Futuristic The Neutral Zone - Cassette Futurism, Interstellar Cold War, Cosmic Horror [CLOSED]

[Infab]

Nicholas Harper - Infab
Lola - Infab
Anya Kolpas - joshuadim
Anton - Breadman
Henry Maken - Holyhalo
Patrick Knight - Worthlessplebian
Renard Dupont - Crocodile
Adrian Felski - dikdik


Rules​

1. Please, be nice.
2. No power or metagaming. You have a lot of freedom and slack, but ultimately a dice roll will determine if certain things happen.
3. If you go inactive or drop, your character(s) will be under my control (and may potentially die.) If you let me know you're going to be inactive for a while and can pick back up later, I'll look after your character till you return.
4. This is primarily a PvE game, but PvP can still happen.
5. As GM, I'm god. New rules can be implemented on the fly.

This RP is currently a closed RP. We are not actively recruiting, but if you are interested in it, shoot me a message! I'll see what I can do regarding working you in, if you really want to join!

As GM, I control various NPCs in the story, but some may be controlled by players. All events will be under my direction. Feel free to throw ideas at your fellow players. I want you guys to have fun!


Preface

To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders. Lao Tzu

It is the year 734 of Galactic Era 4. Humanity has spread itself across the stars over the course of tens of thousand years, having traveled far from their homeworld into the vastness of the universe. Some things, however, never change. In the Kentaurus Spiral, humanity's tendency to align itself with various ideological ideas and its passion for armed conflict has forced it to divide itself among three great empires: the Commonwealth of Free Worlds, the Union of Xistrovian Socialist Systems, and the Kamoran Imperium. Each of these facitions is determined to become the dominant force for humanity in the galaxy, and would do anything to obtain that goal. However, this puts the human race at risk in the Kentaurus Galaxy, as open warfare would most certainly doom humanity to extinction here.

The galaxy sits in the middle of a cold war, the three factions kept from openly fighting each other by another faction made of like-minded individuals from each empire. This faction is known as the Galactic Preservation Conglomerate. Its goal? The survival of the human race through peaceful means, and it achieves that goal by simply making sure the three large empires don't try to kill one another. The GPC is being put to the test, however, by a recent event inside what is known as the Neutral Zone. The Neutral Zone is a vast stretch of space between the empires, meant to be shared by each under the watchful eye of the GPC. The Neutral Zone is full of vast stretches of resources, used for a variety of different things. A true bounty, but a shared one.

Inside the Neutral Zone, deep in the Aidoneus System, lies a moon known as Lethe. On Lethe, the three empires have constructed mining colonies to dig out the large quantity within the moon for their own benefit. Deep below the surface, in a mining shaft known as the Gamma-37 tunnel, a grand incident has occurred. Explosives detonated underground nearby caused a total collapse of Gamma-37, resulting in hundreds of casualties among the miners, and fingers are being pointed. The Galactic Preservation Conglomerate, currently investigating the matter, has come up with the source of the explosions: a now collapsed cavern and tunnel system several kilometers away. This other tunnel wasn't supposed to exist, and so far, no one in either of the three colonies on Lethe knows who made it and why. Tensions are growing, as pressure is put on the GPC by the three great empires to figure out who caused this and why.

In the days following the incident, people have begun appearing in clinics and hospital wards of the colonies. Complaints are mounting of lack of sleep, and intense vivid nightmares when they do eventually collapse from exhaustion. Medication and therapy isn't helping. This is turning into a real mess, and people are racking their brains trying to figure out the best course of action.

The fate of Lethe, its inhabitants, and likely the empires and human race in the Kentaurus Sprial rests on new arrivals on the moon. Perhaps they can bring this madness to an end... or perhaps, bring about something new?


​

 

[Infab]

--- --- --- --- ---
Lethe
Low Orbit - Shuttle 7
En Route to Lethe Travel Terminal #1
--- --- --- --- ---


Why do I keep accepting these jobs?

Oh, right. I don't. I'm just given them, and threatened with the loss of my apartment and deportation to a refugee colony if I refuse to cooperate.

Nicholas Harper shifted in his seat, digging into his inner jacket pocket as he gazed out the window to his left. The dull tan, crater covered surface of Lethe was slowly rising upwards, as the shuttle descended through the thin atmosphere. Ugly little ball, but he had seen uglier. Far uglier. Nothing really beats a good garbage world in that regard.

He eventually found his cigarettes, a near empty pack of Lucky Strikes. He'd have to look for more somewhere in the colonies, or bum one off somebody that smoked. He drew the pack out, bumping it into his free hand so that a cigarette slid out far enough for him to grab with his mouth. As he pulled it from the pack with his lips, he glanced around the cabin of the shuttle. It certainly wasn't a first class ride. It never was, unless you were in the money or of high standing.

He was one of the three Commonwealth members on the shuttle, with two Union citizens and two Imperials along for the ride. All new arrivals, judging from the yellow ID tags hanging from their necks. He eyed each for a moment, as he dug for his lighter in his other pockets. Normally he could pick out the Synths. Mostly stone-faced unless something piques their interest. A quirk of their make. It took a few years of human interaction for the quirk to be worked out. Then, the Synths would be truly human in behavior and appearance. Making it harder to pick them out from a crowd.

Only one, from the looks of it. Imperial. Wonder if he's a military model?

He found his lighter, and promptly fumbled it as he drew it out of his pocket. Onto the floor it went, right between his feet. It broke his train of thought, as his attention snapped around and down to it. He reached down and grabbed it, shaking his head slightly as he drew it up.

Nothin's going right today.

He clicked the lighter a few times, eventually getting the orange flame to stay on long enough to light his cigarette. A few puffs escaped from his mouth, and away his lighter was tucked. Finally, something enjoyable out of this long trip. Besides the shot of whiskey he managed to grab from the bar back on the Commonwealth transport. Cheap, but tasty.

The moon's surface continued to rise, before pieces of different gray structures popped into view. Antennae, a control tower. We're close to the terminal. His judgement proved correct when the pilot's voice came over the shuttle's intercom. "Now arriving at Travel Terminal One, Bay Four. Please remain seated until the green light comes on." spoke the near robotic voice.

 

[joshuadim]

2 Years Ago -- Yenergrad, Lazos​

The planet Lazos, situated only a single jump away from Xistrov, holds a particularly important status within the Union as a whole: first, it serves as an important political junction due to its population and proximity to Xistrov itself. Almost three billion people call the temperate, stormy world home. Secondly, it is one of the largest sites of naturally occurring deuterium and tritium mining in the known universe. Perhaps formed in circumstance during the planet's early creation with natural deposits slamming into its crust, the crystallized deposits power practically most of the Union's fusion energy production capabilities. In turn, this bequeathed great political power to the commissariats and bureaucrats who worked to tirelessly to maintain production and export of the valuable fuel to where it was needed most through the Union.

Comparatively to the rest of the Union, save for Xistrov and other core worlds, Lazos boasts high levels of industrialization and a high degree of prosperity in accordance to the Human Welfare Index. Public services are funded to their maximum, institutions are staffed with necessary administrative work, and unemployment is almost non-existent as there is always labor demands. Life is especially good for those climbing up the ranks of Union bureaucracy, as work on Lazos is especially qualified to make potential candidates to the Presidium of the Supreme Council. In fact, nearly a quarter of its members are from Lazos because of this vital importance - much to the ire of smaller worlds within the Union. And amidst the planet itself is the city of Yenergrad, a great monument to exceptional city planning as its street grids promote both ease of public transport as well as walkability amidst its various green spaces and public institutions. Nearly thirty-seven million people lived within this urban sprawl, ranging from manual laborers - who were transported by monorail to the various mining and grid operations outside the city - to engineers, scientists, and all matter of professional workers.

