea.

Aadzrian is silent. Completely silent. And then he moves, MCA clanking, as in defiance of all common sense he heads for the water. At first he's walking. And

then as it deepens, he begins trying to swim.

"Aadz!" Tirax calls. "No! You're too heavy in that! I'll.. I'll do it!" he yells, skidding towards the sea and diving in, worksuit and all.

Martin blinks as he looks up at the metal thing. "Ummmm hello? Martin Hayden here.. Think maybe we got off to a bad start ealier! Ummmmm... I use to live

over.." The Martian glances around and points at a wrecked ship. "Over there! Came to see how the property values were. Care to have a little civil chat? No

guns and stuff?" He calls out as he glances over at the Timonae. "Well.. trying." He murmurs before he backpeddles and his shaking hands don't go for his gun

just yet.

Rillitan occupies himself by making sure there is nothing in the surrounding area approaching them, "Shut up you fool." he mutters, though not very boldly.

Snowstreak twinges his ears har and gruffs "Demar's dimpled ass!" as he pulls out that geiger counter and holds it towards the water. Oh yes, jump into the

giant body of water that has been contaminated with nuclear fallout. Yes its an ocean but its hard to tell. Did you know that the wave action you see at the

beach is not really water coming in and out like it appears but the same water recirculating in most instances? Well, the kitty does. And over the seas, we

will scan! We're tabulating it all, we're tabulating it all again...

"I can do it. Go back," is all Aadzrian says to Tirax, voice emotionless. And oddly enough, despite the hundred pounds of MCA, it seems he can. He keeps his

upper half mostly above the water, moving- if not quickly, steadily, heading to where the worksuited-body floats.

Tirax hesitates, but eventually nods, pulling back and out of the water. "...Okay," he says numbly.

The metal shape is unmoving, and there is no sign of anything else... despite the body, it seems peace reigns on New Luna once more.

"Fuck." Martin murmurs, finally tearing his attention away from the shape and looks out over towards the floating body.

Aadzrian continues his slow swimming until he reaches the body. Clipping a link between his suit and the worksuit, he silently turns and starts swimming

back. He calls towards the shore, voice still remote, "Change of plans. Let us just go finds te Katana for now, and get back."

"Get the ship ready," Tirax says quietly, reaching shore again and waiting for Aadz.

Martin nods his head. "Gonna upload the location and codes now." Martin murmurs as he goes the way he came, his PDA coming out and some things get typed up.

"...Shit. Ac-tual. Let us just going back now," Aadzrian says lowly. "We have samples." He makes it back to shore, lifting the body with a grunt. The helmet

of the worksuit has been shattered by a single shot, having done considerable damage. Slowly, the Timonae looks up at that looming pile of metal.

"Fuck it... I got some D55, s'chance for some payback?" Rillitan offers with a borderline snarl.

"That.. that is something we should look at some other time." Martin says as he taps a finger on his faceplate. "Well.. wasn't a total loss at least..." He

blinks once and looks over at Rillitan. "If what I did was a fuck up.. then yeah.. that would be a really big one. We can come back and poke around it some

later. It turns out to be a bastard, we bomb it then maybe."

"Is pro-babble gone by now, wat-ever didded it," Aadzrian offers blankly. "...We wil go now, and look at it on a fly-over on way out."

Snowstreak nods quietly as he takes a quick look at... well, the body but he doesn't bother saying anything. Its kind of moot making a medical prognosis at a

time like this.

"True." Rillitan nods, looking at the body of Calm for a moment before shaking his head and turning to leave.

"We can always scout again." Martin says as he trudges back to the ship. "I really wouldn't say things are safe enough for the science folks just yet."

Aadzrian marches back through the mud, staring forward. "We have no seed any ot'ers," he murmurs very lowly. "I am no sure. We really need to comed back."

The Timonae doesn't pause, continuing steadily back to the outer portions of the city.

07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)

Airlock <IND Laughing Fox> - ...........................................................................       An amber warning light washes the simple airlock, chasing dull shadows across the gray hullsteel walls. The airlock is sized for approximately five

crew, with ample space for their gear and equipment. Sturdy access panels and equpment lockers frame the room, providing a sparse atmosphere of simple

utility. Along one wall there is a rack for five EVA suits, along with ports for keeping the suit systems charged and online. Forward a sturdy hatchway leads

into the freighter's command section while a second identical hatchway leads aft.. ........................................................................... Fri Jul 18 05:28:59 3008 The lights are set at their dimmest level, simulating night and signifying the last watch of the day. A storage locker is here.

