|
Post by syrano on Aug 19, 2019 23:40:27 GMT
[ Syrano | Just outside the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ]
He barely understood the creature with orange fibers. It spoke in an accent completely and entirely alien to him. It raised a box at him--it looked sort of like the scanner from earlier. He allowed this to happen, but gave the wielder, Cara, a look of supreme disdain. There was another creature with a deeper voice. Unlike anyone else here, it had fibers on its face. Ghastly, and most unfortunate for the creature. Syrano could discern no reason or purpose for face-fibers. Perhaps a genetic defect? But then why was it not removed from the gene pool? So many questions, so little time. After all, he was given safe passage in exchange for information on the alien ship. His skirts propelled him towards the trio. He kept his legs hidden under his skirts as he stepped out of the water, climbing the slope onto dry land. His legs ached hard, and he moved slow, be he refused to allow himself to be seen as anything less than the graceful, majestic fucker he was. His skirts were not nearly as wide out on land. Although the tail end still dragged in the water behind him, the rest of him hung about, heavy and saturated with pond water. He raised his head, his cerata draping across his face and each other, and yet still moving as if searching for prey. His eyes locked on Helen first. “If indeed these creatures-like-you have a ship and I am allowed on board, then you will consider your debt repaid, and we will have no further ties to one another. If they do not have a ship, or I am not allowed on board, we will discuss the matter of debt plus interest, and know that graciousness does not become me.” He warned her, and then to the other two creatures. “To the creature known as Major-Anson-Claudius, and the one who has not yet disclosed a name; I am Oto Syrano Nakir vin Toyo. You enter into a binding agreement with me. In exchange for shelter aboard your ship, I will offer you everything I know about the ship that crashed here. I will begin sharing when I am assured of suitable accommodations aboard your ship, and I will divulge only with you, who are authorized-to-negotiate.” He nodded to the one known as Major-Ansen-Claudius. Authorized-to-Negotiate was a very difficult title to obtain. Syrano himself took years to achieve it. This creature with the facial defect must be very important indeed…
|
|
brutus
Junior Member
Posts: 68
|
Post by brutus on Aug 20, 2019 13:55:57 GMT
[ Ens. Cara Siobhan Ross | Just outside the Miolian Research Station | Archer IV] Attn:
To his credit, the Major stepped right into the thick of it. Cara had caught snippets of his brief conversation with the Sergeant Ruiz whom had been dispatched earlier and understood that her fellow crew-members were under some form of attack. That lent an edge of urgency to what would follow. She'd never been under fire, and a part of her was secretly glad she was here and not there. Secretly, shamefully.
This es nae th'time t'bae wurryin over tha'. Yee ain't there, ahn ye been trained t'defend yurself. Focus, lass, she scolded herself, looking back down at her hand scanner. She could feel the weight of the alien's eyes upon her as she took her readings and realized belatedly that this might be considered rude. But the regal - snooby? - alien might have posed a threat. And he was so very different. He went on and on, towering above her (or perhaps not so high above her, simply seeming that way to her very astonished eyes). It was creatures like this that were the reason Cara was out in the universe, and not staying at home, helping her folks as they plodded along with their thoughts of a colony where 'everyone lived the right way'.
es' facsinatin' e'is, she thought, swallowing a lump in her throat as she looked up at him, her red pony tail swaying a bit as she turned to follow his movement out of the water. Now how does e'do tha' Ah wunder?
Realizing it had addressed her in its little speech, Cara flushed red. She chewed on her lip for a moment then sucked in a breath, addressing the tall creature. "Mah nahme es Cara Siobhan Ross. Mah rank's Ensign." She bit down harder on her lip for a moment, and then gave a shrug, adding, as this one seemed to like titles, "Chief Science officer of the starship Discovery." Though saying it aloud send a shiver of pride down her spinel inside she was thinking, Ahn Ah'm nae authroorized t'negotiate ah damn thang. Her heart was pounding now, and she still felt flush. Something about this big creature set her off and she couldn't figure out what it was.
And then, an errant thought ran through her mind, and she glanced from Syrano, to the Major, and back again. As polite as she could muster, she asked quietly, "Ah, Mister...miss? Otooohh Syranoo Naekir van Tayooo?" her accent butchering his name, Oto Syrano Nakir vin Toyo "Ah dinnae maen ta be rude, but ye need ahn ahquadic envriornment, aye?"
|
|
|
Post by multificionado on Sept 8, 2019 14:02:47 GMT
[Lieutenant Gideon Drake | Launch Bay | Deck Five | Starship Discovery NX-04 | Archer IV Orbit]
“And, may I ask what this is all about?” asked Gideon to the MACOs, doing his best to contain his surprise.
“Beta squad gearing up,” replied a female MACO, clearly the one in charge. “Hostile situation planetside, sir. We’re backing up the sergeant.”
It occurred to Gideon that when she mentioned the “sergeant,” she was talking about the black-haired beauty of a MACO that he had seen before Commander Saugn went planetside. He wasn’t surprised that the MACO left out Major Claudius. In fact, it was widely regarded among most of the crew that the Major wasn’t respected, though nobody ever dared criticize him publicly, unless they wanted a court martial.
“These newcomers sound particularly hostile,” remarked T’Mil. “I think we need someone in addition to come along, see if he knows who they are. I particularly recommend Mister Gecht.”
Gideon raised an eyebrow. The other MACOs looked up in surprise.
“The Turtle?” asked the big MACO. Gideon was sure the reaction was part respect, part unease.
“The ‘Turtle,’ as you so candidly refer to,” said T’Mil, “has been helpful not just as an engineer but as a specialist in alien cultures. He’s got a wide variety of contacts, but he’s been especially useful in our new engine systems.”
“I agree,” said Gideon, also with respect; he was on friendly terms with Gecht, given that they were both of nobility. “We can use his help…although if it’s combat expertise, don’t expect any of that.”
Gideon knew why the MACOs took particular interest in Gecht. Big turtle, big bloody claws…however, he was particularly peaceful, like most of the other turtles from Rigel…they were a subspecies of Rigelian, Chelons, they were called. Of course, when it came to defense, he was a natural.
Gideon made his way to the nearest comm panel to call Gecht.