On the River Lytia, across the street from the administrative park that comprised the beating political heart of the planet itself, was a housing complex dedicated for various bureaucratic officials who spend their years laboring to keep the political and economic machine going. Standing at 20 stories, it was both a residency for nearly a thousand families and a community in of itself. And on this day in particular, it was very special for those in their final year of public schooling. On the seventh floor, at 7 in the morning, Anya practically leapt out of her bed and rushed for the bathroom. Placement exam scores were going to be posted publicly, and she was eager to get to school - even though it would not open until 9. She could have gotten another hour of sleep, but she was too restless for that.

After having brushed her teeth and freshening up, she bounded back into her room and got ready for the day - much to the surprise of her parents. Boris Kolpas, a middle-aged man with an impressive mustache, peered over the local paper he was reading at the dining table as he heard the commotion. ["I think that's the earliest you've been up in a while, Yaya."] he commented aloud in neo-Slavic, not setting down his paper as he read over an article regarding a recent round of diplomatic talks between the Union and the Commonwealth regarding mining rights to an asteroid belt on a border system. A man in his position had to know the latest political happenings, as he was one of twelve Deputy Commissars of Energy Production on the planet - with his particular expertise being the tritium mining on this hemisphere.

"How could she not be? They're releasing the exam grades today. I remember I stayed up all night when I did so." said Amelie Kolpas, Anya's mother, as she set down a plate of eggs, toast, and coffee. A peculiar quality of eggs on Lazos was that they were purple in color with their yolks, due to the native fowl species of the planet having adapted such. At the table as well were Anya's younger brothers: Artem [12] and Kyrylo [10]. Both were still in primary school, and thus their schedule for school started at 8. The two boys wore their school uniforms, still freshly ironed and ready for anything. They were eating scrambled eggs and toast with galloberry jam - a type of fruit native to Lazos - and cups of juice. "I'm sick." Artem complained, not touching his food.

"You're not sick, cherie." Amelie responded as she went to the fridge to gather extra eggs to cook for herself.

"I have a fever."

"No you do not, eat your food." Amelie then said, maintaining her ground as she cracked open two more eggs onto the hot skillet.

"I don't want to."

"Hey!" Boris then snapped, dropping his paper and pointing a finger to his middle child. "Do not disrespect your mother like that." Artem was left grumbling and poking at his food with his fork, while Anya entered the living room shortly thereafter. She was wearing her own school uniform, but was visibly rushed in doing so. This irked Amelie as she set the eggs onto another plate and let out a 'tsk'. "Yaya, you didn't tie your sash properly."

"It's fine, mama, it's the last day anyway-"

"Presentations are always important." her mother scolded her gently as she took the cloth around her neck and readjusted it. "How do you think you did?"

"I... I hope I did well."

"She failed!" Kyrylo chimed in with a giggle, which earned a glare from Anya.

"DIdn't you have to retake your history exam last year?" Anya shot back as a retort.

"Enough, both of you." Amelie then snapped, "Anya studied very hard for the placement exam."

"I'm sure you did great, zaichik." Anya's father said, not taking his eyes off the paper. He then grumbled to himself and narrowed his eyes as he read over a particular bit of information that gave him grief. Once her sash was fixed, Anya gave her mom a peck on the cheek with a kiss which was reciprocated as well. "Dyakiba, mama." she said, before walking over to her father and pecking him on the cheek as well with a kiss. "Do vochera, papa." Boris himself gave a kiss to Anya's cheek and a fist salute: "Have no fear!" he shouted with confidence as Anya went for the door and left their apartment.

---

Anya was not the only graduating student to have the same idea of arriving early, as the school was practically swarmed by the time she arrived at its main hall. Made to accomodate nearly ten thousand student across four grade levels, it was a sprawling academic complex of buildings and facilities - one of the most prestigious in Yenergrad - and touted a graduating class of 3800 for this year. And most of them were conglomerating to the public posting boards of the school in eager anticipation for the release of the exam results. It was chaotic enough that a few militsya [police] officers were posted to keep everyone calm as emotions could run high for some people. But, for the most part, it was for many of the students to hang out in an informal environment with their friends and cohorts.

For Anya in particular, she strode up to her circle who waved her over. She had known them for over a decade by this point, as they had all attended the same school and been part of the same class - not to mention their families overlapped in the same bureaucratic circles. Seven other girls were gossiping and chatting among themselves about future plans and when Anya joined in, they posited the same questions to her. "Yaya! Lily here is going to engineering school." said Indiri, the tallest girl of the group.

"Oh? Which one?" Yaya asked out of curiosity as she sat down with them.

"On Xistrov, at the Makov Academy of Applied Sciences. I already sent in my application and they just want my grade results. It's pretty much guaranteed." Lily said with a confident smirk.

"That will land you a high job for life." Yaya said with a smile, before turning to another girl - the meekest of them with her curly red hair. "What about you Erin?"

"Oh... uh... I don't think... I'll be going to university." she said with a nervous laugh, prompting a few surprised looks from her peers.

"Wha- why not?" Indiri asked.

"Well... Peter asked to marry me. And I like him."

This prompted a chorus of 'ooooo's' from the girls as a bit of teasing, but also congratulations from them as well.

"What about you Yaya?" Indiri asked with an anticipatory grin.

Anya shifted uncomfortably for a moment before sighing: "I haven't told father yet but... I want to go to Commissar training."

"Taking up after your dad? It's tough work."

"I guess. I just want to do what I can for everyone, but I know he'd never approve."

A shout then permeated the schoolyard: "THE GRADES RELEASED! THEY RELEASED THEM EARLY!"

The militsya did their best, but were ultimately overwhelmed by a stampede of kids rushing to see how their future has been determined. Yaya herself tried to get in front as best as she could, but was ultimately caught in the mass of bodies as everyone rushed to the boards to read over the listings. Each large page contained 100 names with their ranking on the left, in order in that manner, and thus Anya went to the first one in anticipation. When she managed to push her way through her eyes darted over its contents, eager to see her name on it. But, as she went lower and lower, it appeared that she was not in the top 100. Her heart sank a bit, but her hopes remained with the second page still to be in a top ranking at least. Starting at 101, her eyes slowly trailed down to make sure she didn't miss anything.

Slowly, as the numbers descended, a pit fell into her stomach as the possibility grew that she wasn't even in the top 200. She had spent months with private tutors and lessons to prepare, and still she hadn't made it? At #130, she began to feel tears well up in her eyes and wanted to turn away. At #140, she felt hope be a distant memory. But then her eyes stopped moving as she saw her name:

#143 - Kolpas, Anya

Just as quickly as it had overtaken her, the fears melted away in favor of joy as a grin took hold of her face before shouting: "I NEVER DOUBTED MYSELF!"
Ignoring the fact that she definitely just did.

---

Now

Anya shifted in her seat in the shuttle with anxiety, as she felt the weight of her first assignment bear down upon her. Of course, she put this on herself as she insisted on getting a position on Lethe. She had a chip on her shoulder and wanted to prove to not only to others but to herself that she could do this work and in one of the most difficult posts for a Political Commissar. But she was also deathly scared, as she wondered just how far the textbooks and materials taught to her would get her in a real situation. She'd have to deal with people and assignments and quotas of high importance, given the position the planet held.

Her uniform was brand new and freshly ironed, and was immaculate in its presentation. It gave some comfort by projecting the authority that came with it, but that would only take her so far in this situation. Not to mention, that she was dealing with non-Union people here... there were Commonwealth and Imperials among this gathering. And all of them were, without a doubt, more experienced in one way or another than her in their respective roles. For a junior like her as green as she was, she was being thrust straight into the lion's den in a sense.