Contents:                              Exits: Bounty Hunter Rillitan <IC>            <AH> Aft Hatch Accountant Martin <IC>                 <FH> Forward Hatch

Snowstreak has arrived. Snowstreak boards through the ship's airlock.

"Suits off," Aadzrian sighs tiredly as everyone steps into the airlock. "I wil take t'em back to cargo hold."

"So what the hell do we do now?" Rillitan asks, "Should I cycle out the air, how do we irradiate our suits?"

"Oh... oh, right." Aadzrian seems a little shaky, still holding that body. He sets him down and moves, quietly, over to the rack of EVA suits. He pulls a

lever beside them, a blanket of cleaning foam filling the room.

Snowstreak twinges his tail slowly, waiting for the foam to be over before he slips out of the suit and starts over to Calm. His tail flick-flick-flick-flick

quickly behind him, wisking swiftly as if ecstatic to be free of its worksuit prison.

"Ahhh shit." Rillitan mutters, pulling the foam about areas of his suit that aren't covered

Aadzrian bathes in the fluffy foam, but doesn't take off his MCA just yet, also bending over to scrub off Calm. He removes the shattered helmet, revealing

the shots to the forehead and the clean, quick kill that they seemingly provided.

Snowstreak twinges his whiskers slowly as he sighs out, looking at Calm before looking up to Aadz. He takes in a soft breath and whispers "Well... I suppose

we should tell Ace..."

"Ace? His partner?" Rillitan asks, looking fairly morbid.

"No. She is no his part-ner. But she deserve to know." Aadzrian stares down at Calm's body a long moment before straightening. "...Give me your suits, I put

t'em and him in cargo hold."

Snowstreak nods quietly towards Aadz and nods towards the pile that is his suit. He flicks his tail behind him slowly as he looks down at Calm then grabs a

body covering bag from the bag on the side of his worksuit. Kinda... depressing that he has to keep some on hand but.... he is a doctor for the Fox after all

The other Timonae nods and pulls his suit off fully. "I'll take us up now, cap. I uh, if you need someone to help clean up the body, I'll be willing to do

it. Show some respect."

Aadzrian shakes his head slightly, murmuring, "I am his friend. Twise now I fail him. Te leas' I can do is cleaned him up." He reaches to gather up the

suits, then hesitates. "Let me getted him settle, I want to be on bridge for fly-over. See wat was." He doesn't wait for the body bag, simply picking Calm up

on a bed of stretched suits and heading aft.

Snowstreak nods quietly and folds his whiskers back. He takes in a soft breath then stands up quietly, tail drifting quietly about before reaching up to rub

back his mane.

"Don't make a good load of sense, pushing feelin' on yourself... But okay, I'll just get us warmed up." Rillitan walks out into the bridge.

Rillitan punches in a keypad code and enters the ship's forward compartment. Rillitan has left.

"I doing only wat I has to." Aadzrian continues aft with a loud clank, holding his burden carefully.

07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)67.235.128.122 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)

Starboard Cargo Hold <IND Laughing Fox> - Star of Mercy ...........................................................................       The cargo hold is a utilitarian affair, a simple space framed by the reinforced bulkheads and deck acess plates. Tie downs and anchor pins line the

area in a flexible grid, allowing all manner of cargo stored and secured. A quad set of mounting bars run the length of the small bay, allowing the

installation of seating if required. The hold is fairly massive, sized for approximately 20K of cargo. Hidden behind large access panels and equipment banks

are the varied multi-purpose support equipment, to allow for a variety of transport environments. On the port side of the hold is a heavy access hatch,

providing the link between the cargo container and the freighter. ........................................................................... Fri Jul 18 05:59:13 3008 The lights are set at their dimmest level, simulating night and signifying the last watch of the day.

Contents:                              Exits: <PH> Port Hatch

Snowstreak enters from the ship's spinal corridor. Snowstreak has arrived.

Snowstreak follows after you, his tail drifting quietly about. He tries to tuck his paws into his pockets though... discovers he doesn't have any. He takes

in a soft breath and mews "Hey..."

Aadzrian settles Calm's body out in a corner, using the worksuits like a bed and setting the helmets to the side. He kneels down, a behemoth in his armor,

and reaches carefully to close the other man's eyes with graceless gloved fingers. He doesn't look up or back at Snow.

Snowstreak opts quietly to fold his paws in front of him, looking quietly to you without really saying anything. He looks on quietly, sort of just ... there

for you.

