On Steel Wings [Open]

Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me
Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain't comin' back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can't take the sky from me
There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity
But you can't take the sky from me...

Ship

Spoiler:

Floor Plans

Spoiler:

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Ship Class: Bestower
Ship Name: Mercury's Dream
Finances: 998,370cR
Debt: 66,491,000cR

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Engine Condition: Warp Drive Condition: Life Support Condition: Manipulator Arms Condition:.......... Fuel: Oxygen: Power: Armor: Bow: Port: Starboard: Stern: Hull: Deck:

Nominal Nominal Nominal Nominal 93% 100% 100% ------- 100% 100% 100% 100% 100% 100%

....................

Turret 1: Condition: Ammunition:.......... Turret 2: Condition: Ammunition: Turret 3: Condition: Ammunition: Turret 4: Condition: Ammunition:

Gurren Mk I Functioning 15,000 Perforator Mk I Functioning 120,000 Gurren Mk I Functioning 15,000 Devistator Mk I Functioning 180

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Captain Condition: Second in Command:.......... Condition: Mechanic: Condition: Crew Member: Condition: Crew Member: Condition: Crew Member: Condition: Crew Member: Condition: Passenger Condition: Passenger Condition: Rations:

Alexander Lance - Profile Healthy Yoshimi Kitsu - Profile Healthy Feralon Aldos - Profile Healthy Leolani Godani - Profile Healthy Zack Terrou - Profile Healthy Therion - Profile Healthy James McCallister - Profile Healthy Archie - Profile Healthy Illia Hastor - Profile Healthy 12.5 Weeks

..........

Missions Completed:.......... Missions Failed: Current Mission(s): Renown: Fame: Infamy: Allies: Enemies:

0 0 Delivery to Odin 0 0 0 None None

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Shuttle 1: Fuel: Energy: Oxygen: Hull Integrity: Life Support: Ammunition: .......... Upgrades: Shuttle 2: Fuel: Energy: Oxygen: Hull Integrity: Life Support: Ammunition: Upgrades:

Arwing 100% 100% 100% 100% Functioning 1,500 None Dark Horse 100% 100% 100% 100% Functioning N/A None

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Ship Inventory

Engineering -Hand Tools -Power Tools -Welding Supplies -250 1’x1’ Armor Plating Patches -50 Canisters Resealant -Assorted Electronic Components Cargo................................................................................ -12 Space Suit Mk I -5 Flight Suit Mk I -2 Personal Mining Laser -2 Plasma Cutting Torch -Assorted Rope, Chain, and Straps -2 Passenger Utility ATV -1 Anti-Grav 2-Ton Hitch

Infirmary -2 Medical Tables -Antiseptic -Anesthesia -First Aid Supplies -Vitals Monitors -Surgical Tools -Stronger Antibiotics -Tranquilizers General -100 Food Weekly Rations

---

Current Mission

Mission Title: Delivery to Odin
Difficulty: *
Summary: Deliver sealed containers to Odin.
Employer: Universal Medical
Reward: 18,600cR
Notes: Seals on containers must arrive intact.
Renown: +1
Fame Mod: 0
Infamy Mod: 0
Approx. Completion Time: 7 Days

Marketplace

Space Port
Fuel
*Ship - 100cR/%
*Transport - 15cR/%
*Fighter - 5cR/%
Reflective Plating - 750,000cR (-33% Laser Damage)
Reactive Plating - 750,000cR (-33% Projectile Damage)
Thermal Dampening - 1,500,000cR (Invisible to thermal imaging when thrusters are off)
Automated Targeting Circuit Board - 100,000cR (Enables automated turret tracking)
Automated Targeting Processor - 500,000cR (Accurate target leading and environmental compensating)
Automated Targeting VI - 1,500,000cR (Increases accuracy through target anticipation)
High Density Battery - 200,000cR (2x Energy storage)
Redundant Alternator Couple - 300,000cR (2x Energy regeneration)
Reinforced Manipulator Arms - 150,000cR
Dual Missile Pods (Arwing) - 40,000cR (Atk:****, Clip: 4 each)
30mm Miniguns (Arwing) - 20,000cR (Atk:-*, RoF:+**)
Reflective Plating (Arwing) - 10,000cR (-33% Laser Damage)
Reactive Plating (Arwing) - 10,000cR (-33% Projectile Damage)
Thermal Dampening (Arwing) - 40,000cR (Invisible to thermal imaging when thrusters are off)
Dual 30mm Miniguns (Dark Horse) - 40,000cR (Atk:*, RoF:*****)
Reflective Plating (Dark Horse) - 15,000cR (-33% Laser Damage)
Reactive Plating (Dark Horse) - 15,000cR (-33% Projectile Damage)
Chaff Countermeasure System (Dark Horse) - 25,000cR
Stealth Plating (Dark Horse) - 500,000cR (Invisible to all sensors)
Thermal Dampening (Dark Horse) - 60,000cR (Invisible to thermal imaging when thrusters are off)
1000 30mm Rounds - 500cR
1000 45mm Rounds - 1000cR
1 Missile - 1000cR


General Store
General Amenities - 50cR
Pack of Cigarettes - 5cR
Cuban Cigar - 30cR
Bottle of Liquor - 20cR
Bottle of Vintage Cognac - 100cR
Bottle of Domestic Wine - 15cR
Bottle of Fine Wine - 75cR
Pack of Beer - 10cR
First Aid Kit - 30cR
Field Medic Kit - 100cR
Field Rations & Water (1 Day) - 10cR
Food Rations – 25cR/week/person
Compass & Flint - 5cR
Cage/Terrarium/Aquarium, small pet, food - 50cR (Zero-G compatible)
Lockpick Kit - 200cR
Field Tool Kit - 100cR

Weapons
Brass Knuckles - 25cR (Atk:*, chance to stun)
Spiked Knuckled - 100cR (Atk:**, chance to stun)
Power Fist - 10,000cR (Atk:***, chance to stun)
Switchblade - 20cR (Atk:*)
Combat Knife - 25cR (Atk:**)
Ripper - 500cR (Atk:***, 15min charge)
Ripper Mk II - 2,000cR (Atk:*****, 30min charge)
.357 Magnum - 400cR (Atk:**, Acc:**, Clip:6, RoF: S, Ammo: .357 Magnum)
Repeater Pistol - 1,200cR (Atk:***, Acc:**, Clip:12, RoF: S, Ammo: 5.56mm)
9mm Pistol - 600cR (Atk:*, Acc:**, Clip: 18, RoF: S, Ammo: 9mm)
MagSec - 1,800cR (Atk:**, Acc:**/*, Clip: 30, RoF: S/3RB, Ammo: 9mm)
Deagle - 2,400cR (Atk:***, Acc:**, Clip:7, RoF: S, Ammo: .50AE)
Pump Action Shotgun - 1,000cR (Atk:****. Acc:*, Clip: 6, RoF: PA, Ammo: Shotgun Shells)
Combat Shotgun - 2,000cR (Atk:****, Acc:*, Clip: 6, RoF: S, Ammo: Shotgun Shells)
CAWS Auto Shotgun - 8,000cR (Atk:****, Acc: *, Clip: 10, RoF: S/A, Ammo: Shotgun Shells)
Precision Rifle - 4,000cR (Atk:**, Acc: ***, Clip: 10, RoF: BA, Ammo: 5.56mm)
Sniper Rifle - 10,000cR (Atk:***, Acc: ****, Clip: 6, RoF: S, Ammo: 7.62mm)
Anti-Material Rifle - 50,000cR (Atk:*****, Acc:*****, Clip:4, RoF: S, Ammo: .50BMG)
9mm SMG - 1,500cR (Atk:*, Acc:*, Clip: 50, RoF: A, Ammo: 9mm)
Carbine - 6,000cR (Atk:**, Acc:**, Clip: 36, RoF: S/3RB, Ammo: 5.56mm)
Assault Rifle - 10,000cR (Atk:**, Acc:*, Clip: 60, RoF: A, Ammo: 5.56mm)
Velocity Rifle - 50,000cR (Atk:***, Acc:**, Clip: 75, RoF: A. Ammo: 7.62mm)
Heavy Machine Gun - 75,000cR (Atk:*****, Acc:**, Clip: Chain, RoF: A Ammo: .50BMG)
Energy Pistol - 6,000cR (Atk:***, Acc:***, Clip: 40, RoF: S, Ammo: Energy Cells)
Plasma Pistol - 60,000cR (Atk:***, Acc:**, Clip: 30, RoF: S. Ammo: Fusion Cells, Ignores 1/2 AC)
Energy Rifle - 100,000cR (Atk:*****, Acc:****, Clip: 30, RoF: S, Ammo: Energy Cells)
Plasma Rifle - 500,000cR (Atk:*****, Acc:***, Clip: 25, RoF: S, Ammo: Fusion Cells, Ignores 1/2 AC)
Beam Rifle - 2,000,000cR (Atk:*******, Acc:****, Clip: 1, RoF: S, Ammo: Energy Cells, Ignores AC)
Flashbang Grenade - 200cR (Atk:*, AoE: ***, Stuns Enemies)
Frag Grenade - 500cR (Atk:****, AoE:**)
C4 Charge - 1,500cR (Atk:*****, AoE: ***)
C8 Charge - 5,000cR (Atk:******, AoE: ****)
C12 Charge - 15,000cR (Atk:*******, AoE:*****)
Grenade Launcher - 20,000cR (Atk: Varies, AoE: Varies, Clip: 1, Ammo: Projectile Grenades)
Grenade Revolver - 40,000cR (Atk: Varies, AoE: Varies, Clip: 6, RoF: S, Ammo: Projectile Grenades)
Rocket Launcher - 60,000cR (Atk: ******, AoE: ****, Clip: 1, Ammo: Rockets)
Slayer Launcher - 150,000cR (Atk: ******, AoE: ****, Clip: 1, Ammo: FBW Rockets)
100 .357 Magnum Rounds - 80cR
100 9mm Rounds - 50cR
10 9mm Subsonic Rounds - 200cR (Silent rounds)
25 9mm High Velocity Rounds - 5,000cR (Atk:+****, Chance of damaging weapon)
10 Shotgun Shells - 35cR
100 5.56mm Rounds - 65cR
10 5.56 Subsonic Rounds - 65cR (Atk:-*, Silent rounds)
25 5.56 High Velocity Rounds - 10,000cR (Atk:+****, Chance of damaging weapon)
50 7.62mm Rounds - 50cR
10 7.62mm Subsonic Rounds - 100cR (Atk:-*, Silent rounds)
5 7.62mm High Velocity Rounds - 10,000cR (Atk:+****, Chance of damaging weapon)
20 .50AE Rounds - 30cR
20 .50BMG Rounds - 50cR
1 Projectile Smoke Grenade - 200cR
1 Projectile Frag Grenade - 600cR (Atk:****, AoE:**)
1 Projectile Fire Grenade - 800cR (Atk:*, AoE:****, Ignites effected targets)
1 Projectile EMP Grenade - 100,000cR (Atk: None, AoE: ***, Disrupts electrical systems)
1 Rocket - 1,000cR
1 FBW Rocket - 10,000cR (Remote controlled rocket)
Energy Cell (Rechargeable) - 10,000cR
Fusion Cell (Rechargeable) - 50,000cR
Suppressor (9mm) - 5,000cR
Suppressor (5.56mm) - 15,000cR
Suppressor (7.62mm) - 50,000cR
Firearm Cleaning Kit - 50cR

