Exiles of Sol v2.0 IC

[Dusty]

2643 Galactic Uniform Time
Deep Space Research Vessel Gullos
Deck 6, Crew Quarters
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Silencer pervaded the sleeping science vessel . The night crew consisted mostly of junior officers and a bare-bones shift in the engineering bay.. The hallways were darkened to save energy and the crew compartments weren't rotated to provide gravity during evening hours when everyone was asleep. There was one exception however, one of the junior suites showed signs of life by way of the faint glow of light seeping from the seal between the bulkhead and the sliding door.


Inside Ramas Eegtias drifted with a personal data pad in his hand. Most of his personal effects were secured by magnets on his desk so they didn't drift off during the Zero-gravity hours, but his normal day uniform floated past him. Though it was generally not a good idea to let objects float for fear of it striking electronics or some other sensitive equipment he was notorious for not keeping a clean room. A habit left over from his Academy and rebel years.


Even though a dirty room might net him some loaded stares from his more senior colleagues it was the last problem on his mind. What was bothering him was a letter he was trying to type. I signed up for six months, but if she knew I would be gone but another four what would she do? I'm not sure even I could wait that long, he sighed to himself. The 'she' he was referring to was his soon-to-be mate he had met at the academy. While she studied cultures and history he had studied Xeno-biology. When he was offered the rather prestigious graduate position on the Gullos he could hardly refuse.


Even though she had disliked the idea of him being gone for six months she had given her blessing and promised to wait he didn't know if she could take what he was trying to type. He had just learned that the program had been extended. They would be surveying systems further out in the arm. All totaled it would be another two months before he returned. She's waited this long why would she pull out now? He thought, as he typed his message, stopped, reread it, then hit the clear button to start over for the seventh time. His eyes were drawn to rotating holographic image of her on his desk. As he watched her slowly rotate in the darkness he felt a pang of home-sickness, not his first one lately.


Sighing he put the pad into standby mode and pulled himself toward his bed. Before he could strap himself in the intercom beeped to life. "Please standby, Hull rotation commencing," the synthetic voice of the computer said in the omni-present galactic standard language.


"What?" Ramas asked to the room before he was suddenly pinned to his bed by the initial inertia from rotation. Struggling back to his feet he tried to calm the his stomach, sudden returns of gravity had never been pleasant for him. Cringing his curved his tail up beside him. It had been caught in a rather bad position between him and his bed. While he tried to rub the pain out his tail the intercom activated again, this time with a living being's voice, "All research staff, we've found something, get dressed, and get to the mess hall for briefing."


Found something? That helps alot, Ramas thought as he let go of his bruised tail and grabbed his uniform off the floor and began dressing.....


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-------------------------
Primary Proccessor Core
ARK-01
1245 GMT 11/27/2204
Days Active: 54,789
-------------------------


>>> Processing cycle ending...
>>> Processing cycle done.
>>> Anomaly == FALSE Stasis == TRUE
>>> Begin data collection cycle.
>>> Collecting data...
>>> Organizing data...
>>> Data collection cycle done.
>>> Begin processing cycle.
>>> Processing data...
>>> Processing cycle ending...
>>> Processing cycle done.
>>> Anomaly == FALSE Stasis == TRUE
>>> Begin data collection cycle.
>>> Collecting data...
>>> Organizing data...
>>> Data collection cycle done.
>>> Begin processing cycle.
>>> Processing data...
>>> Processing cycle ending...
>>> Processing cycle done.
>>> Anomaly == FALSE Stasis == TRUE
>>> Begin data collection cycle.
>>> Collecting data...
>>> Organizing data...
>>> Data collection cycle done.
>>> Begin processing cycle.
>>> Processing data...
>>> Processing cycle ending...
>>> Processing cycle done.
>>> Anomaly == TRUE Stasis == TRUE
>>> Sensor data anomaly detected.
>>> Input data outside of tolerance levels.
>>> Processing data...
>>> Object detected.
>>> Analyzing...
>>> Metallic.
>>> Geometric.
>>> Heat source.
>>> Complex.
>>> Conclusion: Ship.
>>> SECURITY BREACH
>>> SECURITY BREACH
>>> SECURITY BREACH
>>> ...
>>> Accessing protocol file...
>>> Situation classified: 'Meet the Neighbours'
>>> Initiating wake-up protocol: 'Waking Daddy'
>>> Accessing biorhythm monitors....
>>> Assessing status...
>>> Adjusting stasis cycles...
>>> Synchronizing cycles...

[Brome Teks]

Toby was dreaming. His mind idly wandered at an incredibly slow pace, a dream spanning hundreds of years. His thought went back to Oxford, his friends there, the things he learned, the experiences he shared. Pleasant memories. Had his body not been in stasis, he would have smiled.

