"Need help....urgent..... .star....ta...sun.. ...pla....dy .." Static followed the transmission that was picked up by the Supernova. Ractahl was confused and didn't know what to think of the message. The ship was ill equipped for decoding messages and the task was set upon by the co-pilot in the ships hold.
"Do you have that decoder up and running yet?" Asked the M'jornn captain.
"I haven't tested it, but it should be in working order in about an hour." A female voice responded irately.
Ractahl asked that question every half hour, seeing it could mean an opportunity to make more money to pay off his ship. It seemed like an eternity when the decoder was finished.
"You can test it, and I'll get some sleep." The co-pilot said as she put the device on the co-pilot's chair and went below to get cleaned up.
"Ok," Ractahl said to himself, "Let's see what secrets you have."
The device hummed to life and the message replayed for the device.
"In di...need of help......urgent that......starki... .taking our sun......planet is dy...."
"Not enough to make out what is being said." Ractahl tried again at a higher setting, writing what was being said.
"In dire need of help! Very urgent that someone, anyone, respond! Starkillers are taking our sun. The planet is dying at an increasing rate!" The message ended in static, as before, indicating that it was either cut off or the transmitting point was destroyed.
Ractahl froze where he sat, his heart beating faster than it had in a long time. Fear gripped him. He saw the monstrous beast of a ship that destroyed his home world of Mjornn so long ago.
As if fate brought them back together, Ractahl's Supernova reunited him with destroyers of his home world. The massive 6,492km long vessel controlled by the ruthless and cruel race, the Alti Bacakli Iblis, or Starkillers to other races. They used the stars of inhabited systems to gain resources, ultimately making the star system devoid of life.
"I had hoped to never come in contact with that ship ever again." Ractahl said. "Battle stations, Chorys. We have company, and it's not the friendly kind!"
"Who did you anger this time?" Chorys asked sarcastically.
"Let's just say they are some old friends. You may want to gear up." Ractahl said. "Starkillers take few prisoners, and few live to escape them."
"Ah hell, Rac. You said you were rid of them!" Chorys said as she ran to get into her Terrestrial Enviromech.
"Do you have that decoder up and running yet?" Asked the M'jornn captain.
"I haven't tested it, but it should be in working order in about an hour." A female voice responded irately.
Ractahl asked that question every half hour, seeing it could mean an opportunity to make more money to pay off his ship. It seemed like an eternity when the decoder was finished.
"You can test it, and I'll get some sleep." The co-pilot said as she put the device on the co-pilot's chair and went below to get cleaned up.
"Ok," Ractahl said to himself, "Let's see what secrets you have."
The device hummed to life and the message replayed for the device.
"In di...need of help......urgent that......starki... .taking our sun......planet is dy...."
"Not enough to make out what is being said." Ractahl tried again at a higher setting, writing what was being said.
"In dire need of help! Very urgent that someone, anyone, respond! Starkillers are taking our sun. The planet is dying at an increasing rate!" The message ended in static, as before, indicating that it was either cut off or the transmitting point was destroyed.
Ractahl froze where he sat, his heart beating faster than it had in a long time. Fear gripped him. He saw the monstrous beast of a ship that destroyed his home world of Mjornn so long ago.
As if fate brought them back together, Ractahl's Supernova reunited him with destroyers of his home world. The massive 6,492km long vessel controlled by the ruthless and cruel race, the Alti Bacakli Iblis, or Starkillers to other races. They used the stars of inhabited systems to gain resources, ultimately making the star system devoid of life.
"I had hoped to never come in contact with that ship ever again." Ractahl said. "Battle stations, Chorys. We have company, and it's not the friendly kind!"
"Who did you anger this time?" Chorys asked sarcastically.
"Let's just say they are some old friends. You may want to gear up." Ractahl said. "Starkillers take few prisoners, and few live to escape them."
"Ah hell, Rac. You said you were rid of them!" Chorys said as she ran to get into her Terrestrial Enviromech.