What she did know of the Commonwealth and the Imperium was not positive. The Commonwealth had been their original oppressors before the Xistrovian revolution, and to this day remained both a political and economic rival. And the Imperium itself was an oppressive, monarchical state ruled by tyrants and violence. Everything that the Union stood against in its core values - values that Anya believed in. She hoped that she didn't have to communicate much with Commonwealth people, and even less so with Imperials. Neither faction gave particular desire for her to interact with.

But there was another Union member on board, as she managed to take a peek at his travel documents when they first boarded the shuttle. And to her luck, he was sitting next to her. She leaned over slightly to him and offered a handshake: "Hi."

She had planned to say more, but the words got caught in her throat.

Really? Was that all I could say? Great going.

dikdik

 

[Breadman]

On the planet Pokvara, a week ago

"Run a diagnostic check on this one." The engineer pointed to the model for his assistant. "Thats the one we're sending to the place." The assistant tapped a few buttons on the console and watched as the synth booted up. It opened its eyes and scanned the room.

"Optics are working perfectly. Night vision and thermal are green." The synth moved his neck and subsequently the limbs of his body "Joints appear to be in order." He said more quietly "Sound is being picked up with zero interferrence." A few more taps on the console and he looked again. Another of the assistants had brought a box and placed it next to the synth. The man before them looked at it for a second, then bent down to open it and quikcly use its contents as intended. "He recognizes, clothes, weapons and miscelanious items just fine." It took but a few minutes for the anatomic military service unit to put on the uniform, holster its weapons and once again stand at attention. "Decency protocols are working fine too."

"Thank you assistant Hans, I'll take it from here." The engineer stepped forward and saluted to the synth, who returned the gesture. "This is head engineer of Military facility 4 on Pokvara, Samuel Diker. I request your identification number."

"IMP-POK-783921-840371" The synth responded, but never breaking from staring off into the distance.

"Right, your model is never ready out of the box is it?" The engineer sounded a bit annoyed "Not your fault, but my predecessor and her impressions I assume." He muttered something under his breath "When spoken to by superiors be sure to look them in the face, 371. As for your name, its not going to work for this assignment, not one bit. As of now, until your end of mission debrief you are to be referred to as Anton for your caretaker's ease. Do you understand?"

"Affirmative." Anton's attention snapped to the engineer "This unit is now known as Anton and will follow the new protocols until mission's fufillment."

"Social protocols could use some fine-tunning, but you're made for war, not diplomacy." The engineer joked, but he tilted his head as he noticed the slight smile forming on the synth's face. "Anton, what is that?"

"Humorous reaction. Protocol placed by Dr. Astrid during design in an effort for this unitl to better fufill role as infiltrator. Engineer Diker's joke was appropriate enough to warrant such a response." Anton answered with a cold tone.

"I see." Diker's smug expression went away, now annoyed at the synth. "Report for the advance testing. We want to make sure you're combat ready if it were to come to that." Anton nodded and saluted before going to the armory. "Hans, bring me the blueprints. I want to make sure there aren't more surprises in that model."
---
Now

Anton didn't waste much time when they touched down on the connecting flight to Lethe. There was no reason to. He got up from his seat and picked up the duffle bag containing the items any imperial soldier would have on his person. Everything he could carry legally in there at least. The synth got on board the proper ship for the moon after going through the checkpoints with little issue.

The members of the different powers were of little consequence for him other than potential enemies for the current mission, but how severe he would have to deal with them, would depend on the whims of those in charge. It was a smart move by the GPC to keep them as seperate as possible, less an accident could happen before they even landed. As it happened, there was another member of the Kamoran imperium standing close-by. There was little else to do, but sit put and wait now.

 

[dikdik]

A film of anxiety seated itself in the pit of Adrian’s stomach as he watched the stars and planets swirl by in an incredible, streaming light. Adrian’s right hand found itself dragged across his lap, finding his left and slowly, intentionally spinning a titanium ring around his finger. He had never been off-world, much less systems away on what was described as a mission to assist in greenhouse operation in low-atmosphere and arid conditions. Greenhouses were consistent in their yields regardless of external conditions, due in part to incredible sums of research and trial-error by the Union’s forebears. But any chance to fiddle and experiment with equipment and flora brought him so much joy, it was indescribable. Incredible.

Adrian swore up and down he had heard that there were tunnel explosions in the mines on Lethe. He swore up and down he felt a reassignment coming his way. Toying with greenhouses on a crater-ridden moon across systems? Too good to be true. Even through his doubt, he wanted desperately to find new ways to recycle water, or to utilize the day length on Lethe to maximize crop yields. To splice species together that perhaps the current greenhouse researchers and laborers were unfamiliar with. To teach them how incredible the flowers, seed pods, crop yields could be! Oh, just to share his wealth of knowledge with others was enough.

As the ship fumbled its way through the endless, bleak expanse, Adrian’s mind fluttered back and forth with memories, moments, as he meditated with the gentle visual stimulus of the glimmering slivers of light flowing past the window.

Mischa’s soft freckles highlighted the arcs of her cheeks and brows, retreating behind the mask of black hair folding over her face in waves. Adrian couldn’t pinpoint what he’d done to deserve such a beautiful person wrapped up in his arms every night, but he’d appreciate it into eternity. At least until the morning…

At least until he heard a shuffle beside him, saw a hand extended, and managed to interpret a greeting from the Union member he boarded the ship with. Her uniform was that of a Political Commissar. Somehow the detail of a Commissar on the ship had escaped him. A sense of duty lodged itself in his stomach, overruling his worry for just a moment; Adrian untangled his fingers, reached out and met her hand.

“Adrian Felski, ma’am. Fells, if you prefer. Botanist and horticulturist. Good to see you, ma’am. Glad I’m not the only one from the Union.” The last part was quiet, intentionally so. He had a special mistrust for non-Union folks, for good reason. But Adrian had no intent of the others knowing just yet.

After a pause to offer her a chance to introduce herself, Adrian continued, excited. “I’ve been assigned to greenhouse operations and I’m happy to assist.”

But he missed Mischa. He missed Mischa. His hands found each other again, fiddling with the ring.

 

[joshuadim]

Ma'am.

She hadn't been referred to as such formally before, but it sent a wave of confidence brimming through Anya in this setting. She would need to project authority when needed, especially on Lethe where there were members and representatives of two rival factions stationed here too. She couldn't afford to make herself, or the Union, look bad in such a manner that made their own system look weak. Her mind drifted back to specialized lessons regarding formalities and presentation back on Xistrov's Commissariat Academy - and how power, according to her teacher, was mostly about projecting it. If you made yourself seem in such a manner, then it is less likely that you would be questioned in matters that were necessary. As she shook Adrian's hand, she straightened her posture more and gave a soft smile.

"Anya Kolpas, Junior Political Commissar. I look forward to working with you. I'm eager to do my duty for the Union and its people here on Smotsvety." Anya said cordially, before taking a moment to quickly adjust her cap. But she quickly caught herself fiddling with it and returned her hands back. Non-verbal anxiety isn't good to show in front of the outsiders.

Instead, she leaned in closer to get a more private conversation between the two of them: "What do you think of the others on board?" she whispered as an inquiry. "I... I haven't seen any Commonwealth or Imperials until today." It came as an admission of her own inexperience, but also as a means to build rapport with someone she would likely work with.

dikdik

 

[Holyhalo]

As usual the switch from spaceship to space shuttle had been troublesome for Henry. When you went everywhere encased in a PAE, a Personal Atmospheric Environment, you knew in advance that you’d be facing “random” inspections at every point. It wasn’t that he was threatening or seemed shady. At least Henry didn’t think he was. The galaxy had plenty of cultural and religious groups in it who lived their entire lives in PAEs and there were a bunch of health and disease related reasons as well. And yet, every time he traveled he had to “step out of line and answer some questions”.

