Planetside RP (has nothing to do with the game)

Planetside RP

To preface, I was unaware that there was a game with the same name, so lose all preconceptions that this is similar.

Rules and gameplay

Turns
A turn is classified as a 24 hour period or whenever all players have posted, whichever comes first. You may post more than once per turn but you cannot exceed three posts per turn (barring special circumstances such as direct dialog). If you do not post within a turn it is assumed that your character is off maintaining their livelihood. Failure to post within 4 turns (at most if turns occur in less than 24 hours) it is assumed that your character has died and I will create the circumstances (unless you have preferred circumstances and you pm me the details prior to my posting if your death).

Realism
Realism is implied. The laws of physics are constant and to enhance immersion into the story suspensions of the laws of physics, general rules of biology and abilities of individuals won't be permitted and I will pm any player who does so to modify or delete their post.

Player walk-ons
Player walk-ons are permitted within reasonable limits. Anyone wishing to walk-on during the rp pm me and I will typically allow it.

Player deaths
In the event of a player death (things happen, characters die) see walk-on rules to rejoin the game.

Use of technology
Technology has advanced to astronomical levels, however see realism. If you can't come up with how something would work it cannot be introduced.

Character profiles
Follow the standard model for my character and NPCs posted.

Species
Genetic modification has yielded 6 species of human, each cannot reproduce outside of their species, so yes, they are actually different species.



Playable species

Human
Unaltered human, unremarkable yet balanced and more resilient (with the exception of Sigma-Humans) to physical ailments and (with the exception of Beta-Humans) to mental conditions.

Beta-Human
Genetically modified to be significantly more intelligent than any other human species. More prone to physical ailments than any other species of human. Resourceful, quick-witted and dexterous they typically make up the scientific portion of society.

Gamma-Human
Genetically modified to be very efficient in bodily functions capable of surviving much longer with less food and water. Created to be the pioneers of the new space-faring days they make up the typical colonist. Mostly unremarkable, however due to their system being so efficient they are slow to heal.

Delta-Human
Designed to be the typical laborer, they are strong and very team-oriented. Delta-Humans are hardy but inefficient in their bodily functions requiring more sustenance than most other human species.

Sigma-Human
Tailored to security and military functions Sigma-Humans are incredibly spacially aware and posses superior eyesight and motor-control. Their bodies heal at incredible rates and can even regenerate lost limbs, spinal injuries, and can even regenerate organs. High levels of endocrine modification make them prone to emotional extremes and have implanted chemical micro-factories to stabilize them.

Epsilon-Human
Engineers and mathematicians by nature Epsilon-Humans are typically cold, logical and emotionally mute. Second only to Beta-Humans in intellect these humans can typically engineer anything that is presented before them.


Affiliations
Characters have affiliations within the following corporate or government agencies.

Gordon Aerospace
Type: Corporate
Subtype: Aerospace

Volchenkov Medical
Type: Corporate
Subtype: Cybernetics

Huang Biomed
Type: Corporate
Subtype: Genetic Engineering

Trans-World Logistics
Type: Corporate
Subtype: Logistics

Colonial Solutions
Type: Corporate
Subtype: Xeno-agriculture

Bullseye Industrial
Type: Corporate
Subtype: Construction/fabrication

Hubble Communication Solutions
Type: Corporate
Subtype: Communications

UN Col-Sec
Type: Government
Subcategory: Military

UN Colonial Administration
Type: Government
Subtype: Administrative

UN Col-Sci
Type: Government
Subtype: Scientific

NPCs and GM character

Name: John Boyd
Gender: Male
Affiliation: UN Col-Sec
Rank: Captain
Species: Sigma-Human
Appearance: 6' 10" (208 cm), Athletic build, eye color: green, hair color: grey, hair length: short 2" maximum length, skin coloration: caucasian, attire: UN-Sec standard adaptive camouflage fatigues
Age: 47 Solar years (still relatively young considering the 150+ life expectancy)
Personality: Uncensored, abrasive, decisive and ultimately concerned with ensuring the safety of those around him
Weapon/tool: M2447 UV Laser Assault Weapon* with prog-knife bayonet
Personal History: A veteran of the Unification War on MV-19225 (UN designation, known as Progress to the inhabitants) he wears his scars with pride. As a member of UN-Sec he earned the distinction as a superior officer and a superior soldier.



Jeffrey Goldstein
Gender: Male
Affiliation: UN Colonial Administration/UN-Sec
Rank: Colonel (retired)
Species: Epsilon-Human
Appearance: 6', average in shape build, eye color: brown, hair color: salt-and-pepper black/grey, hair length: shoulder (pony-tail), skin coloration: tan caucasian, attire: business, grey shirt, black tie, black slacks, polished combat boots.
Age: 116 solar years
Personality: Formal, authoritative, professional and dignified
Weapon/tool: Arael Technologies micro-fabrication universal tool
Personal History: A veteran of several small-scale inter-colonial wars as an engineering officer Goldstein was selected to be the foreman for the construction of the new colony (which has yet to be named). Known for his focus and dedication to the task at hand he earned several titles. Wanting to retire from UN Colonial Administration he begrudgingly accepted the job to secure residence in the new colony and full pension. He was once married to another Epsilon-Human however she died giving birth to his son who cited within the year due to complications from the birth.

