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Post by Absinthe on Apr 23, 2019 6:51:20 GMT
[ Mikula Svoboda, Sabra Kassab, & Helen Locke | Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ] " I said I had a plan, not that it was a good plan," Mikula said, he crossed his arms and stroked his beard thoughtfully. As the current head of research at the outpost, it fell on him to make any decisions. But he was a scientist, not a combatant. It was why he wanted to be on a planet and not up there in space where people were now shooting at each other. Much safer on the ground, even if the ground was an alien world. " If you have a better idea, then I am all ears." He had called this little meeting as he was anxious to resolve the issue at hand. And to ensure they weren't overheard by anyone he had gathered the three of them in the laundry. Helen glanced to Sabra, Sabra simply shrugged. Sabra was a scientist and an aloof asshole. He was on the outpost because he wanted to do his work his way. He was a brilliant botanist, but he disliked people looking over his shoulder. Out here, it was just the three of them and they all did their own things. Sabra looked at his plants and had done very little different since the ship had crashed and the aliens had begun threatening them. That left Helen. She had agreed to come onto the expedition in hopes of just getting away from the world for a while. She had enough drama to last a lifetime and she wanted to be done with it. She was a linguist and had all but lied to convince the higher-ups that she could qualify as an exobiologist. Mikula and Sabra had found out she was not much of an exobiologist, but neither wanted the eye of those same higher-ups on them, so she had been given the task of going out with a hand scanner and documenting things that might be worth exploring in more details. Her role had changed when the ship had crashed as she became the translator for the small group. And boy that had turned well. She had only seen one of the aliens and only a glimpse at that. Most of the communication had been over the small subspace radio they had. She had managed to send out a report and call for aid, but for the past week, the aliens had been jamming them. Her report wasn't much. Just that the alien looks almost a million feet tall, covered in thick dusty gold fur, and she thought she saw cat-like ears. And given the voiced she had heard on the transceiver it didn't surprise her they were cat-like. " Okay, walk me through your idea again," Helen said taking a deep breath. "Weren't you listening? Fine, I'll tell you again," Mikula said rolling his eyes. " Okay, we need to find out what this ship is and who it is who's threatening us over the comms right?" He began, walking them through it. " Well, we should just go to the ship and see what our scanners can pick up. I mean it is just out of range of our big scanners, but if we got close enough we could scan it." " You want to walk through the wilderness for almost 3 km to see if we can scan an alien ship, and you don't think their sensors will pick us up?" Helen asked pinching the bridge of her nose. " That's the brilliance of it. If we just walk we will read like any other lifeforms on the planet. And by the time we start scanning, we should be able to get something and then hurry back." " That's idiotic," Helen replied and looked to Sabra for some back up on this, Sabra said nothing. " Are you suggesting we all go out there together to scan this stupid ship." " No!" Mikula said with a surprised look. " That would be crazy, we can't all go." " Okay, then who would go? You?" Helen asked furrowing her brow. She could see already where this was going. " Of course not," Mikula said with a haughty look. " I can't go, I mean if I got injured it's not like eighter of you are medical Doctors. No I need to stay here and listen to the comms just in case our alien friends contact us." " So you're sending me and Sabra to do it?" Helen asked, her frown only increasing it how set it was. SHe pretty much knew what he was going to say. " Well no, I need Sabra here. And it's not like he'd be much use to you anyway," Mikula said almost apologetically. " So you want me to go alone?" Helen asked in disbelief. Mikula smiled sympathetically. " Well, you are the one who knows how to use the hand scanner the best." Helen almost punched him at that point.
[ Helen Locke | Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ] attn: syrano An hour later Helen stood at the cusp of the camp area in an expedition coat and breathing mask. She hadn't actually hit Mikula, but she had been tempted to the whole time she had prepared. With a heavy sigh, she began to walk. The grass was not long, but it did slow her travels. She wondered if there would be anything like a deer trail she could find that would make the trek easier. Either way, she began to walk and cuss under her breath. The air filter breathing mask pulled the microscopics harmful spores out of the air, but it also made breathing just a touch more strenuous. As she walked she checked her scanner often, making sure there were no large life signs around and that she was still on the right track.
