The Will to Learn

[Turlingdrome]

Presently with one participant,  here follows the first post of the sci-fi themed RP:  "The Will to Learn".  Please feel free to join in, by reading the premise and posting your character in this thread. So without further ado,

The Will to Learn

The blackness of the Void, pondered by many, explored by some, and understood by none, offset usually by the sparkling stars at unmentionable distances,  is cut through mercilessly by a silvery sleekness propelled by a blinding blue glow.  The silver, in turn, is offset by many spots and scratches, inflicted by years upon years of service that a Searchlight scout is designed to endure.  From the cockpit of this reconnaissance vessel came a transmission, slightly garbled by the vast distance it had travelled as it was played back to a young female Avian sitting on one of the worn-out stools of the APV Subjugation’s command centre.
 
As the continued monotony of her placement on this penitentiary ship had forced upon her the kind of experience with computer consoles that only such monotony can, it was with a reflex-like movement, that carried her hand to an assortment of keys and controls on the far left side of the transceiver board – and seconds later a message was displayed to an officer some distance within the the ship’s centre, prompting him to stand up and walk towards the door, which slid open in anticipation of him, and slid shut when he had passed through.

Moving through the corridors of the vast prison ship in the authoritative way that Avian Falconites (for they did like making fancy descriptions for themselves) are famous for,  this particular 5 foot 8, gray-feathered individual made his way through metallic hallways and junctions, and upon reaching his destination – the office of the ship’s First Officer -  he took a deep breath, and pressed the door control.

After he had entered, and greeted three of his superiors gathered around a conference table along with the intended recipient for the message which he was to relay, he quietly slipped the paper-like report onto the table, in front of the jet-black Ravenite,  First Officer Delne Gishnah, and in doing so allowed the discussion at hand to continue undisrupted.

“Ah yes,  the ... let’s see now, Bonn,  twenty-third reconnaissance report of the day, I think?” she shot menacingly at the Falconite, who was quite keen to leave and had thus started on his way back.

“Well,  the Captain did say that with a fighter complement of about five thousand ... scouting out possible threats is the best defence option we have...-“ he replied, reluctantly turning from the exit.  She was only two ranks above him, and her Ravenite accent annoyed him endlessly.

“Word for word, exactly what ole’ Uevas said, you little suck-up.” But she smiled.  “Come, you’re among friends, and your shift is nearly over. Join us, I’m sure you’d be delighted to hear about the strives in engine development our Lupine comrades –“ She indicated two yellow-uniformed wolves seated on opposite sides of the conference table “...- have made over the past five months.”

“I .. I’m really not at liberty to-“, but he was interrupted yet again.

“No buts, I insist. I’ve already altered your duty roster, you will join us in fascinating technical discourse for at least half an hour, in which time I shall convene with the Captain. There are some course corrections Navigation has been messaging me about that need to be dealt with.”

The aged raven rose from her seat, and her guests eyed her questioningly.

“Trivial matters, I know,  but the Captain enjoys the company,  especially since ... well...”

“Oh Del you really shouldn’t-“, a bright-eyed Lupine interjected.

“Julian I must insist that if you continue to take every last pleasure away from me I shall collapse pathetically into the heap of boredom that service aboard this ship is bound to induce when one’s been here as long as I have.” she said, to appreciative smiles of her audience – she was well-known for her melodramatic outbursts which were never meant, nor taken, seriously.

Not much later, Delne entered the Captain’s office, which was situated on one of the few spots on the ship from which it might be considered ‘elegant’; from most angles it was simply a bulky monstrosity so unfit for atmospheric travel that it put many a mountain to shame.

“Julian at it again ... though it gave me a reason to be excused from those ghastly engineers ... our ‘lupine comrads’ indeed.” she said to the tall man silhouetted in the light of a panoramic window overseeing a distant planet contrasted by a deep orange nebula.

The dark, blue-feathered apparition turned to face the first officer, eyes betraying a moment sunken in deep thought.  Delne had grown accustomed to Uevas Anstondan’s celestial ponderings in the many years that they served aboard the prison ship,  and continued unabated.

“Can’t stand the Lupines, to be perfectly frank.  I seem to remember a slobbering, rabidly growling monstrosity leaping for my neck all those years back...”