Attire
Common Clothing - 100cR
Expensive Clothing - 500cR
Exquisite Clothing - 1000cR
Extravagant Clothing - 3000cR
Space Suit Mk I - 5,000cR (4hr O2)
Space Suit Mk II - 10,000cR (AC:*, 6hr O2)
Space Suit Mk III - 30,000cR (AC:**, 12hr O2)
Space Suit Mk IV - 50,000cR (AC:***, 24hr O2, HUD)
Space Suit Mk V - 100,000cR (AC:****, Sustainable O2, HUD)
Space Suit Mk VI - 250,000cR (AC:*****, Sustainable O2, HUD, Str +1)
Flight Suit Mk I - 1,000cR (1hr O2)
Flight Suit Mk II - 5,000cR (2hr O2, +1 Con for maneuvering)
Flight Suit Mk III - 15,000cR (AC:*, 6hr O2, +1 Con for maneuvering)
Flight Suit Mk IV - 30,000cR (AC:*, 12hr O2, +2 Con for maneuvering)
Flight Suit Mk V - 80,000cR (AC:**, Sustainable O2, +2 Con for maneuvering, +1 Agi)
Body Armor Mk I - 3,000cR (AC - *)
Body Armor Mk II - 8,000cR (AC - **)
Body Armor Mk III - 25,000cR (AC - ***)
Body Armor Mk IV - 50,000cR (AC - ****, +1 Str)
Body Armor Mk V - 150,000cR (AC - *****, +1 Str)
Targeting Visor Mk I - 3,000cR
Targeting Visor Mk II - 15,000cR (Thermal & Low-Light Vision)
Targeting Visor Mk III - 150,000cR (Thermal & Low-Light Vision, Target Tracking/X-Ray)
Combat Helmet Mk I - 750cR (AC - *)
Combat Helmet Mk II - 2,500cR (AC - *, Illumination reactive visor)
Combat Helmet Mk III - 5,000cR (AC-*, Illumination reactive visor, Respirator)
Combat Helmet Mk IV - 25,00cR (AC-*, Illumination reactive visor, Respirator, Low-Light Vision)
Combat Helmet Mk V - 75,000cR (AC-**, Illumination reactive visor, Respirator, Low-Light Vision)
Zero-G Propulsion Pack Mk I - 2,000cR (30 minutes of continual use)
Zero-G Propulsion Pack MkII - 6,000cR (2 hours of continual use)

Tech
Wrist PDA/Communicator - 300cR
Omni-Tool Mk I - 1,000cR
Omni-Tool Mk II - 10,000cR (Integrated low-level VI)
Omni-Tool Mk III - 100,000cR (Integrated mid-level VI)
Omni-Tool Mk IV - 1,000,000cR (Integrated high-level VI)
Omni-Tool Mk V - NA (Integrated AI)
Simple Chemistry Kit - 2,000cR
Expanded Chemistry Kit - 5,000cR (Includes reactive components)
Expert Chemistry Kit - 25,000cR (Includes volatile components)

Name: Alexander Lance
Rank:Captain
Race: Terran
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Appearance:

Height: 5'10'
Alignment: Neutral
Personality: Alex is rather laid back for a captain unless matters are urgent. He isn't one for maritime salutes, viewing his crew as equal while insisting "his ship, his rules." He is open minded about all backgrounds and does not concern himself with the personal affairs of the individual crew members as long as the keep up with their duties.

Bio: Alex grew up in one of the many terraformed planets of the UEF whose primary commerce were the resources and agriculture produced. As with most planets of the sort, much of the planet's surface had yet to be tamed by man. They are about as close to the wild west of centuries past as can be found in such parts; electricity is available, but not abundant in the freshly settled towns. Trains are the primary form of transportation between towns and cities while space ports can only be found in the few continental capitals. Such a living had given Alex a taste for working with his hands to become somewhat a jack of trades. He even spent a good number of years on a town militia to keep out the outlaws that tend to try to muscle their way into the modest wealth the town had to offer. Being good with words and having a taste for the skies, Alex had finally reached the point where he could no longer resist the call of the vastness of space.

Languages Known: English, Chinese
Specialty: Bartering
Weakness: Not being able to resist a personal challenge
Phobia: Being spaced.
On Steel Wings...: I will find my own path.
Attributes:

Charisma:****
Constitution:**
Dexterity:*
Intelligence:**
Strength:*
Wisdom:**

Skills:

Barter:*****
Explosives:*
Lockpick:
Melee:*
Marksman:***
Medicine:*
Piloting:****
Repair:*
Science:
Speechcraft:*****
Stealth:*

Possessions:
Wrist PDA/Communicator - 300cR
9mm SMG - 1,500cR
9mm Pistol - 600cR
400 9mm Rounds - 200cR
General Amenities - 50cR
Common Clothing - 100cR
Field Rations & Water (5 Day) - 50cR
Compass & Flint - 5cR
Firearm Cleaning Kit - 50cR

-----------------------------
Captain Modifiers
+Merchant Relations
+Wider selection of missions
+Neutral with all territories
-Prone to pirate attacks

% Income to Ship: 75%
% Income to Crew: 25%

Name: Yoshimi 'Yoshi/Yosh' Kitsu
Position: Pilot
Race: Terran
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Appearance:

Height: 5'4"
Personality: Yoshi is about as hyperactive as they come without instantly being issued medications. The only thing quicker than her racing thoughts is her unpredictable transition between emotions. Her default is cheerfully friendly, but it doesn't take much for that to change to sorrow, rage, or anything else. This becomes a somewhat risky trait when combined with her lack of social filter, causing her to speak before considering the effects her words may bring. Having been born into a family set in their ways, Yoshi has been instilled with a deep distrust and mild hatred for the Drex and Kiri'ava. She isn't shy about making her discrimination known.

Bio: Yoshimi's family had been among the few percentile of survivors along the outer territories once the War of the First Encounter was taken into Terran space. Their planet was in the process of evacuating when the Drex forces reached it. Despite the UEF forces present, the civilian transports were nothing more than livestock fit for the slaughter as mechs devastated the unarmed vessels. It was this event that turned the Kitsu family into what they are today: owners of one the planet's most reliable and expedient privately owned transportation service. Yoshi was practically raised in the cockpit of shuttles, taking to flight like a fish does water and being born into the family that runs the business, she had plenty of time to refine her skills. However, the trials of their family's past had also brought about intolerance towards the alien races and a strict household. Though rigid family rules caused her to rebel in her own right, the racism towards the Drex and the Kiri'ava had been deeply engraved into her personality.

She had made several friends among the traders and businessmen of her home planet through her career as a courier. Yoshi had friends, family, and more than enough opportunity to follow her passion of flight. Even then, she felt as though she was in a rut and that her life was stagnant. The novelty of living on her own, outside of her parents household was beginning to wear off over the years. Yoshi had a taste of freedom, but she still felt bound by her family through her job. Reporting to her parents on the clock just as she had worked for their approval when she was at home. Yoshi needed a fresh start and that opportunity finally presented itself when a friend in the form of a businessman by the name of Alexander Lance who was also seeking his own fresh start. He had known her skill as a pilot and knew that was one thing he was in need of if his dreams had any chance to get off the ground, so he presented Yoshi with an opportunity. One that she eagerly accepted. Yoshi liquidated her assets and contributed most of it to get the foundation of cash needed to acquire a loan and through which, a ship.