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Post by syrano on Apr 25, 2019 0:22:57 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Tall Grass | Archer IV ]
If Syrano were a scientist, a child, or literally anyone else with a curious, exploratory mind, this planet would be a treasure trove, a never ending wealth of information and new things. However Syrano is Syrano, and he finds himself bored and stressed, sitting among tall grass in this strange, fuzzy planet with very little water and very many strange creatures. Some of them had four legs, some of them had two, and some were very very small and vibrated near him and got caught on his wet skin and drowned. He was not currently being hunted that he knew of, but the two legged silver creatures with the frightening faces, and the squishier, pinker ones with weird fibers atop their heads, they walked around here often. He was larger than both types, but he thought it best to stay hidden. After all, unlike any of the other creatures here, they all seemed capable of speech. This would suggest to him that they’re smart, or at least primitively so. The pink ones, they wore something on their bodies. Perhaps it signified rank? Were the silver ones wearing clothes, or was that a type of armor? He could pick up on some sort of hostility, at least from the pink ones. Whatever was going on, he vowed to stay out of it. He wasn’t suited for combat of any type, and without some sort of leverage, he was loathe to begin any sort of discussion. He sat on folded knees. They ached, but he had to keep them bent this way to keep the muscles limber. He was using them so much more now that he was on a planet with mostly land, and running so much from threats. Great currents, the running. He walked here, thankfully, but he ran earlier from some four legged creature covered in those fibers that the pink creatures had. He always left such an obvious trail--flattened grass, slime on everything. It all came from his under-skirt. On land, it was nothing but weight, flesh and mucus and cerata. In the water, it was an extremely powerful muscle and did most of his passive eating for him. Water, he had to find a body of water. He’d be found if he stayed here for much longer. Even kneeling as he was, bent over, not immediately visible from the grasses, he had a big, slimy trail leading right to him. If he could just get back to the murky pond he was currently calling home, he’d be safe. Hidden. But he ached, he ached so much, and just a moment of rest and composure couldn’t hurt. He craved a drink so badly right now. He had been shaky and dizzy for days now, his legs weak because he felt he would fall any moment. He needed something strong. Just for now, he’d stay here, remain hidden, and slip away... Little did he know that he was already found. Some ways away, his life signs were showing up on a camera. A slow, powerful heartbeat, organs that don’t show up in humans. It showed he was beginning to move, slowly and methodically, avoiding other smaller animals, pausing occasionally to let something pass by.
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Post by Absinthe on Apr 29, 2019 5:50:30 GMT
[ Helen Locke | tall grass and wetland area 2.5 KM from the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ] attn: syrano The hand scanner made a soft chirp and Helen stopped. There was a larger life sign nearby. She couldn't get a good reading on it. Either the life sign was so different from the surrounding life signs that the scanner could not properly distinguish it or there was some sort of scan dampening field at play. Helen thought both might be the case given how close she now was to the alien ship. Could it be one of the aliens? One of the ones who had been threatening them over the comms for days now? She swallowed hard, knowing what she had to do. Carefully she made a beeline toward the life sign, doing her best to move as stealthily as she could, which to be fair was not stealthy at all. As she got close she noticed her hand scanner beginning to get a lot more feedback and the scans became less and less clear. This could only mean that she would need to rely more and more on her skills as a scientist to keep herself safe. With that in mind, she was pretty sure that she was pretty screwed at this point. But she could not turn back without at least learning something, even if it was just what the aliens looked like. She got closer and closer before, at last, it seemed her hand scanner gave her no information at all, the dampening field was too great. " Alright Helen, do or die time," she said quietly to herself and continued forward, in the direction of the life sign. She was so distracted looking forward, and trying to spot anything amiss, that she didn't notice the small gap and downward slope in front of her. All it took was one rogue vine and she fell down and tumbled into an opening in the trees, landing not 10 feet from the strangest alien creature she had ever seen in person. It was tall and looked like some kind of deep sea creature, only slimmer and on land. Well, first contact time. " Erm... Hi?" she offered, truly this was a first contact for the history books.