Number 6 (she chose it because it "sounded interesting")
Gender: Female
Affiliation: Stow Away
Rank: None
Species: Beta-Human
Appearance: 4'5", thin and wiry build, eye color: Genetically chameleon (changes with automatic nervous signals, hair: bright red, hair length: just beyond the shoulder, skin coloration: light (she doesn't get much sun), attire: grease smeared, plasma burned, worn overalls and sneakers
Age: 12
Personality: Eccentric, overly-energetic, somewhat obnoxious, arrogant, loud, overly-curious, childish
Weapon/tool: custom nano-fabrication universal tool
Personal History: The result of a few "visionary" (if that's the word) Beta-Human scientists to engineer a smarter Beta-Human (the results were promising, until she got bored and escaped, then hid away on the UNSV Piatkowski.

Settings

Aboard UNSV Piatkowski Sagan Class Colonial Vessel

Massive "Einstein Time dilation" chambers make up most of the 3 km long vessel to compensate for the long voyage. Time slows to an ordinary scale making the journey last 5 years (intended time to destination) rather than the tens of thousands of years it would take to reach the colony. The interior if the ship is sensibly designed with conservative decor, and is lacking of a personal touch, the obvious result of Epsilon-Human design. Individual compartments are outfitted with micro-fabrication units and blank carbon masses to be fashioned into furniture. The bulk of the hull's interior is designed to resemble a small city complete with parks, housing complexes, several corporate laboratories, and various food production facilities. Housing 6,000 people of all human species. The bridge is isolated in a hyper-time emulator which makes time pass at controlled intervals. The bridge is designed by military standards as per the orders of Captain Gordan Kip. Surrounding the vessel is a powerful Hawking series event horizons modifying special relativity allowing the ship-time to be in synch with Earth time (the trip takes 20 years Earth and ship time). At it's core hovering in the middle of the ship's inner city is the power-plant, a micro-black hole supplying the ship with sufficient power. Protected to ridiculous standards it is virtually impossible for the core to ever go critical. Manufactured by Gordon Aerospace the ship's crew is made up almost entirely of Gordon Aerospace personnel.

On the surface of the alien moon

Profile of the alien moon
Gravity 1.4G
Atmospheric density 1.2x that of Earth
Atmospheric composition breathable, excess of oxygen allows for larger fauna
Liquid water coverage 65% salt water, 12% fresh water
Magnetosphere 4.9x Earth's

The ship crash lands on the edge of a vast desert (to minimize damage). In the crash the entire bridge crew dies.

The wreckage

Sealed in a Dirac sea the ship's core is inaccessable rendering the once powerful vessel dead. Without Higgs field modulators the ship's full mass makes it unstable and it will soon crumble under it's own weight. Most of the vessel is beyond salvage.

The desert
The desert is the only known desert on the moon, with temperatures exceeding 155°F. Local fauna are present, but sparse. Broken by occasional geothermal geysers, sulfur pools and very sparse pockets of vegetation.

Savannah
Laying just beyond the desert is a vast savannah making up the majority of the landscape of the moon. Broken by hundreds of square kilometers of dense rainforests. The majority of life on the surface of the moon is xeno-reptilian carbon based life.

Rainforests
Too dense for sensor probes, explore to find out.

Polar caps
Unknown, no time for detailed scans.

Vasili "Nomad" Romanov
Gender: Male
Affiliation: UN Col-Sec
Rank: Sergeant
Species: Γ(Gamma)-Human
Age: 53 Solar years

Appearance: 5”9’, Moderate build, eye color: violet, hair color: black with violet streaks, hair length: somewhat short 3.5”; has a fringe which usually covers his right eye, skin; light tan.

Attire: On field: modified UN-Sec Recon fatigues******, Off duty: Black t-shirt under a digital camouflage BDU, shirt is open and often rolled up to just before the elbows. Always wears his dog tags*****, watch and holster.

Personality: Reserved, To-the-point attitude, does not like people beating around the bush when they talk to him. Acts cold and expressionless to most people. but secretly looks after the safety of others.

Hobbies: Reading, will often be seen passing time by reading on his ePad.

Weapon/Tool: M67 RSS*, P8 DAP** and Recon Tanto Knife*** Vasili uses the combo of Pistol and Tanto when in close-quarters or uses either alone but will never use the Tanto along with his Sniper. Uses an ePad for recreation, fits onto a mount on his arm when on missions(using it to map out areas and record key locations) but when off duty, will usually have it in one of his pockets.

Personal History: Served in UN Col-Sec as part of the 23rd Detached Reconnaissance Regiment**** for a few good 13 years as a Recon specialist. He never usually talks about his past ops as he believes it’s more productive to talk about the future than the past. Specialized in long distance reconnaissance, often to map out key locations of hostiles or the terrain of unknown lands but also skilled in medium-long range shooting and close quarters combat, practicing the use of pistol and blade.

When time came for his promotion to Sergeant, he did not want to accept it as he felt he had done nothing worth receiving it. In the end he was pressured by his company commander to take it. Vasili was assigned with expeditionary forces, performing recon ops of potential colonial sites, scouting of resources, etc. Gains the nickname Nomad because he keeps all he needs in a duffle bag, in his defence, the duffle bag uses MOLLE system and can hold pouches on its sides, specifically his rifle bag for his M67.

Has served with John Boyd for quite a while and is his NCOIC(Non Commissioned Officer in Command).

