[PG-13] Expendable: Gamma Moon

[Enigma]

Prisoner 49-0327:




Good morning.


It is now Thursday, August 1, 2143 09:43 AM Earth GMT.


Your appeal has been rejected, and you have been scheduled for termination on Tuesday, December 31, 2143 at 11:45 PM.


However, you may still be of use to the Corporation.


On May 1, 2143, the Corporation won the rights to the Lyca system, on the edge of Known Space. Lyca IV is a gas giant, suitable for fuel processing. Gamma, the third of Lyca IV's moons, has a breathable nitrogen/oxygen atmosphere but is subject to extreme low temperatures during its night cycle. It is primarily covered by water, but there is one island.


Survey probes have discovered an artifical structure on Gamma's island. This structure is not of human origin. As the other planets of the Lyca system are incapable of supporting life and none has been identified on Gamma, we assume this structure is of extraterrestrial origin.


The survey crew reported the structure to the Corporation, then followed protocol by landing a survey team to explore the structure.


Robotic explorer units were deployed, but were disabled when they crossed into the structure. Units were recovered and examined, no fault was found. Further examination suggested their systems were overwhelmed by random magnetic fluctuations. Two units were shielded and sent in.




They did not return.




Five of the human crew volunteered to enter the structure. Communication was lost immediately on entering the structure. A fiber optic tether was provided for wired communication, but communication was lost 45 minutes after entering the structure.




They did not return.




Your mission objectives:
1. Explore the structure.
2. Recover whatever remains of the Survey Team.




Because this mission is rated as Extremely Dangerous, please note the following conditions:




1. Attempt to escape or tamper with your security collars will result in your immediate termination.
2. Failure to achieve mission objectives will result in your immediate termination.
3. If you are able to only discover what happened to the Survey Team, your sentences will be commuted to life imprisonment (without suspended animation).
4. Recovering a dead body belonging to the Survey Team will reduce the term of your sentence by two years.
5. Rescuing a surviving member of the Survey Team will reduce the term of your sentence by five years.
6. Terminating a surviving member of the Survey Team or a member of the crew delivering you to the planet will result in your immediate termination.
7. Disable whatever is affecting robots and communications will reduce the term of your sentence by ten years.
8. Provide substantial information on the purpose of this structure, your record will be expunged and you will be released on the inhabitable planet or station of your choosing.
9. A Corporate Expert System will be provided to assist and monitor you while you are on Gamma. Failure to return with the Corporate Expert System will count against your sentencing and may delay your rescue from Gamma.
10. Any unauthorized departures from the surface are subject to immediate destruction by the Corporate ship in orbit.




Please state if you accept this mission.

Metal rang throughout the barge as docking clamps disengaged. Lights flickered on inside, revealing padded industrial green walls and metal grate flooring, with a row of cyro-chambers along one wall, along with an Android Shipping Container. Lockers and the entrance to the bathroom stalls was on the opposite side, with two long brushed-metal cafeteria tables with matching benches occupied the center of the room.

At the far end of the room was the airlock, currently sealed. Lights flickered on in there as well, revealing suit lockers and three more airlock doors.

A flatscreen on the forward bulkhead blinked on.

Prison Barge Stroud-Class B49-594, geosync orbit Lyca IV Gamma.
Omega protocols engaged.

Internal generator check completed.
Hull integrity check completed.
Atmospheric check completed.
Initiating compartment warming.
Booting Independent Corporate Expert System.
Corporate Expert System activated.
Initializing re-animation cycle for cryo-chambers.

Lights flickered on in the capsules as the suspension atmosphere was pumped out, replaced with warmed air. Each of the prisoners had a security collar, the red band fitting snugly. Already there was a change in some of them, their breathing getting deeper.

Booting Independent Synthetic Systems.
Synthetic System One activated.
Synthetic System Two activated.
Standing by for release protocol.

A door panel opened beside the forward flatscreen and the Corporate Expert System stepped out.

"Open capsule releases for Synthetic System One and the biological prisoners. Synthetic System Two to remain in its location," the Expert system said, the name display on his chest reading "Rand".

There was a clunk as the securing latches unlocked and the lids of the cryo-chambers rose. At the same time, the Android Shipping Container unlatched and swung open.

"Lady, Synthetic, and gentlemen, please arise and get ready. We have one hour before mission briefing. Fresh prison coveralls, undergarments, and toiletries are in the lockers, individual bathroom stalls are just behind that."

What the Corporate Expert System thought of the prisoners being dressed in the traditional bright orange coveralls, it didn't say.