On its own, this would be a hassle for anyone but Henry took it the extra step. Not only did he travel everywhere in his PAE, he was also followed by a posse of ADS, Autonomous Driving Suitcases, which were technically trunks, rather than suitcases, as the smallest one could easily fit a child, or two, depending on age. These ADS whizzed after him every step of the way, humming softly as their engines propelled them forward. They’d beep at anyone who dared step in their path and seemed rather annoyed at facing such interruptions as they whizzed around these sudden obstacles with the air of a huffy feline.

But this wasn’t Henry’s first intergalactic voyage so he’d come prepared: papers, documents, permissions, biometrics, the whole works. Once everything checked out, he was given a yellow tag and allowed on his way to the shuttle, according to the instructions received.

Once at the shuttle, Henry looked around through the one way-glass of his helmet, a function he preferred to keep active in public spaces. That way Henry could see everything and nobody could see him inside the suit. He didn’t recognize anyone from previous assignments, which wasn’t that odd, given the size of the galaxy and the amount of work the GPC did within it. Boarding was already underway, as Henry was probably the last to arrive.

Once on board, Henry motioned with his hand to the side of the shuttle, assigning a space for the ADS to huddle up, out of the way of the main path through the shuttle. Like a little choreographed performance, the trunks drove over and settled themselves in order from small to large, before magnetizing to the floor to prevent sliding or tumbling during the flight.

Henry himself picked a free seat, preferably with empty seats on both sides and settled in. A little bit of a squeeze given his suit but such was the price for a safe environment. Once he’d settled in he let his eyes wander over the group, checking out his new companions like they did him.

Henry always wondered what people saw first when they looked at him. Aside from the PAE, which you couldn’t miss, was it the design of the suit, obviously imperial, or did they see the modifications, obviously civilian? Did they spend a few minutes trying to pierce through the one-way glass of his helmet or did they study the personal adjustments? Did they notice the suit had been adjusted to fit his bulky arms or were they more drawn to the belt and stomach area, which had obviously been loosened to fit his portly figure?

After scanning the others in the shuttle, Henry settled into his seat as best he could and got ready for the flight down to Lethe by digging out the book he'd been reading. Now which page had he left off of that steamy, historical romance?

 

[dikdik]

Adrian noticed a distinct shift in the Commissar's demeanor after his greeting; she stiffened but simultaneously become more warm and welcoming, if one could do both. And though he was excited to travel off-world, through the vastness of the universe, on a mission that could help feed the colonial population on a crater-ridden moon millions-

Who was he trying to fool? Excited, sure, but moreso channeling his intense loneliness and yearning to go home, to be with Mischa, into a focus on his expertise and work. How else was he supposed to distract himself, except to focus on his work? A slight sourness for the woman's eagerness to serve her people and her Union sneaked its way into the back of Adrian's throat. Knowing he, too, had felt such passion for his Union before, he couldn't discredit her or judge her for it. He just knew he wanted something that felt intrinsic to every fiber of his being that was left at home alone with expectation while he was on this assignment. Mischa.

Of course the first time he was off-world would be right now! He was raw with emotion and this sourness was its aftertaste. Pressing away emotion, Adrian's hands were pulling at the ring again.

The woman, Anya, seemed to be uncomfortable: the quick changes in her body language, playing with her cap, hushed questions about others on the ship. And though he'd never ventured into the glittering infinity or met someone from the Commonwealth or Imperium, he felt that deep-seated mistrust again at her mention of them. Was it only for them? Or for the stars too?They seemed more intimidating when they spun past at speed than when they glimmered softly off the surface of a lake. He'd have to play it calm and collected, however. They couldn't know. He had to get home; no extensions, no reassignments, only one year splicing vegetables and studying soil structures. No complications.

"Not sure, ma'am." Calm and collected. "I've never been off-world, actually." Quiet. "This is new for me. Quite amazing isn't it? All the indescribable vastness of it? Incredible."

Focus on the assignment, and you'll be home in no time at all.

 

[joshuadim]

Anya looked out one of the narrow viewports of the shuttle, seeing the void outside with its various bodies fly by due to their current trajectory and let out an unsure chuckle. "I'm not sure if I would call it amazing..." she commented as her eyes trailed past a transport shuttle carrying goods pass by them in the opposing direction. Another small island of oxygen surrounded by aluminum and steel walls with nothing but billions of miles of emptiness around them. An emptiness that was inhospitable to all known forms of life in the universe that had been mapped out by mankind. One that, should their little shell fail, would equalize them in minutes - as the universe is cold, uncaring, and unwavering to the pleas of mercy.

Theism and Gods are concepts made to keep individuals docile as a servile class to ruling oppressors. she remembered one of the lessons from school, An 'opiate of the masses' that - in turn - removes the ability of people to recognize their conditions with a collective delusion of afterlife promises.

"...I prefer to have my two feet on the ground. Secured by gravity. The comforts of terrestrials." Anya then said, "Unless, you mean, of bodies that the observatories take pictures of? I always liked astronomy in the textbooks."

dikdik

 

[dikdik]

Though his focus on the assignment was lingering at the forefront of his brain, so was his apprehension and desire to just go the fuck home. The words were flying out of his mouth as fast as the stars were flickering by, even though he'd decided calm, collected, and quiet were the goal. Though he was smacking himself, proverbially of course, in the face, he did just wonder at it all... Incredible and indescribable weren't words with enough weight to describe the beauty of the worlds flying past, glowing soft warms and cools in the expanse. The woman's- Anya's tension was traced across her gaze and in her words. Who wouldn't call this amazing?

Liking astronomy in the textbooks was so distant and far from the magnificence in front of them. Adrian hoped that her terrestrial preferences wouldn't also mire the work he had to do on Lethe. His sense of wonder kept him going through so many, and so much, just so much. Would that be bled out of him just as Mischa's presence was?

No, no, stop it. You're being silly. You're judging her just because she doesn't like staring out the window as much as you do. It's fine! It's fine. She may be the only friend you have here, give her more time before you start concluding her entire ethos based upon her gravitational preferences.

He was projecting again. At least he'd noticed this time. He'd also noticed he took the ring off and was now swirling it around both hands, loathing the idea of being away from home just as much as he adored the curiosities of travel.

He was avoiding conversation again. "Perhaps I'm just inexperienced with off-world travel. It's certainly a change of scenery. Feels very different, but you already knew that, ma'am. The observatories' photos are incredible, too. I've always been curious about seeing another world up close. I'm from a garden planet, Castrian B. I've always wondered what other places were like."

Had he always wondered? Or was he just trying to make the best of an unfortunate situation? Was he rambling again?

 

[Crocodile]

The Inspector​

Renard Dupont looks at the others in the cabin of the shuttle as he felt the shudder of entry into the atmosphere. The heavyset, foppish man was well dressed in a tailored suit that notably bore a pair of lapel pins. The first pin identified him as a member of the Commonwealth Gendarmerie, the only unifying law enforcement body it had to deal with interplanetary issues including organized crime, smuggling, terrorism and various other matters that reached beyond the chaos of any singular member world. The second pin denoted him as an Inspector, a rank granting him the authority to carry out investigations like this very one now set in motion by the seeming terrorist act on Lethe. He was irked by the second pin. Forty years of loyal service to the Gendarmerie, keeping the peace and trying to save lives only to be passed over again and again for Chief Inspector.