"Hailing all systems. Fort Titan, with you. Summoned by distress signal. First aid, online. Refugee docks, online. Repair docks, online."
A strong, secure radio signal emitted across the nearby planet, sweeping through all spacecraft and towers in the vicinity. The source of the signal was Fort Titan, a gargantuan docking ship equipped as a trading port for all kinds of factions. It's sheer size was to be reckoned with, but even Fort Titan's shadow had been nullified by the seemingly endless vessel of the Starkillers.
"Clarify. Asking all recipients to respond. Fort Titan, with you. Offer services and resources to enemies of Starkiller."
The voice in the radio would be recognizable to some as Magnus, the synthetic supercomputer. Magnus had served the core of Fort Titan for many years now, following the disbandment of the Institution, a science vessel which previously handled him. Becoming government property, Fort Titan inherited Magnus as a token of emblem, but had since gained independence as a free-roaming, self-managed vessel.
"Thank you, Magnus. How is the relay?" Captain Jeremiah Hades spoke with strength stereotypical of his position, standing at the forefront of the cockpit, looking out upon the impending death of the planet below.
"Relay secure, Captain." Magnus replied firmly, his voice low and electronic.
"This could not have happened at a poorer time. Our engagment vessels are on expedition, and our drones are useless here. We can only give what we can; keep the docks online." Hades laced the grand front quickly, his vision scaping the many computer screens, each manned by an individual crew member. He looked out once more into the void, crowned now by the behemoth which housed the Starkillers. "Can you tell me how many there are?" His eyes did not move from the lights above.
For a moment, Magnus remained silent, as if he had encountered a wall.
"Alti Bacakli Iblis. Many. Numbers... incomprehensible."
"That's a new one for you, Magnus." The Captain mused, and Magnus' expression, whilst synthetic, somehow held an undertone of bitterness.
"How far away are our vessels?"
Magnus paused for a moment, his face still as he pulled data from his sequences. "2 - 4 - 0 -9 - 9..." he recited a string of numbers, decoding instantaneously. "Approximately two days, Captain."
"That's no good. This star will be hours gone."
"Confirmed true, captain." The synth
spoke flatly.
"Thank you, Magnus..."
A strong, secure radio signal emitted across the nearby planet, sweeping through all spacecraft and towers in the vicinity. The source of the signal was Fort Titan, a gargantuan docking ship equipped as a trading port for all kinds of factions. It's sheer size was to be reckoned with, but even Fort Titan's shadow had been nullified by the seemingly endless vessel of the Starkillers.
"Clarify. Asking all recipients to respond. Fort Titan, with you. Offer services and resources to enemies of Starkiller."
The voice in the radio would be recognizable to some as Magnus, the synthetic supercomputer. Magnus had served the core of Fort Titan for many years now, following the disbandment of the Institution, a science vessel which previously handled him. Becoming government property, Fort Titan inherited Magnus as a token of emblem, but had since gained independence as a free-roaming, self-managed vessel.
"Thank you, Magnus. How is the relay?" Captain Jeremiah Hades spoke with strength stereotypical of his position, standing at the forefront of the cockpit, looking out upon the impending death of the planet below.
"Relay secure, Captain." Magnus replied firmly, his voice low and electronic.
"This could not have happened at a poorer time. Our engagment vessels are on expedition, and our drones are useless here. We can only give what we can; keep the docks online." Hades laced the grand front quickly, his vision scaping the many computer screens, each manned by an individual crew member. He looked out once more into the void, crowned now by the behemoth which housed the Starkillers. "Can you tell me how many there are?" His eyes did not move from the lights above.
For a moment, Magnus remained silent, as if he had encountered a wall.
"Alti Bacakli Iblis. Many. Numbers... incomprehensible."
"That's a new one for you, Magnus." The Captain mused, and Magnus' expression, whilst synthetic, somehow held an undertone of bitterness.