[Mister Gecht | Quarters | Deck 4 | Starship Discovery NX-04 | Archer IV Orbit]
Gecht had been arguing with his newest retainer since the starship had left the drydock. While he and some of his specialists – half his retainers – would’ve long been in Engineering, his newest retainer was giving him a problem. The retainer had just shifted to female status and would be expecting to lay eggs at any bloody moment. To add insult to injury, the retainer’s universal translator didn’t seem to be working. She had a particularly broken English language, like she had been learning from a human kindergarten teacher…which it literally was.
“For the last time,” he argued, “this human cleaning solution is just as good as our regular supplies.”
“No,” the new Chelon retainer – or a maid, as humans would put it – retorted slowly. “It…it leave stain.”
“I’m okay with the stains, that’s what dry rags are for, just use it!” snapped Gecht.
“No, I no can clean, hatchlings due any moment.”
“Shhhhhhhhhiiiht,” Gecht hissed, hanging his head. He liked making human expletives he was fond of sound like a hissing.
He still never forgot when he came to Starfleet to help out…and the first thing that came out of his mouth was the inconvenience of the transporter service.
“That was absolute hell,” he said the moment he arrived. “I don’t understand how… I mean, almost eight hundred and sixty-five lightyears, and we still have to change in Atlanta!”
Of course, he got over it. As a specialist in pergium, his expertise was required in helping out in the engines. And it was his specialty in pergium that brought him to Discovery. He allowed the Starfleet engineers to run the show, but the pergium systems was something he and his specialist team worked in. Now the ship was finally away, running on pergium…and Gecht had been stuck with his little fool, arguing. He had sent his specialists ahead, but he wanted to check on his systems as soon as possible.
“Launch bay to Mister Gecht. Are you there?”
Gecht jumped at the beeping and the voice. He approached his communications systems and opened them up.
“This is Gecht.”
“Lieutenant Drake here. Report to the launch bay. You’re needed planetside.”
“As an engineer or a negotiator?”
“Negotiator, mostly, though you’ll be needed to identify some new aliens and to know if we can deal with them.”
Gecht paused at that. There was something particular about the way Lieutenant Drake said about the aliens. It sounded like these aliens sounded hostile.
“On my way,” he said. Then, he turned to his maid and replied, “I’m going planetside. If you begin laying eggs…use your bloody imagination.”
He didn’t particularly care about hatchlings, it was his job that mattered. He made his way to the launch bay, hoping he remembered the way. He tapped his voicebox – all that was left of his throat after a nasty encounter with a Kalar some years previously on Rigel VII – making sure it was working, and then left.
|
|
|
Post by multificionado on Sept 9, 2019 2:34:05 GMT
[Major Anson Claudius & Lieutenant Helen Locke | Just outside the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV] attn: Brutus, Syrano
“Yeh haff yehr word, you’ll get accommodations on our ship,” replied Anson, then he turned to Ensign Ross. “And, Ensign? Yeh haff a point. An aquatic environment’s needed. Ah’ll need a word with the Turtle; he has room enough in his own part of the ship. Half his own accommodations are filled with water. Believe me, I’ve seen enough leaks coming from his quarters to know where he lives. We can ask him if he has room for our new aquatic friend ‘ere.”
“Turtle?” asked Helen.
“Aye,” answered Anson. “That’s jes ‘is unofficial nickname, his name’s Gecht. ‘E’s from Rigel.”
“Oh, a Chelon,” said Helen. She did recall that there were three species of aliens from the Rigel system. If one of Discovery’s crew was described as a “turtle,” it could only mean he was a Chelon. It made perfect sense. The Chelons enjoyed the water, so the aquatic alien should be right at home with them.
“Anyway, we got a shuttlepod coming doon from the ship,” said Anson to Oto Syrano whatever-he-said, “we’d be glad to give you a lift for the its return trip.”
[Sergeant Raquel Ruiz | Elsewhere | Just outside the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV]
“Sarge?” asked Hanson, hearing a sound like record ending abruptly.
Raquel could hear it too. She looked up and saw that the drone had dropped like a rock, orange and steaming.
“Took it long enough,” she said. She was beginning to wonder when the sucking thing was going to overheat. “Dhaniel, you’re with me. We’ll take a closer look and make sure that drone remains grounded. Then we’ll take it back with us. The Turtle is bound to know who made it.”
She referred to Gecht in a big manner. She had seen the Turtle in the mess hall plenty of times, along with his servants – retainers, as he called them – and she had seen him clash with the Major more times than she can count. Everybody on the ship knew that the Major was a pendejo, but they were careful not to make their criticisms in public; Raquel remembered when a greenhorn complained about the Major aloud…in the same room as he was. The next time she saw him, he was busy cleaning the armory with a toothbrush.
However, she had seen Gecht openly criticize him and get away with it, and the ship admired him for it. Gecht had the guts, as well as the balls, to say such things because there was nothing the Major could do about him; Raquel was sure the Major was scared of the Turtle, and for good reason: he was practically a little tank with two legs. However, he spent more time on the engines than he did in the armory, but Raquel was sure that if the Turtle defended himself, he was a force to be reckoned with.
Raquel and Dhaniel approached the drone, weapons steadily aiming at it. By the time they were close enough to stand over it, it was still smoking with overheating.
“Let’s make sure it’s permanently out of commission, si?” said Raquel.
Dhaniel nodded in agreement. At a nod from Raquel, they both shot out their engines and, for good measure, its surveillance systems. At least, that was what Raquel was sure about. She kept shooting it up until all that was left was just the plasma cannon and a chassis of circuitry and wires.
Raquel and Dhaniel then picked up the remains and dragged it across. Walking past Hanson and the aburro, Raquel said, “Hanson, get the wuss back to base. We got a new toy to look over.”
Hanson had been about to pick him up when the wuss in question sat up abruptly and stood.
“The wuss has a name, you know,” he retorted, and walked civilly along with them.
[Khar-Captain | Bridge | Kzinti Scout Ship Fang Talon | Archer IV]
“Tell me again in simplistic terms,” Khar-Captain growled at his underling at the drone controls.
“We lost contact with the drone we sent out,” the underling replied nervously. “Its power systems have overheated.”
“No casualties?” Khar-Captain inquired, teeth baring. The drone controller shook his head, nervously. He had seen what his superior had did with the three engineers who failed him.
“We do have some footage before the drone was deactivated,” he added hastily, and instantly pulled it up. It showed four humans hiding, but it took Khar-Captain a moment to recognize one of them, one of the weaklings on the base. The other three seemed…different, somehow.