Spoiler: OOC Link and Character Bios 

https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845


Approved Characters:


49-7042 / ORI-7042 aka "Rigel" (Splat)
49-7777 / Allister Caine (Ma1chbox)
49-1199 / Nosau (Emet)
49-0245 / Ivy Rae Tyler (AngelDellaNotte)
49-0849 / Sonia Martinez (Azazeal849)
49-1917 / Ted (Imperial1917)
47-7606 / Croak (Crainium)
49-8750 / Max Stone "Mad Max" (Potatrobot)
49-2561 / Kimberly McDonnough (KaraMei)

[Crainium]

Croak’s eyes flickered as his translucent lids clicked open, shut and then open again over his glossy black eyes. The pod in which he had been put to sleep only moments before, or so it seemed to him, was opening, the internal lights already illuminated and casting a greenish light over his coral and turquoise skin. The effect was not flattering.

“7606, up and out!” a male voice barked and gloved hands lifted the lid of his pod until it slid into place on the far side out of the way. “Jeez, you are a freaky piece of work,” the owner of the voice leaned over the pod, his face barely visible behind the opaque shield of his hazmat suit. “Lying there just staring at nothing for weeks on end. Had to throw a blanket over that mug.”

The hybrid’s only response was a gravelly croak deep in his throat, accompanied by the slight swelling of the loose skin under his jaw. Inflation of his vocal sacs was only slightly obstructed by the red band of technology secured around his neck. Croak sat up slowly, testing for any ill effects from his hibernation but there did not seem to be any. He looked around as he climbed out of the pod unassisted, his guardian was tapping the screen of his hand-held and barely acknowledging his presence. Across the way, another figure in a white hazmat stood braced against a shipping container, his firearm pointed at Croak. The space was small and tightly packed with crates, boxes and a few barrels, each labeled with the contents in several languages.

“Move it, 7606; this is not a scenic tour,” the original Hazmat suit snapped. “This ship is not set up for accommodating prisoner transport, so you will have to change in the open. We have a new suit for you to put on and you will leave the jumpsuit you are wearing in your pod. I don’t know why they want it back because your stench is never coming out of it.”

Croak again responded with naught but a sound from his throat and stripped off the overalls he was wearing. His skin had left a residue on the inside and Croak decided the man was right; that smell was never coming out. Croak stood for a moment in the nude, moving his shoulders and flexing his arms and legs. The fabric of the coveralls had irritated his skin and it felt good to let it breathe.

“None of us are interested, Slick. Put on your new suit and get ready for transfer to the other ship. We are docking in about ten minutes.”

Croak pulled on the bright orange suit and was pleasantly surprised that the garment had been cut to his body needs; the sleeves had been removed and the upper portion had thick strips of fabric over his shoulders with the arm holes open to his waist. The legs ended just above the knee and were loose enough for him to use his legs without the fabric cutting into his muscle or being so tight as to not allow free motion. Croak crouched and stood a few times to test the motion allowed and discovered the outfit was a perfect fit.

“Yeah; you are going to be on the cover of fashion magazines everywhere,” Hazmat muttered, approaching the airlock at the end of the room. The man with the firearm shifted as Croak passed but kept the weapon trained on him. “We are in the docking sequence now, so we will have you transferred over shortly.”

Hazmat slid his key card through the reader on the panel beside the air lock and the door slid open. Hazmat waved him in and Croak obeyed, his three-toed feet making a slight slapping sound on the corrugated floor. Hazard waited until Croak was in the small chamber before taking a box from the crate to his right and passing it to him. “Your ditty box. Don’t lose it. It is set to open once you reach your final destination or whenever they decide you need the contents. Good luck.”

Croak was silent as Hazmat slapped the button beside the door and it slid closed. There was only the slightest of bumps as the courier ship connected with the prison barge and then the smallest hiss of air as the second door slid open and the two chambers equalized in pressure.

“Proceed into the next chamber,” Hazmat’s voice rang through the intercom. Croak entered the next room and the door slid shut behind him. He held his box to his chest tightly, fear over what would happen if the seal to the prison ship was not secure causing his palms to sweat and making it that much more difficult to keep a grip on his box. However, the seal was secure and when the door slid open, there was the same, minuscule hiss as the pressure equalized and Croak was ordered to enter the first chamber of the next ship.

The moment he was across the threshold, the outer door of the prison ship slid closed. There was no indication that the courier ship had departed, but Croak was certain it was gone. The prisoner stood and waited to be retrieved from the airlock.