Appendices:


Text Color: CC00CC/Violet

Maximilien Godric Erde

Gender: Male
Affiliation: Trans-World Logistics
Position: Senior Bureau Director
Species: Beta-Human
Appearance: 185cm, sleek, thin body build, pale-white skin, bright red hair. Hair style: Messy ponytail. Hair lenght: (untied) slightly below shoulders. Eye color: Bright green. Overalls: Classical black buisness suit with collared shirt, prefers to leave collar unbuttoned. Also has a wardrobe of comfortable, flashy civilian tunics. Marked preference for ancient clothing element called "shawl".
Personality: Jovial, easy-going, superb actor and empath.
Age: 79 Solar Years.
Personal tool: Toth Electronics "Infinity" data module, with improved (custom ordered) wireless communication set and direct neural interface. Grey Industries "Specter Mark XI" mass-accelerator pistol.



Personal history: Max has a far more wild history then one might had expected out of senior corporate employee. Born on MV-8492 (Pacifica), Maximilien participated as a young man in a vast revolution against rigid, corporate-aristocratic local government. Although he is by no means competent military man, his skill in managing people, explaining complex ideas and planning devious, but embarrassingly simple sabotage methods made him somewhat of minor celebrity and major terrorist cell leader, whom U.N agents charmingly called "that Smiling Bastard". Amongst several of his cell's deeds, he almost completely paralyzed his planet's comm. network and spectacularly robbed all of the planetary governors of their money. As a part of peace process, revolutionary authorities had to hand him over to the U.N - but rather then be imprisoned, he was inducted into U.N Unconventional Warfare Studies Department, from which he eventually legally retired. He had a Sigma-Human wife, a high-ranking officer within U.N Col-Sec that perished in test accident. Following her death, he decided to find employment among some of the MegaCorporations, which proved to be willing to pay a great deal for his skill. He is known for being very affectionate, and maintained a great number or relationships and sexual liaisons with a great number of women over the years. Why he would be on a colony mission is a little puzzling, although it could have been out of personal desire to maintain lower profile, and a part of Trans-World "hands on" marketing scheme.


Incidentally, the wealth he stole during his younger days was never found. It is estimated that in current values, it would be sufficient to buy colonization rights to a small stellar cluster.

Azusa "Azu" Wiseman (nicknamed Silver Wolf)
Gender: Female
Affiliation: UN Col-Sec
Rank: Corporal
Species: ΣSigma-Human
Age: 23 Solar years

Appearance: 5"7’, hair length: just below shoulder blades tied in single french braid
Appearance at her time in Boot camp:

Field attire: UN-Sec expeditionary adaptive camouflage fatigues (adjusted to her likening)
Off duty attire: Coyote brown BDU pants, with tank top and fleence jacket of same color. Desert issue combat boots in coyote brown. Always wearing at least a sidearm and one knife.

Personality: Rarely speaks but when she does her soft voice is captivating. Her movements are similar to that of a wild predator moving quickly and silently. She's hard to read but one thing is certain: She loves her job.

Weapon/tool:
CZUB MRP Vz.0*, P7**, Recon Tanto Knife. If she's got time to modify she prefers using Vz.0 but usually she just draws P7 when on CQB, being skilled with countering atempts of disarming her.



Personal History: Being Sigma-Human she never hesitated to enlist. From the start she was outstanding in fulfilling her duties and that forced others to work harder. She became a squad leader. Her drill sergeant repeatedly praised Azusa in his reports for fullfilling her duties as squad leader and as a trainee in top performance and motivation. She also set a new school records for long range sniping and CQB. She is also only person from her training unit that left school with Expert proofness of Hand-to-Hand combat.
After discharge she joined UN-Sec 66th Expeditionary Unit called "Hell Stormers". Namely 3rd Battalion, 2nd Regiment. 66th Unit is an Expeditionary force for unknown planets or serves as Commando (Rapid deployment units usually called to unsteady areas which have potential of not being handled by local authorities).
Given her performance at Boot camp was, shortly after she joined 66th Unit, decided to promote her to Corporal.
Durring her time at 66th Unit she got deployed twice before being assigned on board of UNSV Piatkowski. First time was in a small scale rebelion on one of Open-pit mining moons where she got excelent sniping records and obtained her MRP Vz.0. Second was exploration of newly discovered ice planet for posible new water resources from glaciers covering the planet.
She deserved her nickname for her aggressivenes in combat and due her white hair that became a sort of her trademark with coyote-brown outfit she favors off-duty.

Silvia de Pacifica, also known as Silver Rose.

Gender: Female
Age: 18
Affiliation: UN Colonial Administration
Rank: First Lieutenant
Species: Human
Appearance: Too lazy to write actual details, this picture should be enough:



Silvia is on her the left, with her sleeping sister.

Personality: On the outside, she either holds a bright smile or just a cold face devoid of expression, almost like a serious professional. She is a kind and mature person, understanding, reliable and somewhat carefree.

Weapon/tool: M35 PDW CUSTOM;




Background: Silvia was the older princess of the royal family of Pacifica - at the age of 14 - which governed the world of MV-8492... also known as Pacifica, originally named by the ancestors, with the family name. Silvia had a younger sister who was completely childish, but arrogant and energetic, almost the opposite to Silvia and usually unkind to everyone other than Silvia and herself. Silvia had natural talents and she's striven to be the perfect example of an elder sister figure for her younger sister's sake, as she dearly loves her sister. Thus her knowledge grace, elegance, leadership capabilities were known throughout that world. She thought that her life would continue on like that and she'd eventually be the queen, perhaps, and live a happy life. But reality was cold enough to show otherwise, and hence, fate had something different in store for her world.