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Post by syrano on Apr 29, 2019 19:59:02 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Tall Grass | Archer IV ]
He had not known something was following him. All his attention was on getting down this strange ditch in the ground. A ravine, somewhat like the ones he’d explored as a youth, except it was covered in this blanket of plants. Like short sea grasses, perhaps? And there were no volcanic vents, and it was delightfully sunny out. Every time he rustled up the grasses, he felt their pollen stick to his skin, and by the time he had carefully climbed down, he’d been covered in yellow-green dust in exchange for leaving behind a slippery, sticky trail of his mucus.
At the bottom, he looked over the pollen on the underside of his skirts by bending over and looking between his leg. He’d worried about this…this weird powder being toxic or harmful, but so far…it’d done nothing. It made him yellow-green. He was aware that it was serving as a kind of food for the millions of organisms living in his mucus, but he could’ve gotten that from a few hours of relaxing in sunny waters. He straightened himself up and covered his legs with his skirts again. It was not functional, but he didn’t feel right if he wasn’t decent, and in decent culture, you cover up your legs.
He missed his culture. His heart ached. Really, everything ached, and his sight was wobbly, but that was because he needed a drink. His heart ached because he was alone. Everyone and everything in his life removed from him, and even if he did find some miracle way to get back to his home planet, he’d likely be executed swiftly. He cursed the names of his former peers, and cursed himself for having let his guard down. He was right in what he did, justified, why should he have been punished for--
Something was coming. Something tumbling down the same ravine he climbed down. Very quickly, he switched from quiet contemplation to getting ready to flee yet another encounter with the wildlife. He thought it would be yet another four legs. Those were fast, faster than him, and he had no way to escape into water. The pond was just too far. If it cornered him, that was it, that was the end.
But as he looked up and watched the tumbling figure, he distinctly counted two legs. It had a frightening face as well, meaning this was one of the sentient things.. As it came to a stop, he realized it had somehow survived that fall and none of her limbs were horribly displaced. And, more than that, it looked up at him. And spoke.
The voice was so strange. It was lighter than he expected, a little bouncier, and the words were simple and short. Perhaps that indicated that it was of lesser intelligence? It’s skin was pink, and now that he had a closer look, he could see that the frightening face was a mask--it had a face like the other two-legs here. Of the same species, perhaps? It’s fibers were a red color, a rich red. Pleasing, if it were not so strange that it had fibers at all.
For some time, he watched her, looked her over, attempting to discern if she had hostile intent. To her, it must’ve seemed as if he were deaf. He did not respond to her vocalizations with anything. Both sets of eyes moved in unison, scanning her up and down. Even on dry land, the edges of his ‘skirts’--really just an extension of his body--gently fluttered, his cerata moving on their own as if he were surrounded by his own private breeze.
But finally, Syrano spoke. His voice, to his own kind, was practiced, elegant, steady. It carried the tones of authority, someone who had no fear of public speaking. To an alien such as Helen, it was warbly, convoluted. The words had very clear morphemes, but they blended into one another, making individual words difficult to pick out in a sentence. The language seemed remarkably simple. “You realize I will not be able to speak your language, nor I yours, but the attempt to communicate before attacking is certainly a welcome sign.”
It struck him that this, with him standing in a clearing, covered in pollen, sun drying him out, exiled as a criminal--and it, sitting there like a new spawn, not yet able to control it’s body in space….This was his entire species first contact. He privately felt thankful that this would not be a part of his peoples’ recorded history, because it was horrendously improper and ungraceful.