[Azazeal849]

The first of the cryo-pod lids to hinge back revealed a tall, lean woman whose orange coveralls were stencilled across the chest pocket with 49-0849, Martinez S. The prisoner let out a low groan of discomfort, and raised her wiry arms to rub some moisture back into her eyes with the heels of her hands. Reducing a cryo subject's metabolic rate to far below its normal minimum had numerous side effects, and painfully dry eyes were one of the more common ones.

"Jesus Christ." the prisoner opined, through a mouth that sounded equally dry.

Perhaps it was a cruel irony to give someone sentenced to spend the rest of their life in a cryo pod a taste of the process first. Cryo-imprisonment was a relatively new punishment, born between justice hardliners and their opponents who wanted humankind to divest itself of the barbarity of the death penalty - or at least of the ruinous expense of its years-long appeals system. Needless to say, the equally expensive decision to keep the condemned in stasis until their extended biological clocks finally ran down was a compromise that satisfied neither side.

The prisoner groaned again, and dropped her hands from a tan face that was diamond shaped and diamond-hard. Tattoos covered her left cheek and temple in barbed black swirls, framing her bloodshot eye. She looked down at her hands for a moment, as if inspecting the nails that had grown no longer despite her four weeks in stasis, and rubbed some feeling back into her legs before swinging her bare feet down onto the mirrored decking of the cryo chamber.

"Ladies, synthetics, and gentlemen, please arise and get ready. We have one hour before mission briefing. Fresh prison coveralls, undergarments, and toiletries are in the lockers, individual bathroom stalls are just behind that."

Prisoner 0849 cricked her neck against the red security choker ringing it, and brushed her short mop of brown hair out of her eyes to get a better look at the red-and-black android that had spoken. The look in her dark eyes and the slight creasing of her broad nose gave an impression of little warmth reserved for the Corporate Expert System.

Without bothering to acknowledge the robot, she unzipped her coveralls and shrugged out of the sleeves, leaving a grubby grey sports bra to preserve her modesty as she tied them around her waist. Her tan upper arms were hard with muscle, and encircled by the same jagged lines and whorls of black ink that framed her face. Despite her obvious indifference to the CES, she took its advice and padded over to the lockers, opening one with a scrape of metal on metal.

[KaraMei]

Kimberly awoke from a dreamless sleep into a state of fugue. Her mind seemed fully aware, but was unable to access her body. She could hear muffled sounds. She could see nothing. After just enough time to become accustomed to these effects, her own twitching initiated a release sequence, and everything began rapidly changing.

Hydraulic and mechanical sounds. Check. No action required.

Dim lights brightening rapidly. Check. Blink rapidly to adjust to the lighting.

Rush of changed air. Check. Breathe deeply enough to cough several times.

Limited mobility. Check. Wiggle fingers and toes repeatedly.

A slight pinch as medical devices disconnected from her body. Check. No action required.

Reduction of pressure as cushioned pads retracted from the left and right side of her head. Check. Rotate neck, coughing as needed.

Reduction of pressure as containment bands retracted from across her arms and chest. Check. Flex shoulders, elbows and wrists.

Reduction of pressure as containment band retracted from across her waist. Check. Curl upper back, coughing again as needed.

Reduction of pressure as containment bands retracted from thighs and legs. Check. Flex hips, knees and ankles gently until certain of balance.

Kimberly reached out to grip the forwardmost edge of the biopod's access portal and flexed her arms again until she could safely use them to assist in supporting her weight. She leaned forward, pulled herself along with her arms while again flexing her knees to regain her balance. Once sure of herself, she stepped out of the pod.

She continued systematically following the recommended procedures for biopod awakening that she had memorized before being put to sleep. With the precisely proper breathing, stretches, bends, squats, and rotations, her recovery was as close to a textbook awakening as could be. The only deviation from the standard procedures was evaluating her left forearm to ensure that her embedded calculations module still functioned properly.

Once stable, Kimberly gave the pod chamber an evaluating glance. Others were also coming out of their pods as well. None were any she had interacted with frequently, though several she recognized as having seen from time to time.

Having categorized the other prisoners, she continued with the initial arrival process she had memorized. She crossed to the other side of the room and evaluated the contents of the locker directly across from her sleep chamber, bearing an identification label marked 2561. She pulled her ditty box, also marked 2561, from her locker. After verifying that it would not yet open, she put it back precisely where it had been on the upper shelf.

Obtaining the towel, toiletries and undergarments from the remaining shelves in the upper half of the locker, and fresh coveralls from the rack beneath them, she stepped into the assigned bathroom stall. She soon emerged again bathed and changed, having dropped the dirty laundry into a refresher unit in the bathroom. She pulled standard footwear from the bottom of the locker and put them on.