The final amount of footage, before surveillance was shut down completely, was of a human woman shooting the equipment up. He couldn’t hear a word, but it didn’t matter. Khar-Captain was taken by the woman. This one will be first, he thought to himself. This one looks so delicious.
“The humans seem persistent,” he said. “Seems that they’ve been waiting for the drone to overheat before striking. Impressive.”
His second officer approached from behind and scoffed. “That’s just one human,” he said snidely. “What could one human possibly do?”
“This,” retorted Khar-Captain, before he withdrew his blade and decapitated him. The drone controller ducked to avoid getting his own head hit by the second officer’s.
“Now then, since they think a drone is easy on them, let’s see how they think if we drop in for a visit,” he said. “Summon the Claw. He is instructed to prepare for a raid.”
Everybody was silent. He knew that the Claw was the most powerful of his troops, the most feared of all Kzinti soldiers. Things were going to be interesting.
|
|
brutus
Junior Member
Posts: 68
|
Post by brutus on Sept 10, 2019 0:47:18 GMT
[ Ens. Cara Siobhan Ross | Just outside the Miolian Research Station | Archer IV] Attn:Absinthe syrano Sharing a quarters with Gecht and his attendants would be considerably easier than the first solution that had come to Cara's mind. They had a large reclamation system aboard for water processing. She'd half imagined that they might put the strange, towering creature in that. Even now, she frowned a bit, looking from the Major, to the Alien, and back again. Surreptitiously, she looked down at her scanner again, the readings she'd taken of the local guide, and then cross referenced that with what little she knew of their Chelon guest. Eht moight work, she thought to herself, deciding that it was best not to actually point that out right then. Might not help the negotiations going on. Instead she gave a little shrug and tucked the device back into her pocket for the moment, chewing on her lower lip and looking back and forth now between Lt. Locke and Major Claudius. But will e'fit in th' shuttlepod? And how to broach that question. Carefully, she asked, "Assumin' we can get some leg up over th' oth'r blighter's 'ere, wuldn't th'transporter be a wee bit better fer transferin' our new friend't'th' Discov'ry?" It really wasn't her place to protest but at the same time...physics were a thing. And the shuttlepod had seats, and This Mr. Syrano was not a small bloke. She hated being contrary, and frankly, disliked it all the more in front of the Lieutenant from the research station. Bu at the same time she didn't want to do a disservice to the man (pretty sure it was a man) that was going to give them the low down on the aliens that that, she gathered, attacked the other party.
|
|
|
Post by syrano on Sept 10, 2019 2:01:36 GMT
[ Syrano | Just outside the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ]
The creature with orange fibers spoke to him, and when it did, it mangled up his name! He never heard his name spoken so terribly before in his life. Syrano was forced to wonder if the creature before him was mentally deficient somehow. He stared at the orange creature in scorn. At least she was able to tell that he required water. That the strangely accented, one-eyed creature thought that the other named Cara ‘had a point’ revealed to Syrano how stupid both creatures truly were.
“I am aquatic, yes. My main environment is highly salinated water. Creature known as Cara-Siobhan-Ross, do you know what the word ‘saline’ means?” He could not keep the disdain out of his voice, and he did not want to. He was superior to these lardy, oily, hairy things, and they ought to know that.
The scanner would read that Syrano was, indeed, an aquatic being. Based on the composition of his body, and the remnants of old seawater still trapped under the slimy gel that coated his skin, he would function best in water with a salinity between 30,000-40,000 parts per thousand, which would make him an ocean-dwelling creature. The bright colors identified him as something that preferred to stay in shallow water, though trace bioluminiscent bacteria suggested he was not only capable of submerging to the great, dark depths, but that he had done so at some point within the last 3 months. He appeared to require being fully submerged and under at least some amount of pressure underwater to keep his body in healthy shape, though he was capable of land travel…for short periods. He would be drying out before the end of the day, if not properly cared for.
The gel that coated his skin was chock full of microbes completely alien. Cara’s single scan uncovered 2,000 new microrganisms in one go, and that was a cursory scan. His entire existence challenged multiple fields of science where they stood. And he hadn’t even been dissected yet.
He shifted his massive weight onto his other leg as he began to step forward…towards Cara. He reached out, his limbs so long and thin, and his hands--so slimy!!-- touched her hair. Her very bright, very red hair. Surprisingly, it was softer than he thought, but the sensation of so many fibers was still highly unpleasant. He withdrew his hand, and left a huge trail of slime in the hair he had just touched. “You are pointing that thing at me--collecting data. This for that--I should collect data on you as well. Or, more accurately, I would have you sent to the appropriate facility, were I still capable of it.” His tone suggested deep disdain. He rubbed his hands together, trying to remove the memory of touching her hair from them.
“Truthfully, I would rather not collect any more data than I have done just now. You are an unpleasant sensation. So cease your scanning at once, until we have reached an agreement for the appropriate exchange of information. You are not authorized-to-negotiate. You, Major-Anson-Claudius, I am ready to leave at once. I have nothing to carry with me."
|
|
|
Post by multificionado on Sept 10, 2019 3:50:18 GMT
[Major Anson Claudius | Just outside the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV] attn: Brutus, Syrano
“We could, lassie,” said Anson, “beh I imagine ahr transporter’s dodgy right noo. I oughta check.”
He had just pulled out his communicator when he saw the exchange between the newcomer and the ensign. And he smiled in amusement.
“Cor,” he said. “He slimed yeh, ensign.”
As he did, he took note of the mannerisms for the fellow…for want of a better word.
What a pompous arse, Anson thought to himself. Gecht will definitely like him. One pompous arse to another, and they both love water.
He then opened the communicator and tuned into Frequency Beta; he was definitely sure that Starfleet communications were still being monitored by the not-so-friendly neighbors terrorizing Lieutenant Locke and her lot.
“Major Claudius to Discovery,” he called in. “Any MACOs listening into this frequency?”
“Corporal Mulligan here, I read you, Major,” came the reply.
“Where’s Corporal Kelly?” asked the Major.
“On her way down with the rest of Ruiz’s squad.”