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Post by Absinthe on May 7, 2019 5:12:46 GMT
[ Helen Locke | tall grass and wetland area 2.5 KM from the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ] attn: syrano The first contact with any species was a complex dance that required so very many steps, each done in the right order and with the right method. It was clear to Helen that this first contact was not graceful or the method Starfleet had in mind when they sent ships out to explore. Well hell, she wasn't an explorer. She was only on the rock she was on in an attempt to avoid the war and other personal problems. She was hopelessly out of her depth. She was a communications specialist, her job was making the universal translator better and better to make shit like this easier. She stopped and blinked stupidly for a second. The alien spoke and though she could pick up certain key details in it that would make translation easier. But she had something more useful. She reached into one of the myriads of pockets in her uniform and pulled out a small device that clipped into her tricorder. A second later and she had tapped in a few key codes in hopes that the markers in his speech would allow her to translate him with the universal translator. She'd have to take a plunge and talk again, hoping that the device would translate enough to make him speak. it would take months to work out the details of the conversational protocol, but it was a start. " Greetings, I am Helen Locke, I am a lieutenant with Starfleet. I come in peace," she said hopefully. If she was lucky a couple of words of what she said would come through, at least in some way. If she was luckier he would speak again and she'd be able to fine-tune the rough translation matrix to at least speak properly. " Do you have a name I can call you?"
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Post by syrano on May 7, 2019 7:01:22 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Tall Grass | Archer IV ]
Every move the creature in front of him made, he watched with all sets of eyes. On a subconscious level, his kind were always scanning the environment for threats, usually indicated in ultraviolet colors, but this thing held almost no ultraviolet colors of its own. He, on the other hand, typically radiated a myriad of ultraviolet markings. Yet he did not feel like a predator, compared to it. It had technology on its side, he reminded himself as it pulled out a tiny little thing and attached it to the box that it was carrying. Peculiar. He’d seen those boxes used before, and they were hardly weapons, unless it was used for bludgeoning. They made noise, but beyond that, he wasn’t sure what they did. They resembled small, handheld computers of last century on his planet, so perhaps this creatures was not as primitive as he had assumed. It started to speak again and he had almost begun to ignore the mouth-noises in favor of trying to identify escape routes, but then three words caught his attention. One was in his native tongue, Sellarian, the word Ika. It meant ‘you’, but the informal you, the same one he had used to refer to the creature earlier. One was a language he recognized as Aasir, a language he had picked up years ago as part of a lobbying campaign. 'Yslindir’ A greeting, again informal, but appropriate for strangers. The third was technically a dialect of Aasir, specifically used among traveler and merchant classes as a pseudo-universal language, as it was easy to pick up and compatible with much bigger languages like Sellarian. It used the word ‘Tapu’, which meant, name, as in the name of an item or goods being sold, rather than a person. For a long time, he simply stared at her, his face betraying none of his surprise, but his silence doing so for him. The strange-face used three words, two of which he did not use himself. Somehow, it knew just enough of his species’ language to speak back to him. Clumsy and even downright rude though it was, it was most…fascinating. Was it learning that quickly? Or was it the work of the machine, reading off some strange text to it to recite? He began to approach, though slowly, his posture was relaxed. Among his kind, it meant he did not consider the other a threat. It was a display of arrogance and dominance. It was purposeful movement--probably wasted on a creature who had absolutely no context for any of his body language, but it was how he was raised to function. He lifted his hand and tilted the tricorder just enough for him to peek at the screen. His main set of eyes scanned the strange scribblings that must have been language on the screen--the other ultraviolet set watched her face without blinking. He spoke, opting to use Sellarian just as before. Perhaps he could teach it? “Is that you, learning to speak so quickly, or do you use the box to think for you? Or by some great mystery, have you come across my kind before? It is give-and-recieve, as the wave is, so tell me, creature-of-fibers-and-flesh, and perhaps you’ll have my Nakah, and whatever else I deign to share with you.” He emphasized the last word--it was Sellarian and meant the name of a person. The correct word. Perhaps it was unwise to be so aggressive and cryptic on a first contact meeting, but he was threatened here. He had nothing, no leverage. This should not have happened until much later, when he had something worth offering. As it was, all he had was…himself. As he removed his fingers from her tricorder, he left behind a viscious, sticky goop. It contained millions of microbes and single celled organisms, it contained pollen and dust and dirt and algae…it was it’s own ecosystem, providing moisture and food and protection to an otherwise very fragile skin. And now it was there for her to study. An accident on his behalf, really, he wasn’t used to such dry technology. Hopefully it would not render his goal, withholding information as leverage, completely useless.