His thought then turned to his life across the pond at MIT. The professors, the math, the infamous squirrel. Ah yes, he remembered the squirrel. It had caught between two power lines, caught on fire and fused to them, blowing out a transformer, knocking out power to half the campus. That squirrel must have cost the university at least ten thousand dollars. Good times.

His mind gracefully segways back to his time spent on the Cote D'azure. So warm, the Mediterranean sea beckoning him, the sand beneath his feet, the warm which surrounded and flowed through him. The dream became muddled the warmth wasn't his imagination, he was actually waking up.

The tube blinked. "Thawing process complete" an androgynous computer voice said outside. "Breaking seal in 3...2...1..." Toby's eyes blinked open, his vision blurred. "Wha...?" The tube hissed and opened up, depositing Toby unceremoniously into the free fall environment of his particular cryo-bay.

"Woah now..." He clumsily reaches out to try and grab something, his hand banging against a solid protrusion painfully. "Ow! God damn it..." He grasps onto the protrusion and pulls himself close, curling up and shivering "Ooooh... merde..."

+==============+

Ike was working the night shift. At the time, his duty was to re-lay some damaged fiber-optic cable through one of the small tunnels that only one his size could fit through. It was easier to carry the fiber though in a zero-gee environment, so it wouldn't drag against the tube. He pulled it through to the tube and to the destination, nodding his head slightly to the music playing into his ear holes.

He pulls the cord through a small maze of tunnel and makes it to the far end, the hub where the cable needed to go. He pulls the cable into position and detaches the disables one, which he had marked with some blue tape. He lets the detached cable float freely while he plugs in the new one. He latches it in, then kicks off the hub and picks up the old cable on his way back to the tube. He whistles a little and keeps on bobbing his head to the beat, letting it wash over him and keep him from boredom.

He begins to work his way back through the tunnel, pulling the cable along, gripping the side of the tunnel with his micro-setae covered feet. He pulls it all the way out to the other side of the tunnel where he had started, the mess hall. He pulls the damaged cable out of the tube and bunches it up, leaving it floating in midair. He goes over to the spot where he connected the new cable and pushes a small button on the hub there. The light changes from Purple to yellow (Or whatever the bad to good colors are here) as he smiles, another job well done.

He kicks off and uses his wings to stop himself in midair by the old cable. He keeps bobbing his head, the music droning out the boring reality as he begins to wind up the cable to be recycled. He hears a faint voice over the music. "Eh?" he pulls off one of the earpieces and catches the last bit of an intercom message. "-ull rotation commencing."

He looks at the large bundle of fiber he's still holding. "Aww, crap." The rotation sends him flying at the wall (Actually the wall comes flying at him, but meh.).

"Ahhhhh!!" he slams into the wall, the fiber breaking the impact as he gets bounced against the wall and falls to the ground as centripetal acceleration takes it's hold. He manages to slow his landing on the ground...only to have the large mass of fiber-optic cable fall on him a moment later and become unbundled, leaving him tangled up.

He untangles himself and gets out of the mass of fiber. "Grand. Just Grand." He sighs and sets about rewinding the cable on the floor of the mess hall in normal gravity.

[redtail]

I know everything.

I know nothing.

Every time something begins, it eventually must end. Everything any anything in nature is cyclic, because at the heart, everything is consistent of the same matter, the same stuff that was present at the Big Bang. THe same protons, neutrons, electrons. THe same energy.

Energy, the only thing that can neither be created or destroyed...
Einstein had said at one point that human beings would eventually evolve into beings of pure energy, didn't he...?

THe guy was bright, but idealistic. There was no way that biological forms would ever progress that far, not when they were destined to the same destruction and decay that would befall any tangible thing, eventually.

Maybe the statement was reflexive, too. Maybe, just maybe.
Maybe for every end, there was a beginning, as well.

THat was what we were hoping for, anyway. One last desperate shot in the dark, born of desperation and panic. Futility, even.

But that was the past. It happened years ago. We knew we were going to die, all of us. We knew that that was the only thing that could have brought us down off of our pillar of hubris, the sun itself.
We knew we were doomed, and we knew that our only chance was to throw a handful of us out into the cosmos, a seed in the wind from a weed struggling to hold its ground in a blighted field.
BUt the more we know, the more we realize that we don't know.


THe ship was silent, full of nothing but the hum of machines, pump motors, electrical fans, peltier heatsinks, maintenance equipment clattering around. At least, until the computer decided otherwise.
SOmething was outside.

SOmething was always outside, but that something was never anything of the important sort. THis... Apparently, some kind of vessel, most likely.

WHen Kevin's pod defrosted, the middle-aged doctor did what anyone might be inclined to do after a long nap:
Attempt to sleep in.