Anson smiled and snorted in both approval and, at the same time, sarcasm. Beta Squad was some of the best troops in the MACOs. They were all at boot camp with Ruiz, they understood her, and she practically vouched for them. With her in charge and with their own medic to patch them up, they were a squad highly respected not just in the MACOs, but in Starfleet as well. At the same time, however, he understood that Ruiz meant business; judging from the engagement she reported, reconnaissance was turning into a potential firefight. He knew what she was like. She never so much as openly mentioned how much of an arse she thought he was – like everybody else – but he would see it in her eyes. He did with everybody, how everybody regarded him with his eyes. Ol’ Gecht was the only one to openly mention it. He even brought it up aloud one time in the mess. How did he put it in the nicest terms? Everybody knows?
Correction. He recalled his exact words. “You’re a shell-less jackass, everybody knows that. You and that lazy mongrel of yours.”
If Gecht had been an ordinary human, Anson would’ve sent his foot up his buttocks the hard way for making a jibe about his dog. But he wasn’t about to tangle with a seven foot turtle from Rigel. If the claws and the teeth didn’t tip him off, the risk of getting flattened by a big bloody shell did.
He twitched momentarily, shaking himself back on his train of thought before he lost it again.
“Corporal, put me through with Lieutenant Bronson,” he ordered.
“Understood, sir.”
A moment later, he heard the temporary chief engineer on his frequency.
“This is Lieutenant Bronson. Go ahead, Major.”
“I’m calling on this frequency because Starfleet channels are being monitored by unfriendly types,” Anson explained. “How soon until transporters are operational?”
“A few more minutes. Just need to set some adjustments.”
“Well, we got a shuttle on the way, but it doesn’t hurt to have the transporter standing by, just in case. Keep yourself attached to our frequency, I may need to call you.”
“Understood, Major,” came Bronson’s reply. “Bronson out.”
Anson then proceeded to open a line with Ruiz.
“Major Claudius to Sergeant Ruiz, we’re heading back to the research outpost. Pull back here.”
“No necessito, Major,” replied Ruiz. “We’re already on our way back now. The hostile’s been taken care of, and we’re hauling its butt back with us.”
“Good to hear,” said Anson. “Your squad’s on your way down, by the way. Inform them to park their shuttle outside the outpost, we’ll meet everybody here.”
Naturally, he would’ve called Corporal Kelly and provided instructions to her, but Beta Squad only obeyed Ruiz. Oh, they listened to his orders, but only when Ruiz told them to haul arse did they move their arses.
Closing his communicator, he turned back to Oto Syrano Whatsis and to Ensign Ross, seeing that the sliming exchange was finished.
“Brilliant, Excellence,” replied Anson; he chose the formal nobility title for Oto Syrano since it never refers to any specific gender, given he wasn’t sure what gender Oto Syrano was specifically. “Our shuttlepod will be here soon. It’ll be jes outside the outpost. And that’s totally fine if yeh dinnae have nuffin on yeh, the less luggage, the merrier.”
|
|
brutus
Junior Member
Posts: 68
|
Post by brutus on Sept 11, 2019 19:04:01 GMT
[ Ens. Cara Siobhan Ross | Just outside the Miolian Research Station | Archer IV] Attn:
Realizing that she had been addressed directly, Cara looked up in surprise, before a somewhat cross expression flluttered across her face. Now was certainly not the right time to go fussing at a newly met life form, when the major was in the opening stages of a negotiation. But Cara was a tempermental as she was gregarious, and thought it took a moment to be sure, she concluded at that the lumbering alien had just called her daft. "Auch aye, yee great heap, Ah keen wha salien is. T'ain't all like ah dinnae grow up a stones throw from a salt water oc'en, nor attend th'Acadahmey roight by a great salty bay." she chirpped back at him with a wee bit of indignation all her own. This perhaps was a mistake.
To her eyes, it appeared the giant had devoted his entire attention on her now that she had spoke her peice, and she swallowed abit behind the filter mask that covered her mouth and nose, keeping the hallucinagetic pollen at least somewhat at bay. She gathered it had very little affect on Syrano, judging by the brief glance she'd taken at her readings - of which would occupy her for days yet - but the thing did precious little for blocking out smell. And as his tenderil reach out to ward her, she was hit with a foul oder that remindered her nothing so much as of the crabbing factories still at work in the bay, and the wretched smell of them when the wind was coming the wrong way on a hot summer day.
Unfortuantely, Syrano set his hand upon her head, earning an indignant squawk from the red headed ensign, and lest she was mistaken, a less than kind laugh from Lieutenant Locke. His touch was both lighter than she thought, and heavier, perhaps because he was coated with slime. He pulled away and she felt a great, godawful blob of it mat her hair and slide down. She pulled a face, staggering back and swearing profusely in Gaelic, which thankfully the UT did not see fit to translate into something that the alien dignitary would understand. "Oy ye great git! Scann'n a bloke is nae th' same as reachin' oot and touchin ah person." she protested, before wheeling about on Major Claudius. Again this might not have been the smartest move.
No sooner had the redhead begun, "Auch aye, Ah can see tha'perfectly fine. mah-jur, thanke yee fer tha bit o'enlightenment. Ah bloody 'ell tought Ahd' been 'et wit ah snowball." than a great lob of it dripped out of her hair, and cross her cheek, staining her skin and givign her a nose full fo the noxious goop. She missed whatever the major said in return, and anything else for that matter, as she gave a great heave, and then scampered away. Taking refuge behind a tree she was forced to pull the mask off, lest she vomit directly in it, and then heaved up what had passed for her previous meal into the ground behind it. She gulped down a breath of air. regretted it, and then moved over to the pond that Syrano had come out of. Drastic times called for drastic measures, and she stuck her whole head in, in an effort to was the gunk away from her face.