There was a revolution. Rebels from the shadows stole the wealth of the rulers and the aristocrats were overthrown. The foundations sank and her mind faced a void. She lost herself and stared at all the chaos as everyone and everything was taken away from her, one by one. If the U.N had not intervened, she'd definitely not live to see the future. As time passed, she started to live alone and started living life anew. Lots have happened, she accepted all the misfortune and moved on from her life-long scars after burying it deep within her heart, a pang of pain still arises rarely whenever she remembers about her sister who she misses now and is separated from. But living alone wasn't enough, she had to do something, and have an aim, when she left her world and started and living in another world before boarding the UNSV Piatkowski Sagan Class Colonial Vessel; she became a popular idol, known as Silver Rose. But little did her fans and public know that the U.N Colonial Administration recruited her for her talent, knowledge and capabilities.

So, to sum it up, in day she is working as an idol. In night, she is a Lieutenant who walks the streets outside with a disguise (U.N members knows how she looks when disguised as well), who tries her best to work diligently. Albeit recently promoted. She still feel out-of-place while working sometimes, but she manages herself quite well with her charming smile aiding her all the way to even this type of work. There is only a rumor about her being heavily involved with U.N, but people does not know for certain. She has a lot of stress in her mind and she is sometimes seen pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes with a sigh. And yes, she carries her a lot of the time. The life of an ex-princess who still holds her grace and elegance now got led to an distinctly eventful and busy life.

(OOC: Whacky character, I know. And also, Lieutenant ranking was suggested by Keirova.)

Name:Joseph Shimizu
Gender:Male
Age: 67 Solar Years
Affiliation: Volchenkov Medical
Rank: CEO (Retired upon families death)
Species: Human

Personality: Blunt (Almost to the extent of being cruel), Can be dubious at times (questioning his actions), tenacious, mostly logical in thought and action. If something motivates he tends not to care for the logistics; prone to moments of emotional outbursts, usually attributed to constant pain from his limbs. Capable of using medicine through his implants to null the pain, preferring not to as it makes him jaded.

Appearance: He stands roughly 5’8, his right evergreen eye peers out of his sunken features, more apparent by the pale tone of his skin. The left eye looks normal, save for the azure glow coming from its iris, noting its mechanical nature. His brown hair is kept no longer than half an inch thick, with no hair in spots where he has had surgery from implants. Other implants are visible at almost every joint of his body, with the exclusion of his left leg and arm, as they are both mechanical, though they are almost always covered. He is, however, quite fit, from so many years of practiced martial arts.

Clothing: Typically wearing well-kept, heavier, yet plain clothing, such as hoods, jeans, and gloves. He attempts to cover most of his body to hide his heavy augmentation, so as not to scare any passersby.

Weapons/Tools:


History: Quite literally the definition of a “Self Made Man”, Joseph designed an implant which earned him millions as well as a high rank position in Volchenkov Medical, soon growing into CEO, and mascot for the company. And what might he have done with all his money? Turned himself into a playboy philanthropist. However this lead to an extremely unhealthy lifestyle, causing a heart attack that nearly killed him. Losing his past interests, he hired a team of researchers, pioneers in their own professions, to teach and help him develop custom implants. He also took a stronger look into physical activities, learning many martial arts, with an express focus on ancient warfare styles.

Keeping up with his family, he would take them to other planet, to keep them from public eyes, but in a tragic event where most of the planets money was siphoned away, havoc and riots ensued. He did what he could to protect his family, though they were killed in an explosion, with him losing his left arm and leg. He awoke weeks later on his home planet, rage at the loss of his family, pain at the loss of his limbs. Seeking to see the man who started the cascade of events face to face, he took all experimental techs he had developed, and over the next few years implanted it into himself. Pulling many favors over many planets, he tracked the man down to the ship, boarding it under the guise of menial labor.

Name: Riikka Eloranta
Gender: Female
Age: 14 (Solar = Earth) years
Affiliation: Bullseye Industrial
Rank: Do you really have to ask?
Species: Δ-Human

Appearance:


Personality: Pretty much nothing bothers Riikka, being a laborer and all. She works hard, and she gets things done fast. Don't bother her while she's working, as this is the only thing that gets her angry. That, and bad mouthing her work ethic. Very friendly and easy to get along with. She has no knowledge of morals, nor manners, which will explain a bit of her actions.

Weapons/Tools: Basic construction equipment tools. She doesn't need a weapon, because she's just a worker... And because most people are afraid of her strength for such a small frame.

Background: Riikka was born on the ship heading to the colony. As such, her birth mother and father gave her up, thinking that life would be too difficult for their child in the colony. Riikka (who was 5 months old at the time) was adopted into a small semi-poor family who lived in the city on board the ship. Riikka's adopted father and mother were born in Helsinki, Finland, First Earth. Riikka's adopted father was a regular human, and her adopted mother an Σ-human. Since they couldn't procreate, they decided to adopt Riikka. Riikka never went to an educational school. Sure, she knows how to read and write if required, but ever since she was able to lift up 500kgs of weight, when she turned 9, she had helped her dad when he went to work with Bullseye Industrial.

Because of the difference with her parents, Riikka was pretty much left to do what she wanted when she had free time. This usually entailed her sitting around the house naked when she was younger, before she was 5 years old. Now, she only sits in her own room naked to relax. And with her being a Δ-human, she needed a lot of food to keep her going, which is why she helped out her dad with work. Riikka wouldn't care for silverware, as she mostly used her hands to shovel handfuls of food into her gullet.