“Come now D,” said the raspy voice that emanated from the quasi-Falconite, “the Sentus IV Depression can’t still be the source of your distaste for our recently acquired allies,-“ he took the large leather seat behind his desk. “ I recall attending a certain ceremony-...”

“And how much longer are you going to pester me with that botched marriage two decades ago?” She smiled.  This was the unchanging bickering that had made them so invaluable to each other, and so good a team.

The evening (as calculated by the Avian Time Standard) proceeded pleasantly,  and the conversation, finally, turned to business.

“... and Maintenance complains yet again that they’re drastically short on spanners and all sorts of things – to cut it short,  we need supplies.”

Uevas examined the wall for a split second. “Felaykhii’s not too far out ... we could make for the Denshi trading hub and get restocked in under three days. Think David can hold out until then?”

“He’ll have to” she mused, leaning back in the chair opposite the Captain. “I’ll be damned if he sends another of those festering little notes regarding the need for rubber chickens or a shortage of hydrocubulals or whatnot.”

Uevas chuckled. “That’s settled then.  I’ll broadcast the IPIE* and let Gorchevan know the latest batch of detainees will be slightly delayed.  You warn Gonos down at Supplies that we need the AFC** ready for takeoff.”

“He’ll be pleased – You know how Felines get when they’re deprived the ...” she coughed “... excitement,  if you’d believe it,  of free space travel.” Lazily she rose from her seat, and considered the desk for a moment, upon which stood two empty cups of Komodöan extract tea.
“Well, he shouldn’t get too excited, remember last time an escape pod accidentally fired off during lane travel? We were busy scraping the remains off Deck Fifty for *weeks*.” He groaned at the recollection.

“Luckily it was only a pair of prisoners ... on death row, if I remember collectly?

“Unfortunately,” and his face became serious once more, lined with age, yet bright with the vigor of his words;  for he believed firmly in his principles, “the death penalty was canned two weeks before their scheduled execution ... but three weeks too late.  Lives were lost that day, and I don’t really care if they were innocent or not.”

Recognising that this was a point where their opinions differed,  she simply inclined her head respectfully, and made for the exit. “Speak to you soon, Blue,” she intoned as she passed through the sliding doors.

In her wake, as she left for the bustling Central Avenue of the prison liner’s public area, she left Uevas Anstondan, barely noticing her perfume, with her strong accent fresh in his mind, to  finish his report updates, close up a log, and fire off a few messages to his command attachés.

On a ship the size of the APV Subjugation, the direct control of the Captain over the crew is in effect only during crises, and thus Uevas lead a relatively lonesome existence, quite the way he liked it.

As the gargantuan liner coasted along, past the planet, its course set for the distant trade cluster,  its engines glowed up momentarily,  and the beast seemed to vanish in a violent flash.

Jump complete.

* InterPlanetary Identification Extract
** Automated Freighter Convoy

[PhantomStone]

species: falcon.
discription: for a disc. look in sig. and on side where picture should be
name: "ghost" phantom falcon.
abilities:  armory/ engineering, first aid, can fly, fire bending (for lack of a better term) and sword fighting. swords are still used.
place:  i'm an avian prisoner, taken for not following orders on a misson with the avian special forces, navy goshawks. i didn't follow orders to retreat and leave a defenless ship of merchants get taken by pirates, we survived but one member was killed and i was to be blamed, and forced to answer for my crimes by being sent to prison

ghost sat in her uncomfortably small cell, it smelled, ghost grimaced at the smell, even though she had been in this cell for days now.
ghost was a navy goshawk (a kind of hawk, bigger than a normal hawk and eats fish, in rl, for ppl wondering, it is an animal) of the avian fleet, the goshawks were the peak of the fleet, the special forces, they were relyed to get in take the target down and get out, overwhelming on the front lines and behind enemy lines, a fast elite strike team, the best of the best.

on her last misson, was a horrible reck for her she destroyed her self for it. her flight the goshawks were trying to save a merchant ship of the lupines, it was being raided by pirates they had one of ours hostage they wanted to blow up the ship with crew, the goshawk leader, damian a goshawk, by birth and rank, ordered us to retreat, they wanted to check to see if the wolfs were trying to smuggle weapons into our system, once we learned there were no weapons the piarets showed up, they got jhon and threatened to kill him if we didn't leave, they would take the plunder and kill the crew, she had to stop them she knew that jhon, would have wanted us to save the 30 some lupines crew, so she did, but she wasn't fast enough to save him, he died and she was to be blamed, her title stripped, her gear taken her medals and achivements gone from her, for her actions.

