U.P.M.C. Ferrum [Inactive]

H

halfaflamingo

New Member
halfaflamingo submitted a new role play:


U.P.M.C. Ferrum - No communications, no engines, no hope. So we drift

As earth's population grew so did the necessity for resources. And as humanity and all of it's ambition set out to the stars for said resources there was also a necessity for a greater government. So the United Nations became the United Planetary Alliance. And of course many disagreed with the U.P.A. Most specifically Mars, in 2280 mars begins an independant movement and overthrows the U.P.A. on the planet later that year in a political uprising. In 2281 other planets and colonies joined in and...
Click to expand...
Read more about this role play... 
The ships moans and creaks sounded abnormal to Felix as he faded back into reality. He was having a nightmare about losing his ship but he didn't know if the morning after hangover would be any better. There were empty bottles and glasses strewn about his bed next to one of the several female crew members he was "familiar" with. His head was searing and the light pierced his artificial retinas like an arrow in a target. Everything hit him slowly, he felt short of breathe and the gravity seemed weak. Then he noticed his personal terminal, it was completely covered in notifications, warnings, and codes. The biggest one was a personal message from the ships resident suit, Robert Bukowski, stating only "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? MID SHIP, DECK 9 NOW!" Felix quickly got dressed and ran to his personal elevator. When the doors opened on deck 9 it was the worst possible sight he could imagine. The entire main deck had been turned into a triage, there were men and women everywhere with varying degrees of injury and there were medical team personnel everywhere rushing back and forth not a single uninjured person was still. Everyone seemed to have something to do, and then there was Felix stumbling through the chaos slowly approaching the bureaucrat yelling into his personal communicator. Prepared for the worst possible news as the young man turned all of his anger from the device and funneled all of his anger towards Felix."
 
"Do you have any clue just what the fuck is going on?" Robert shouted to Felix. He ran his hands through his hair, visibly agitated. "Because no one seems to know exactly what happened here. One second, we're on the tail of a promising-looking asteroid, and the next. . ." Robert clapped his hands together. "Boom. Half the ship's dead, at least. Imagine what command is going to think! Imagine the lawsuits! My career is over. Your career is over." Robert curled into the fetal position against a wall. "We're so fucked," he said, staring at the floor. His communicator was lighting up like a Christmas tree, but Robert ignored it. For the first time in his short career, he felt defeated.
 
Dusk, immediately walked into the room, looked at Felix, and yelled, trying to stay as calm as possible, "Sensor scans show multiple hull breaches sir, although the flames have begun to die out. Many personnel on the upper levels are still missing." Dusk pauses. "Should I contact command, or wait?"
 
Alaric quickly made his way down the hallway, his assault rifle held closely against his chest as he made his way to the source of voices. As he entered the room, he quickly saw the vast amounts of injured personnel, before walking towards the Captain.


"Captain. Status report?"
 
Felix looked stone faced yet shocked. "I'm too hung over for this shit...". He sighs deeply trying to collect himself. He looked at Dusk first. "Do it, we don't know the extent of the damage or how long we'll have coms." Then his attention was on Robert. "Pull your self together! You're the representative of the A.P.A. here. These people need leaders right now so fucking act like one." Then He turns to Alaric and sigh deeply " If I knew I'd tell you. We need security feed on that terminal." He points at one of the still operational terminals on the hallway wall "We need to know what parts of the ship are up and running."
 
"I'll get on it sir," Alaric nodded, moving towards the terminal, tapping in his password and bringing up the security logs for the external hull. After a few seconds, he finally found the clip that was relevant to their situation. "Here we are, looks like some sort of asteroid hit the aft hull plate above deck 8. Decks 4 through 7 appear to have suffered the worst damage, with most of the injured flocking down here to deck 9. I'm not sure what the extent of the damage is yet though."
 
Dusk's cybernetic arm reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his communications device. "I know just who to contact. She might know a solution to this mess," he states as he walks out of the room.
 
