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Thread: [M] The Andromeda Federation (IC)

  1. #41
    Wolf of the Highlands
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    019, from the percher of the odd machine man in a suit, though she has not figured that out yet, started to calm down with a look of awe and wonder as she looks back at this new figure.

    You understand me? She thought back to him, the awe being conveyed.

    Of course I do, little one. I am a telepath like you. He says, stroking her through the suit. I'm your friend, I know you are scared, but this machine is just there to make sure you don't get sick, or make us sick. You wouldn't want to make us sick, right?

    Well... why should I trust you? I don't even know you? The feelings of fear and anxiety were suppressed, but skeptical emotions seeped through, And... I don't like small spaces.
    She seemed to try to give him a quizzical glare through the suit.

    On the other hand, why shouldn't you? He continues, locking eyes with her and making a gentle smile. We did come out of our way to help you, and yeah, we don't know about each other, and this would be a good way to learn. How about this, how about I stay with you, linked, the whole time, so you aren't alone?

    She kept eye contact with him as she thought. She was uncomfortable with the idea of being in that box. She had been in confined rooms against her will and small air ducts of her own accord.
    She let out a sigh as she thought Fine in a very reluctant manner, just make it quick.
    The one who will save you, the one who will stick by you, the one that will never back down,
    or maybe the one that finally brings you to your knees and makes you realize what kind of person you are.
    Wastelander

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

  2. #42
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    "Excellent," Sirc said, noting the unknown creature had stopped struggling. "Step back while I close the lid."

    Pushing the button, the machinery hummed as the lid came down, setting in place. The central display panel on the wall lit up, displaying the vitals.

    "Disinfecting the interior, cover your eyes!" she warned, pressing a button. UV emitters flashed, the helmet faceplate automatically darkening to protect the alien inside.

    "Okay, reach into the arm port and let's get them out of the suit," Sirc said. The material of the arm port was a thick brick of flexible bioplast, the material extending around her hand to form a glove. She reached up to find the release points of the suit.
    Spoiler: ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ √Ăłł Єѵïł ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ 

  3. #43
    Wolf of the Highlands
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    019 breathed really erratically in this cramped space as the lights flashed. She really didn't like this. No way to move around in here.
    She soon felt the hands working the latches of the suit. and tried to steady her breathing.

    Alright, get me out now. She broadcasted with a sense of strong unease. It was almost all she could do to not bang on the box.
    The one who will save you, the one who will stick by you, the one that will never back down,
    or maybe the one that finally brings you to your knees and makes you realize what kind of person you are.
    Wastelander

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

  4. #44
    Member Kaptain Panty's Avatar
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    Zyaust-jecant had only taken a few steps towards the door before a sudden feeling hit them. Anxiety, fear. Their clunky movements halted. Tiny vents opened on their machine body as they instinctually emitted warning scents. In the suit as they were, the released pheromones just coated the inside of the suit. The emotion waned, and their conscious mind began processing the events in order of most recent. First and foremost, they were annoyed. Smattering the inside of the suit with warning scent meant they had the message of non-words and feeling echoing in their proverbial ear, and it'd stay like that until they cleaned it. One more thing to do. Next was the sudden emotion. They knew without unquestion that the feeling had been alien. It had been a fear of tight spaces, of being closed in, unable to move. Claustrophobia. They had closed their eyes and done the mind realm ritual enough times to at least know what typically occurred in there. And of their fears, claustrophobia was not one of them. Or at the very least they had never felt that any of the Falcor's rooms or corridors were frighteningly small. Awkward, yes, but they held no reason for panic.

    Their first reaction was to ask how the thought could have come about. What could have triggered it? They were just about to place the survivor on - or was it in? - the autodoc as ordered. Wait, no, they were pretty sure they had done that already. They were heading off to get this damned suit off. Well, supposed to. If they hadn't dropped the survivor off already. Rather than perform mental calculus to determine the likelihood that they were at the 'walking out of the place the doctor worked' point in the timeline, they rotated their body around to survey the room. And a sight as curious as it was confusing was laid before them.

    Sirc, the doctor, was prostrated on the floor. As they observed, Sirc's head rose, and revealed that she was crying. She was saying something about their dead queen demanding the survivor be vented out an airlock. Zyaust-jecant was too confused to pay the proper attention required to make words fully legible through the muffling effect of the suits exterior, and felt they had missed something. But they certainly weren't going to do anything adverse to the survivor – who was, yes, on the autodoc table, at least they managed to do that properly. Lid wasn't on though. Probably a good thing, as they appeared to be struggling, and at the current moment, they weren't entirely trusting of the doctors capabilities or intentions.