ghost sat thinking thease miserable thoughts, waiting to get to the asteroid feild where she would surly be forced to mine heavy metals, the normal punishment for insubordination, but due to the death of jhon her best hawk friend, his death was her fault, she could be sentanced to death, she didn't know, she looked out the space port hole looking at the countless stars. remembering the times with her friends fellow goshawks in the fight, there names likes and  buttons and there nick names, how they got there nicknames like her own. "did i do the right thing" ghost asked her self, should she have saved jhon, or save the wolfs, even days after the deed was done, she couldn't reconsile with her self.

[Arke]

The DarkStar nearly tore itself apart coming out of the jump, and the main console sparked as the controls rebooted. "Hold on... Just hold on for a little while..." The artificial gravity was offline, so the strap was all that held Arke in place at the console. "Just need to get to that outpost..." An explosion rocked the ship, and Arke quickly unbuckled and kicked his way to the engine room. Outwardly the ship was a wreck; the hull was torn to pieces, several decks were missing, and the port engine nacelle was completely destroyed. The starboard engine was largely intact, but the ships reactor had been damaged and was now on the verge of a meltdown.

Reaching the reactor he found the core containment field had failed, and his only choice was to shut down main power entirely. Reserve had been depleted in the jump, and would only last an hour at best. The reserve batteries could not power life support, and the air was stale before he had reached the ships hangar. He used his wrist computer to interface with the ships mainframe, and sent out his distress call. "Mayday, mayday, this is the LXS DarkStar, requesting immediate assistance. My ship has been heavily damaged, and I have lost main power. My auxiliary systems will last under an hour at this rate, and will not power my life support or propulsion systems. If you are receiving this transmission, I require immediate assistance."

The ship was a small frigate, dwarfed by the prison ship that had just entered the system. He had set his message to loop as long as the batteries were powered, and could only hope the transmitters had not sustained serious damage in the battle with the raiders on that mining colony. Now, his only chance was his mech. It was locked firmly in place with several large metal clamps, and so it was quite easy to get inside. His mech was damaged, but not seriously, so life support and the mechs jump-jets were still online and its core was at full power. So now he waited inside his mech, waiting either for rescue or the hangar lights to go out.

If the lights went out, he would have to chance the void in his mech.

[PhantomStone]

ghost sat in her cell wonder how her sword was doing, avians had been taught from a very early age to use a sword,

'The fact that Avians, unlike the Lupines, Felines, or other Mammals of the Carnivorus Genus, have neither claw nor fang to rely upon in close-quarter combat, they are trained from adolescence to always carry a sword or dagger - a worthy substitute,  many a fallen predator would assert.'

thats what the avians learned for centuries, when avians finally become of age, they got or forged there very own sword, made of the strongist alloy that has ever been discovered titanalloy- 100 times stronger than the metal on th outsides of ships, the absloute strongest stuff in explored space, only avians have ever had the graces of having titanalloy and the slighets hopes of making anything out of it.

when she lost every thing, her stayed with her, in a holding cell of it's own, a sword is the closest thing to your soul you will ever come in contact with, it would drive the person insane to not have in range of her senses no avian would violate the bond between a sword and the partner.

ghost sat in her cell missing her sword, when the entire prison ship turned to starboard, for no apparent reason, and made there way away from the docking platform, out to some empty space...

[Turlingdrome]

The bench creaked complainingly as the gray-coated, blue-eyed Lupine descended upon it, propping his vintage video display unit up against a stack of books.  He delighted for a moment in the tribal music directed at him from it, then, straightening his work uniform as he settled into a more active position.  The screens in front of him, showing roughly twenty camera views of corridors in the adjacent cell blocks, bathed his barely awakened face in a static blue glow – it was going to be a long night’s shift.

Cell blocks C1 to C7 were reserved for petty criminals and other low-key detainees, and was usually guarded over by the ship’s central computer systems,  with JEHOVA security bots hovering around frequently, maintaining order and limiting personal contact with the staff, and the prisoners with their fellows.  It was thought of as additional punishment; psychological effects of temporary contact deprivation were, however cruel, effective to the penitentiary process.