Politics had played a major role in this apparent shunning. Many said that Inspector Dupont would climb no further, for the powers that be in the Commonwealth disdained him. Renard Dupont prided himself on honesty and the pursuit of the truth in any investigation, even if that meant weeding out the vainglorious and corrupt political elites that sat atop the heap of Commonwealth politics. At least three senators held personal grudges against him due to being linked to major scandals that Dupont had refused to edit or doctor for them or their toadies. That was the kiss of death for his future.

They have sent me into this madhouse in the hopes I will fail. Or perhaps that my presence will be of use to their own political scheming. Renard Dupont is no pawn! I will find who did this terrible act, even if it was Commonwealth citizens and drag them into the light of day. They may have crushed my future, but I will not leave a crime unpunished. No, they will remember that justice still exists even here beyond the reach of their corruption and vanity.

As if to punctuate this thought, Inspector Dupont reaches into a shirt pocket and produces a very fine cigarette case. He extracts a black cigarette with gold filter before stowing the case and producing an ornate lighter to ignite it. He had a taste of the anachronistic, partially because it threw others off balance. His mannerisms carefully cultivated to seem disarming or harmless at times while he puzzled out matters. He takes a drag of aromatic smoke and exhales as it floats up into a filter vent and continues to regard the others. Who here was truly seeking to solve the problem? And who here would be an impediment to justice?

 

[Worthlessplebian]

In the far-off corner of the shuttle cabin, the tapping of spindly fingers were a rhythmic reminder of the quiet man that sat there. Occasionally, he would stop and clench his fist fiercely before resuming the beat on his armchair, all the while turning his bleak, blue gaze towards the closing surface of the planet below, Lethe. The young man, Patrick Knight, was inscrutable behind the neutrality of his face; obfuscating the consternation that plagued his thoughts. His angular features along with the jet hair, and streaking blue, almond-shaped eyes gave intimations of his corpo-dynastic lineage. A few from the Commonwealth would recognize a son of Knight Watch's own CEO. Although he had never been tipped for much in the high spires of industry in Ceti IV, not in the eyes of his family, peers, or the head-hunters from rival corporations, instead, relegated to the role of a combat medic. The lanky medic was clad in his well-worn blue long coat, over his left breast-pocket, the flat grey helm with a coiling plume of fire, and freshly-pressed black trousers he affected.

His mind had been swimming in dark, polluted depths since the moment the shuttle had arrived. Actually, even farther back since the instant the conversation between him and his father ended. It played on him, pondering what he could've said to escape this heinous assignment. Through the whisper-works, Patrick heard the strange occurrences at Lethe after the incident, but thought nothing of it. A technological wile facilitating the power play from one of the superpowers. Nothing to concern himself with, except for the next deployment. Until he was taken aside, and addressed matters in private. He missed the familiar comforts of his company, the squad and platoon.

He shifted his head, looking through the members assigned to this task force. One to two were distinctly Imperial, barring the markings on their attire or style of technology — Knight has had unpleasant experiences with them. He thought less of the Union-members, too absorbed in their manifestos or creeds. Clearly he decided that he had to forget the past. Not even the comfort of a pistol's firm weight on his leg or hip.

He drew a small, metallic plate from a pocket in his coat, holding it in the palm of his hand. It was a metal token, a curved shape cut fashioned into a predatory feline with a maw of wicked teeth, and coiling tail. For a moment, Patrick's hard expression softened as memories of better times flooded to the surface. Indeed, this little trinket made him smile slightly. The pilot's monotone voice clicked, causing Patrick to incline his head at the speaker. "Finally," Patrick spoke, the tiniest hint of relief colouring his soft voice.

 

[joshuadim]

"I've always wondered what other places were like."

"Ah, well, I'm from Lazos." Anya said to Adrian, "It's quite stormy, its atmosphere is prone to a lot of turbulence and pressure systems. I know that early in its colonial history, it survived through wind farms that stretched as far as the eye could see. Those are gone now, replaced with fusion reactors. And the landscape returned to normal - there's a lot of forests with trees as tall as skyscrapers, and mountains with peaks that breach the stratosphere. There's also plenty of domesticated wildlife there... we have an alien equivalent to chickens who lay eggs that come out purple. Plenty of farms for those, but also plenty of wild ones that roam in great flocks."

Before Adrian could speak, Anya continued to ramble on: "There's also the oceans with waves that tower over steep cliffs because of our storms, which is why all our cities are built farther inland. Even there there's life, with avians as big as a house! I remember reading about them once... they apparently can divebomb into the ocean depths up to 200 meters from their momentum alone to catch fishes. Speaking of, we have really REALLY big sea life... they're also why the oceans aren't traversed or touched as much. Except for the divers who want to collect the Gangar Pearls in the more shallower regions..."

She stopped for a moment, wondering what else she could describe about her planet. If Adrian wanted to cease her constant flow of words, now was his chance!

dikdik

 

[dikdik]

Adrian caught his lips and closed them tightly before they parted in a bit of surprise at the sheer amount of words beaming from Anya. The history of her planet’s colonial state, energy production, domesticated fowl, massive storms, driving the ocean into the shore, incredibly large creatures, pearls… Such an incredible place, and one that Adrian could have sworn he’d read about somewhere.

And somewhere in her passion, his ring had found its way back onto his hand, the opposite swirling it counterclockwise a few times before dragging a finger up to press his slipping glasses back into the slight indent they left on his nose.

In Anya’s pause, he found himself blurting out an observation, a question. “I would be so interested in studying the flora of such a turbulent and near-violent world. I’m intrigued by the forest and their trees. What sorts of understory growth survive under them in the harsh winds? Do the trees protect fragile life underneath, or is everything able to withstand such storms?”

Why the hell not? He needed a friend here, and if was going to be stuck with someone for a year, he’d better be cordial and well disposed. Not to mention how genuine his curiosity was. And even such a minor distraction as pondering the forest scape of a windswept planet may help him keep him mind on the present, not the pain of leaving Mischa-

Alone. I'm just... We're alone.

 

[Infab]

Eventually a bright green light switched on, just above the door at the end of the shuttle. Time to go, it seemed. Nick stood, firmly grasping the cigarette between his teeth as he unbuckled his safety belt and climbed from his seat. He didn't bring much: a duffle bag with a change of clothes, some notebooks, a cheap flash camera with some extra film catridges, and writing utensils. Oh, and a tape recorder with a large pack of blank cassettes. Can't forget those. Important items for his line of work.

He grabbed his bag as he straightened up, releasing the cigarette from his teeth and moving it into the corner of his mouth. As he turned, he finally got a good look at the others around the shuttle. A young woman and young man were talking. Union citizens, judging from their attire. The man was married. He was playing with his ring on his finger. He was likely thinking about his spouse. The young woman was a political commisar. Clean uniform, no frills. She was new.

As they looked his way, he gave them a polite wave. Even if the were from different types of civilizations, he was still mostly polite. Mostly. He glanced to the others afterwards. The other two Commonwealth members were two of the types he didn't much care for from his own neck of the woods. The older man was an inspector from the Commonwealth Gendarmerie, and the other man smelled of association with private military companies. Which company, he couldn't say, but the look and color scheme of his clothes did remind him of one of the more prominent groups.

Nick had never been on good terms with PMCs. They usually got in the way when it came to his own investigations. Outright obstructions... or worse. As for the Gendarmerie, they usually went by the book in most cases. Too strict. Some investigations required some bending of the rules in order to solve. Some money under the table, some breaking and entering, a little manhandling here and there. The job gets done, the right people go to jail or the morgue, victims and families get closure, and the good guys win.