"How far away are our vessels?"
Magnus paused for a moment, his face still as he pulled data from his sequences. "2 - 4 - 0 -9 - 9..." he recited a string of numbers, decoding instantaneously. "Approximately two days, Captain."
"That's no good. This star will be hours gone."
"Confirmed true, captain." The synth
spoke flatly.
"Thank you, Magnus..."
Oblivious to the impending planetary doom, Vayari stuffed the last salty granules of a fiber filled power bar into her mouth, while her grey eyes scanned an open panel before her. The panel was chalk full of wires twisting and seemingly jumbled. An acrid stench was easily picked up as she leaned closer to inspect the panel. Grumbling under her breath, she dusted her fingers off on her one piece, grease stained jumpsuit. It was of a sturdy, well built material, dark grey in color, and looked to be much loved, with older stains dotting the arms and torso of the suit. An oily smudge also dotted Vayari's cheek as she reached forward to fiddle with the wires.
"Blasted console is fried..." She murmured as she stood and rubbed her eyes. The two-person fighter craft had been damaged several weeks ago during a small skirmish when pirates had attempted to raid one of Fort Titan's supply docks. Out of order now, she hadn't been deployed with the other engagement vessels. "Poor beauty." Her soft voice was a bit muted as she walked around the ship, checking on the work she had just completed over the rest of the ship. "Nearly done." She said with a smile, excited to have her ship back in working order. It just needed a few more adjustments, and the fried wires switched out for new ones.
Tired circles could be seen beneath her eyes, as she had been working hard on the spacecraft's repairs. Her black hair, usually sleek and gleaming as it hung to just beneath her chin, looked a bit bedraggled, as if she'd rolled out of bed and headed here - which is in fact what she had done. It pained her when her ship was injured, and it was as if she functioned with an arm less when it was out of commission.
Finally leaving the repair bay, and the nook her small ship was sequestered in, she rubbed her eyes once more as she headed down one of the many hallways within the large ship. There was a small cafeteria she knew of nearby and her feet took her habitually through the maze of intersecting pathways of the ship as she headed for it. The power bar had done little to boost her energy reserves and she knew she needed to fill herself with more. Now that her ship was so close to being done, she felt she could pull herself away for the time being and get herself ready for action as well. She was oblivious to the sidelong glances she got by some of the other passengers as less and less personnel and crew members could be found among the other passengers whom were most likely just passing through on trade business.
As she neared the cafeteria she began to pick up on talk among the other passengers that she didn't initially pay much attention too. As she slid into a small booth however, with a murky orange drink and a plate full of a type of salty pasta dish and some vegetables that looked to be re-hydrated, she tuned into the conversation going on at the booth behind her. The ship was responding to a distress signal? A dying planet? Apparently the word had gone out to alert passengers of the change in plans as the ship responded to the call. She had been in her own little world... as usual. Sighing she wondered how this would affect her, if at all. Her little ship could very well be the only fighter vessel in the Fort Titan right now, as she knew the rest had been deployed. And hers was out of order. So much for a leisurely meal. Urgency crept back into her, sparking her tired bones with excitement as well. It had been a while since adventure knocked at her door. She began to snarf her meal, thinking to get back to those repairs as soon as possible.
"Blasted console is fried..." She murmured as she stood and rubbed her eyes. The two-person fighter craft had been damaged several weeks ago during a small skirmish when pirates had attempted to raid one of Fort Titan's supply docks. Out of order now, she hadn't been deployed with the other engagement vessels. "Poor beauty." Her soft voice was a bit muted as she walked around the ship, checking on the work she had just completed over the rest of the ship. "Nearly done." She said with a smile, excited to have her ship back in working order. It just needed a few more adjustments, and the fried wires switched out for new ones.