Aadzrian seems shut off and withdrawn, rather than looking for the support. After a long moment of that quiet vigil, he just shakes his head. A hand digs

into the bundle of supplies on his back, pulling out a piece of cloth and wiping Calm's face clean. That done, he pulls off his helmet and sets it down,

rising and turning away.

Snowstreak looks to you quietly before he whispers "I... am sorry Aadz." He breaths out quietly then starts gently to your side to place his paw quietly on

your shoulder- armor or non.

Aadzrian pulls away, though not angrily- just, evidently, so he can start disassembling the armor that paw rests on. "I really liked him," he confides, voice

very low. "...We need to get back."

Snowstreak nods quietly adn then sighs out "Me too... he was going to teach me kung fu...." He lets his whiskers rest back upon his cheeks.

"I canno t'inked about it un-til we are safe, back on Han-cock. I canno." Aadzrian closes his eyes tightly, hands unsnapping each of his seals, dismantling

his armor piece by piece. Finally he leaves it in a pile by Calm, and in nothing but the boxers he wore under the suit's underlayer, he moves out with a dull

stare forward.

07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)67.235.128.122 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)

Bridge <IND Laughing Fox> - Star of Mercy ...........................................................................       The hatchway opens up to a small metal platform, which overlooks a compact command center. Light filters out from hidden coves, providing an even

illumination across the bridge consoles. A rainbow of telltales and monitors add a touch of color, breathing life into the functional and utilitarian space.

A few steps down, the bridge workstations are arranged in a rough semicircle, following the shark nosed form of the ship's bow. Two stations face forward and

are centered beneath the main canopy. The other two workstations face the port and starboard, one on each side of the bridge. The space is tight, with arely

enough room to move when all the stations are occupied. ........................................................................... Fri Jul 18 06:26:09 3008 The lights are set at their brightest level as the mainday watch begins.

Contents:                              Exits: Weapons Console                        <AH> Aft Hatch Communications Console Engineering Console Navigation Console

Snowstreak enters from the ship's airlock. Snowstreak has arrived.

Rillitan is presumably in the pilot's chair as Aadzrian enters, the older Timonae sitting down in the captain's chair without any doubt this time. "Take off,

fly-by Green-ville," he dictates softly, and the ship begins to power up.

Snowstreak mmms as he makes his way quietly to ... well, the gunner console. He dunno how to do it but he just kinda watches the viewscreen, tail moving

lightly behind him

Aadzrian sits in silence, watching the viewscreen as well. The ship lifts off, and soars low over Greenville. The view of the landing pad is strange, metal

scattered across it like the ribcage of a giant deceased animal; a central sternum stretches out, a toppled comms tower of truly magnificent size. Hollowed

wrecked hulls of Phyrrian war ships form the ribs, bare skeletal husks of their former shape.

Snowstreak takes in a slow breath and breaths out. He whispers quietly "Aadz... I... I just don't understand... how anything could do something like

this...." as he looks out the viewscreen, his gaze- for the first time- stoic and stone like.

"I wonder how many Phyrrians it kill," Aadzrian says tonelessly, still staring.

>> Outside the Ship: The IND Laughing Fox carefully manuevers and enters the Hancock Station's docking bay >> Outside the Ship: Landing Bay <Hancock Station> >> Outside the Ship: - Hancock Station - 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC) This incredible chamber sports almost a square mile of poured plascrete, all watched over by a high communications tower precisely centered in the

immense floor. Centered in the rock ceiling of this chamber is a field of lightly buzzing blue energy, allowing ships in and out with a minimum of atmosphere

loss. Cheery lighting fixtures line the walls, in stark contrast to the otherwise utilitarian nature of the bay. A set of tall steel double doors provide

access to the rest of Hancock Station, dwarfed by the great ship-sized hatches in the rock walls that allow entrance to the station's dry dock and shuttle

pad. 07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC)07:38, 18 July 2008 (UTC) Thu Jul 17 22:46:13 3008

Contents:                              Exits: Captain Taeren <IC>                    |SP| Shuttle Pad Info Assistant Kastaprulyi <IC>        |DD| Drydock Strider Volgavian <IC>                 |IL| Inner Lobby NLG Outcast AFV Sentinel VAN Franklin IND Star of Mercy IND Iuppiter Lucetius

>> Outside the Ship: The IND Laughing Fox enters and lands within the docking bay

Snowstreak looks quietly to you then breaths out, sighing "Should ... never have come to that...."

>> Outside the Ship: The Fox sails into Hancock Station's landing bay, coming to a smooth stop in its previous berth.

"But it did." Aadzrian rises, turning.