When these behaviors became too much for her parents to bare, they tried sending her to a manners school when she was 6 years old. Of course, she just blew off all of the teachings. At one point, she literally threw one of the male Σ-human councilors against the wall when she was in one of her sessions with him. She later explained this was because he insulted her work ethic at trying to fix her behaviors.

At the age of 8, she was told to go play outside. She did so... but she got curiously lost when she tried to follow an ice cream truck. A group of males came upon her as she was trying to find her way back home. They were pedophiles and tried assaulting Riikka, little did they know she was a Δ-human. She soundly threw one of them against the others and they ran away. Luckily, she was found by one of the Σ police officers and was escorted back to her house.

When she was 10, during one of the holidays, she made one of her rare visits to an educational school, just to make and play with friends. She was able to slip into one of the classrooms during their lunch time, and was able to convince everyone to go outside with her and play. The teacher returned to an empty room, much to her surprise. The teacher found all of them playing outside in the small park they had out back. All the kids got into trouble, and Riikka was taken to the headmaster's office where they contacted her parents. She wasn't let out of her room for anything but work for a couple months after that. Occasionally, she'll still visit the school to play with her friends there.

After that, nothing else much happened of importance until the crash. Riikka lost both of her parents in the crash.

History, lore and culture
Just adding to the universe, not completely necessary

Conflict, unrest and revolution

Xeno-liberation front


Revolution on MV8492 (Pacifica)


Earth-First Naturalists


Conflict at Luna


There is more coming, so don't think I'm done just yet.

Terrence Nguyda
Gender: Male
Affiliation: Bullseye Industrial
Rank: Lieutenant in Bullseye Industrial Corporate Security (Army)
Species: Human (Cyborg)
Personality: Very colorful.
Clothing: Olive-brown variation of the standard BI CorSec assault BDU.
Lets just say it looks like this. Has a small capacity personal shield generator.

Weapons: CSSINACR Mk.2 CUSTOM FASOP Build and NV-03 HVSG. Assortment of grenades, explosives, etc. Assortment of knives.





Bio:
"Fighting private wars for a corporate entity is tough, but the pay is very good. For every one human brought down, a raise of 10,000 ISC (Inter-space Currency) to the yearly paycheck, five times more if it turns out to be a Sigma. Having served for 20 years in BI CorSec, fighting wars without the restrictions of the UN Convention of War. Last stands with all sorts of nuclear, biological and whatever those Beta and Epsilon psychopaths think of in their labs. Battles against indoctrinated populations. Losing an arm to mutated populations. Nearly losing everything below in a melee in an acid swamp. Crash landing on a hostile water world and living off some kind of fish all the while being marauded by enemy gun boats. Starting wars for the sake of simply showing new or improved hardware to potential buyers who end up not buying the weapon due to it being "too inhuman" or "overkill". Stopping wars because it simply became boring. Assaults on corporate information hives or defense of one of your own. So you ask me to retire? Are you mad? The moment I step into civilian life is when I die, or when they actually decide to release to me a retirement pay that allows me to buy 3/4-ths of the explored universe."

-Terrence to a news reporter, bed.

((OOC: Starting the RP up!))

"Alright if this ship makes any sense at all I should be right above the bridge" Six thought to herself as she inched her way through the ductwork. The grease covered child laughed to herself proud of having gotten so far. She looked down through the grate to see into the bridge. What took her seconds to get to took years aboard the city and months on the bridge, but she didn't have the patience to wait. Arriving at the colony seemingly seconds after departing suited her fancy very well, plus stow-aways are never looked upon kindly on colonial ships. If everything proceeded as she planned it would take another day bridge time to arrive, so she went through the ductwork and looked in on the happenings of the bridge.

"Sir, final security sweeps have commenced, but I'm not sure about this" John said to the Captain. "I mean the entire trip without incident, something has to be up."

"Relax John, it's just a peaceful voyage is all, nothing to get upset about." The kind looking old man smiled and sipped casually at his whiskey. Ever the calm and jovial man, Captain Gordan Kip was always reassuring the tense John Boyd and telling him to lighten up a bit, more.

Suddenly the ship shuddered and lurched in space. Maintaining speed but losing time correction drives throughout the ship. Ship time and Earth time were separated thousands of measures over.

(OOC: Post where you are, your reaction and whatever else you deem necessary, spoiler everything extraneous.)

((OOC: Ah, so we're starting ahead of schedule. Fine by me.))

. . . White. That is what covered this room. Plain white like the tundras of Siberia, while seemingly inhabitable for many, it brings a sense of nostalgia to this man who considered the lands home. The nomad stood amidst his featureless room. Empty save for his trusty duffle bag, which laid over a sheet of camouflage, obviously the nomad uses it as a makeshift bed.

A bead of sweat crawled down his face as he let out a sigh. He continued his routine, moving on to stretches, reaching for the roof with his right arm and leaning his torso to the left. He let out neither a groan nor a moan as he reached his limit and returned to his original position but he almost loses his balance as the ground quaked beneath him, forcing him to change his footing. As sudden as the quakes had started it had disappeared, a hum of curiosity and he was already walking down the corridor, making his way to the bridge.

Maximilien stretched lazily as he woke up from his nap. Truly, running a business on board of massive colony ship in the middle of nowhere was a pleasant, do-nothing exercise, leaving him, most of the time, to his own devices.

Which most of the time included either sleeping with his absolutely gorgeous neighbor, or playing those antique XXI century videogames.