The last two were Imperial, though only the Synth was obvious. The uniform made him stand out like a sore thumb. The human Imperial, on the other hand, was clad in a Personal Atmospheric Environment suit. Nick saw those often in the Commonwealth. Usually they were for those prone to sickness who couldn't afford proper care or abstained from getting it due to religious reasons or personal beliefs. He himself had worn one once during a job. Too tight, honestly. It felt like someone was sitting on his chest the whole time.

There was a hiss, as the pressure in the cabin matched that of the terminal outside. Then, the door opened. It folded out, the upper and lower halves separating and folding in on themselves as they moved out of the way. A black metal ramp deployed from just under the door, stretching out and down to the floor three feet below.

Nick was the first out of the shuttle, squeezing out of his row of seats quickly and moving down the aisle and through the opening. He was immediately hit in the eyes with a blinding light; A hovering GPC drone was waiting just outside the door, scanning passengers as they departed. An early way of catching illict goods before they reached the security checkpoint. It was only a visual scan, a white light moving over the body as the drone's optical camera inspected your form.

He stood there for five seconds, long enough for the drone to complete its scan, before moving on. Down the ramp he walked, stepping off onto a cold grey metal floor. The large landing bay was brimming with activity, with different crews moving about performing their usual duties. Some were tending to the shuttle, checking for any damage from orbital or atmospheric debris. Others were checking the shuttle's pair of engines and long white fuel lines. Another group was even inspecting the shuttle's landing gear. All wore different colored uniforms, signifying their jobs, but all bore blocky black lettering on their backs which read LETHE TERMINAL GROUND CREW.

A bright yellow line, painted on the floor, lead shuttle passengers towards the security checkpoint at the end of the bay. There, a pair of armed GPC Peacekeepers stood in waiting. Their blue uniforms were visible even several meters away, standing out against the dark steel walls that made up the landing bay. One by one, the shuttle passengers exited and followed along the yellow line to the terminal. One by one, they would be checked by the Peacekeepers. A second spot check for illict goods.

This time, things were physical. The first Peacekeepers felt about, on bodies and in bags, while the second stood nearby. His hand on his sidearm. It appeared to be a common Commonwealth pistol, based on an old Earth design and using .45 ACP ammunition. All too familiar for Nick; He himself had one back home. It was still there, tucked under his pillow on his bed.

Everyone seemed to pass, moving along through the security checkpoint with ease. From there, the yellow line broke into four. They lead in two different directions, with one white line moving to the left, while the other red, blue, and green lines moved to the right. There was lettering in the lines this time. The white line read GPC. The others read the names of the different factions. Imperium, Union, and Commonwealth.

Before the group could go to ghe right, one of the Peacekeepers spoke up behind them. "Yellow ID tags, follow the white line to the GPC offices. Someone there will guide you to the new arrivals office. They'll get you put into the system for processing in the colonies, give you new ID tags based on your home empire, then send you on your way." said the bearded man, adjusting his shades before pointing down the hall in the direction the white line was traveling.

 

[Breadman]

Anton got up from his seat once they landed. The android briefly turned his head to look at his fellow imperial.

"Come on. Our superriors are waiting." Cold and direct. Most people would find his demeanor unnerving if he was actually human. The android picked up his carry on and proceeded as instructed. While walking, he scanned his surroundings and the security that was visible. Standard equipment for the GPC by the looks of it with small variations here and there to account for small personalizations by the guards.

Once he got instructions on where to go from the peacekeeper, Anton followed those as well. Deviating from them would only slow him down.

 

[joshuadim]

“I would be so interested in studying the flora of such a turbulent and near-violent world. I’m intrigued by the forest and their trees. What sorts of understory growth survive under them in the harsh winds? Do the trees protect fragile life underneath, or is everything able to withstand such storms?”

"Oh, I'm not a biologist I wouldn't know all the details." Anya said with a nervous laugh. "One of my friends is studying environmental biology, I'm sure I can ask her for more details if you want to hear more about-" she then said before being cut off by the signal inside the cabin. They were arriving, and just as quickly a switch flipped in Anya as she hurriedly gathered her belongings. Aside from the uniform she wore now, she also had a large duffel bag with her clothes and other belongings as well as a briefcase filled with materials that she had gotten as an introductory to Lethe - including the history of Union presence on the planet, as well as relations in recent years with other factions there. "S-sorry, we'll talk later I guess!" Anya said quickly to Adrian before rushing to the door.

She was making sure that everything is order as the door hissed open and straightened herself. She had to look good given her position. Green, obviously, but good still. But there was also something attached to her hip, just violating official dress code for this brief moment as she figured nobody would mind. It was a small Jogger T-3 tape player, and inside was her favourite song. It helped put her at ease as she was dealing with the stresses of life. And when the door finally opened, she pressed play and strode forward confidently.

​

Making her way through the arrival terminal, she had her documents on hand as well as any supplemental materials that would be needed. She had triple checked that everything was in order prior to making her way here in the first place, and didn't worry about that. What she did worry about was the job ahead, stepping through the first checkpoint she handed her documents over and put her bags for inspection. Everything came out clean, though one of the peacekeepers did spot a small stuffed animal in it and picked it up to observe out of curiosity for a moment. It was slightly embarassing for Anya to have Krtchk be examined, but soon after it was put bag in her bag and she was ushered along to the second checkpoint.

There, things got a bit more complicated as the guard frisking her looked at her tape player with annoyance. "It's just a music tape player." Anya said, pointing to her earphones. The faint sound of music could be heard, and the man let her through. From there, the path was simple: they were instructed to head to 'New Arrivals' to be processed and put into the system. She followed suit behind the Imperial, though she kept her distance as being even near him made her uncomfortable.

 

[Holyhalo]

Henry’s attention was pulled back from his reading as the intercom activated and the pilot informed them of their arrival. The green light above the door turned on and suddenly the inside of the shuttle went from a quiet, reserved atmosphere into the hustle and bustle of a landed ship. As eager members of their would-be crew started grabbing their things and hurrying to the exit, Henry slowly closed his book and tucked it back into one of the many pockets on his suit.

He waited for a moment, giving the others time to move on out of the shuttle before getting up himself. Quickly adjusting his luggage back into their mobile stances, the sound of magnets detaching repeated several times as they woke up, each one in turn. His little convoy then made its way out of the shuttle, one man, many trunks on wheels. The GPC drone hit him with the light and Henry waited patiently for it to move on. The visor on his helmet dealt with the blinding light and he barely noticed it.

Then they were off, one long line of people walking down a bright yellow line towards an exit at the end of the bay. Around them, people were busy doing their jobs, attending to the recently landed shuttle. As they approached the exit, Henry noticed that the people in front were coming to a halt before going through a second inspection. He pulled out all the paperwork for the third time since arriving in the system and waited for his turn.

The personal pat down and inspection went well and the paperwork was accepted without a hitch. It did take significantly longer for the guards to go through each of his luggage. With the soft hissing of hydraulics, the trunks opened up, revealing their contents one by one for inspection: everything a contractor, electrician, deep space driller or watchmaker could possibly need on the job. Heavy duty drills and saws, grinders and nailers, detonators and wires, hammers, chisels, saws, extension cords, replaceable batteries, variable parts for drillbits, sawblades, different sizes of nails and different grinding discs for different materials, measuring tools of various shapes and sizes and a variety of other smaller or niche tools any real contractor would have on them at all times on the job.

The largest of his trunks opened up to show it was carrying nothing but attachments and replacement parts for all his other trunks: replacement wheels, tank threads for difficult terrain, spiderwalkers for uneven terrain, replacement batteries and a whole host of teeny, tiny bits and pieces that made up the inner workings of his luggage caravan.