THe frigid cold disagreed with his disoriented body, though, causing him to lapse into a shivering fit before long, accompanied by a wave of vertigo.
His eyes flew wide open, and he quickly tore off his oxygen mask, extracted the blood-circulation needles in each of his arms and thighs, and tore off the EKG electrodes before drifting out into the poorly lit cavity surrounding his row of stasis pods.

The man shuddered violently, biting the heel of his left hand while the vertigo subsided. Waking up in zero gravity was extremely disorienting for a creature who had spent the overwhelming majority of his conscious life in a constant 0.98 G's.

"Anyone know what the hell day of the week it is?"
He finally opened his eyes, his voice hoarse and weak. Everything ached, everything felt stiff... His body felt brittle, severely dehydrated.

"Hello?"
The sound of another human voice cut through the ringing in his ears.
A male; sounded like one of the engineers, though the voice wasn't clear.
"It's me, the doc. Who's all defrosted yet?"

[Buzzwolf]

A sensor tablet floated gently by the Diedrans head, pulsing gently with the music resounding around the room. She tapped it with a claw tip, nudging it against a wall, where the magnets took hold with a clack of metal on metal.

Neither it, nor the music hardly registered though, as four carbonglass screens floated before her, auto orienting themselves to her in the zero grav. An anomaly had appeared in her data, and she'd been up for the last day and a half trying to fix it. “AGH!” her yell was barely audible over the music pounding in the room as she slapped away one of the screens, only to have it resume it's position a few moments later “There [i]cannot[i] be a HOLE in space! Something has to be there! What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid computer!” she slapped another display away and drifted to the window where another screen was overlaid. The 'void' was still there. “Dammit!” she kicked off the wall, drifting gently across the small cabin, and began typing furiously into a keypad screen “Fine then...Let's try...this” as she hit the execute key, the gravity engaged. The warning had gone completely unheard because of the music blaring. She slammed back first into the floor, her horns digging into the soft matting of the floor and one of the carbonglass monitors bouncing off her muzzle “Owww...that...was not the command I gave...Hmm?” a faint message could be heard over the music, she tapped a pad laying next to her and the music stopped, resulting in an almost painful silence if not for the message being cast from the ceiling

“--nd something, get dressed and get to the mess hall for briefing”

“Fabulous...can you be any LESS specific?!?” she asked the ceiling, trying to sit up only to finally find her horns stuck in the floor “greaaaaaat...”

[Cobalt3924]

Dejah was quietly working in her lab: examining a new plant she’d found on a recent trip. Because of the ships gravity being disengaged: she’d taken the opportunity to examine and experiment with Plant growth in Zero-G Environments.

She was having a look at a slice of the plants leaves: testing its cellular makeup when she was disrupted by the alarm.
<Please Standby: Hull Rotation Commencing.>
“Wait; what? Why are we- AAH!” Was all she managed to say as she landed in a heap on her bed: twisting her tail painfully when she landed.
“Ow! My tail! Why did they…?”
<All Research Staff: We’ve found something. Get dressed and get to the mess hall for briefing.>
“What could they possibly find out here? We’re ages away from any major stellar body…” she muttered to herself: nursing her sore tail and getting dressed into a long flowing silver and white robe her father gave her as a present. After grabbing a mouthful of water and a few fresh fruits from her plants: she exited her lab and made her way down the long corridors to the mess hall.

[Khandnalie]

A hiss and a pop, and the seal is broken, Randle unceremoniously dumped on the ground in front of his cryo-pod. His body lay there, a twisted mess of limbs and stasis support tubes, his chest rising and falling as he succeeded in managing to stay asleep. At the back of his still thawing unconscious mind, he huffed. It would take more than that to get him out of bed. If those buggering bloody nuts thought a cold metallic floor, and a bunch of shouting, and massive bodily shock, and constant hot and cold flashes across his whole body, and shivering, and getting kicked in the side by an engineer would wake the great Randle Patrick McMurphy, they had another think comin'! Except for the kick. That woke him up. He opens his eyes and looks up, his vision focusing on the dangling manly-parts of the helpful engineer who had just awoken him. What a lovely sight to wake up to. He sighs and closes his eyes again, reaching a hand up to rub them, and help smear away the horrible afterimage of that mans tacklebox. "God damnit, lad, put on some fackin' britches!"

"Good, youre awake. I was worried that wed have to run this thing without you. Then wed be screwed." He laughs and runs off to find those pants he had been ordered to put on. Randle sits up and rubs his head, pulling out the tubes at his wrists. He gets to his feet and looks around at all the commotion as people rush to find pants, shirts, and something that makes a bit of sense. He sighs and goes off in search of a drink. After a few hundred years asleep, a mans entitled to wet his whistle. Screw the pants. Hell find his way to them eventually.