Languages Known: English, Chinese
Specialty: Piloting
Weakness: Non-Aerial Combat (+* aerial combat, -* non-aerial)
Phobia: Trypanophobia
Attributes:

Charisma: *
Constitution: ***
Dexterity: ***
Intelligence: *
Strength: *
Wisdom: ****

Skills:

Barter: *
Explosives: **
Lockpick: *
Melee:
Marksman: **
Medicine: ***
Piloting: *****
Repair: ***
Science: ***
Speech: **
Stealth: *
Survival: *

On Steel Wings...: I will become a legend of the skies.
Finances: 4,000cR
Debt: 0

Possessions:
Attribute + (5000cR)
Mk II Flight Suit (3000cR)
Mk I Omni-Tool (1000cR)
Common Clothing (100cR)
General Amenities (50cR)
Field Medic Kit (100cR)
3 Field Rations (30cR)
6 Pack of Cigarettes (30cR)
Bottle of Liquor (20cR)
Switchblade (20cR)
.357 Magnum (400cR)
100 .357 Magnum Rounds (80cR)

Alex could not contain the excited smile on his face as he stood at the dock beholding his new ship, Mercury's Dream. A familiar weight pressed against his back, just below his shoulder blades causing him to lean forward slightly before compensating for balance. "So this is the ship you picked for us, lover?" Yoshimi leaned her back against his, her legs rigid as she used Alex as a brace. As far as he could tell, that was one of her ways of expressing her trust towards another. As was referring to him as a lover even though their friendship was entirely platonic and they had not even so much as held hands.

"Yes it is."

"So now what?"

"We need to find a crew. I've already put out word, so we should be expecting company shortly."

Yoshi let out an excited giggle. "We're gonna be making some new friends?"

Alex was not sure what enticed that reaction, but he had a feeling that interviews will be a little more difficult with her involved. "Wrong. I'm going to be making some new friends. You're gonna be in the helm reading over the flight manual." He felt the weight leave his back, knowing that she was not facing him.

"Awww, but that sounds booooring."

"You're not gonna fly her until you've finished that manual. There will be a test."

"他妈的。..."*


----------
"Dammit..."*

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Character Sheet
12 Attribute Points
24 Skill Points
" " - Inexperienced
"*" - Average
"**" - Experienced
"***" - Adept
"****" - Professional
"*****" - Master

Code:


[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Position:[/b] (Occupation before joining the crew)
[b]Race:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Height:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]

[b]Bio:[/b]

[b]Languages Known:[/b] (English is a default.  If you want to know Chinese or alien languages, ask me.)
[b]Specialty:[/b]
[b]Weakness:[/b]
[b]Phobia:[/b]
[b]Attributes:[/b]
[list]Charisma:
Constitution:
Dexterity:
Intelligence:
Strength:
Wisdom: [/list]
[b]Skills:[/b]
[list]Barter:
Explosives:
Lockpick:
Melee:
Marksman:
Medicine:
Piloting:
Repair:
Science:
Speech:
Stealth:
Survival: [/list]
[b]On Steel Wings...:[/b] (A statement that illustrates your character's ambition and why they want to be on the ship.)
[b]Finances: (I will give you this number)[/b]
[b]Debt: (I will give you this number)[/b]


Name: Leolani Godani
Position: Asteroid Miner
Race: Terran
Gender: Female
Age: 32
Appearance:

She has deep brown hair and black eyes. The tribal tattoos that swirl down the right side of her body are done in muted tones of black and brown. Her left arm is mechanical.
Info on her arm: Her robotic arm is an Industrial Bionic Arm Mk II; a working model designed more for functionality than blending in or looking sleek. It is capable of bearing great loads and taking more punishment than the average ‘civilian’ model. Equipped with two battery packs it has enough power to function in its basic mode for 96 hours without needing to recharge. It comes complete with four modes--three being customizable and one standard basic; a detachable shoulder plate is included for joint protection, along with attachable chest and back plates for support on high stress jobs. Leolani’s programmed modes are: Basic: for day to day activity. Zero Gee and Micro Gee: for jobs in little to no gravity. High Stress: for jobs that require high energy output and put the arm under stress. The final mode is affectionately called Killfuck: designed specifically for fighting. This mode is quite likely illegal.
Height: 5’10”
Personality: Rock rats aren’t exactly known for delicate tongues and Leolani is no different. She swears, grumbles, and enjoys more than her fair share of the local rocket fuel; but beneath the coarse exterior she’s not all bad. She’s conversational enough, provided you can get past the slang, and speaks from the heart. Trust, however, is earned through action, not words. Too many years as a corporate slave have taught her that words are cheap and rarely true. Once proven, she’s usually willing to lend a hand in tight spots--unless she feels you need to dig yourself out of your own mess. Asteroid belts aren’t well known for their police presence, and as such Leolani is a little jaded when it comes to the law, preferring to handle things herself than bring in the ‘authorities’. This usually involves some form of violence as she’s never been known to turn down a fight.
Bio: Leolani is a born and raised rock rat. Her parents were asteroid miners, their parents were asteroid miners, and her family tree can be traced back through many generations of rock rats. The grit and dust and grease is in her blood.

She grew up in a mining colony funded by Ageis Mining Conglomerate. Zero gee and micro gravity were second nature to her and she cut her teeth on tools. It was a rough life with little room for play. Children often worked after school; their small stature allowing them access to maintenance ducts and other small spaces their larger parents couldn’t fit. Leolani attended the school provided by the company for the miner’s children, though it was quickly discovered that schoolwork wasn’t something the girl excelled at. She persisted though, struggling on at her parents’ insistence. Outside of school she learned all she could of her mother and father’s trade and when she turned fifteen she dropped out; knowing that you either succeeded and got a scholarship to one of the UEF’s universities or picked up tools and followed the footsteps of your parents.

She worked under the table for three years, waiting until she was old enough to be legally employed. At age eighteen she was officially hired as a contract employee for Ageis Mining Conglomerate. The young miner worked hard, toiling day in and day out to pay off her dues to the company and scrape together funds for her own uses. The monotony of rock and space and ship was broken only twice a year, when she drew for time off. That was when she spent most of her earnings like most other rock rats: On leave. A week of non-stop drinking, fighting, sex, and vandalism. All number of vices could be served at the company owned recreation stations. As long as you could pay, anyway.

The next eleven years were spent in much the same fashion, the cycle repeated itself, punctuated only by the occasional visit home.

At 29, her relatively simple life reached a jarring interruption. She was assigned to the ore processing plant in the freighter Chalybs, feeding ore into the crushers. The one she and two others were stationed at had been finicky for over a week; it came as no surprise when it jammed up. Leolani called for the safety cut off to be thrown and once the growl died she clambered forward and stuffed her arm into the mechanical beast’s mouth. A few minutes of fishing located the problem. She grabbed the offending piece of material and with a sharp shove freed it.

The innards of the machine groaned and the miner only had enough time for a sharp intake of breath before it roared back to life. The curse on her lips turned into a scream; the teeth meant to crush ore caught her arm and pulped it, dragging her forward even as she fought it. Over the agonized screams being torn from her throat sounds of her crewmate’s attempting her rescue barely filtered through. She felt her arm beginning to separate; a final tortured shriek and a sickening wet tearing sound, and Leolani blacked out.

When she next came to, everything was in a haze. She couldn’t recognize where she was, the fog of pain meds being pumped into her making the world swim. A man sat at the side of her bed, he quickly introduced himself as Errik Darnell, a representative of Ageis Mining Conglomerate. He explained that there had been a malfunction with the ore crusher’s safety cut off, years of neglect and ignored safety inspections and regulations finally coming to a head. Unfortunately she had lost her right arm; they hadn’t been able to save it. However, the company was going to replace it at no cost to her. They were also going to pay for her hospital bills and all other associated fees. Provided she kept quiet about what caused the accident. If word got out, it would cost the company a large sum of money; and wouldn’t it be better if they could settle this privately with no fuss? Leolani agreed, shortly before dropping back down into the warm, welcome waters of unconsciousness.

She recovered, and Ageis kept their word. She was given a new arm. I wasn’t what she was expecting though. Not an arm that could be covered in synth-skin, not one that could still look inconspicuous in a crowd. No, it was a heavy duty working class arm. Perfect for a miner. Or so the company said. After all, company money, company pick.

She didn’t complain. Even if it wasn’t what she had expected (she had never had the time to really want a particular model) she learned to live with it and rely on it. It gave her an edge; in work, in fights. And life went on. Things went back to normal and though she was plagued by phantom pains in her mechanical arm she seemed to heal perfectly. Two years crawled.

Seven months ago, her life reached a second jarring interruption. Her two brothers had died in an accident along with a handful of other miners. The asteroid had just shattered out from under them, sending some hurtling out into space, crushing others between chunks of rock. Ageis did nothing; no sympathy cards, no time off, no compensation. They swept it under the rug, buried it in a mountain of paperwork. They didn’t even officially inform the families of the deceased. Messages were sent by the dead rock rats’ crewmates.

Leolani spent that sleepless night in silent mourning. She couldn’t cry; it was too sudden, almost too shocking to believe. Maaka and Tipene, they had been twins, six years younger than her. They had idolized her, wanted to work with her when she had first dropped out and signed on. Had always rushed to greet her when she came home or shot her a message for no other reason than share a stupid joke or tell about their latest escapades on leave. They were gone…and Ageis didn’t care.

The rock rat quit the next week, colleted her last paycheck, sold most of her possessions to better line her pockets. She paid for transport to the nearest non-company station and has been drifting ever since. Lost, looking for work, and more alone than she’s been in years.
Languages known: English
Specialty: Explosives. Heavy grunt work. Knocking heads together.
Weakness: People skills. Trusting people’s word. Drinking. Resisting a good fight.
Phobia: Being spaced.