She would, of course, have to go through Decon now. There was no avoiding it. But she would be damned if she'd let that foul goop stick on her. Propriety had gone to hell at this point, as she surfaced, coughing and shaking her wet hair out. That hd done for....some of it. Enough, she hoped, as she fumbled the mask back on and uttered something as foul as the smell, rounding back on the giant alien. She opened her mouth to spat something off, but heard Major Claudius bein as pleasant as could be and marshalled her will just enough to shut her mouth tightly and fume in silence instead, the slightly ill green cast her skin had taken on now warring with the furious red rising in her cheeks.
|
|
|
Post by multificionado on Sept 14, 2019 21:38:18 GMT
[Major Anson Claudius and Lieutenant Helen Locke | Just outside the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV] Attn: Brutus, Syrano Anson did a double take and realized just how huge this fellow was. “Maybe a transporter might be in order,” he said. “As in a form of teleportation, if yeh have ever heard of it,” he added, in case Syrano didn’t understand. “Anyway, we’d best be off, back to just outside the facility, I think I see the shuttlepod coming.” Sure enough, he saw the shuttlepod coming, but the way it landed, it almost seemed to have dropped like a rock. Then Anson turned back at the Syrano fellow and double-taked. How did he miss the fact that Syrano was tall? He was even taller than Gecht, if by a few inches. He distinctly recalled when Gecht had to come up in a shuttlepod to Discovery while it was undergoing its refit. He and Commander Saugn were waiting for him, and they both almost smiled at the sight of the Turtle getting stuck in the door. I’m calling for a beam-up, he thought. I don’t care if Bronson says it isn’t ready, Syrano is too bloody tall to even fit in the shuttlepod. Besides, we dinnae even know how well he walks on land.Flipping open her communicator, he called in, “Bronson, is the transporter ready now?” “It’s ready now,” answered Bronson, breathing heavily, clearly working hastily from the sound of things. “Standing by to transport.” “Good, because we’ll need it,” Anson replied. Flipping off his communicator, he then approached the alien.
"We're transporting up to the ship, Excellence," he said, ensuring that the title he gave Syrano was a title of respect. "It'll be a little faster, and, no offense, I dinnae think you'll fit in our shuttlepods. I'll be going back up to the ship with yeh, given I'm authorized to negotiate, as it were. Ross, you'll be staying planetside. Get back to the outpost with Lieutenant Locke. The Commander will need help, particularly with the 'neighbors.'
Helen let out a scoff at those words. Returning to the outpost with her ex there felt more like going back to detention.
Anson flipped the communicator open again. "Bronson, there will be an alien biosign among the group of humans here, around my signal. Transport the alien aboard, along with me."
"Acknowledged," said Bronson. "Lock established."
"Beam us up," said Anson.
Helen watched as Syrano and the Major disappeared in particles and then shrugged.
"Go on ahead back to the outpost, Ensign," said Helen with a scowl. "I'll remain out here a little longer to...collect samples."
Pathetic as that excuse was, it was the best thing she could think of. She needed any excuse possible to stay away from her ex, as long as she was back at the outpost, and this was the first good one to come to mind.
She kneeled at the pond where Syrano was at. She missed him already, but she was sure he'll be much happier back up on the ship, especially if there are water facilities.
She looked down at the reflection at the pond...and was surprised to see two bipedal tigers looming down above her. She looked up and widened her eyes. There were a pair of bipedal tigers looming over here, all packing some huge guns and leering hideously down at her. And they were shockingly familiar...
Helen leaped up and tried to make a run for it, but one of the tigers grabbed her, holding her tight, before she even so much as got upon her feet. He then proceeded to drag her away while the second ran at Ross's direction.
"ROSS!" she shouted at the ensign's direction. "RUN FOR THE OUTPOST!"
She looked back at the tiger holding her up. She realized where she had seen someone like him before. She had seen a similar bipedal tiger from a distance; she knew they seemed catlike. Now that she got a good look at them, she had seen the same dusty gold fur on what she had seen. She hoped Ensign Ross got the message to run like crap through a goose back to the outpost. She had seen the shuttlepod and the way it almost dropped like a rock. That meant it was bringing more MACOs. The huge pussycats that have threatened the outpost for so long are about to be screwed.
|
|
brutus
Junior Member
Posts: 68
|
Post by brutus on Sept 19, 2019 15:56:17 GMT
[ Ens. Cara Siobhan Ross | Just outside the Miolian Research Station | Archer IV] Attn:
'Visit Strange New Worlds,' the recruitment poster had said, when Cara had seen it in the town square, back in her blissfully clean hometown. 'Seek out new life, and new Civilization. Enlist in Starfleet Today!' Ye dinnae sah ah bloddy dahmned thing aboot g't'n slimed, did ye? nor tha th'new civilizations wuld be rude buggers. The pond water dripped down the back of her collar, into her shirt, and she shivered from head to toe. It was cold, and nasty but not as nasty as the slime that had been levied upon her.
She stood there, trying to neither shiver, nor quake with anger. The young Ensign could just imagine lumbering sea urchin gripping her in both hands and then spitting more of the foul ichor over her from head to toe. A thoroughly repulsive thought. Just because ye think yer royalty doesn't mean ye cannae act like ah well tempered bloke, instead of a wee slimey git. Ya wee slimy git. The words would feel so good to say, but she swallowed them - along with a trace amount of pond water, and coughed behind the filter mask she'd put back in place. Cara kept telling herself that she'd only gulped down a little bit of the local air. There might have been some of the dreaded pollen, but surely not enough to cause any real concern. She'd go through decon when she beamed back up to the ship and -
Blinking a few times, she realized Major Claudius had just told her she'd be staying planet side and going back to the outpost with Lt. Locke. Her eyes darted over to the ex Missus Saugn and frowned a bit, her greenish skin tone making the whole expression look almost villainous. Though it might be an overactive imagination at play, Ensign Ross thought the more senior science officer looked less than thrilled at the idea of going back to the base. Whether that was the prospect of seeing her ex-wife, or simply being downwind of the now foul smelling officer from the Discovery Cara couldn't say. Before she could get more than a "Are ye sure ah cannae beam back now?" out of her mouth, the Major and the offensively gauche alien were whisked away in a splash of light.
Hoping the Major at least made it back in one piece, if not the alien, Cara tugged on the sleeve of her damp coat and then turned to face the Lieutenant. Rank gave Locke authority over Cara, even if Ross was the chief science officer of an NX-class sporting the latest refit available, and Locke was stuck on a research outpost on a backwater planet that couldn't be properly colonized because the pollen in the air would eventually kill any human (or vulcan) that stayed for more than a short while out in the open. That seemed a pretty piece of injustice then that before she could say bully about taking the Lieutenant back to the base, the latter was telling her to head off on her own.