Having completed the protocol for the moment, she sat at the table and began running calculations on her embedded calc.

[Emet]

Something smelled fucking awful. Nosau opened his eye and sat up. He shook his head to clear the remaining flecks of whatever it was they used to freeze him in there from his fur. He looked to his right. The smell was a frog man. He shouldn't judge. He wasn't exactly normal himself. He sniffed the air again. There were a few humans in their own pods. Plastic suits. And the sound of whirring servos. A robot then. He hated robots.

Nosau stretched and shrugged off his suit. It was stiff, and his fur was sticking in the zipper. The new one had buttons. Thank you, whatever god runs the corporate clothing industry.

[Enigma]

Authorized docking with Corporate Fast Courier Exodus for Prisoner Transfer.
Prisonner 47-7606 has been loaded into Exodus' Airlock.
Exodus' External Airlock door opening.
Prison Barge External Airlock door opening.

The camera in the airlock showed the door opening and the nervous-looking prisoner standing inside with his ditty box.

"Prisoner 47-7606, please step into the next chamber," the Corporate Expert System instructed over the airlock speakers."

Once the prisoner was inside, the next sequence could take place.

Closing External Airlock Door.
External Airlock Door Sealed.
Notifying Courier prisoner transfer completed.
Fast Courier Exodus has undocked.
Fast Courier Exodus is now moving away from prison barge.
Opening Internal Airlock Door.

The massive internal airlock door swung open, revealing the Docking Annex. Straight ahead and to the left were two more massive airlock doors. The one on the left had Green/ Yellow indicator lights lit, while the one straight ahead had two Red indicators lit.

Between the three airlock doors were wire mesh lockers. Ten of them held space suits in the Sov-style, a door panel on the back of the suit facing into the compartment.

"Prisoner 47-7606, please join us in the forward compartment."

On the prisoner's right was a standard internal pressure door, beyond which one could see movement through the small windows. A square door switch was next to it.

There was also a massive Android locker between the pressure door and the air lock door opposite. It looked to be sealed.

[Imperial1917]

The pod door opened and Ted opened his eyes. The first impression he had was one of grayness. In the fashion of such vessels, the cryopod area was virtually devoid of meaningful colors. The only exceptions were the warning stickers plastered to the walls denoting the location of this button or that lever. In the grand scheme of things, and with the after-freeze blur, they were just smudges among the vast grayness. That suited Ted just fine.

After a moment his vision cleared and he saw that there was a man standing in front of his cryopod. At least, Ted thought he was a man, his form obscured by the unisex hazmat suit he wore. His gait said that he had been walking along the pods just a moment before he stopped in front of Ted's. In his hand he held an electronic pad. The glare from the nondescript overhead lights made it so that Ted could not see into the helmet, but his body language gave away confusion as he glanced at Ted and then down at his electronic pad.

Ted did not blame him. Few would ascribe any particular crime to someone so, well, nondescript. His features were easily recognized when he was arrested not for their specifics, but for the lack of specific nature. He looked in many ways like the description released to the public, so much so that he got away with it for a while because people's imaginations added to him features that he simply did not have. Looking down into his cryopod, the man must have thought there was some mistake, that such an unassuming man could not have committed any crime worthy of censure. Or any crime at all, for that matter. He looked like that well respected man about town.

Before the man could speak, Ted got out of the pod. Quiet, but functional. He accepted the new suit from somewhere and changed quickly as the man just stared. For a moment they just stared at each other afterwards until Ted reached out and took the ditty box from him and he stammered, "You can go into the next chamber if you are ready, um, sir." Nodding in a nondescript fashion, as was his fashion, Ted followed the other prisoners exiting the cryopod area.

[Ma1chbox]

The clamps on the cryostasis pod gave off an audible clunking sound as they unlatched. Shortly after, the pod door slowly swung open, producing a loud hiss as it went. A thin cloud of frost seeped out of the bottom and slithered across the floor, forming an inch-high fog for a few moments before dissipating. Inside, a slumbering Caine began to stir awake.

Without warning, his eyes shot open as he inhaled deeply, savoring his first taste of fresh air in a long while. The sudden rush of oxygen took a bit of getting used to again. This was made obvious by the coughing fit that immediately came upon Caine a few moments after awakening. Finally, when he was able to breathe normally again, his eyesight returned, although not fully. Vision still blurred, he stepped out of the pod, almost tripping as he did so.