Only from time to time did he hope that his team would screw something up, giving him a reason to go around the office by himself fixing...stuff.

"Such is a life among competent henchmen..."

With nothing better to do and an empty stomach, he begun to set up ingredients for supper when it happened.

It was a sudden, but a powerful jolt - and Max felt himself slamming against the cupboards, while dozens of glasses expressively darted through the air to smash against living room floor.

He watched in a bit of amazement as tomato sauce locked in one of those "unbreakable" glass jars in his hand unnaturally twisted back and forth, before randomly turning through several different shades of red before turning back to its original consistency.

And just as suddenly, everything stopped.

That was not a good sign.

Max might have not been an expert, but he had seen enough deep space cruises to know that whenever something happened to drives, or worse, time compressors, it was not just a minor malfunction. Most of the time, it was a proverbial "Holy Shit" emergency.

And the harder the jolt, the bigger the shit.

He instinctively darted to his room, grabbing three things that mattered to him the most - the data module, a crystal given to him by his late wife and a sealed mahogany box - containing his prized handgun.

"What was that about, living in interesting times?"

Like every morning, my alarm clock was going off at 05:30 hours, which signaled the start of my days. I stretched and yawned as I got up from my bed. I walk haphazardly over to my dresser and tap my alarm clock. I've had to be gentle with them, as I've already gone through 15 alarm clocks in the past year, as I would usually hit them too hard and break them. I rub my eyes with my right hand as I open up the top drawer of my dresser and grab a pair of my favorite undergarments, stripped underpants. I have no clue why, but I've always been fascinated by the stripes.

As I put on my underwear, I trot over to my bathroom and sit in front of the mirror. I brush my hair 100 times, and then I start to put in my two ponytails that I like to have on the sides of my head. Since I don't need bras yet, my mother tells me, I wrap some lengths of bandages around my chest, just to cover up a bit in case my shirt were to rip while I worked.

Still yawning, I brush my teeth quickly and trot back to my room. I get out a pair of my stockings and my usual clothes. I take one last look at my outfit before putting it on, and see that I'm missing my mother's brooch. Not my adopted mother, but my birth mother's. Oddly, that was the only possession that my birth parents ever gave me, and I've held it dear to me ever since I was told about my situation. Being born on the ship heading to the colony, my parents probably didn't want me to have to worry about all the things they'd have to go through. As I'm thinking of all of this, I search all around my room for the brooch, and finally find it underneath my pillow. "Now how did you get underneath there, you sneaky little thing.", I say to the brooch as I go back to where I set out my clothes. My outfit wasn't too grand or anything, but it was the latest outfit my current parents got me, and I really like it.

As I start to put on my stockings, my stomach starts to growl, and I hurriedly try to put on the remainder of my clothes. I jog out to the dinning room, and take a seat at the table. Mother and father are already out there, and are doing their normal routines. Dad is making breakfast, and mom is reading the newspaper. I remember one time when mom tried to make breakfast, and it was all burnt. Was the worst breakfast I had ever had, but I ate it all. She hasn't cooked anything since then. As I take a seat, my mother speaks up.

"Oh, I see you're wearing that new outfit we got you the other day."

"Yeah, I love it."

"Well, so long as you don't go and ruin it at work", my dad interjects as he turned around with two plates of food. Both of which were for me, since I seem to eat twice as much as mom and dad. They've not said anything to me about how much I eat... just about how I go about eating it. I don't see a problem about it though.
As soon as my father puts down the plates, he warns me that they're still hot, so I wait for a couple minutes. As I do so, I drink a couple glasses of milk.

"So, we starting work on a new building today sweety. Do you already know what you're supposed to do?"

"Yep. I know I'm supposed to carry stuff to the people who are placing the foundation and the support columns for the building.", I say without a moments hesitation.

"Yep, that's correct. Now, eat up. We have to be leaving here soon."

"Jaa.", I say as I start digging into my food. I just use my hands as I tear into the food on the plate, and shovel it all into my mouth as fast as I can. I felt like I was starving. My parents just look on as lovingly as they can at the spectacle before them.

I lick off my hands, trying to get every morsel, as I get up from the table. I start heading outside, and I wave to my parents.

"See ya."

"Have a nice day", the both of them say at the same time.

I make my way down the street to the trolley stop. I usually take it in the mornings to the work site. It only takes 10 minutes before the trolley comes, and about 15 minutes to get to the site. I breathe in the smell of construction as I get off the trolley. This was the only place where I could use my full strength. The only place where it was fun to do so. I walk over to the supervisor, and get ready for the shift. At about 07:00 hours, we started work on the foundation of the new building.

As we were putting the final support beam into place, the whole ground began to shake, as if it was an earthquake. Everyone starts to scatter out of the way of the materials we were using on-site, so that they wouldn't get hurt. A couple of the beams started to bend and snap as the vibrations continued for a full minute.
After the earthquake stopped, everyone looked around. There was broken glass in a few places, and traffic had come to a complete stop. Everyone began talking and speculating about what happened, but I didn't know what to think. All I knew was that we now had to redo the entire foundation, as a crack had split the concrete base in a few places.

"Well, this will be fun.", I say as I happily jog over to one of the steel frame beams and yank it out of the concrete as if it were the easiest thing to do in the world.

A simple poster with the bold red words reading "No Rest For the Wicked" was slapped up on the wall next to the entrance of the officer's quarters. Admittedly though, this was, under company rules, considered R&R.