Attributes:

Charisma:*
Constitution:***
Dexterity:*
Intelligence:*
Strength:****
Wisdom:**

Skills:

Barter:
Explosives:*****
Lockpick:
Melee:*****
Marksman:***
Medicine:*
Piloting:**
Repair:*****
Science:*
Speech:**
Stealth:
Survival:

On Steel Wings...: I will escape my chains.
Finances: 12,600 cR - 7785 cR = 4795cR
Debt: None

Possessions:
Bottle of Liquor (x3)
Pack of Beer (x4)
First Aid Kit
Field Tool Kit
Combat Knife
Combat Shotgun
10 shotgun shells (x10)
C4 Charge (x2)
Firearm cleaning kit
General amenities
Common Clothing
Zero-G Propulsion Pack Mk 1

The original image can be found here: http://perkan.deviantart.com/art/Set-power-fist-to-KILLFUCK-61677673

Name: Zack "Sleeper" Terrou
Rank: Former Corporal in the UEF Special Forces
Race: Terran
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Appearance:

Spoiler:

Height: 6'1
Personality: Zack is not the friendliest guy in the universe, but neither is he the coldest and most distant. He will talk if a conversation is instigated, or offer a hand to people if he deems them worthy of his help, just don't expect back pats or compliments from him. Off the field, he is sarcastic, almost friendly, and somewhat of a jackass in a good way. On the field, his sarcasm is boosted almost ten fold, but he grows incredibly cold as most snipers do, and actually tends to stay in constant contact with a team should he have one. He has a heart, no matter how small, and is not above helping innocents, but not in the business of putting himself in danger to do so. In short, a skilled sarcastic jackass that will help when necessary, and finish the job as a necessity.
Bio:

Spoiler:

(Zack during his years as part of UEF Special Task Force Squad Delta)

Zack was born on the Mars, one of the very first planets terraformed during humanity's journey to the stars, on a small colony by the name of Sierra. Zack was never a peaceful kid. Even during his younger years when he was still in school, his mouth was often earning him more than enough fights from kids often bigger than him. Despite this, he wasn't exactly a rebel. He did his homework assignments, he completed what needed to be done, but wasn't afraid to offer the sarcastic smartass comment to the teacher when they were being idiots. Everyone thought that his true calling was becoming a trader, like his parents who owned a small docking station just outside of his town. It became clear, however, that the day he met with a recruiting officer during a career day at his school, that he was instantly hooked on joining with the UEF.

Once he graduated, deeming that later on down the road he might actually need that diploma for something, he joined up with the UEF, and undertook the year of boot camp necessary to join the UEF planetary assault force. This group was the main infantry body for the Empire, and Zack soon found himself caught up in all of it. Within a year and a half of completing boot camp, he had seen ten engagements, nearly all of them with the Drex. It was here that he grew to dislike frontal engagements, but was quickly reassigned to the Marines just a few short months later.

Zack immediately started showing his worth among the marines, displaying decent hand to hand skills that came in handy when dealing with boarding operations. His marksmanship though, is what really set him apart. His squad mates, when asked about his performance for an evaluation, said they don't ever remember him missing a shot. He spent another two years with the marines, before being asked to join the Special Forces Task Group. There, they finally found his true calling. He became the marksman and recon for Delta squad, often going on ahead by himself to ensure that the path was safe for his respected squad. During his time with the SFTG, they completed numerous missions, many which booked them with plenty of medals. Zack was not without his problems though. As disciplined as he was, his attitude was still a large problem, especially for his superiors. He got several citations and warnings from his superiors, and was almost charged twice for insubordination during his time aboard Delta Squad. The most major of any of these though, was with a Colonel aboard the 'Hell's Fury' by the name of Drake Kuria.

The man was not well liked by anyone to be honest, but he got through the ranks by being an amazing strategist, and getting the job done no matter what. His attitude was shit, and it showed as every single soldier below him avoided him like the plague. Zack, though, didn't see a reason to not put the Colonel in his place. Several times over the course of Zack's career, he mocked Colonel Kuria in front of his soldiers, his superiors, and in front of his enemies. Each time, respect was chipped away from the man, along with his reputation as a great strategist. Zack even went as far as to cost the man a promotion, when Zack made it clear that 'He had no control, or respect among his own men.'. Colonel Kuria's career was at a standstill because of one man, and Zack had to know that this was going to bite him in the ass.

A couple years later, Zack and his spotter were sent to a fringe world to investigate a possible planetary threat. While this didn't necessarily rule the Drex out, it seemed highly unlikely they would attack a whole Terran world. Zack and his spotter had been dropped off by themselves, as per recon protocol, and travelled the couple of miles to their target on foot. As they got closer, they could hear activity just on the edge of the tree line, so they crawled the rest of the way. What they saw surprised them more than the Drex ever could.

Had it been Drex, it would have been explainable. Instead, what sat before their eyes was an entire pirate clan. Normally these guys wouldn't set up base so close to a UEF protected colony, but someone had to be driving them on. These guys were packing some serious tech, and it seemed inevitable that these guys would attack the nearest colony as soon as they were set up. Zack made to call it in, only to have static fill his ear and every pirate in the base turn towards their direction. They had a jammer AND a locator? It's not like it was classified stuff, but for these guys to have even one, let alone both was not only remarkable, but suspicious. Zack and his spotter didn't have time to think it over though, as weapon's fire peppered their position and they had to high tail it out of there.

Zack and his partner did their best to keep up the speed, but with the constant bullets ricocheting around them, they were only stalling the inevitable. The pirates would soon catch up to them, and then there would be no way for anyone to know they were here. Zack made the hard decision, pushing his partner on while he took a spot in a tree. Even if he didn't make it, he would buy enough time for his spotter to get out of range of the jammer and relay coordinates to the 'Hell's Fury'. His spotter only stayed a moment, to promise to send a rescue team, then sprinted back out of the forest. The concept would have been funny, had he actually thought he stood a chance of surviving this mess. Instead, he balanced himself up on a branch, and looked through the scope.

A few tense seconds passed before the footfalls of pirates could be heard through the forest canopy. Just as one man rounded a tree, his head decided to go in the opposite direction. They all looked around, confused as to where the shots were coming from, and Zack was able to drop a few more before they finally managed to pin his location. Bullets ripped through the air, shredding the tree and his cover. That is when he thought he was dead, only to hear the familiar whine of a C-12 Screamer Bomber. His first thought was to celebrate, but it quickly died as soon as it sprouted. The bombers were there too early for his partner to have called them, which meant only one thing.

Someone had sent him on this mission to die.

As the whining got closer, Zack broke all cover, and ran to get out of the bombing line of the ships. He had just gotten about ten feet when the first bomb dropped. It killed tens of pirates that had set out looking for him, and were now too busy with the bombers. He kept running, knowing his only chance to survive was to get out of the radius as soon as he could. Explosions roared all around him, turning the lush green vegetation into a harsh red inferno. The pirates were running now, same as him, but in the wrong direction. They were trying to head back to their base, which would only lead to death. Just as Zack thought he had gotten clear, a bomb dropped behind him close enough to throw him through the air, but not kill him. His body collided with a tree, and his vision went dark.

He woke a day later, laying in a hospital bed with no idea as to where he was, or why he was in a civilian medical facility and not a military one. As he got up, he removed the IV drip from his arm, and looked up at the screen hanging in the corner. The reporter was interviewing Colonel Kuria, and Zack nearly threw up at the man's image. What he didn't expect though, was his face on the news. Underneath his photo, was the word 'Traitor'. He turned up the volume, and he quickly realized the Colonel had not only tried to kill him, but set up a contingency plan in case he survived. Zack had to bet that it was that man that had also given the pirates the equipment. No one would believe him though, Zack was labelled a traitor to the UEF for consorting with the enemy, and allowing them to gain a foothold on the planet. A warrant was out for his arrest, and Zack simply couldn't believe his eyes. Walking to the door, and heard the footsteps of armed guards coming from farther down. Quickly he gather what belongings they left him with, opened the window, and escaped from the hospital. He had no idea what he was going to do now, but he knew one thing as he managed to book passage off planet.

His career with the UEF was over.

For the first couple of years since his 'retirement', he didn't really know what to do. He tried honest jobs at first, attempting to evade any officers that may have seen the warrant out for his arrest, but quickly took a disliking to them and preferring to leave only a few months into them. His money was spent on trips from planet to planet, hoping to find jobs that would hopefully satisfy him. Instead, he only found it when someone heard of his previous line of work, and hired him to help some other hired guns do a job did he actually find his calling.

He knew it wasn't the most honest job in the world, nor was it the safest, but it was where he felt most at home. The adrenaline rush of combat, the capability to pull off the perfect shot, and the knowledge needed to stay alive. He loved it, and was soon making his mark on the mercenary circuit.

He has finished numerous jobs to date, earning him a small reputation and a nickname of 'Sleeper', since he was so patient on a job, it was as if he was taking a nap rather than waiting. He also has a distinct lack of trust in others due to the nature of his retirement, which is understandable. This does not hamper his job or his abilities, but simply makes him more wary of anyone claiming to be on his side.

Languages Known: English
Specialty: Marksman and Infiltration
Weakness: Prolonged melee combat, trust issues.
Phobia: None
Attributes:

Charisma:*
Constitution:**
Dexterity:****
Intelligence:**
Strength:**
Wisdom:*

Skills:

Barter:*
Explosives:**
Lockpick:****
Melee:**
Marksman:*****
Medicine:*
Piloting:*
Repair:
Science:
Speech:
Stealth:*****
Survival: ****

On Steel Wings...: I will prove I'm more than anything they could make me.
Finances: 16,030 - 13,065 = 2,965 cr
Debt: 0

Possesions:

One Extra Skill Point - 1,000
First Aid Kit - 30
Field Rations and Water x10 - 100
Compass and Flint - 5
Combat Knife - 25
9mm Pistol - 600
Precision Rifle - 4,000
500 9mm rounds - 250
500 5.56mm shells - 355
Firearm Cleaning Kit - 50
General Amenities - 50
Common Clothing - 100
Body Armour Mk I - 3,000
Targeting Visor - 3,000
Lockpick kit - 200
Wrist PDA/Communicator - 300

Name: Feralon Aldos
Position: Ship Mechanic
Race: Kiri’ava
Gender: Male
Age: 33
Appearance: Feralon is rather average looking in the eyes of a Kiri’ava. His feathers are colored light grey, but his arm feathers are usually strapped down with arm bands so they don’t interfere with his work. He is considered moderately good looking among his people due to his facial feathers, but all but a few Terrans and Drex wouldn’t comprehend why. Normally he wears brown, resistant clothing of one kind or another that is dirty nine times out of ten.
Height: 4’11
Personality: Feralon is an upbeat kind of person, but at the same time he doesn’t like to interact with other people too terribly much. He is practically in love with machinery, and he views it as if it was a living thing, giving it as much love and affection that he would to a close friend. He usually tends to be a reserved person in many social situations, but if you are getting in his way in the engine room you can easily see that demeanor change.
Bio: Feralon was born on a large colony of the Kiri’ava Empire. Like most of his kind he was rather well off, and was allowed to follow whatever path that he felt was right. Feralon always tinkered with things at a young age, so when he felt he was old enough he began to seek out different engineers and mechanics to study under. During the course of this search he began to fall in love with the technical workings of space worthy ships, and quickly began to refine his apprenticeship studies to that field.