"Really now, Lootenant," Cara protested, "Thanks to that lumbering bullocks Ah'm ahlready full o'samples fer th'takin. Ah dinnae think we ought to dawdle, whut with ther bein' foightin' aboot."[/font] She scowled at the feeble attempt that Lt. Locke put up, offended on her own behalf as well as that of her Commander. That she herself had just protested the Major's orders to stay back bore very little on Cara's conscience. But the other woman knelt at the pond and ignored Cara, so the redhead let out a disgusted huff. Her temper was pushing back her timid concerns that had been there when she'd first beamed down, over eager, but well aware that it had been her first real mission as the Discovery's Science Officer. Turning away, she'd stomped off a good 20 paces, fuming as she fumbled with her scanner to get the path back to the outpost brought up, when she heard Locke screaming at her.
Wheeling around, Cara managed a "Whut tha bloody fuk -"[/color] Before seeing the beasts. She dropped her scanner back into her pocket and fumbled to draw the phase pistol that she'd been sent down to the planet with, all while stumbling backward. The creature was tall - not as tall as Syrano, she didn't think, but it was furry and slightly distended, its chest swollen out but its gut sucked in, like a greyhound. But it was most certainly feline in nature, and predatory. It let out a growl as she slipped and fired off a shot, missing by a mile. and falling onto her ass. The Phase pistol scattered away, and it started to lope toward her.
There was no hope of making a stand. She couldn't find the phase pistol she'd dropped. In a startled panic she rolled to her hands and feet and sprung up, taking off at a breakneck pace through the woods, hoping beyond hope she'd picked the right path and shouting all the way back.
|
|
|
Post by syrano on Sept 20, 2019 1:02:50 GMT
[ Syrano | Just outside the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ]
This creature with red hair, the reaction it gave was….was..ghastly! What on Pallucia was this thing doing?! The whole body heaved and…and produced some awful multicolored liquid from it’s mouth! Where was that stuff even stored?! Was it held in it’s cheeks? It’s lungs?! Wasn’t that fluid important? Why is the fluid outside of the creature’s body!? What was it doing?!?
In Syrano’s abject horror, he’d lost his composure. His facial expression was one of pure disgust. Pallucia did not vomit, they were not physically capable. Syrano had never in his life seen the act of throwing up, nor did any of his species, and as far as he knew, this creature was currently expelling it’s guts in front of him.
“By my profit--” He exclaimed in horror, “What is it doing? That--that action, being undertaken there--what is that?!”
Unfortunately, he did not get an answer. As he was speaking, an unusual light began to sparkle around him, and before he knew it he was gone.
|
|
|
Post by multificionado on Sept 20, 2019 4:23:54 GMT
[Sergeant Raquel Ruiz | In immediate proximity to the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV] Attn: Brutus
Raquel was glad that Hanson was helping her and Dhanial drag the huge cannon back with them. They wouldn’t have made good progress if they did. Hanson only helped partly because the two MACOs were having a tough time dragging the cannon, partly because Kassab the Wuss was well enough that he didn’t need his further help as his “flesh wound” wasn’t fatal, and in any case, he was so far ahead of them, so anxious to get back to base as he was. Raquel didn’t care; she felt Kassab was slowing them down.
She had looked up in time to see that they had arrived at the clearing where the outpost was, and had seen that the shuttlepod had arrived…and with them, the full equipment and Beta Squad with them. She had just smiled at the sight when she heard the screaming.
The trio of MACOs turned in the direction of the scream, just barely out of the foliage, in time to see la pelirroja running like she was being chased by a monster. She scowled, seeing that she was covered in slime. She had been about to comment to her fellow MACOs that la pelirroja was hallucinating, due to the effects of the pollenated atmosphere, when a flesh-and-blood monster appeared a couple of meters behind her…and gaining.
“Madre Los Dios!” exclaimed Raquel in surprise. El Tigre was a huge sucker, huge and furry, though she wouldn’t be surprised if it detonated a slime bomb at la pelirroja and startled here. The rest of the party she went with wasn’t with her.
God forbid if Commander Saugn’s ex was killed, she thought, but if the Major bought it, then hopefully this will mean we get a new Major.
She saw Beta Squadron deploy out the shuttlepod, in a defensive formation, upon seeing the tiger-man. Turning at Kassab’s direction, she wasn’t surprised to seem him running to the door.
“Incoming!” she shouted. “Phase rifles to stun! Ensign, take cover!”
She didn’t particularly care if she was talking to la pelirroja or Kassab the Wuss, and she didn’t care if they were attacked by a total of one attacker. A real fight had come in, and…
“Sarge,” said Hanson quietly as he pulled the cannon back, pulling Raquel and Dhaniel back with him. “Movement. A dozen meters behind Ensign Ross and the tiger man. Two o’clock.”
She could see it. The tiger had stopped chasing the moment she gave the command, took cover behind the closest tree, and opened fire. But more bolts shot at them. Following the direction of the bolts, Raquel noticed movement in foliage some meters away, as Hanson said. Raquel took a good look at it long enough and she could see some goldish fur. She could see why he spoke quietly, why he pulled them back. If she had spoken further, the attackers would’ve zeroed in on her. Right now, they were focusing on the landing party.
“I see ‘em,” she said. “Amigos, raise the cannon and prepare to charge.”
“Couldn’t we fire this new baby at them?” asked Dhaniel.
“We could, but it’ll take too long for us to figure out how to shoot it, and we need the element of surprise,” answered Raquel. “We take advantage of its weight and we charge ‘em down faster than you can say ‘Leroy Jenkins.’ The pussycats are bound to be stronger than we are; this sucking cannon probably takes one of them to carry where it takes three of us to carry. The least we can do is stop them laying down some fire.”
Dhaniel and Hanson looked at Raquel and then nodded in understanding.
At the shuttlepod, T’Mil watched as the MACOs deployed around, shooting at the lone feline who was firing back. Gideon peeked out to watch the action.
“What in God’s name is that?” asked Gideon in an impulsive astonishment at the sight of the tiger fellow.
“Kzinti,” replied T’Mil, the disdain in her voice particularly pronounced. She would know the Kzinti on sight. Any Vulcan had met plenty of aliens unfamiliar with humans, and Kzinti fell somewhere between Klingons and Nausicaans in terms of brutality. She wasn’t sure if talk was going to do much good when it came to the Kzinti.
[Major Anson Claudius and Mister Gecht | Transporter Room | Deck Four | Starship Discovery NX-04 | In orbit of Archer IV] attn: Syrano
Gecht had been on his way to Engineering; he had turned down Lieutenant Drake’s offer at the last minute. It mostly boiled down to the fact that he could fit in the bloody shuttlepod, not to mention that he was long overdue for work in Engineering.