Unfortunately, due to a mass system fragmentation and subsequent breakdown of a few weeks prior, JEHOVA bots were directed to guard over the higher-priority prison blocks as the main computer’s surveillance systems were cut off from the main cores.  All-seeing, all-knowing, and now more than usual, completely absent from the C blocks,  the JEHOVA bots now had a reverse effect on both the prisoners,  and the staff. 

For the prisoners, it meant that they were able to whisper, converse, shout and laugh against, with, and at their peers for as long as there was nobody patrolling the corridors,  which barely happened anyway. For the staff it had less beneficial effects,  they were now limited to manual patrols, unpleasant affairs which were avoided whenever possible, and employing people to keep an eye on the comparatively ancient video-only feeds in the usually abandoned guard offices.  Because the less-than-numerous guard complement of the gargantuan liner was now constantly reserving their vigil for the surrounding complexes, they used community service sentences to keep these offices occupied.

As such, Gander Vindrex,  nicknamed ‘Blue’ by his peers and friends, was to repay the debt to society he caused by jacking into the PERVADE(tm)* network,  by keeping constant watch of the twenty-something screens in front of him.  As can be expected from late adolescent Lupines,  he was doing nothing of the sort.

BLU99:    did u get the message i sent you
DangerHawk_: sure did.
DangerHawk_:whats wrong, you’re not on camera
BLU99:   nawwh, doing penance
DangerHawk_: ur kidding, bytecatching charges finally caught up with u?
BLU99:  sumthing like that yeah,  are we still on for tomorrow night?
DangerHawk_: sure are,  you got the keycard alright?
BLU99:  dude,  come on.  remember  who your talking to, huh?
DangerHawk_: heheheh, thats what i was afraid of.  point taken though. 
BLU99:  lol,  u reckon well be famous or summat?
DangerHawk_: I dunno m8, flying a manpod without even being 21?  Thats gotta be some kinda record
BLU99:  think so, huh? rofl.  I remember the flight manual introduction ... think i got it with me here
DangerHawk_: don’t want to think whatd happen if u didn’t,  i don’t know the first thing about flying,  u?
BlU99: i know a bit of flight controls,  all thanks to the course me dad got me to take ... here:

“Welcome, young aspirant-pilot, to the Manual of Flight for the ArcuTech Maintenance Pod 435-99,  Model Six.  To begin,  please press the button on the side of this device, labelled ‘Commence’....”
DangerHawk_: thats wicked, that is ... gotta cut short, dads home.
BLU99: tomorrow,  info pillar in the main hall.  well take the shortcut at the nursery junction,  the cameras are all out there.
DangerHawk_: we went through this yesterday,  gotta run. Bai
BLU99: bye.

~ User DangerHawk_ disconnected from MetaSpeak

Blue,  rather a misnomer for one whose eyes are the only thing corresponding to the description,  was a nickname meant ironically. As has been stated before,  he was grey throughout, and usually liked to wear either that, or darker tints. In addition to this, another contradiction was infused in this callsign given in comradeship;  the Captain of the prison liner,  a decorated war veteran and ex-Admiral,  was also known by it,  and ambition-wise, to just name an attribute, they could not be further from each other.  Whereas Uevas Anstondan had been a celebrated star student at a number of universities,  having received his first medals at exceedingly young age (incidentally, Blue’s current age,),  Blue had always been known for his apathetic approach on all things academic, and had only ever achieved bare passing grades.  He was certainly not unintelligent, quite the contrary, but he simply couldn’t motivate himself.

Of course, in one other way the irony showed itself, was the fact that the Captain was indeed covered in feathers of a royal blue,  which was the sole thing which had earned him his nickname.

* : A Neural Net-based entertainment network, vastly expensive and the preferred medium for experiencing prime-time MentaGram programs (think of a pre-programmed, advertisement-enabled lucid dream), which Blue used to pirate counterfeit software among other, often shadier wares,  thus incriminating himself when he was found passed out near a Net Conduit Hub,  a shock in his faulty neural implant very nearly causing brain damage. He was arrested after being released from the infirmary,  but no charges were filed.  It was believed that community service would be an apt complementary action to the brush with death that he'd very luckily survived.