    As they stood staring, Skylar suddenly came into view. Someone and/or something that wasn't Zyaust-jecant knew why. But they were comforting the doctor. Which was good, but also meant that Zyaust-jecant had to think of something else helpful to do. It seemed a bit of a crisis was going on, and walking away the moment it seemed someone else was maybe dealing with it seemed immoral, for lack of a more eloquent word. As they brought their attention to Sirc and Skylar again, they caught something of interest in their conversation; Skylar claimed they could communicate with the survivor. Something like that. They'd sort of heard something like telepath. Skylar was one of those, wasn't he? Some implant humans could get to communicate mentally. Zyaust-jecant couldn't remember the specifics. They were sure they'd read about it somewhere. Whatever they were talking about, it seemed to stop the doctors tears, so good.

    They were wondering whether they should just straight ask if there was anything they could do to help when the sudden spike of that alien fear again struck again. They were better prepared for it this time, and met it with a mixture of self-reassurance that they were illogical feelings that were clearly not their own, and mild indignation at whatever...whatever was stomping about in their mental space, putting feelings in there that weren't theirs. They did a double take at that last feeling. How could something be putting fear into their mind? Thoughts had to be ran through the filter of the rules of physicality to be communicated between minds. Or did they? No, this wasn't the time for philosophical debate.

    As they recovered from the second hit of emotion, Zyaust-jecant became aware of Skylar approaching the autodoc table, saying something about the survivor being scared. Well, that fear was certainly easy to make sense of. UNLIKE ALL THIS OTHER VERY SILLY AND SOURCELESS FEAR. They mentally 'hmph'ed' as Skylar touched the survivor. Soon enough, the survivors struggling had stopped. Well wasn't this young man a miracle worker. It seemed like the situation was under control, so Zyuast-jecant wordlessly thudded out of the room. No point telling everyone they were going to do what they should have already been on the way to do.

    A few corridors along and they'd reached the storage locker. They hurried out of the suit as best as their poor awareness allowed. When the suit finally came off and their three heads allowed to extend, they were glad to be able to take their steps less gingerly. Granted, a head had to be constantly looking at their feet to facilitate finer and faster movement, but it worked well enough. They considered going back to the med-bay, but it was probably better to monitor reports coming in from the away team. And so they clanked towards the bridge. They'd use the central communications computer located there. Actually, was it located there? Whatever, most outside transmissions ran through the bridge first.

    Reaching the bridge, they checked the communications panel. As their large fingers awkwardly tapped the buttons, they realised that they should have probably taken the finger tip spikes from their work room. With some difficulty, they managed to reach the transmission logs. They'd missed two, it seemed. Nothing dire, they hoped. They started playing the messages as their heads swivelled around the room, looking for a pen or something to use as a stylus.

    'Uh, Falcor...I’ve got…ahem...I’ve got two dead crewmen in the forward section, possibly two different species? Somebody shot them,' sounded Pedro's voice, suffering from some mild distortion.

    Zyaust-jecant's movements halted. After a loud beeping sound, the next message played.

    'I also have a dead body. Back here in the termial bay off to the left. Some sort of lab set up,' rang Ayo's voice from the console, just as distorted as Pedro's.

    Bringing their hands back towards the console, they opened a comms channel to the away team.

    '[APPREHENSION] I apologise for the late reply. Away team, have you identified any weaponry on the wreckage capable of causing the shot wounds on the corpses? It is imperative to know whether the wounds were caused by internal struggle, or if the ship was boarded by external hostiles. I refuse to allow the ship to linger in a known zone of danger.'

  5. #45
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    (Co-post: Alura & SaltyIrishman)

    Tink whirled along the lines. Though it was nothing unusual for a ship of this size, the corridors somehow felt like they went on forever due to the twisting design. Dipping below another of the oddly-angled beams, she looked about a round room with a number of displays. A door nearby was impossible to open by hand, and beside it the wall was taken up by a viewing window that showed into what looked to be the engineering deck she was searching for... Only, beyond just the strange architecture she could see nothing that should merit dividing that deck from the rest of the ship by more than a standard door.

    Pressing her gloved palms to the viewer, she peered around, the hairs at the back of her neck standing on end. It was eeriely quiet and still, the void of space muting everything until that silence was deafening. Her respirator rasped reassuringly as she angled herself to take one last, long look, one hand drifting back towards the control panel she had seen in the little room separating her from the engine room and generator.