On his way to Engineering, he took a wrong turn; he did it frequently. Much as he was familiar with where Engineering was, most of the ship was still unfamiliar to him. That wrong turn took him to the Transporter Room, where Lieutenant Bronson was working. Seeing that it was going to be needed as soon as possible, Gecht took a hand in assisting him.
“The work goes a lot faster with two, my friend,” he said. Once Bronson told him what needed tinkering, Gecht took off on it, and the transporter was working faster than estimated.
Gecht was a little surprised to see Major Claudius returned to the ship with a new guest, of course.
Anson could see Syrano reacting to the transporter. He could understand the feeling; anybody getting beamed aboard would feel a similar sensation.
“Ah, dinnae worry about it, Excellence,” he reassured Syrano. “It takes some getting used to. Once you’ve made trips on the transporter long enough, you get used to it.”
“Indeed,” Gecht said, butting in, noting Anson’s conversation, “Welcome back, Major. Who’s this fellow?”
“Mister Gecht, glad to see yeh,” said Anson. “Saves me the trouble of looking for yeh. This is Otoooh Syranoo Naekir van Tayooo.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, that accent,” Gecht sneered. “I have trouble enough understanding him at the best of times.”
“Anyway, His Excellence is a refugee the researches foond on Archer IV,” Anson continued, ignoring Gecht’s jibe. “He was foond in a pond; he’s aquatic by nature, so we were wondering if you got some spare room with you.”
Gecht blinked in surprise. And he looked at the new guest again. He did seem the aquatic type.
“Aquatic nobility?” he said, and then he made a polite gesture. “Allow me to be the first to welcome you aboard. My name is Gecht. And this is our Chief Engineer Lieutenant Bronson. I’d be glad to help you feel comfortable. I’ve got some comfortable facilities with enough water to provide comforts of home.”
== OOC: The chapter will be splitting back to two perspectives. The first will be focused planetside, and the next planetside post will be made by Brutus, to react to events going around Cara as a standoff occurs between the MACOs and the “neighbors.” Bear a mind that Olivia will eventually enter in once Kassab bolts himself in. The second perspective will be focused back up on the ship, and will revolve around Syrano as he reacts to being aboard Discovery and as he settles in with Gecht and negotiates further with Anson. Please take your time with your posts, no need to post immediately, only when convenient, but please don't take too long between posts.==
|
|
brutus
Junior Member
Posts: 68
|
Post by brutus on Sept 26, 2019 19:08:42 GMT
[ Ens. Cara Siobhan Ross | Just outside the Miolian Research Station | Archer IV] Attn:
Crashing through the woods, Cara raised her hands up before her head, pushing branches away so as not to have them dig and scratch into her face. This in turn left her hands plenty scratched, a few deep enough to draw blood. Which she was sure would lead a perfect trail for the great hulking beast chasing her. Not, she would have to ruefully admit that it needed to smell her blood. The one that had been sent after her - for it had been sent, she had been able to discern that much in her flight - was close on her heels. It had not once seemed to lose her in the forest, despite her juking around trees and diving down hills at odd angles as she fought her way back to the camp.
Her lungs were burning and one of her legs was throbbing as the muscles raised an unholy protest. She promised herself that if she made it through this and didn't die, she was going to start running laps around the whole of D-Deck the widest ring through the Discovery's saucer shaped primary hull. Still being able to taste the pond water and smell the remains of Syrano's gunk did little to improve her mood, but she was in too much of a hurry to dwell on anger. Would that she could somehow harness that to go faster, then maybe she'd devote some of her precious little focus to such an endeavour. As it was she had to keep her senses trained on her surroundings and not spilling head of heels down a bank to be pounced and torn to shreds by a giant space cat.
Sun was coming down through the leaves above, and up ahead there seemed to be a break in the canopy. One minute she was in the woods, and the next she had burst forth, gasping ragged and to the east of the landing grounds out front of the Outpost. She could see the shuttle pod and the MACO's clustering about, off loading heavy weapons, as well as what she thought to be the ships pilot, and the Vulcan, T'Mil. Still a bit of a ways off, she shifted her gait and direction and began to wave her hands in earnest above her head.
"Oy, ye great lubmerin' gits. We're under ahtack! Fer fooks sake tah' bloody dahm cat's roight on mah 'eels'. To arms dahmn ye!" She shouted out, to hell with propriety or rank. But at first it looked like no one was listening. They were looking at her like she was insane, or a coward, and now the anger rose up in a mighty fury. Before she could call out something fouler to goad them, there was a terrible crash from behind. Her head whipped around on its own accord, red hair fanning out as she ran, and there it was, bigger than she remembered, dark and powerful and gleaming with a hungry intelligence. And what was worse was that it was gaining on her.
Ahead, the MACO's snapped to with a military precision that up until this moment Cara had not yet had the time to fully appreciate. Sgt. Ruiz's advice however was a bit on the nose. "Oh aye," she mouthed off as she dove past their well armed ranks, looking for shelter as the raport of the new phase rifles whined, ducking her head low. "Ah had thought ahd' just stand there with a thumb up my pert arse ahnd wiggle it fur the kiddies. Whudya think ah'd do eh?" She fumed a bit, scrambling around the shuttlepod, looking for something to use to defend herself. Gasping down air, she stood and looked over the nose cone, wincing. There were more in the woods.
She planted her back firmly against the shuttle pod, and then sucking in a breath, glanced over at T'Mil and Gideon. "Sir," she began, addressing the pilot, whom out ranked her, "Major Claudius beamed 'imself back oop to tha ship. 'e took ah local with him. Nasty slimey pompous arse bloke named Syranoo or some such gobshite." Ens. Ross was in a fine heat now that she was out of the immediate line of fire, all the anger at what had happened, and at being bloody useless getting to her. But they got Lt. Locke. She's tha' local science chappy. Ah tried t'get her free but there was nae any toime ahnd she ordered me back 'ere. We need ta tell tha Cap'n," she finished, the fire going out as she realized she'd have to tell Cmdr. Saugn that her ex was in enemy hands.