[PhantomStone]

ghost saw the force feild weaken slightly, mabey she could get through, and get her sword "it's worth a try" ghost said getting up and checking around for guards and she pushed through the force feild, it hur but she got out, now she casted out sound and found the cell with her sword jungle heart inside, she pushed through the feild and strapped jungle heart to her back, felt just like old times for her,

but that was short lived she heard guards around the corner. so she jumped back into her cell and shoved jungle heart under the bed, just as the guard walked past she streched out looking bored. the guard walked by, she got her sword back and nothing went wrong.

what to do now, she didn't know so she took her sword out and started practicing with it again, she didn't want to kill anyone here, so when they landed she would slip away and never bee seen again,

she had to be careful where she left tho, wolfs didn't mind an avian in there mist but scales never got on with the feathered races, mabey she could slip into a hawkien military position and be part of there military, she was a falcon, but mabey the hawks would be hosptible to a fellow avian, the falcons were the best of the best avians, but below them were the hawks, then ravens, then sparrows, and so on ect.

****** (tomarrow)******

ghost sliped out of the force feild again, hurting a bit, she went to the info pillar in the main hall, using her stealth skills to get there un seen, she got into the data base and looked to find the next stop off this prison, she turned and heard a lupine behind her, he probably could reconize her, he would put her back in the cell, and she would never get out, they locked eyes and ears for a moment.

[Arke]

"So tell me, lieutenant, what happened once you entered the colony." Even rendered in blue and several star systems away, the Vixen was an imposing figure. Colonel Adrianna was a steel-eyed fox and a ruthless tactician. The lieutenant in question was the survivor on board the DarkStar.

"Well, the rebels had reconfigured a mining drill and drove it into one of our scout mechs." His voice was virtually emotionless; LXS teams were always made up of complete strangers. "The drill sliced through its armor, and the mechs core went critical. The blast took out the drill and the mech, and set off a vein of naqadah in the asteroid."

Colonel Adrianna thought for a few moments. "And where were you during all this?"

"I was still near the DarkStar giving support fire. I tried to hit the drill but I could not risk a shot with my particle cannons so close to Griff." Griff was the scouts codename. The lieutenants was Fang. "If I missed I would have put a hole straight through the mech anyway. It did not seem to  be an acceptable risk."

"Agreed. Continue, please."

"I fell back to the DarkStar as the colony destabilized, and I closed the hangar doors just before decompression. No one else made it to the ship. I tried to get the ship away and do a scan of the wreckage, but the rebels had a pair of jumpships in orbit. Without any gunners I had no choice but to jump out of the system. The ship was reduced to roughly sixty percent hull integrity and the core has been damaged, but no systems have been damaged beyond repair."

"We have received mission logs and will grant reinforcements pending further review. I expect that I can trust you to keep the DarkStar operable. Your intelligence was faulty, and you kept us from losing a jumpship to a mining rebellion. Good job, Captain."

As the hologram faded the mutt approached the display podium. "Captain...?" He smiled and adjusted his crimson jumpsuit proudly, the conference room door sliding open before him. Out the window he could see the DarkStar, and the drones working to repair it. The rough frame of the port nacelle was up, and it looked like the engine itself was being installed. Two engineers in void suits directed the two or three dozen drones in their repairs.

The Captain made his way to the officers lounge of the LXS wing of the trade cluster. The company owned the majority of the orbital station, and rented space to vendors at a profit. The lounge was empty, seeing as the mutt was the only LXS team in the system, and he enjoyed the privacy. A holographic viewscreen activated as he entered, displaying the latest news throughout the system, and a few major stories from the rest of the galaxy. The newscaster mentioned trouble in some remote mining colonies.

But he was much more interested in 'The Chef', a prototype IMC* created by LXS's tech division. He called up a simple meal from the terra system; a baked potato, venison, and some type of beans. He watched the news and ate contentedly.

*IMC - Integrated Matter Conduit, an inefficient teleportation system that requires a direct physical connection between transmittter and reciever.

[PhantomStone]

ghost sees the wolf on the ship, hearing him she also felt the ship turn they were docking but she still didn't move, neither did the wolf in front of her