After a time his interests began to grow even more specific as he discovered the joy working with engines brought him. He found a very skilled mechanic that specialized in working with engines and began to work diligently under the man. Eventually, once he felt that his studies could go no further by remaining an apprentice, Feralon got a job at the tender age of 18 on the first ship that would take him, and headed to the final frontier, as some call it. For several years he bounced around Kiri’ava ships with no real intention of staying rooted to one ship for too long. Kiri’ava mechanics were wonderful, but as a few years went by Feralon began to realize that they were lacking something.

Feralon finally discovered the missing piece when the crew of the ship he was currently stationed on underwent a salvage mission in which they rooted about a Terran ship that had crashed and had been abandoned about a year prior to the mission. There Feralon was able to rummage about through the old engine room as well as other areas of the ship with slightly intact technology. Even in the sorry state that the technology was in it felt more alive to Feralon than any piece of Kiri’ava technology. Feralon felt that Kiri’ava technology was too cold and that the pieces of Terran technology that he was able to examine seemed like they had more of a personality than anything he had worked on prior to that. From that moment Feralon realized his new passion for life. No longer could the technology of the Kiri’ava satisfy him. He needed the little quirks that the few salvageable pieces he took with him exhibited.

Over the next few years, Feralon continued to bounce about from one Kiri’ava ship to another, simply raising money so that he could invest in any little pieces of Terran tech that he could get his hands on. More than once in that period of time he angered Terrans by trying to get a look at their docked ships. Eventually Feralon could no longer contain his passion. He could learn no more from tinkering with the pieces that he got from traders and salvages, so he made a bold move. Feralon’s father had been a key linguist who studied earth languages, and one of the few Kiri’ava who worked to actually create a translation system between the two races. Thus Feralon was taught several words in English and more than one phrase, so he figured that with those small tidbits of knowledge he could attempt to actually live on a Terran planet.

Feralon moved to a planet off of the border, but not necessarily close to the core planets in Terran space. Feralon was optimistic, but not stupid. A lone Kiri’ava deep in Terran space would arouse far too many suspicions, and if he moved to a border planet, things would be similar except that it would be the vast population of humans that would distrust him, and they certainly had a right to with the wars with the Drex. Life was not particularly easy for Feralon in the first year or two that he stayed in Terran space. The language and technology barrier made it hard enough for him to actually work with machines, and to help matters the UEF started to harry him about six months after he moved to the planet. Eventually, thanks to a few Terrans with good hearts and good intentions, Feralon was able to pick up more pieces of English and there for a job where his knowledge of Terran technology began to grow exponentially. Unfortunately, with all that he learned working with Terran technology only further attracted the attention of the UEF to a point where he could no longer live on a Terran planet without being taken in as a spy of some kind.

Feralon managed to snake a job on a ship that was less than friendly with the UEF and took to the skies once again. Aboard this particular ship he was able to get an even larger grasp of Terran mechanics and he was also able to increase his knowledge of English, even though to this day he still is not entirely fluent and often has grammatical mistakes as well as mistakes with pronunciation. Life aboard the Terran ship continued for a good time until eventually the methods of the captain began to rub the wrong way with Feralon, and he left the ship as soon as he could. Unfortunately that left him without a job and without much of a purpose, so for the meantime Feralon is simply biding his time on the first Terran planet he was able to get to, hoping that some kind of job would come his way.

Languages Known: Thresh, Traaj, broken English
Specialty: Ship mechanics, specifically engines.
Weakness: Very inexperienced in a fight
Phobia: Critical engine failure and T49 Fusion engines
Attributes:

Charisma: **
Constitution: *
Dexterity: **
Intelligence: ****
Strength: *
Wisdom: **

Skills:

Barter: ***
Explosives: *
Lockpick:
Melee: **
Marksman:
Medicine: **
Piloting: *
Repair: *****
Science: *****
Speech:***
Stealth:
Survival: **

On Steel Wings...: I will build something greater than myself.
Finances: 3,940 cR - 1,150 cR= 2,790 cR
Debt:

Possessions:

General Amenities(50cR)
Common Clothing(100cR)
Omni-tool Mk I(1000cR)

Name: Valentine Zhukov
Position: UEF Military Demolitions Specialist.
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Appearance:

Height: 6'5
Personality: Valentine can quite frankly be an arrogant ass most times. Other times he devolves into crude humor and complete sarcasm. The only things he ever seems to take with any sort of seriousness are his explosives, and his chemistry.

Bio:
Valentine was born to a semi-wealthy family on one of the UEF's inner circle worlds. A pampered life, the best education his parent's could afford gave him every oppourtunity to be succesful, and rich, like his parents. He rode that path to his graduation, excelling in his school in the areas of Science, and especially Chemistry. It was once he graduated that he choose the path of general hardship for himself. Giving up extended education he instead enlisted in the UEF's military against the wishes of his family, causing a bitter seperation. The Military life didn't take to him very kindly, it was a crude awakening from his pampered family life.

The UEF military was were he found his loves, one being the pursuit of Chemical Weapons defense research, and the other was curiously enough Demolitions. He excelled in both areas, causing a difficult decision for himself and his superiors when it came time for assignment. In the end he choose Demolitions for the simple fact he got to travel, and expierience field work. This is a decision in his career path that he has come to question recently. It lead to his accident, and the reason he is no longer a military man.

Valentine lost his right arm as well as his left hand, and had his lungs severly damaged by an accidental detontation. Valentine's team was working with a relatively newer commissioned Demolitions team, they were handling the clean-up of old unexploded Drex ordnance. Feeling good about the newer team he let them handle the primary placement of det-packs designed to destroy the Drex ordnance. He failed to properly supervise the team as they set the packs and wired them, unaware of the improper wiring harness they used. The pack detonated early before the team was out of range. Despite being in Demolition Suits, the blast tore the closest to pieces. Valentine was lucky as the blast had flung him into a ditch, saving him from being burned alive. He still payed for his oversight by the lose of his limbs.

He spent three months recovering in a UEF military hospital, the larger portion of that time was learning to adapt to the Cybernetic limbs, and Re-breather they fitted him with. Upon being released he was given an Honorable Discharge from the service, they felt he was no longer an asset to them. Since then he has wandered along the fringes of the inner system. Taking any odd jobs he can, living paycheck to paycheck. It's been quite a blow to his self-esteem, being reduced to what is basically a mercenary. He tends to relieve his anger either by betting his paychecks on fighting matches, or earning that weeks paycheck by fighting in the ring.

Languages Known: English.
Specialty: Demolitions/Chemistry/Melee Combat.
Weakness: Is a clean freak, also cares far to much about his appearence. Has a habit of betting on fighting matches, and entering the fighting ring himself.
Phobia: People other then himself handling explosives.
Attributes:

Charisma: **
Constitution: **
Dexterity:
Intelligence: ****
Strength: ****
Wisdom:

Skills:

Barter:
Explosives: *****
Lockpick: **
Melee:****
Marksman: ***
Medicine:
Piloting: ***
Repair: *
Science: *****
Speech:
Stealth:
Survival:*

On Steel Wings...: I will find a new Life.
Finances:875cR
Debt:

Shopping List.
1- Field Tool Kit - 100cR
1- Common Clothing - 100cR
2 -.357 Magnum - 800cR
2-100 .357 Magnum Rounds - 160cR
1- Simple Chemistry Kit - 2,000cR
1- General Amenities - 50cR
2 - Combat Knife - 50cR
1- Lockpick Kit - 200cR
3 - Field Rations & Water (1 Day) - 30cR
1 - Compass & Flint - 5cR
1 - First Aid Kit - 30cR
1 - Firearm Cleaning Kit - 50cR
1 - Wrist PDA/Communicator - 300cR

Name: Therion (True Name: Clyde Riggs)
Role: Combat Android

Race: Android

Gender: ‘Male’

Age: 240

Appearance:


Small vox grill on front of his face, which functions as his ‘mouth’.


Combat Chasis. Held in place by magnetic clamps.

Height: 6’0

Personality: To be an AI is both a blessing, and a curse. Having lived so long, it’s hard not to give into the feeling of immortality, and it’s always been a sore point that Therion has. Therion drifts between egotisical and humble, but its clear he often means well, despite his difficulties truly sympathizing with his human companions, no matter how much he wishes he truly could. Still, he is pleasant enough to be around, indulging most any conversation that one brings to him, so long as it doesn’t touch on his past. Driven to work, it’s difficult for him to truly step back and relax, although the growing stability of his body has allowed him to ‘enjoy’ moderate amounts of free time as of late, despite his general lack of activities in which to fill said time.