    The display weakly flickered to life with her touch. A teal layout in a strange, looping language unknown to Tink dimly flickered. The terminal sparked. On the screen, a top-down view of this room and the engineering deck warped and wiggled. One of the other displays lit up, brighter than the first, which showed a similar view of the bridge. The other displays did nothing, and at least one had a shattered screen.

    Jumping a little at the spark, Tink squinted at the displays that had come to life and enabled the viewers for the other active exosuits in the same way Pedro had.

    "Have a look at this. Looks like a little power left in the tank. Could be dregs of reserves. Engineering deck is sealed behind some sort of secured door. I can see the bridge from here..." She leaned her nose towards it, casting her eyes around the screen for anything useful, any signs of another survivor. She still had that creeping feeling of being watched, but in space it was hard to tell if it was just the mind reconciling being alone or real danger. Reaching in her sealed mechanic's bag, she pulled free the omni-tool she had been favouring since finding it aboard the Falcor. It beat the more manual tools of Dog Rock for efficiency any day, though it certainly had received its fair share of tweaks - not to mention been taken apart and reassembled nearly a half dozen times. "Going to see if I can breach the door. If displays are up, might have enough to jump off critical systems if I can get to that backup."

    After quickly reviewing the controls below the active monitors, she tried her hand at overriding. They seemed unresponsive. She moved to the door and knelt to remove the plate from the control panel at its side, tool giving a comforting blue glow as she set about her efforts to trip the security features that held it sealed. Once she thought she saw a shadow, a shiver racing up and down her spine. She chided herself for being childish, but still glanced at the monitors and into the viewing window over the sealed deck. With a little luck she'd have it open in the next few minutes. Power restore should take under twenty minutes, tops - then she could find her exploring companions and see what else they could find at the bridge.

    It took a little longer than expected to restore power. The wiring and electrical system seemed to only be intuitive to the original makers of the ship. However, after a little under a half hour, the generators hummed to life, sputtering a bit, but turning on. The overhead lights were a soft yellow and easily suffused the ship. The life support systems began trickling their chemicals once more, slowly, and the artificial gravity was about 1/4th strength. One interesting bit of electrical engineering that only those outside the wreck could see, power was on everywhere except the area around the gaping hole in the side. It seems the makers made it in a way to automatically detect damage and divert power away from it.

    As the soft wumph of life joined the strain of the generator, Tink gave a howl. "That's it, baby!" Twirling the omnitool through her thick exosuit fingers, she narrowly avoided dropping it in her celebration. She tapped the time display at her wrist as if it might somehow be out of time. "Mmph. Getting slow."

    Dipping her head under one of the lines, she double-checked the power outputs and traced back as well as she could just to make sure there were no catastrophic surprises lurking. Her gaze returned to the monitoring gauges across the deck to see if there were any leaks or other stability issues that might be more minor. It would be hard to guarantee no issues with a hulk of a ship like this, but so far the electrical system seemed to be doing well for them.

    "Lights up, look alive!" She considered the dead bodies they had seen floating and coughed mildly in embarrassment at her choice of phrasing. "Uh... power and electrical coming online. Looks like artificial atmosphere is re-establishing, might be able to collect some better samples, eh, Ayo?"

    Monkeying over to the doors she had forced through to gain access to the engineering deck, Tink checked to see if any new readouts had come up with the lights, hoping to get more detailed updates on the system's natural checks than what she could get from built-in gauges. She might not be able to read the strange language it was all in, but hoped that the readouts would not be as needlessly confusing as some of their system designs had been. Not to say she wouldn't mind spending a few weeks pulling apart the inner workings of the ship and seeing exactly what made it tick.

    A flicker of light in the back corner of the engineering deck port-side caught her peripheral vision. As she turned to look at it fully, it flickered again, went out, then after about thirty seconds came back on as warmly as those around the rest of the deck. With a glance down to reassure herself the others were still with her somewhere on the ghost ship, she found her way back into the room. She should really see if the damage to the structure of the ship might be impacting the ability of the artificial gravity to restore properly. It was too much to hope it had been something other than a centrifugal arrangement. With a sigh, she looked over her shoulder at the spot that had gone dark.

    "Just a quick look..." Bounding off to verify there were no survivors on the engineering deck, she quickly contacted the others with, "Just having a last look here then going to start the rounds sealing off things like that damaged line we saw on the way in... anything new your ends?"

    Zyaust-jecant's question crackled over as she ducked under a conduit headed for the flickering shadow on the engineering deck.

    Spoiler: Completely Unsolicited, Contextual Praise Definitely not Acquired via Torture 

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