Tired circles could be seen beneath her eyes, as she had been working hard on the spacecraft's repairs. Her black hair, usually sleek and gleaming as it hung to just beneath her chin, looked a bit bedraggled, as if she'd rolled out of bed and headed here - which is in fact what she had done. It pained her when her ship was injured, and it was as if she functioned with an arm less when it was out of commission.
Finally leaving the repair bay, and the nook her small ship was sequestered in, she rubbed her eyes once more as she headed down one of the many hallways within the large ship. There was a small cafeteria she knew of nearby and her feet took her habitually through the maze of intersecting pathways of the ship as she headed for it. The power bar had done little to boost her energy reserves and she knew she needed to fill herself with more. Now that her ship was so close to being done, she felt she could pull herself away for the time being and get herself ready for action as well. She was oblivious to the sidelong glances she got by some of the other passengers as less and less personnel and crew members could be found among the other passengers whom were most likely just passing through on trade business.
As she neared the cafeteria she began to pick up on talk among the other passengers that she didn't initially pay much attention too. As she slid into a small booth however, with a murky orange drink and a plate full of a type of salty pasta dish and some vegetables that looked to be re-hydrated, she tuned into the conversation going on at the booth behind her. The ship was responding to a distress signal? A dying planet? Apparently the word had gone out to alert passengers of the change in plans as the ship responded to the call. She had been in her own little world... as usual. Sighing she wondered how this would affect her, if at all. Her little ship could very well be the only fighter vessel in the Fort Titan right now, as she knew the rest had been deployed. And hers was out of order. So much for a leisurely meal. Urgency crept back into her, sparking her tired bones with excitement as well. It had been a while since adventure knocked at her door. She began to snarf her meal, thinking to get back to those repairs as soon as possible.
Need help....urgent..... .star....ta...sun.. ...pla....dy .."
Vierwul listens in to the distress call, wondering what it means, as he tries desperately to repair his comm unit.
"Blasted thing, always malfunctioning when I need it...."
He sighs, and starts cursing, his upper right hand slightly ablaze. He puts out the fire, both on his hand and control panel, then quickly jury rigs it to a partial working order.
He then checks scanners, trying to get a bead on the location of the distress call, while tampering with some plans on his datapad, wondering what flaw to add to it.
"Hmmm, a slight shift here, a few slight modifications there, and perfect. Now to see what is around out there."
To his surprise, his scanners pick up a massive ship, and a small ship, probably a fighter or some kind or pleasure craft.
As he sees scans, he comes up with a plan.
"Mayhap I can see if they need my help, maybe get myself a bit of cash or tech for sale of these here plans," he says, chuckling to himself.
He disables his own hyperdrive units and sends a distress signal himself.
"To all that can hear, this is Koranis Krahll of the Baraktis Mining Fleet. Need help, hyperdrive failed. Reply if you can, or as long as I have power."
"That should get their attention ," he thinks, hoping to get a quick response.
Vierwul listens in to the distress call, wondering what it means, as he tries desperately to repair his comm unit.
"Blasted thing, always malfunctioning when I need it...."
He sighs, and starts cursing, his upper right hand slightly ablaze. He puts out the fire, both on his hand and control panel, then quickly jury rigs it to a partial working order.
He then checks scanners, trying to get a bead on the location of the distress call, while tampering with some plans on his datapad, wondering what flaw to add to it.
"Hmmm, a slight shift here, a few slight modifications there, and perfect. Now to see what is around out there."
To his surprise, his scanners pick up a massive ship, and a small ship, probably a fighter or some kind or pleasure craft.
As he sees scans, he comes up with a plan.
"Mayhap I can see if they need my help, maybe get myself a bit of cash or tech for sale of these here plans," he says, chuckling to himself.
He disables his own hyperdrive units and sends a distress signal himself.
"To all that can hear, this is Koranis Krahll of the Baraktis Mining Fleet. Need help, hyperdrive failed. Reply if you can, or as long as I have power."
"That should get their attention ," he thinks, hoping to get a quick response.
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