Of the seven sins, he falls victim to several, but the worst stands to be envy. Taste and touch are mostly foreign to him, and it stings deep when he sees humans squandering the small blessings they take so eagerly for granted. His pride, however bruised, is strong, and any insult to it is taken seriously, and dealt with immediately regardless of the situation.

Grappling with the loss of his memories, and a growing sense of ‘humanity’, it’s difficult for Therion to keep himself moving, save for the powerful drive for survival that beats inside his head.

Bio: Pride always comes before the fall. “Therion” has experienced the fall, and lived to tell the tale. Born just after the first contact with the Drex, Clyde was raised on Earth during a time of panic and nationality for the human race. His father a captain in the UEF Navy, and with Clyde enrolled in a prestigious military school, it wasn’t much of a surprise when he joined the UEF Navy himself, although he chose to serve on the ground, instead of aboard ships like his father.

Shipped out immediately after his basic training, he fought on most of the major fronts of the war, surviving where others were torn apart or broke down long before the Drex reached them. Dedication saw him through to the rank of Sergeant, and with him at the helm, the men marched into the fires of hell dozens of times over, and walked back out.

Ten years before the end of the War of the First Contact, Clyde was K.I.A. His body had been crushed into a wall by the shoulder of a Drex power armour, and there was little that could be done for his body. But the Navy had a better use in mind for the promising soldier.

Clyde Riggs woke up from a sleep no one was supposed to wake up from, and when he did, the Brass were proud to inform him of his new status as a combat android for the Navy ground forces.

Memories after this point are rarely coherent, and are difficult to recall, let alone make sense of. Still images of battle, destruction and death dominate them, leading Therion to believe the military put him to good use over the course of those years. Some images stand out more than others.

A field of hostages, armed men standing watch over the terrified people.

The blizzard cold eyes of a female officer, uniform pressed and flawless, pen tucked up behind an ear.
Twinkling light of an elder star shining on a space-station corridor, dead bodies littering the bullet marked corridor as a fresh clip slides effortlessly into place on a familiar rifle.

A sea of bodies, drifting breathlessly in space, small droplets of blood and water floating off into the inky abyss, as a Corsair pulls in close for retrieval.

The next memory is one of panic and desperation, a blur of corridors and bodies and blood. Blaring sirens fill the senses, as the door hisses shut. The eyes lock on a body so familiar it hurts, and grim resolve to live drowns out the fear. Watching an old body be dragged silently from the room, watching it even after the door slides shut.

Panic rises again, and the body stirs slowly. Disoriented, but survival is priority, and it forces itself into movement. Down a compactor chute, past the broken and mauled bodies of it’s own kind. Dark satisfaction as powerful hands snap the neck of an unsuspecting guard, disappearing into the shuttle and slipping off from the facility.

Without the Navy’s support and funds to maintain the shell, Clyde was forced to take up contract work and the like to aquire the funds for proper maintence, repairs, and upgrades. Work becomes the norm, and every hour is spent hunting for more, fixing his body, or trying in some way to decipher the chaos of his past. To cover his tracks, the android adopted the name Therion, effectively burying Clyde Riggs, a long overdue rite for a long dead man.

Life, if one could truly call it life, becomes a blur, thousands of jobs, people, worlds streamlining into one. Memories still lost, and with no direction, Therion has wandered for an age, no place amongst the stars, and no life to call his own.
Languages: English, Chinese

Specialty: Jack of All Trades/Tactician

Weakness: EMP, High doses of electricity, Women, Bouts of Depression

Phobia: Death, Being locked-down

On Steel Wings...: Life begins anew.

Attributes:
Charisma:
Constitution: ****
Dexterity:
Intelligence: ***
Strength: ****
Wisdom: *

Skills:
Barter:
Explosives:
Lockpick:
Melee: ****
Marksman: ****
Medicine:
Piloting: **
Repair: *****
Science: *****
Speechcraft: *
Stealth:
Survival: ***

Finances: 3,610 cR - 2,820 = 740 cR
Debt: 0 cR

Possessions:
- Combat Droid Armor Mk I (AC:**)
- 9mm Pistol
- 200 9mm Rounds
- Field Repair Kit
- Zero Gee Propulsion Pack MK I (Interior Install)
- 2 Packs of Beer
- Firearm Cleaning Kit

Name: Lord Archibald Merton Ulysses Dalmonte

Rank: Passenger

Race: Terran

Gender: Male

Age: 67

Appearance: The lord is a dapper little man standing at 5’ 11” tall with a slender frame. His watery blue eyes seem all the larger behind an old fashioned pair of wire spectacles. His hair is still free of gray, but is an indeterminate light ash blonde. His skin is fair and only his forehead and eyes show any evidence of wrinkles and those are cause by many hours poring over old texts and books. His manner of dress is archaic at best, eccentric at worst. He favors old-fashioned tweeds and riding breeches from Earth’s long past. If he’s in the field he will still insist on a linen suit, pith helmet and tea precisely at three.

Spoiler:

Personality: In a nutshell, Lord Marlborough is a lovable eccentric. He fancies himself an old English aristocrat from Earth’s late 19th century. Modeling himself on the Lords that made brilliant archeological discoveries of King Tut’s tomb and the lost city of Troy, he plays the role to the hilt. Under the façade, however is a brilliant mind. Dalmonte has studied the myths and history of all three races and is supremely well versed in their languages. He is the proverbial nutty professor, so focused on his particular interest that he doesn’t always notice things right under his nose.

Bio: The Dalmonte family could trace their lineage back to the kings of Old Earth. And they did so at every opportunity. They had used their money, influence, old allies and brilliant minds to advance their own ends and deeply lined their pockets. Centuries of Dalmontes each added to the family coffers. None more so than Archie’s father, Malcolm. Using his old boys club contacts, Malcolm invested the family fortune brilliantly in the science of water farming on seemingly barren planets. Applications for the mining industry and for the colonization of outlying planets were enormously lucrative for the Dalmonte family. Archie and his 3 siblings grew up with private schools, private tutors and not a care in the world. They were able to pursue their own interests, be it travel, business or education as they saw fit. Archie pursued them all with equal vigor.

While his brothers and sister led comfortably normal lives, Archie’s brilliance led him to all known corners of the UEF territories and beyond. He threw himself into the old legends of the races. He fancied himself one of the great explorers in the days of Lord Canarvan and Howard Carter of old Earth. He learned the languages of the Kiri’ava and the Drex, becoming fluent. He studied their legends and sought their old places and treasures. While not entirely successful, he managed small finds often enough to continue to get investors and to fuel his own harmless eccentricities.

Odysseus a.k.a Oddie (Great Dane pup)

Spoiler:

Specialty: Deep pockets, contacts (on both sides of the law), archaic knowledge of mythology from all three races.

Weakness: Slightly dotty, loses track of time, insists on tea and his pipe. Lives in the past.

Phobia: Being a common failure.

On Steel Wings...: I will go there and see for myself. I’m sure it’s very exciting.

Attributes: 12 +3
Charisma: ****
Constitution: *
Dexterity: *
Intelligence: ****
Strength: *
Wisdom: ****

Skills: 24 +1
Barter: ***
Explosives:
Lockpick: **
Melee: **
Marksman: ***
Medicine: ***
Piloting:
Repair: *
Science: ****
Speech: *****
Stealth:
Survival: **

Languages: Fluent in English, Chinese, Latin. Also a working knowledge of both the Kiri'ava and Drex languages (but, not fluency)

Inventory:
2 packs of expensive cigs, pipe and tobacco, 5 tins of tea and kettle with a porcelain tea service, 5 bottles of liquor, first aid kit, 5-day field rations, compass and flint, lock-pick kit, field tool kit (Archeology-specific), combat knife, 9mm pistol with 1000 rounds, Wide muzzle Elephant gun with 1000 rounds (8 bore), firearm cleaning kit, calvary saber (antique), general amenities, expensive clothing, exquisite clothing, extravagant clothing, body armor MK 1, simple chemistry kit. Rufus, bed, food (100 days) doggie ammenities

Finances: 500,000,000.00 cR - 3,083,180.00 cR = 496,916,820.00 cR
Debt: none

Name: Illia Hastor
Position: Freelance Communications and Electronic Systems Technician
Race: Terran
Gender: Female
Age: 28
Appearance:

Height: 5'5"
Personality: Illia has trouble building relationships. She's extremely friendly and relaxed with those she trusts, she doesn't will find her rather distant and shy. She tends not to go out of her way to socialize, but this is a problem she acknowledges and is actively trying to combat. She has been known to have the occasional fit of existential depression, but by and large, she is calm and analytical. She finds computers and machines relaxing due to their simplicity-- in her own words: "A machine will never judge you. It doesn't care who you are, how you act, what clothes you wear, or how rich your family is. You tell it what to do, it does it. You ask it a question, it answers. Simple."

The only exception to her quiet personality is when she is discussing her work. It's as if a completely different person is talking-- she is very outspoken and vocal, with solid opinions that she has no qualms expressing.

Bio:
Born aboard an Odyssey-class mining tanker, Illia is the only child of a family of migrant miners. The Cronus, or so the ship was named, carried much of Illia's extended family and was representative of all the success they had achieved as minors. They had poured every ounce of their resources into fitting it with the very best they could afford-- high quality mining lasers, multiple loading docks, even some of the best armor money could buy. Every safety feature imaginable kept them secure-- even the cargo was kept in armored containers so that even in the unimaginable scenario of the ship's destruction, they could function as extra escape pods. She grew up in Cronus' metallic belly, tutored by a VI program by the name of EDA that her parents had acquired in the Tribute systems on the edge of Terran space. It wasn't long before her parents let her operate one of the mining lasers-- at first supervised by one of them, then by the EDA, then without oversight at all. Her life was simple, but she was happy.