When all was checked and done, Henry made sure everything was properly back in place before he moved on out of the bay, following the yellow line on the ground until it split up. He listened to the instructions given and checked his own ID tag to make sure he was indeed in the yellow group and then watched every single member of the crew follow the white line towards the GPC offices. Seemed like they all were given the same color of tags, which made Henry wonder what the purpose of the yellow tags was. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just have no tags and then home empire tags? He set the thought aside and followed along the white line, his little caravan humming softly as it kept a single file behind him, keeping pace with the rest of the group.

 

[Crocodile]

Renard extinguished his cigarette as they landed finally and got himself together to depart. He did again watch those present including the young man from the Commonwealth whose look screamed private sector to him. He was curious which of the various vast corporate entities he could be affiliated with before filing that thought away for later. He was far more interested in the interactions between the Imperial and Union types aboard the ship as well. They were going to be likely part of events that would play out considering this was the main shuttle arriving currently.

The heavy set man paused to check his ID along with other documentation including his Gendarmerie documents to declare himself. He had a rather strong intent to meet with the Commonwealth leadership and security forces here to see if they knew anything but already he had a rather dim view on those present on this planet after reading the dossier that Gendarmerie Intelligence has provided him. Corporate holding with some jumped up executive and a PMC operating as its main force of law enforcement. That did not bode well to him, particularly for the reputation this PMC had at this location from reports that had trickled into their files.

Without much question, Renard moved to follow the white line with the others as he continues to mull over things. The sleep situation for the local population seemed quite dire and he hoped someone had medical expertise. He would investigate it as well, considering it part of the greater event though he wasn't sure how just yet. What mattered was that it happened after the detonation, which he knew some would brush off as coincidental. To him, it was a potential lead that might very well play into a bigger picture, including who the hell had dug those apparently secret tunnels to even stuff explosives into.

He could only hope the local Commonwealth leadership wouldn't be as obstructive as he had the sinking feeling they might be.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

His eyes dragged to the gleaming green light, letting out a single breath that seemed stuck in his throat. There were multiple clicks as seat belts came undone. Patrick stood, adjusted the sleeves and collar of his coat, pulling out his kitbag from the storage area. He glanced around the shuttle one last time while shouldering his bag. The lithe PMC soldier rubbed the drawn sockets of his eyes, starting towards the exit, hearing the booted footfalls against the metallic floor underfoot. Just as he would leave the loud, bustling cabin, he saw the pressure suit-clad Imperial begin preparations to mobilise his exhaustive panoply of luggage — tools, Patrick assumed, the broad man did not strike him as a combatant though it was impossible to be certain.

He paused at the edge of the ramp, opening himself to the probing light of the GPC drone hovering above them; even through his closed eyes, the white illumination stung him. Patrick knew about these things, seeing them from afar. His association and duties with Knight Watch afforded him certain privileges, bypassing conventional landing protocols was merely one of them. The inspection lasted seconds at most, allowing the man permission to continue.

He went down the cold metal ramp, head shifted around, watching the activity around the landing bay. Maintenance crews went about the place, inspecting engines, fuel lines, and the shuttle's hull for damage during space travel or atmospheric reentry. Their high-visibility uniforms divided their jobs by their varying colour. The air was heavy with an unidentifiable artificial stench and the hum of distant air units, ventilation for the facility.

Following the painted, yellow line lead Patrick to the security checkpoint. The man had prepared the necessary documentation for his arrival, the armed Peacekeepers found it accordingly. Though the combat medic did second-guess himself, fearing that a mistake had passed by unnoticed. Luckily, that had not been the case. He unzipped bag's top, revealing the interior contents; largely unremarkable, sets of clothes, a silver locket with the Knight Watch symbol, and dog-tags matching the information of his identification papers. A flicker of disdain seemed to cross one of the Peacekeepers' face as he spotted the marking on the locket and the medic's coat. Patrick noticed it, but knew better than to act or acknowledge. Hiding behind an amicable, approachable smile that split the medic's youthful features. It was a simple truth that the corporations of the Commonwealth were faced with scorn, deservedly or not, though that fact did not bother the soldier. They have earned their reputations and no amount of charity, media-spin work, or public relations would ever smooth over the frustrations. His only hope is that this contempt did not interfere with his work. Not now at least.

He flicked over his ID tag, spotting the distinct yellow colour and heading to the GPC offices for his Commonwealth ID. As he suspected, the others had also followed the white line. All of them sought to solve the mystery of Lethe's nightmarish phenomenon, only two could prove to be most useful, or at least most compatible with Patrick's goals: the Gendarmerie and the unassuming man who Patrick guessed was a detective or an unaffiliated investigator of some kind.

 

[Infab]

The white line continued down the corridor, passing through a bulky airlock separating the tunnel from the landing bay and bypassing other airlocks that lead to the other landing bays. Other ships, from what they could see and hear, were also arriving or departing. Likely cargo vessels or other small shuttles. More crews moved to and fro, performing their typical duties. However, they would also begin to see others moving around. These people were dressed in plain clothes, and wearing a simple white ID tag around their neck. GPC members, working for the local office here on Lethe.

Soon, the plain grey tunnels would end in an airlock marked 'GPC - LETHE BRANCH'. A single guard stood outside, dressed in a similar manner to those that were in the landing bay. He took note of their yellow ID tags, and moved to open the airlock. "Head inside, and take a left. Someone there will begin your processing." he stated, as he stepped over to a console and plugged his ID tag into an empty slot.

Nick finally spoke up, after having been quiet the whole journey there. "Is all this really needed? Why can't we just go directly to our colonies and get processed there?" he asked, as the blonde man punched in a code on a keypad.

"We used to do that. Eventually, the heads of three colonies here figured it'd be more streamlined to have newcomers punched into the same database. From there, either of the three colonies could pull up their profiles with the right authorization and credentials." responded the guard. "Personally, I liked the older method. More secure, and less foot traffic through here. However, I'm just a guard. My input isn't valued as much."

"Guys at the top always ignore the guys at the bottom." replied Nick.

"Yep. Fact of life." remarked the guard, before hitting enter on the keypad. The console beeped, and the airlock made a hiss before the doors began to move. "Oh, there's a vending machine in there if any of you need a snack. Accepts all three types of currency."

 

[joshuadim]

Anya followed the directions given, humming along to the song playing in her ears to pass the time as this was the boring downtime. Processing would take some time, probably, as bureaucracy also tended to take its time to get details correct. But there was also the idea of efficiency with a similar database - she was familiar with the concept of compartmentalization when it came to dealing with large quantities of data. Her information studies classes back at the academy talked a lot about it, considering some commissars worked for the welfare sector or for the trade sector. She was dealing with something else entirely, however, and those classes wouldn't come in handy for her time here.

For the time being, she was content to simply wait until she was finally able to make it to her final destination. But she did feel a bit peckish and decided to take up on the guard's offer for a snack at the vending machine. She pulled out a few coins from her pocket, Union credits amount to around 3.90 in total, and perused the machine's offerings: in it she saw a variety of snacks that she had never heard of before, including Sugar Pearls which made her raise an eyebrow out of curiosity. Every single one was different coloured, making her wonder what flavors were available as a result. Such a coloring scheme made it seem as such. She put in 2 credits and watched as the machine whirred its coil to let its snack loose which fell just as ungracefully with a soft thump.

Putting through the compartment, she then opened the bag and took a crimson red pearl - which she figured would be some cherry flavor or analogous to it - and popped it into her mouth. Much to her disappointment, she tasted exactly what was advertised: sugar. She then looked at the back and her eyes narrowed as they scanned through the contents of ingredients that were available in them. "Most of these ingredients are banned from production use in the Union for good reason..." she muttered, "And people eat this regularly?"