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Post by Absinthe on May 11, 2019 5:20:00 GMT
[ Helen Locke | tall grass and wetland area 2.5 KM from the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ] attn: syrano “ Is [unknown] you, [unknown] to speak so [unknown], or do you [unknown] the [unknown] to [unknown] for you? Or by some [unknown] [unknown], have you come across my [unknown] before? It is [unknown]-and-recieve, as the [unknown] is, so tell me, creature-of-[unknown]-and-[unknown], and perhaps you’ll have my [unknown], and [unknown] else I [unknown] to [unknown] with you.” Boy, that was a lot more words, or at least the tricorder was reading what he said as words, though most were totally unknown or lacking any concrete contextual clues. The most complex translation matrix in the Coalition of Planet began to process it, and it translated a few of the words right away. The rest of what the alien creature said either could not be translated or required additional tweaking to be translated in real time. The tiny screen of the tricorder only had so much space for information and even in translation mode, it was still a task to figure out the complexities of a new language. But it was enough for Helen to begin to piece together a bit more. She hoped she wouldn't inadvertently insult the alien in some way, she'd heard about Captain Archer having issues with inadvertently insulting aliens and the insanity of trying to apologize in a highly ritualistic society. When the creature had moved forward to examine her Tricorder she had allowed her hand to tilt to show the screen and it's readings, though she wasn't certain they would mean anything to the alien. She wondered if it was a native to the planet and just hadn't show up on their scans. There weren't any buildings or complex structures on the planet, so maybe the technology was far in advance of its own that she couldn't do much. Yet what had been translated implied a level of sophistication in language most more primitive peoples lacked. It didn't make much sense, but she was winging it at this point. It's, well she supposed to call them fingers left behind a sticky gooey residue on the tricorder. She was half tempted to switch it to a scientific scan function and analyze the sample, but she had no clue what the readings would mean. She quickly tapped a few keys and narrowed down the phonetical structure a bit more. The language was complex, but no more so than Klingon or Betazoid and both were stored in the memory of the universal translator. Though some of it's words could be read as threatening, it was clear that if it was the same sort of alien that had been threatening them on the comms, it would have translated better, on either her side or his. " Okay, let's see if that works," she said as she tapped a few more keys, hoping the matrix would grab onto his language quickly. " I am one of the researchers at the outpost not far from here. I mean you no harm. Do you have a name I can call you?"