Distracting herself from that, she asked T'Mil, "Ahside frum th' obv's, whats a fooking K'zinti?"
|
|
|
Post by multificionado on Sept 27, 2019 2:43:23 GMT
[Lieutenant Gideon Drake & Ensign T’Mil | Starship Discovery Shuttlepod One | Archer IV] attn: Brutus “Kzinti are aggressive feline humanoids from their homeworld of Kzin,” replied T’Mil to the breathless science officer. “And they are also carnivorous. Strange that there’d be Kzinti this far out into space,” she added ponderously. “The fact that they are out here at all is not a good thing. The Vulcans have encountered the Kzinti numerous times, but it was a long time ago, almost two decades. In a nutshell, as they say among humans, the Vulcans don’t know much about the Kzinti apart from their behavior. They do have, as they again say among humans, have tendencies to throw their weight around. And that, Ensign, is what a ‘fooking Kzinti’ is. It’ll be difficult to even negotiate with them; they wouldn’t likely talk to us now, if they were willing to talk before.” “If these cats are throwing their weight around, that would explain a lot,” replied Gideon, nodding in agreement. “They’re nothing more than furry bullies. They almost make Shere Khan look like Klingons.” Looking back at the outpost, he added, “Commander Saugn has to know about this. We can’t contact her with communicators, not with these tiger men monitoring all communications; don’t think I haven’t noticed the lead scientist’s cryptic message,” he put in. “I did see another officer running for the outpost, I think that was another one of the scientists. Hopefully he’ll at least warn her. Helluva way to bring her out; you’ll have to inform her once this is all calmed down.” He noticed that the MACOs were having a difficult time. He was astounded that one tiger man, and maybe a few more hidden in the woods behind him, were giving them all so much trouble. He noticed that the Ensign was unarmed, so he pulled out his phase pistol and handed her a spare. “Here, looks like you could use this,” he said. “Shall we help our fellow humans?” [Sergeant Raquel Ruiz | Woods outside the Miolian Research Station | Archer IV] The trio now had the cannon risen like a battering ram. Raquel looked keenly at the tigers and then nodded at Dhanial and Hanson, hoping they knew that she was ready, and smiled grimly when they acknowledged. Beginning a countdown, she said quietly, “Uno…dos…tres…CHAAAAAAAAARGE!” The last she let out a guttural shout, and with that, all three MACOS went charging into the tigers hidden in the threes. They had looked up to hear the noise and were definitely so surprised. Raquel kept smiling; she was imagining an ancient bugle blaring out the cavalry charge, like some of the American Westerns she often liked seeing with her old friends and neighbors…literally.
Needless to say, they were successful in knocking them over, but Raquel could see they were dang strong; they were only stunned momentarily. A charge with such a heavy weapon like that would’ve broken a lot of ribs on anybody less stronger. “Muchachos, mano a mano!” Raquel shouted, indicating it was time to go melee as she withdrew her knife. “Take that tiger! I got Big-and-Ugly right here.” The Claw had just looked up and had seen the female human address him as…well, he understood if he was ugly; he had the scars to prove it. Still, he was amazed that such a little figure could attempt to take him on, and a female of all people, with such a puny blade. [Commander Olivia Saugn | Lead Researcher’s Office | Miolian Outpost | Archer IV] The more Olivia looked at the logs, the more her scowl became pronounced. After going through Helen’s translations, she got the picture enough to figure the amount of threats the “neighbors” were making. She could figure something out, though, something that seemed accurate in Helen’s part, which was saying a lot: The “neighbors” were making threats to bring fear into the researchers by simply throwing their weight around. However, she was seeing that the threats were becoming more and more aggressive; it made sense that Mikula would call for help upon the first attack. It could only get worse. Much worse. As if cued by the thought, a door slamming made Olivia whirl around to see Ensign Kassab barged into the office, practically breathless. And colorless, as well, he had become more pale than she was; if he had gotten any more paler, he’d be pure white. “What happened, Ensign?” said Olivia, suspecting the worst. “They’re back,” he said. “We were attacked first by a drone, me and the three grunts you sent me out with, and when we get back, a fresh wave has come in. And I got a good look at them, and I hope I don’t see those monsters again.” Olivia pursed her lips. She feared something like this would happen. She slipped her filter mask on, withdrew her phase pistol and proceeded out. She could only hope Ensign Ross would be okay.
==OOC Note: Tag to Brutus, planetside post. ==
|
|
|
Post by syrano on Oct 7, 2019 1:59:04 GMT
[ Syrano | Just outside the Miolian Research Outpost | Archer IV ]
The next thing he saw was bright lights. It hurt his eyes, he screwed all four of them shut in an effort to protect his vision. He did not see where he wound up after that, but he heard a change in sound, and more importantly he tasted the change in the air.
It was so dry! So horribly dry and sterile that his skin crawled to taste the air like this. Burning, that’s what it tasted like. Then he opened his eyes, only the UV-seeing ones. He saw traces of ultraviolet, but none of them resembled the sort of organic UV markings he had come to expect of his home. Opening his main set of eyes, he saw the transporter room as it was.
What a dreadful place this was, filled with awful, hideous creatures. At least he could recognize Authorized-to-Negotiate Major-Anson-Claudius, but he had no idea what the other thing was in the room. Truthfully, Syrano could not tell which of the two was uglier. They spoke between each other using unfamiliar, foreign sounds, before the universal translator could kick back in and he heard them speak in his language. Oh, how they butchered his poor, beautiful language…
The two continued to speak as if Syrano were not there. Interact as if Syrano were doing something else. Speak to him as if they knew what he was doing. It was all so strange and alien.
He could really, really use a drink.
Since the two were speaking about him as if he were not there, he decided he would act as if they were not there either. He stepped off the transporter pad, navigating the step down as if his legs were not yet used to the sensation of climbing up and down. Just as he managed to step off the transporter, the creature known as Gecht spoke to him. His eyes narrowed as he observed the…thing. “That’s all quite fine. My board is paid for. I find it improbable that you have accommodations that suit my needs simply lying about, considering how…bitter…this environment is.” He winced, but he would have to solve the problem himself. As soon as he had a pool, a tank, a pond, something--he’d begin attempting to farm algae. Anything to make this environment more bearable. Speaking of… “You should be warned that your bacteria and mine are not likely to be compatible, if the reaction of the red-top known as Cara-Siobhan-Ross is to be believed. Sharing accommodations could be deadly, at worst.” He reminded them, with the quiet disdain of someone who would actually murder to be anywhere else, if he could.
|
|