I grabbed my power cutter from my hip sheath and casually stenciled the letters into the Titanium VI walls. The smell of burning paper filled the hall, but the alarms did not sound.

The hissing sound of a door opening and an unkempt man in his early 30s stepped out and with his finger pointing upwards said, "I sort of disabled those a day ago, but I wouldn't recommend smoking heavy Reigar tobacco yet." and returned to his bunk room.

It was pretty obvious he was waiting for me to do that, and try to get in my good graces as usual.
One day ago, that would probably mean a year? No a month? None of that quasi-Einstein field-thing never made sense to me.

I continued my morning walk.

Turning left into the mess, an annoyed looking young man was furiously tapping at his Orion* and across him a man in his mid-20's was sleeping, as I approached, the young man looked up and let out a half-salute with an obvious, while the other, slept away.

"Bass-mon, the InfraNet is slaw as hell sir.", he exclaimed. He shipped in before me and my squad were crammed into this beautiful piece of shit. All I know about him from his bio file and word from the older guys is that he hails from Vitus, and that he has a InfraPorn habit.

I looked to the other man, then I turned around, grabbed a cup of caf and left.

I headed for one of the views overlooking one of the work sites in the ship. It was painfully obvious how this ship was rushed. Originally meant to set sail roughly 30 years from now, Gordon Aerospace needed a PR boost after that incident with one of their inter-solar SpaceFerry line of ship's reactors went nova. That PR boost would come in the form of a inter-universe colony ship.

Looking down, I see a mix of Normal Humans and.. Delta Humans. The Normal Humans were mostly there being the supervisors while the Delta's as hard labor. The class divide was obvious.

They seem to be in the final stages of laying the beam work for a much needed habitat unit, until the workers scattered as some of the scaffolding and support beams came crashing down. I felt my balance tip a bit during the same instance.



"Sergeant, what happened, and why are you in your combat suit?", I asked in a calm but commanding voice.

"Sir, all security teams are being assembled.", he said with notable lack of breath. "We are going to aid our civilian workers into the crash shock pods."

Today I am reading a novel I randomly picked up from the bookstore yesterday. I didn't have the time to read it before, but now I can read it... while preparing breakfast. I have to go out for work soon. Everything is so troublesome, I have to multitask almost all the time now. Ah well, at least I am used to this type of life, as I think this, I sip on my milk tea. I read these random novels just to have an inspiration for a new song as I do other things, and I try to pick out some unique words to use for the lyrics while I'm at it.

My producer asked me to take a day off today, so that I can read up on this book... while he could flirt with some other idol. Well, it's his business. As I am a commoner now, I have simple things... like uhm, noodles. Instant noodles. All the time! I still have trouble having anything of a 'normal' breakfast, lunch or dinner as I try to save as much money as I can for getting a new place, as it's too far away from most of my work-places, well, to wherever I go to do idol-works, mostly. I got this cheap place somehow, but I can't stay here for long, or else my living days will get more and more tiresome.

As I slurp down my noodles - in the next moment after my previous thoughts - which I'm using to enjoying uhh... what do they call it again, 'chowing down'? Anyway, as I have more of my noodles in the table... while holding a book with the left hand and reading it, at the same time. I feel a pulse, and then a strong impact that shook everything in my place, including the necklace around my neck, a memento of my past life.

Did they mess up? They did, didn't they? So now, I must go there and try to help them out, this work is more important, after all.

I hastily gulp down everything on the bowl like a soup, and get changed, and put up my disguise in a hurry. I make sure that my M35 PDW is in my pocket as I have to get to Jeffrey Goldstein to gain information regarding this situation as soon as possible. As I think this, I run out of my house, I whip out my phone and attempt contact him as I run.

He always considered the roads in this city so brainless. Not something he would tell the makers, primarily because there is nothing he could do about it now. It’s not difficult to throw up some color here or there, the parks aside, for flavor, but he found a few places which were scenic enough to live with. Likely not a choice by the Epsilon, but he had someone to thank for pushing it.

It takes some work to get to, a short jog and some climbing, but you get a good view of the city; he would stretch in the morning here, working out the ache of his limbs while avoiding prying eyes that accompany his mechanical limbs. No one was supposed to be here, on the rocky ledge, but it still had safety rails for some reason… another senseless expense, but led him to believe it was a piece of path seldom explored.

Using the rail for support, he looked out into the city; more specifically the parks. There was always something happening there; today was no different, using it as a distraction. Though too many meters away for most to even notice, his Eagle XVI could clearly see them, and read their lips in conjunction with his implants, if need be… the man looked familiar, the father of a boy who came by the clinic often, at least as his implants were quickly telling him.

*Hmp!* the sound of him stretching, as he watches.

He could respect what was happening with the kid, seeing as the kid lost his legs in an accident on the ship. Stepping outside of his position in the clinic, he worked with a few who knew of his past… endeavors to make him some mechanical replacements, but they were far too far out of the family’s income to keep up the payments. Not something he would have forced, though not his call; all he felt comfortable with was watching. If he didn’t have his own goals he might help but…

*Rumble*, the slow aching from the ship.