Robert got up and dusted himself off. "Y. . . you're right, sir." He acknowledged his buzzing communicator. "Command? Yes. Yes. Situation is critical. No, I don't know the extent of the damage. Dead? No idea, sir. Yes sir. Right away, sir." Robert clicked off his communicator. "Does anyone know where I can find the doctor? It's very important."
 
Rosco paid no mind to the nasty explosion that had occurred moments before. He simply went down to the maintenance shaft to replace what he expected to be several blown light fuses and fixtures. The path leading to the shaft however, had caved in, and Rosco was met with the crushed, impaled remains of one of his fellow crew. He bent down next to the body, placed his dirty rag over the head of the crewman to hide his face, and placed a statue of Geoff Wilco in the bloodied hand of his comrade.


Rosco brought down the sun visor on the astronaut helmet he was wearing out of respect for his late co-worker, but it had mostly impaired his vision. On his way back up to the Main Deck, he tripped over one of the statues that Rosco himself had stuck in-between the floor panels (He frequently roamed this part of the ship) and landed face-first onto the hard, metal floor. Rosco was uninjured, but the glass visor on his helmet had shattered. He had started to get back up when he realized the fate of his beloved astronaut helmet, and froze completely. He sat in that position for several minutes before apathetically saying one word.


"Shit."
 
Since the alarm klaxon sounded, Grigory had been a non-stop flurry of movement, attending to as many of the injured as he could as quickly as he could. There were too many. Corpses lined the corridors. Blood stench clogged his nostrils and smoke blurred his vision.


Death. Fire. Ruin.


He shook his head and breathed deeply before setting back to his current patient, applying a suture while shouting to an underling for more gauze. The wounded man was mumbling a what seemed to be a prayer in a language Grigory didn't recognize, repeating the same phrase over and over as the color drained from his face, out of the gaping hole in his side, and onto the metal floor. Apparently, this particular god was either false, apathetic, or inept, because soon the mumbling was replaced by a rattle and then silence.


"Der'mo! He's gone," Grigory exlaimed before moving to the next closest wounded person. No time to mourn the dead while the living still bled.
 
He stared at the monitor a few moments running his fingers through his hair obviously and justly extremely stressed. "It's safe to assume anyone up to deck 7 is in the red zone. and deck 8 is probably depressurizing. And judging by the condition of the power I'd say were on auxiliary cells. that means anyone on the rock we were mining is S.O.L. The gravity tethers would have all slingshotted after the original malfunction. We need to prioritize getting life support back." He turned to Robert " I don't know, if you hadn't noticed there's a lot of injury out there. which means that's where he is" He could feel his world collapsing around him. He felt helpless, and far too sober to be dealing with this kind of shit. He took a second to smell the smoke and blood. He saw the men rushing past him with fire extinguishers and arc welders wearing their bulky HEV suits heading to try to stop the escape of air. Felix began to stumble forgetting what he was doing or was responsible for in the moment. only taking in the death and destruction around him, he eventually stumbled into the larger common area on the ninth deck. This area was lined partially on each side with glass panelling as it was used as a common grounds or break area. Felix's gaze caught a corpse floating close to the window. The gaze on the dead mans face was cold and full of pain. It took a second to realize what he was looking at was but half a man. The torso up of an engineer floating away from the ship. In that moment the full gravity of the situation set in for Felix, and he began to panic and began to march back to the main hall.
 
It was strange for Warik to hear the alarm bells on the ship, but he got use to there blaring while running to deck 10. He had been on deck 11, fixing some monitors that weren't working properly when they started. Right after finishing the repairs, he checked the monitor to see what was going on. "Fuck!" was all he could muster before going into a full sprint to life support on deck 10. Literally unimaginable. The Tether malfunctioned, asteroid smacked into the ship, thousands dead and wounded, life support failing. "Alright," he thought, "let's do something that I know I can do before going to Deck 9 to help the wounded. Fix Life Support, repair any medical supply dispensers, help anyone on my way down. Panic will not help, focus." And so he ran.
 