The AI wasted no time with the convict. Uncaring about his current state, it immediately ordered him to grab his ditty box and make his way into the next area like the others around him. To the disoriented Caine, the expert system's voice sounded like nothing more than mere mumbling, as his hearing had not fully returned yet. It had to repeat its orders a few more times before the convict managed to get its message. Begrudgingly, Caine did what he was told. For a few moments, he contemplated starting a riot, but he knew that he'd be neutralized well before he could do any real damage.

He stretched and warmed up for a bit to regain all his senses before dusting off any frosting on his person and walking over to the pile of small boxes. Out of habit, he raised his arm and put a hand on his head as if he was adjusting his hat. It was only when his hand sank into his dark brown hair did he remember that standard convict gear didn't include stetsons.

Breathing a final sigh of disappointment, he gripped the red band on his throat and stretched his neck, causing his spine to make an audible cracking sound. Without saying a word, he grabbed the box with marked with his number and followed the other jumpsuit-clad convicts to wherever it is they were being led to.

[AngelDellaNotte]

The lid to the cyro-pod creaked open, a fog coming from it. Ivy, laid in the pod for a moment knowing it was better to wake up a little more before trying to sit up. The first couple of times she had come out she had tried moving about right away and had become sick. One time there had been a rookie prison guard standing duty and she had managed to vomit all over his freshly shined boots. His partner had found it hilarious while the young rookie had not. It didn't help matters that once she was feeling a little better Ivy had started laughing as well. Since her first conviction, Ivy had lost count how many times she had been taken out of cyro-sleep and put back in. Upon discovering the murder of the politician, the Earth investigators had reopened every cold case on Jupiter 12 that Ivy had ever worked on in case she had a part in them as well. They had linked quite a few murders and the Corporation being as detailed as always felt the need to convict the already condemned woman in every case. Coming in and out of cyro-sleep was becoming far too normal to Ivy.

After a couple minutes, once the fog had cleared from the pod and her mind Ivy sat up looking around. She wore the usual orange jumpsuit that she always had on, orange was not her color. She reached up tugging at the collar around her neck, that was something new to her. Looking around the room she wasn't alone there were several other people, a quite unique group. From there she stood up and climbed from the cyro-pod a corporate robot instructing her about fresh garments and bathroom facilities. She went to the locker grabbed some clothes then headed to the stall, stripping her clothes off once inside and showering.

[Azazeal849]

Gang hitmen took pride in their appearance, even when they were locked up. When Sonia Martinez was satisfied with hers, she shoved her personal effects box back onto its rack and turned around to rest her shoulders against the lockers, picking a spot that let her see the whole extent of the cylindrical barge module.

There wasn't much to speak of in her personal effects box - a couple of well-thumbed war novels, and a prison-spec Omni PDA that she had never gotten used to using. Most folk back in the slums couldn't afford them, and although a fair few of Don Xavier's boys liked to flash the latest model, Sonia wasn't keen to paint a big, brushed-metal target on her wrist.

The box's only other contents were a lighter and two dented packs of cigarettes, one of which was in her hand. She tapped one of the sticks out and lit it. Funny; she'd never been a heavy smoker before prison, but she had heard that people who went into permanent cryo had their organs raided and sold by the prison surgeons. If that was true, then she intended to give her would-be donee the most diseased pair of lungs she could muster in the time she had left.

Sonia tipped her chin back to blow out smoke, and quietly observed the others gathering their effects around her. There was a grizzled older man with scruffy brown hair and a bionic eye; a short, doughy youth who barely looked out of his teens; and a fucking canid. As a general rule you didn't see animal Uplifts back in the slums. They tended to be a feature of the colonies that had money to waste on such things.

None of them she recognised, though she did know the faces of the other two women, who had shared the female Hi-Sec wing back in the prison complex. The young woman with the rich mahogany skin and the distinctive blue-dyed hair was well known to most; infamous for committing a string of murders on one of the Jupiter stations. Sonia wasn't surprised that she had been approached, even if she thought the corporation should have drawn a thicker line between people who killed for a job and people who were simply fucked in the head.

The other lady she couldn't figure out. She remembered seeing the thin, mousy woman around the common areas, almost always keeping quietly to herself, and retiring to bed earlier than the other inmates. Not being affiliated with any of the feuding prison gangs, she seldom got into serious trouble - although Sonia did recall her being harassed by a number of inmates once they figured out that she wouldn't fight back. What were the corporation thinking sending someone like that on a suicide run through an alien ruin? The curiosity got the better of her.

"Hey." she called out to the thin woman, who was methodically punching numbers into the cyber-graft on her arm. "Mouse. What's your special skill, then?"