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Post by syrano on May 11, 2019 5:45:36 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Tall Grass | Archer IV ]
“[? ? ?], Let’s [know] if [? ? ?] works. I am one of the [science-makers] at the [outer]-[posting] from here. I mean you [unharm]. Do you have a name that I can [title] you?” Once again it spoke. It did so after tapping a few keys on its box, and its words became clearer. Nearly everything was in Sellarian this time, the pronouns were almost correct, except for her continued use of the informal ‘you’, and some phrases that only made partial sense. He realized that the nonsense-phrases were literal translations. If he had not known a multitude of languages himself, he would not have caught that and simply assumed the thing was inflicted with madness. Yet it could not have learned his language so quickly. There was an obvious connection between the language learning and the box that the thing held. It had to be reading the peculiar glyphs on the box--yet the writing was no language he recognized, and it spoke with the same sort of accent he had. Another idea came to him. Perhaps it was much like the science-fictions that were popular of late, and this creature possessed the ability to translate in real time. It was a ludicrous idea, it had been proven wrong so many times by so many scientists that he sincerely doubted it. Yet, the thought persisted. Perhaps this creature was far more advanced than he. If that were the case, he’d be far better off leaving. Though he’d love to take advantage of these creatures, possibly even hitch a ride out of here, he had no leverage of his own. He’d find himself being used in a heartbeat. So he found himself watching the creature again, allowing a great pause between them as he deliberated. He could abscond and risk being chased or revealing where he was currently trying to set up, or he could stay and entertain the “science-maker” that stood before him, perhaps tease more information out of it, and possibly risk giving away what little leverage-scientific -information--he had left. To survive today's battle was to plan for tomorrow's. “Yes, that is the correct word usage. It is your box then. Does it think for you or speak for you? It is not my language’s writings I see on your box.” He paused, letting the creature further adjust the box if it required. The key to conversation is understanding, after all. “Perhaps you understand me better this time, creature-of-fibers-and-flesh?” He spoke again. The name he gave her was a large compound word, and he realized he’d inadvertently given the species in front of them their name in his language. He’d invented their name, but he did not know what they called themselves. “What kind are you, what name do you give yourselves? What purpose have you at your ‘’outer-posting’’? What exactly is an outer-posting? Tell me these things, three minors boons equivalent to a major; You will then have my name.”
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Post by Absinthe on May 21, 2019 4:32:15 GMT
[ Helen Locke | tall grass and wetland area 2.5 KM from the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ] attn: syrano When the alien spoke again Helen was pleased she could understand most of what it said, though the translation remained imperfect. She figured with time it could be worked on, but this wasn't exactly the time. She needed a little more information from the alien. It didn't seem threatening, a bit egotistical, but not very threatening. "Well, I'm a Human," she began, before quickly adding, " from Earth." Not that he would know where that was, but it did show she was willing to share information. " The outpost is a facility we're using to study the planet. It has buildings to house our equipment." She hoped that would answer his questions, the purpose of the outpost was not exactly a secret or anything. Really there was nothing much to be said of the outpost until recently when the ship had crashed. Right, the alien ship! She had almost forgotten about it entirely. " Are you from this planet? Have you seen any other aliens beside me? Say coming from, uh," she checked her scanner and pointed, " that way?"
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Post by syrano on May 31, 2019 5:37:25 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Tall Grass | Archer IV ]
And in one fell swoop, he realized she wasn’t actually concerned about him. At all. This whole first contact thing? A farce. If he weren’t so worried about his survival, he would’ve been highly offended. Instead, he was relieved. He could just lie, tell her they’re very close by, let her run off, and…escape. And that’ll be the end of this horrid interaction.
“Yes, I have. They passed by mere ticks before you. I’m sure if you’re agile, you will meet them soon. Why, they are your kin?” He lied, knowing that he had not seen any. The question at the end, he did not expect to have answered, it was there to make it seem as if he was interested in speaking with her. He was most definitely not.
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Post by Absinthe on Jun 5, 2019 8:13:17 GMT
[ Helen Locke | tall grass and wetland area 2.5 KM from the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ] attn: syrano They had already been through the area? That wasn't good. Helen bit her lip and began tapping on her tricorder to try and hurry it back to scanning mode. The universal translator should still work, but it wouldn't be actively analyzing while she was busy scanning. There were a lot of life forms all around, too many to properly isolate, though she wasn't picking up any humanoid life. Was it possible that the aliens weren't humanoid in any way? " Um no, they aren't related to me," she stammered suddenly hyper alert. " Did you not..." She tapped at her tricorder hurriedly, she needed answers. " Did you not get a good look at them?" She just looked up when there was a loud noise not far off, sounding like the screech of metal against stone. " That can't be good," she said and looked in the direction of the sound. It was the direction the ship was in. She was torn between checking on it, learning more about this odd alien creature, and running for the hills. " Shit... Shit..." She pulled out her communicator and flipped it open. " Helen to Harmony Outpost," she called into the communicator, but got only static back. " Shit, shit, shit..."