Alaric let out a long sigh as he stepped over yet another corpse, heading towards the armoury. It was up on deck 8, and the chances of it escaping unharmed were diminutions, but he had to try something, especially as the rest of the security team would be there.


If any of the are still alive. A voice in his head muttered, but he quickly squashed the voice as he reached the blast door. Peering inside, his heart sank as he saw the depressurized room, and the five corpses floating inside. When the asteroid had hit, none of them had been wearing their helmets, and they were now paying the price.


"Rest easy guys," Alaric whispered, before opening a comm link. "Captain? My security team's dead, and the armoury's integrity is compromised. Not sure how much survived."
 
Felix was slipping on an ill fitting maintenance suit at an airlock when the call came in. "Shit, everyone? we need to reseal the hull in that area after we get life support and power back up to regular. I need you to round up any survivors you can find and bring them to deck 9. I want a rough estimate of how many are still alive within the hour. I'm going to see what's left of engineering and how long until we can get life support back."
 
"Roger, I'll start looking for survivors," Alaric replied, slipping his helmet on and casting one more glance into the armoury, before heading back the way he had come. Jogging down the corridor, Alaric quickly came across a small room, a man cowering inside. Forcing the broken door mechanism open, Alaric stuck his hand out to the man. "Come on sunshine, get your ass moving," he said smoothly. "Captain want's us all on Deck 9 for a roll call. Trust me, if you're going to want rations for the next few days, you better be there."
 
Robert looked around for the doctor. It's no use. He thought. He had to give command an estimate on the number dead, but he felt at this point it would be easier to count the number he found alive. He clicked on his communicator, "My estimate is upwards of seventy five-percent are dead. No that's not an official number. The media wants press conference? At a time like this?" Robert looked at the chaos around him. He closed his eyes and took breathed deeply. "Yes sir, it is my job to represent the UPA. I'll try to open a comm channel." Robert looked down and noticed a body not five feet from him. He studied it intently. It was a woman whose named escaped him at the moment, but he had seen her on a few occasions. He remembered her biting insults. He remembered her constant anti-government ranting. He felt as if she would, at any moment, stand up and call him a fascist. He remembered the the fiery intensity with which she spoke and how much he hated her for it. Yet, when he looked into her lifeless eyes, he missed it. He bent down and closed her eyes before looking back at his communicator. "Just, uh, give me an half an hour to collect my thoughts," he whispered.
 
"OK let's think", thought Warik, " how bad could the damage be? You saw the report on the size of the rock, there are only two known ways a Tether can malfunction and bring the object closer to the ship, either the dampeners weren't working when they went to slow the rock down or they brought it in to fast to be slowed. Both scenarios involve heavy damage to the lower decks. What was down there? Can't remember, at Life Support, start fixing." So he began an estimate on what needed repairing, and ran a diagnostic on the internal system at the main monitor. He made a message to the Captain reading: "At Life Support, looks mostly undamaged physical, running a diagnostic right now. Will update with results. -Edward Warik, Lead Engineer."
 
Alaric eventually reached deck 9, a small band of surviving crew members with him. He didn't know all of them by name, but he knew each and every one of their faces, and who they had to lose. From the looks most of them were sporting, those that had someone on board they cared about were all taking it much harder, and he instantly empathized with them.


"Come on, we don't want to keep the Captain waiting," he muttered, ushering the survivors into the main room.
 
"Diagnostic completed, Results as follow: Deck 1-4 receiving no life support, major junctions destroyed. Decks 5-7 receiving very limited life support, enough for maybe 100 people to breath and that is only in non-vacuumed areas. Decks 8 and 9 receiving enough to support a few thousand on each deck, will survive for 3 hours without proper maintenance. Decks 10 and upward are all green, some small areas have been breached but standard automated responses work as they were meant to. I'm going to work on getting what I can get done from here fixed for decks 5-9, then proceed to go to any problem areas myself. -Edward Warik, Lead Engineer" Seemed good, hoped I made whoever will read the thing feel better about the situation, back to work. Time to make some magic. This goes here, that junction is blown, these wires should be plugged in, those are torn need to find replacements later, that board is fried, redirect those systems. That alarm is starting to get annoying.
 