 

[Breadman]

Despite his optimal route, Anton would seem to be stuck waiting, but so would everyone else. The android did as he was invited and went to the dedicated waiting area while everything was processing. He scanned the room and found no obstructions or hinderances. The vending machine gave him an opportunity to run a subroutine that hasn't been field tested and the data could prove valuable.

He walked to the vending machine and inserted his credit chit in the oppening. High command didn't see it necessary to supply him with loose change, so he would have to use some of the allocated funds. Anton scanned the offered products ranging from drinks to snacks and pre-packaged sandwitches. Among them were some candy bars with mascots his databanks marked as banned in Imperium space. Not contraband, so he ordered one of the sandwitches marked ham and cheese, a bottle of Zero-G Coke and a milk chocolate bar with some cartoon animal on the packet. 10 credits. He imitated a frown as that was likely a steep markup.

Now came the test for the consumption sub-routines. His model is often used as an infiltration unit and logically to blend in, they would have to consume the food and drink at appropriate times. He ripped the package off the sandwitch first and ate it about as normally as someone would if they were a soldier standing up straight while chewing on vending machine food. His iron jaw barely moving to imitate chewing while the insides of his mouth worked to imitate proper disposal. Next came the bottle and he twisted off the cap...along with the upper part. He made a note of it, command would likely need to callibrate that part of the bottle oppening process. Despite the hangup, he drank down the brown substance and let out a satisfied AHHHH as it was programmed after downing a drink in one go like that. The candy bar was the final obstacle and there seemed to be instruction on how to properly consume it written on the wrapper. The cartoon animal saying "Open, smell and bite" in a speech bubble. It would appear that the average intelligence level in the commonwealth had dropped enough for such information to be convayed. He still did as it instructed and consumed the final morsel of food. The test was complete and he threw the waste in the bin close by.

Most of these ingredients are banned from production use in the Union for good reason...And people eat this regularly?

"Its not like you'd become any less of a threat if you consume them." Anton commented as he overheard the Union woman.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Patrick walked down the corridor, his gait was smooth, booted footfalls thumping lightly on the hard, grey floor. The heavy cargo haulers' vibrating thrusters muffled through the solid tunnel, gradually fading as they moved deeper into the airport. The combat medic halted, stopping a few paces behind the cigarette-smelling investigator. Patrick shifted his head side to side, working out the cramps from their long flight. It was a familiar ache, reminding him of the compact interiors of Knight Watch's APCs, the red lighting bathing their features, giving them ghoulish, wide-eyed appearances. A strange feeling of nostalgia came over him, immediately snatched by the automatic hiss of the airlock's opening.

Catching the conversation between the GPC guard and the investigator. It brought questions to the forefront of his mind, wondering how the three superpowers came to an agreement to utilize a mutual database for visitors and new inhabitants, and the uneasiness that comes with it. Patrick assumed the potential disagreements, but did not deny the efficiency of a standardised system. And the loaded bureaucratic processes that they'll be forced to endure. He wished the boredom of their situation would've gone away, perhaps he should've packed a tape-player like that Unionist woman.

He had not been particularly hungry upon entering the waiting area, but decided to purchase a drink from the vending machine anyway. Patrick's eyebrow raised when the Union-member quietly questioned the contents of the confectionery she just ate. His hand went into the pocket of his trousers, fingers searching for the appropriate Commonwealth credits. "Damn creds." He muttered, slightly annoyed. He put in a credit at a time. He let the last one dance between his fingers, metallic sheen glittering along the edges. The machine buzzed, uncoiling a can of carbonated liquid from its wiry holster. It dropped with a thud.

He swung open the drop-compartment, taking the cold container into his hand. He outstretched his arm fully, rolling up the sleeve of his long-coat and undershirt as much as possible. He pushed the tab down, loosing a hissing sound as gas vented out of the can. Out of the corner of his eye and within earshot, he heard the Imperial man release a guttural sound after downing a drink in one go. Almost pausing to question the caricature of the action.

"Sister," He said, his soft voice curiously melodic, edged by the distant, distinct echoes of a planetary accent. His voice complimented the figure it belonged to, but at odds with his history - honeyed, smooth, plummy. One befitting an experienced salesman or a board-room member. "Our MREs are no better." Taking a sip of his sugary, carbonated beverage before continuing. "Rather it'd be sugar than... Well, whatever else does me in."

 

[dikdik]

Adrian shuffled uncomfortably in his seat as he noticed a bright green light flicker to life above the door of the ship, just as he had finished talking, pondering. Wondering about this planet- this moon, rather than Anya’s in all its vibrance and intrigue. A man with a cigarette stuck to his lips waved at him, so his eyes drifted over to the green light again with a half-hearted nod back. By the time Adrian recognized what was happening, Anya was blurting a goodbye and had made it most of the way to the door, along with a man with cropped hair and a voice that grated Adrian’s spine in an… unidentifiable way. Others seemed to take their time in gathering their items and continuing out of the ship. Adrian was one of them, whether by intent or accident. He unzipped a small backpack, checking for the umpteenth time that his journal and its black-and-white photographs of Mischa were still there. Of course, he also confirmed the presence of his two changes of clothes and spare glasses. But the journal was a priority. The priority.

Finding himself feeling lost, head still swirling with images of endless night and stars flashing past the ship’s windows, he sped to the door, wiggling through the others to have a visual line to Anya. He was unsure about where to go and she was heading to the same place as he was, Union and all. He found his documents and followed the group, ignoring the drone, ignoring being searched, finding a pervasive heaviness attached to his left ring finger- cold and unyielding, its weight. New arrivals.

Passing through security seemed easy enough, just confirming no one was bringing anything illegal or illicit onto Lethe. Curiosity and dread both seeped through his body, the heaviness sinking onto first his shoulders before finding a place deep in his chest. At some point or another, Adrian heard someone mention a vending machine, a guard perhaps. He observed as Anya and the man with the icy voice clicked at it, producing some food. Adrian wasn’t particularly hungry, though he couldn’t place the last time he’d eaten a full meal. Seemed to always be too busy, too distracted. The woman nipped at brightly colored candy and the man… tore the top off the bottle of soda he’d dispensed? He ate in such a stilted way, with mannerisms Adrian hadn’t seen before. He briefly pondered if that was simply how Imperials consumed, but decided it was perhaps a bit rude to be staring at the man trying to eat his lunch. Adrian’s gaze found itself tracing the lines on the floor, the seams in the metal, whatever else there was to meander at.

Until the vending machine conversation seemed more intriguing than the black seams of dull, matte gray metal on the walls and floor. His ears perked up but tuned out quickly. Not as intriguing as he thought. Banning ingredients, MREs, off-kilter comments and soon he found his mind wandering about hybridizing several herbs to achieve layered flavors in the leaves of one plant. Or discovering plants that tasted sweet with no detectable sugar content…

Adrian found his back against a wall near the vending machine with his backpack at his feet, his documents still clutched in his hand crinkling slightly in his grip. But he kept wandering between herbs and the strange feeling he got at the look and sound of the sandwich man. Ripping the tops off of bottles seemed a strange feat, even for an Imperial.

Before he fully realized what he was doing, he was slinging his backpack over his shoulder, walking towards the man, preparing an outstretched hand for a shake. “Adrian Felski, sir. Fells, if you prefer. Botanist from the Union. Never met an Imperial, sir. I’d be pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Commit before you think too hard. You always think too hard.

mentions: @[joshuadim] @[Infab]
interacts: @[Breadman]