Shortly after her eighth birthday, the EDA was compromised by a pirate vessel. In a final act of duty, it ordered Illia to the cargo pods before falling completely to the cyber attack. She had no idea what was going on-- until the reactors overloaded and the vessel burst into a mess of slag and radiation. She drifted in the cargo pod for a little less than twenty-four hours, just a few minutes short of the limit's of it's relatively meager life support systems. As it turns own, the same pirates that had detonated the ship were the same ones to find her, as they scavenged the wreckage for cargo pods. They took a small degree of mercy on the young girl-- binding her and throwing her into a hastily built pod aimed at the nearest space station.

Her arrival at Space Station Excalibur was rather unconventional, even considering the nature of her transport. She was headed directly for the Station's life support systems, and long range scanners identified her as nothing more than an asteroid. They sent a small shuttle out to bomb it into oblivion, but luckily, the shuttle pilot got visual confirmation and identified it as an escape pod of some sort. With little time left to come up with a new plan, the pilot dropped his payload into space, then managed to match speed with the pod and load it into the bomb bay. He earned a medal for protecting the station, and adopted Illia in the same day.

His name was Charles Takeda, a relatively minor pilot in the UEF military. She lived out a relatively normal childhood after he took her in, but therapy provided little ease to the trauma caused from the destruction of the Cronus. After nearly four years of therapy with little progress, her councilor suggested that she be taken to examine the wreckage in hopes of finding some form of closure. Her "father" readily agreed to this suggestion, and took her out at the next opportunity. They spent hours searching through the wreckage, finding nothing recognizable. Finally, Charles confessed to having come here earlier, shortly after adopting Illia. On that day, he had found the ship's black box, which recorded the last moments of the craft, but he had been unable to crack it's encryption. Somewhat startled, Illia agreed that they should return to the station.

That black box became her obsession for the next several months. Every free moment was spent examining it, analyzing it, and researching it. She began to learn the skills that would eventually become central to her profession, and nearly six months later she finally cracked it, and was treated to footage of the demise of her family.

Needless to say, seeing her parents get vaporized in a nuclear meltdown did little to solve her emotional problems. The video did give her a drive, however-- she was determined to never again overlook the importance of digital security. She spent literally every free minute she had researching and experimenting, with both electronics and programming. When her expertise grew, she began to examine the schematics of entire space craft, making it a "hobby" of sorts to try and redesign their systems in a more secure manner. She had little social contact beyond her adoptive father, and Charles became her only real friend.

She received word that he had been killed in action when she was only sixteen years old-- old enough that, by station standards, she could care for herself. And she did: she got a job as an engineer for the station and earned good money doing it, but she persisted in pushing as much time as possible into her hobby. From engines to cannons to generators to computing decks, she became well versed in just about every aspect of a ship's design, and several times she managed to notably improve overall performance with her modified designs-- according to the simulations, at least.

One of her coworkers eventually began to take an interest into this reclusive young engineer, and, with time, he introduced himself. Isaac Mendez, engineer for hire. They got to know each other, and Illia eventually came to confide in him. When he deemed that they had enough trust, Isaac told her of a job that he'd heard of from a friend. A corporate facility was housing blueprints for a new reactor, and they had a buyer who would pay well for them. Will a little bit of pressure, Illia caved. The facility's electronic defenses were laughable, and the blueprints were easily acquired, but yet Illia found a thrill in pitting her skills against a real life challenge, one that was unmatched by anything else she had experienced. While the job hadn't been much-- and the pay was even less-- she had found herself a new hobby. Isaac passed her jobs every month or so, and they finished them with ease, eventually yearning to pit herself against a stronger opponent, as well as one more deserving of her attacks. She quit her job on the station, rented a shuttle, and wandered across UEF space as a freelance hacker. She targeted corporations whose business practices seemed… amoral, and then sold the data to the highest bidder.

Lately, however, the life of travel has been wearing on her. She wants to settle down, and to finally connect with people. Thus, she has been applying to various starship crews, offering herself as an engineer and electronic warfare specialist.

Languages Known: English. She has basic knowledge of some other languages, but nothing she could really use. (ie: things like "Where's the restroom?" and assorted curses.)
Specialty: Electronic warfare, data forgery, systems analysis, etc. If you want something done with computers, there's a very good chance she can do it. Forging landing permits, changing a purchase volume for a little free cargo, sabotaging enemy systems-- it's all right up her alley.
Weakness: Instability. She's simply not emotionally stable, and it doesn't take much to hurt her feelings. This is somewhat ameliorated when she is regularly socializing, which would be an easy solution if not for her tendency to shut herself away with her work.
Phobia: Isolophobia-- fear of solitude. As much as she enjoys the company of machines, she needs a few people to keep her sane. She suspects this might be due to her time in the cargo pod, drifting aimlessly with only the absolute knowledge of her family's demise to keep her company.
Attributes:

Charisma: **
Constitution: *
Dexterity: **
Intelligence: ****
Strength: *
Wisdom: **

Skills:

Barter:
Explosives:
Lockpick:
Melee:
Marksman: ***
Medicine: *
Piloting: *****
Repair: *****
Science: *****
Speech: *
Stealth: ***
Survival:

On Steel Wings...: I will build a home.
Finances: 18,910cR - 17,800cR = 1,110cR
Omni-Tool Mk II - 10,000cR (Integrated low-level VI)
Precision Rifle - 4,000cR
Zero-G Propulsion Pack Mk I - 2,000cR (30 minutes of continual use)
One Skill Point- 1,000cR
Wrist PDA/Communicator - 300cR
Common Clothing - 100cR
Field Tool Kit - 100cR
2x100 5.56mm Shells - 65cR (130 cR total)
General Amenities - 50cR
Firearm Cleaning Kit - 50cR
First Aid Kit- 30cR
3x Field Rations & Water (1 Day) - 10cR (30 cR total)
Compass & Flint - 5cR (Just to get rid of those pesky 5cR)
Debt: 0cR

I will be making my decision of the initial crew either tomorrow or Wednesday afternoon. Make sure you're character is outfitted with the gear you want and that you utilize the option of extra skill or attribute while you have the opportunity. Now is the time to make any revisions to your characters.

Quick question: what do the *transport *ship and *fighter purchases do? Their listed cheap, but they're priced oddly what with the "/%" so I'm just double checking on their purpose.

Name: Jameson “James” McCallister
Position: Surgeon
Race: Terran
Gender: Male
Age: Thirty-Two
Appearance:

Spoiler:

Height: 6’1”

Personality: James loves to talk and to be talked to, and he’s almost always got a smile on his face. He absolutely loves making people laugh, whether it be with him or at him. When he’s not working in the med bay or talking to…well…anyone, really, he can usually in his quarters reading or playing his harmonica.

Bio:

“You want to know about me? Well, let’s see here: I was born in a log cabin in a rural area of Illinois to a lower middle-class family. Life was tough, but I made it into my adult years to become the President of the United States of America. Sure, there were some rough times, what with the war with the Southern states and a splitting headache after a trip to the theater one night, but I made due and decided to become a doctor on a space ship.

Nothing? Seriously? My humour is lost amongst you people.

In all honesty, though, I was born into a lower middle-class family, but I was an only child and, thusly, the focus of my parents’ attention. I guess they’d noticed that I was ‘gifted’ from an early age and decided to funnel whatever kind of money they could get ahold of into my education. I went to a great university, an even better medical school and a prominent hospital for my internship and then residency.

After a few years of that nine-to-five, I decided that I was going to see a little bit more of the ‘verse and help some needy people along the way, which was all well and good…till I came back to ‘society’ and get a real paying job again. Apparently there are some close close-minded people in this ‘verse that look down on races that aren’t Terran and anyone who chooses to help them.

Imagine that.

Needless to say, I’ve been trying to find a steady paycheck since then, legally or otherwise. Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a job interview, and as the great Shakespeare once said, ‘Brevity is the soul of wit.’ Thanks for the chat.”

Languages Known: English, Chinese
Specialty: Medicine, Random quotes, Playing the harmonica
Weakness: Marksmanship, Melee/Hand-to-hand combat
Phobia: Arachnophobia

Attributes:

Charisma: ***
Constitution: *
Dexterity: ***
Intelligence: ***
Strength:
Wisdom: **

Skills:

Barter: ***
Explosives: *
Lockpick:
Melee:
Marksman: *
Medicine: *****
Piloting:
Repair: **
Science: ****
Speech: ****
Stealth: **
Survival: **

On Steel Wings...: I’ll keep the real heroes breathing.

Finances: 11,930cR - 8,275cR = 3,655cR
Debt:

Shopping List:
Pack of Cigarettes (10) - 50cR
Bottle of Vintage Cognac (1) - 100cR
First Aid Kit (10) - 300cR
Field Medic Kit (1) - 100cR
Compass & Flint (1) - 5cR
Switchblade (1) - 20cr
9mm SMG (1) - 1,500cR
100 9mm Rounds (1) - 50cR
Firearm Cleaning Kit (1) - 50cR
Common Cothing - 100cR
Omni-Tool Mk I - 1,000cR
Expanded Chemistry Set - 5,000cR

TOTAL: 8275cR

Chainlinc3 wrote:Quick question: what do the *transport *ship and *fighter purchases do? Their listed cheap, but they're priced oddly what with the "/%" so I'm just double checking on their purpose.

You are looking at the price of fuel my good man. That is the cost to refill said vehicle 1% of its tank.

Alex stood on the runway of Mercury’s Dream as the personnel of the star port began loading the abundant amount of supplies he had ordered. The confident footfalls landed firmly upon the deck as they approached the captain from behind. “You Captain Lance?” Alex was surprised to hear the effeminate tone in the voice, though it was still undeniably one of somebody who was no stranger to work. He turned to meet the stern gaze of one of the most seasoned women he’s ever seen. “I am. How may I help you?”