Indeterminable time passed. Grigory was consumed in his work, living in the rhythm of gauze, splints, and cauterizing guns. His relentless warpath of triage eventually led him toward the small congregation of survivors on deck 9. He came across the body of a woman he had not known, but had often heard speaking against the government. Why such a person would work for that same government, he did not know. He did, however, know that if he were to say such things, he would be immediately sent to the darkest, coldest POW facility available. Her speech may have stirred the revolutionary fire in him in the past, but that flame had been dead for a long time. It had died along with sweet Veronika and little Gretchen. Died in pain. In fear. In fire and in blood and hate-


Grigory's body seized. He knew this feeling. His pulse soared as pain rose in his chest and head. He stumbled, dizzy and nauseous. His breath came in gasps as primal terror drowned his mind. His assistants had all moved past him to assist others. He was alone and helpless to stop the panic from taking him.
 
"Doc? What's wrong?" Alaric asked, walking towards the man and steadying him, making sure he didn't fall over. "Come on doc, we can;t have you getting injured at a time like this." Alaric hadn't ever really spoken to the man, never needing anything more than a small patch up that he could do himself. He briefly wondered what he had done before becoming the ships medic, before shrugging and helping the doctor to sit down softly.
 
"Message to remaining members of the Engineering Team,


Problems (to Life Support) on each deck are as follows:


Deck 9- Circuit Board D is fried, find a way to replace or reroute. Some Wiring along Hall 7 has been disconnected somehow, find out how and solve the problem.


Decks 8 to 6- Lots of Hull Damage causing many areas to be vac'ed. Find the areas not vac'ed and repair as you go.


I'm going down to Deck 5, I'm reading only the room next to the stairwell as having any air, but it won't last past the hour. Gonna Evac and fix what I see. Those are your orders, get to it, we've got to save our ship. -Edward Warik, Lead Engineer"


For Fuck's sake I hate that alarm. Stairs too, but here we go. Only 5 levels down, your not that out of shape. Hell, maybe I am.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
The doctor leaned heavily on Alaric's shoulder, breath still shallow and fast. Soon, it settled, and Grigory stood on his own.


"Spasibo, friend," he croaked. "What happened here? I was cleaning the checkup room and then there was this great noise, and the fire, and the blood..."


His eyes lost focus. He was obviously shaken and confused by the catastrophe, as well as exhausted by the work he had done.
 
"We got hit by something, pretty big damage too," Alaric explained. "It's not good, passed a lot of bodies, and I only went to deck 8. You should get a bit of rest, no need to burn yourself out now, we'll need you later I'm sure."
 
6 total levels of stairs total along with running down the halls really drains a guy, but I'm here. Three faces stair back at mine, two alive, one not. Caught in the heavy metal door that shuts when a room is vac'ed. Bad way to go. Crushed below the ribs... gonna hurl... no not yet, not now. I'm needed by the two survivors.


"Move your asses, Life support is giving out down here, Go to Deck 9, Now!"


They looked at the body for a moment. "I said NOW!" grabbing them both by a shoulder pushing them away.


I hear them running up the stairs as I hear another noise beside that blasted alarm. A banging, Like metal knocking on metal. It's coming from the right of the stairwell. 3 knocks. Someone is behind that door. They have stale air if any by now. Best course of action, seal this room, activate mag boots in case the room is vac'ed, open door. Proceed with plan. Sealed... boots on... "Open sesame!"... not Vac'ed.


One more, had space suit on, incident happened some time ago, but suit should retain air for 5 more minutes before they needs to get out of it. Close door, unseal the room from the stairwell air, send them to Deck 9, start working upward. Proceed. "Close sesame!"... *air entering room noise*... "Thank you!" "Deck 9, run, now."... Up the stairs. Still no reprieve from that alarm.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 6 (members: 0, guests: 6)
Back
Top