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Post by syrano on Jun 6, 2019 0:54:19 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Tall Grass | Archer IV ]
No, he did not get a good look at them, because he had no clue if they actually passed by or not. He was about to come up with yet another lie to bolster up his claim, but then a loud vibration that really hurt the sensitive membrane of his antennae resounded through the air. He winced, his antennae curling up to avoid further agitation. His hands went to massage them. He’d never heard a sound like that before. Could it be a living creature? Do living things make such a horrid screech.
When he was finished wincing, his eyes returned to the thing before him. It was worried. He was having a hard time hearing the creature right away, but whatever it said translated into quite an offensive word. He was absolutely sure that it did not understand simply how racist and backwards that word was. It conveyed to him the same sense of danger though. So he watched the thing in front of him, waiting for her response. He’d respond to this new danger in the same manner as it.
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Post by Absinthe on Jun 8, 2019 6:55:21 GMT
[ Helen Locke | tall grass and wetland area 2.5 KM from the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ] attn: syrano Helen took a breath and did her best to steady herself. Her tricorder was picking up a massive discharged of high energy particles, something like an impulse engine. If she had to guess the aliens had just tried to use their ships enginers to get themselves out of where they had crashed. If the sound had been anything to go on, it hadn't worked well. But she didn't want to risk it. She needed to get out of the open. She wasn't sure if that meant getting back to the outpost or finding something closer. " I think that might have been the other beings that landed on the planet. I do not think it would be a good idea to be caught by them," she said simply, her anxiety clear in her voice. " Do you have a shelter we could hide in for a little bit, at least until things appear calmer? If not I think it might be a good idea for you to come back with me to the outpost." She had a feeling Mikula would want to speak with the alien, if for no other reason than the alien had seen the ones who'd been threatening them over the comms.
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Post by syrano on Jun 11, 2019 3:04:33 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Tall Grass | Archer IV ]
The noise was certainly alarming, but he was hesitant to allow this creature into his 'shelter'. It didn't look like a particularly good swimmer, anyways. Regardless, he did not want this thing going anywhere near the waterways he was temporarily claiming as haven. On the other hand, it was possible the two of them were about to be in great danger. And, to top it off, it mentioned offering haven to Syrano. This could be a trap, that was his first thought. She could be luring him away. Perhaps the sound was a typical sound on this planet. As much as he'd like to take advantage of a safe place with real, honest to goodness food and maybe a little bit to drink, he had to be reserved. He did value his life after all. "I have not been given precedence to trust you. I will not be entering your shelter."
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Post by Absinthe on Jun 14, 2019 12:07:53 GMT
[ Helen Locke | tall grass and wetland area 2.5 KM from the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ] attn: syrano " Have it your way," Helen said shaking her head. And then it happened. The first thing Helen noticed was a loud whine, not the same as the screeching metal sound, but something different. It grew louder and the ground began to tremble. Then the sound of a plasma bolt hitting the ground rushed over them and the ground gave a massive shake. The sound of the same screeching metal followed and Helen could feel panic flooding into her. The screeching ended with a bang of an explosion and suddenly everything was silent. " Fuck," Helen breathed. She had found herself crouching in all the mayhem. She needed to either figure out if she was going back to the outpost or try to figure out what was going on. But a plasma blast like that was from a ship, it would vaporize her in less than a single shot. But she hated the idea of running away. She had to know more about what was going on. She had mad up her mind, she was going to get closer and see if she could get a look at the ship, maybe get look at the aliens who were causing all of this. " Okay, you can stay here or come with, I need to get moving."
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