“What in gods name….” he exclaims, noting the whole city starting to shake, faster now, as he loses balance mid-stretch, plowing into the rails. Almost falling over his left arm in a vice grip with the rails to keep him there. It was nothing like he had felt before, and he wasn’t exactly in a reasonable position to deal with it…

"Damage to the bow Einstein-Compensator, Hawking field collapsing!" Shouted a young ensign into the clamor of the bridge. "Losing navigational control! Captain at this speed it's virtually impossible to maintain course, especially with the inertial force of that blast!" Shouted another. Red lights flashed throughout the ship and sirens continued to blare. Ever calm, Captain Kip looked up from his captain's chair and spoke softly to the nearest crewman, "turn off the warning system, we're all aware that there's been an explosion, we don't need to have any added stress alarms." The crewman nodded, ran to a console and deactivated the alarm. Suddenly there was absolute silence on the bridge. "Full reverse on all ionic drives, engage inertial dampeners, use every functioning time-compensator to push us back... If there's anything you can do to slow us down, do it now." Pausing briefly crewmen ran attempting everything within their power to slow the massive starship. "I'd like to make a ship-wide announcement" he said without the slightest bit of indecision about it. "Attention, I'd like to have everyone's attention aboard the vessel. We experienced a serious equipment failure for unknown reasons. The ship will not be arriving at our intended destination, however she's still space-worthy and I will not allow this ship to be the last chapter of all our lives. If you see a crewman in need of assistance, help them, if you see anything you can do to save yourself, do it. Lives are on the line, and I'm depending on every last one of you, just as I'd ask you to trust me. We may not arrive where we intended to go, we may not arrive when we intended to, but we WILL land this vessel and we will not all die, I assure you of that. Some of us may meet our ends here, but those who survive, carry on the legacy of those who did not. Those who lose their lives today, they will never be forgotten. This is your Captain, Gordan Alexander Kip, signing off."

After completing his speech Captain Kip sighed a heavy sigh just before Six hopped down from the vent and hid behind a console. "Sir, we need to jettison the core and utilize our remaining resources to get to the nearest UN outpost." John insisted. "Clearly you haven't seen this data yet." Captain Kip said with heavy words, turning a display to face the soldier. It was a series of numbers adding up quickly. "That's when we are, cosmic drift factored in, we're 3,000 light-years, at least, from the nearest UN posting, assuming it even exists still. John assemble your team and get to the nearest shock-pod, they're going to need your men wherever we end up."

"Sir I refuse to leave this bridge!" John retorted. "I gave you an order did I not?" The Captain hastily replied back. "You do know what an order is, I know that. It's a lawful order and yiu must obey. Get your team and get to the shock pod. It's been an honor John."

Azusa critically looked at display shoving her score. The last clip she shot from her P7 was a a bunch of Ten and Nine hits with one that scratched the Eight. She felt annoyed by it and for a split of second it was even shown on her face. She then decided that it would be more than enough exercise for one day while changing the magazine and cocking the gun. She returned her gun to a holsters and cleaned her post.

While walking her way to barracks when suddenly the ground started shaking almost making her fall.
This ain't right. She thought and turning on heel she was on her way to nearest command post.

The lines into the pods was orderly and neat. I guess that what happens when you have military-grade armed guards watching over them. A couple bursts of gun fire a district away indicated what might have happened if we were not here.

Being majority a construction firm, most of the ship-board population belonged to Bullseye Inc. The original plan with the numbers was to quickly establish a foothold wherever this ship put down. If it made it there anyways, and from the looks of it right now, it won't be.

Some of the people waiting in line, me included and some of my men, were showing signs of slight nausea. Previous experience suggests that the ship is doing some heavy maneuvers, as the gravity generators are probably near overload due to the stress of keeping this sheer number of people in place.

A ding on the HUD of my helmet got my attention. Pods 1 and 3 are at max capacity. Max capacity being at 120 individuals and with extra capacity for any additional items. For this case, the additional items were people who are standing and holding-on to anything in the pod. They will die upon impact. Looking at the sea of people waiting to get in the remaining pods, there was not enough. Gordon might have been kind enough to give us majority of the pods, which is around 14, but as it is, there is no way to cram all these humans into them. I remembered something I read that during the 19th century of this great ship that had this same issue. I can't seem to remember the name.

Another ding.

Pods 8, 9, 12, 13, and 14 are full.
A quick buzz from Timo, one of the squad-leaders under my command, indicated they were heading to their pods now.

Dammit.

Another ding.

2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10 and 11 are full.
Shit, this won't be good.
Two buzzes. Timo reported his squad were in the VIP pod and waiting. The other one was from Werstien and said they were heading to the pod also.

I tensed my hand on my rifle. No back-up on this one if it goes to hell.
Seeing this, the sergeant also did the same, as did the rest of the command squad.

At first, it was still calm, people filing in due to the extra capacity.
It was when the blast doors started closing abruptly when the maximum weight limit was achieved.
People started pushing themselves against the doors, begging for it to be open.
A futile attempt at most, since the people inside have no control of the doors. The AI does, and AIs tend to be as cold as their makers.

Eventually, tempers flared as some started arguing about X person cutting into line or what not, then, the inevitable broke out. A fist flew, the friends of the victim of that hook came in and pounced on the man. His friends then in return joined it. It spread through the crowd like a virulent plague. Workers using their helmets, or whatever equipment they had on them as weapons. Some of the accountants were using their pens to fight back. A man with a small power cutter slit the throat of a young female accountant. Madness.

The sergeant was eager to get in, as he moved slightly in-front of me.
I quickly grabbed him with my right arm, and tapped him twice.
He turned around, then looked back at the crowd, stood quiet for a split second, and relented.

We slid from our overlook position and headed for our pod.
There was no use in saving them. If we tried to stop them, we would have been their priority.