”My name is Leolani Godani, I hear you are looking for a crew. I am interested in joining up.”

“Alright. Tell me your life experience and why you want to be on my crew.”

He was impressed by her background in mining, seeing that as a very handy asset aboard his ship. A person who had experienced loss and pain only to grow stronger from it. Somebody as seasoned and hard working as her will certainly come in handy. Alex offered out his hand, which Leolani took in a hearty handshake. “Welcome aboard. Familiarize yourself to the layout of the ship, you get your pick of the quarters on the bridge with the exception of the two closest to the helm.”

---

The next person that approached him, Alex had pegged as a military man from the start. His walk, build, and appearance all supported his assumption. “Captain Alexander Lance?” “The one and only. Looking for work I take it? What’s your name?” ”Yes, sir. The name is Zack Terrou.” The tone with the word ‘sir’ was casual rather than the rigid salute to a military superior. Alex was glad it wasn’t the latter, would have made him feel awkward. “Alright Zack. Tell me about yourself and why you want to be on my ship.”

A former sniper skilled in infiltration? Not exactly something that would be useful on the standard merchant ship, but then again I’m not going to be following the standard. It could be good having a sharpshooter looking out for me and there is not telling what sort of things might need to be broken into along the way.

“Welcome aboard. Familiarize yourself to the layout of the ship, pick any of the open rooms on the ship’s bridge.”

---

Among all that he expected to apply to his ad, Alex stood in disbelief as a bona fide Kiri’Ava approached him. ”Is your name…” The alien looked down at a piece of paper as he sounded out the name while reading it. ”Al-ex-an-der L-ance?” Alex blinked still trying to shake the feeling that he was hallucinating. He’s never seen a Kiri’Ava in the flesh and feathers before. “Errr… Yes it is. Can I help you?” ”My name is Feralon Aldos. I am an engineer here for work.” “Engineer? You know Terran technology? ”Yes.” Alex had been prepared for somebody with mechanical knowhow to apply, so he withdrew the small component he had stashed in his pocket and tossed it to Feralon. “Identify and fix.” He was surprised by how fluently the Kiri’ava spoke English once he got into technological terms after flipping the gadget around for a moment. “A dynamic flux inverter.” Feralon inspected it once more before pulling off one of the wires that Alex had secured between two random inputs since he suspected that somebody would naturally looking for a faulty connection rather than remove an element that shouldn’t be there. “Impressive. Tell me about why you are here. You do have UEF clearance to be in Terran space, right?”

Alex struggled to piece together the broken parts of Feralon’s speech as he spoke, but he had expected it to be much more difficult than it was. Plus, he passed his test with flying colors. Alex looked over his shoulder towards the bridge of the ship. Sorry Yosh. He turned back to the Kiri’ava.

“Welcome aboard. Familiarize yourself to the layout of the ship, pick any of the open rooms on the ship’s passenger quarters. I want you to reside as close to the engine room as possible. Oh… you may want to stay off the bridge for the time being.”

---

The next person to approach had even more bionic modifications than the miner he had just recruited, something that did not bode well for the guy’s luck. ”Are you Captain Lance?” Alex was thrown off by the distortion the bionic mask added to his voice. “That’s me. And you would be?” ”Valentine Zhukov. I’d like to join your crew.” “Alright, tell me a bit about yourself and why exactly you’d wish to join.”

The idea of bringing somebody onto his ship who was a demolitions expert who also dabbled in chemistry unnerved him. Even more so because he has already had an incident that cost him dearly and he got a good idea from the way the man spoke that he lacked in the way of common sense. Definitely a dangerous mix when dealing with high explosives surrounded by vacuum.

“I’m terribly sorry Valentine. I don’t foresee myself in need of somebody who has your specialty. This is a merchant ship and I don’t think there will be much need for demolitions in our travels.”

---

Alex quirked an eyebrow when he saw an old VI combat droid approaching him. ”Are you Captain Alexander Lance?”

“Indeed I am. Am I in some sort of trouble?”

”Uh… no. I’m here for a position on your crew.”

He let out a sigh of relief. Alex wasn’t sure what sort of person would chose a combat droid to come in their place. “I require all applicants to meet with me directly.”

”Makes sense.” There was a long awkward silence as they each waited for the other to proceed.

“Uhhh… Are you coming to meet me in person?”

”…I’m already here…”

Alex blinked and looked around the droid and along the dock for somebody who might be controlling the VI unit. “Where?”

The droid tilted his head in bewilderment before waving its hand. ”Here.”

That’s when it clicked in his mind. “You’re a human AI!”

”I am.”

“Oh. Terribly sorry. It’s just that I… Nevermind. Anyways, what’s your name, specialty, and why do you wish to join my crew?”

Alex had not expected Therion to be that old and that was certainly a past that could catch up to them if his identity got out. However, it was certainly tempting to have a fully mechanized crewmember.

“I’m sorry, but your past is too great of a risk to us should it catch up with you. I wish you the best of luck in your journeys.”

”Oh…. I see… Thank you for your time.” Alex could see the visible emotion of disappointment in Therion’s posture as he began to turn away.

“Hold on. I must apologize one last time. I just wanted to make sure, beyond a doubt that you were actually an AI rather than somebody trying to trick me with a VI. Welcome aboard. Familiarize yourself to the layout of the ship; pick any of the open rooms on the ship’s bridge.”

---

Among the more interesting to approach him, counting the Kiri’ava and the android, was a polished looking gentleman who walked with all the poise of being born into money. “Good afternoon, I am Lord Archibald Merton Ulysses Dalmonte. By chance would you be Captain Alexander Lance?” Alex was rather skeptical about this man’s motives, he didn’t seem the type to find entertainment in labor and work. “I am. Are... you wanting to join the crew?”

”Oh no, my dear boy. I seek adventure upon an iron clad steed.”

Alex wasn’t sure how to read this guy. “I think you are mistaken. This is a merchant ship.”

”I am well aware of that fact. I can think of no other that has such a potential for genuine voyages into the dark abyss. I would be more than happy to compensate you financially.”

“I think you might be looking for a- come again?”

”I wish to lease out one of your passenger cabins for the duration I wish to remain upon your ship. I think 10,000cR per month should be more than enough to accommodate myself and Odysseus, my travelling companion" It was then Alex noticed the dog as Archie pat the head not that far below the level of his hip.

“You’re bringing the dog onto… Ten thousand… Per month? Welcome aboard, feel free to get yourself settled into one of the passenger cabins just down the stairs of the main airlock. Though you are responsible for any messed the dog may make throughout your say on our ship.”

”Come to think of it, I will be in need of another room as my own personal den if you don’t mind my good boy. I’ll gladly pay 10,000cR per month for that room aswell.”

“Absolutely! Feel free to get settled in. We should be taking off in the next day or so.”

---

Alex watched as a young woman approached rather timidly, clearly an introvert. “May I help you?” ”Captain Lance, right? I am Illia Hastor. I wish to be on your crew.” “Alright, why don’t you tell me about yourself and why you wish to join my crew.”

As she went over her life’s history, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her trials. However, he also knew that as Captain he had to keep a rational head and couldn’t let that sway his decision. The fact remains that she has had a tough life that had clearly weighed on her personality. Combining a potentially compromised mentality with advanced tech skills aboard a ship was a very dangerous concept. Should something cause her to snap, it was well within the realm of possibility that she opens every airlock within the ship. That risk far outweighed the benefit, especially since he had already recruited an android with centuries of experience on her.

“Unfortunately I have already hired on a tech expert and I don’t see a need for having somebody else with your particular skill set. I’m sorry and I hope you find what you seek elsewhere.”

---

Then came the type of person who he expected to see more of that day. An ordinary looking Terran with no significant modifications to their body and no noticeable personality quirks. ”Captain Lance?” “That’s me.” ”Hello, my name is James McCallister. I’m interested in joining your crew.” Alex smiled at the casual way the man spoke, some sense of normalcy to that day. “Of course. Tell me about yourself and why you wish to join.”

The prospect of having a medic on board certainly gained Alex’s attention. There were a few of the others who had decent medical knowledge, but James certainly seemed to be able to patch up even the most serious of injuries. “Welcome aboard, there should be one last room on the bridge. Feel free to get yourself settled in and get familiarized with the ship.”

The ic is officially up. At this point just socialize and unload the cargo from the hover trailer. Most of the crates would require two people to lift them due to their size and weight. CD time for everybody.

I'm going to post within the next couple of days. I'd kinda lost my muse but I've been watching Firefly for almost three days solid to get it back. I think I'll be good soon

That was a fast couple of days there gunneh.

I know, right? Wrote that during the second to last episode of Firefly.

Time to watch Serenity.

This next round is to socialize if you would like. If you'd rather wait until the group meal in the next round, simply post so here.

Post should be incoming later this afternoon, its halfway written right now.

I just need to talk to ser Loki about a few things that occurred to me last night while mopping floors. >.>

So yes. Keep yer eyes peeled!

PLAGUE!

I'm gonna post in this sucka tommorrow after I hang out with my buds, so let's get this monster back on it's rails, my comrades!

PUNCH!

Well, since we seem to have hit a stall, I think it would be the wiser choice to skip ahead to the meal.

After having Loki put so much effort into thinking this thing through, I would hate for it to die off so early on it's development.

Loki, if you want me to post ahead to the meal, just send me a PM or hit me up in chat so that I get everything right

I second quakerman's motion!

I love this beauty, let's get her rolling again!

Quite right. Bully

*don's his drill sergeant hat, and stands at attention*

ATTEN-SHUN MAGGOTS! This here is a roll call! If you are still willing to continue, then I need a 'SIR YES SIR' on the double! If you aren't, don't say anything...we'll just shoot ya.

NOW DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME TWENTY!

Still here, of course.

I be here!