[SliceOfDog]

Simon opened his eyes. The world that met him was one of cold patternless steel and opressive metallic greys, distorted through the curved glass of his cryo-pod. He grimaced, and clasped his eyes shut once more. For a moment, his mental disgust was enough to distract him from the physical side-effects of his sudden waking, but then he felt the feeling return to his limbs, and he arched his back and swore as he was siezed by painful cramps in each. His sudden movements ripped wires from his skin, and he angrily pushed open the door to his pod. His stomach lurched as he drifted suddenly into zero gravity. He blinked as human voices and the sounds of others waking in the same manner as him rang in his ears, and he began to make sense of the world around him. Glancing around with bleary eyes, he saw the same dull greys he woke to all around him, with a myriad of pipes, wires and ventilation panels, and he scowled.

Welcome to the future, Simon

[Dusty]

Ramas stifled a yawn as he entered the ship's mess hall. He noted the most of the dozen and a half research staff looked just as exhausted as he did. Except they probably have the added benefit of being woken up, he grumbled to himself. As he took a step he nearly tripped over a half way coiled pile of fiber optic. Regaining his balance, Ramas looked down to see a rather fustrated reptile gaze mournfully as the new thoroughly jumbled wire. “Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't even see you there!” he stammered as the drake turned a rather annoyed gaze on him.


The drama over the fiber optic unfolded the rest of the research staff, roughly twenty in all finished stumbling in and finding seats. An automated serving cart began making rounds serving several varieties of coffee and tea for the wide diversity of digestive systems present......




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ark-01
Cryo Room 1
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


”Please remain calm. Please remain calm. First Echelon wake-up cycle complete. The current Earth Date is November. Twenty-Seventh. 2204. You have been in stasis for fifty four thousand seven hundred and eighty nine days. Meet The Neighbors protocol is in effect. Please obtain clothing from the nearest crew locker. Then please follow the flashing lights to the primary briefing room.”


The synthetic voice issued from two omni-directional speakers at either end of the room. As it talked a sealed panel on the bulkhead hissed and slip into a recessed alcove. Inside the newly revealed locker uniforms, already sized and labeled for each crew member, hung in neatly. The alcove had been environmentally maintained to protect the clothing from deterioration during the long trip.

[Brome Teks]

.o0(150 years, a month, and 8 days...) thought Toby as he let shivered by the handle. He kicks over towards the locker. "Let's see... factor in the thrust of the engines, the mass of the ship, the interstellar medium, time dilation, and a rough guess of any stars we may have passed..." He thinks in his head. "Okay... a rough guess is that we've gone about 200 light years, well beyond the reach of the Sun. With time dilation, it's been about 250 years real time. If anyone on earth was still broadcasting 50 years after we left, however unlikely, we'd be able to hear them..." He sighs. "I'll be able to get a more accurate fix on our location once I look at the computer. A gravitational body could have altered our course, or any other number of things." (Equations have been approved by Dusty, their velocity for most of the last years has been .8c)

He rubs his banged hand as he finds the uniform with his name on it. He slips it on, grateful to feel the sensation of fabric on his skin again. "Does anyone know why we were awoken?" He asks, as he air-swims his way into the briefing room.


+==========+

Ike sighs with frustration as the fiber-optic cable is once again kicked and jumbled. "Great. Just... perfect." He sighs and grabs the pile and drags it towards the nearest table, climbing up onto the work surface so he wouldn't get stepped on again. He pulls off the ear phones and begins work yet again. "This is going to take awhile in gravity..."

When the automated food serving cart passed by, He got himself a small energy drink vial from it, sipping it down to stave the fatigue. He looks up at all the researchers as he commences optic rolling.

[Cobalt3924]

Dejah walked into the Mess hall and looked arond at the rudely awoken and mostly sleep deprived crew before her. She yawned widely and picked up a large can of Energy drink and a Stim-Pack: Sitting down on a chair in the furthest corner. She was a bit shy, so she didn't interact with the crew much.
Unless it involved Plants. In those cases: she was Number One to talk to.

[redtail]

Kevin winced, covering his ears and squinting into the light, as sensitive as he ever was.

"I'll be damned... Five more years and I'm a tri-centenarian."
THe doctor smiles, clumsily acclimating himself to the lack of gravity and crabbing his way along the inside of the compartment toward his uniform and boots.

He dresses himself as quickly as possible, fingertips still numb and making it difficult to successfully operate the zipper on his jumpsuit.
Experimentally, he discovered that lodging himself between two exposed bulkheads kept him still and prevented him from banging his head on the floor. Or ceiling. Or walls, for that matter, as it all seemed the same to him.

"Meet the neighbors? I sure as hell don't like the sound of that. Hey! Does anyone know if our complement of soldiers have been defrosted yet?"

The doctor kicks his way off of the bulkhead, narrowly missing another crewmember and issuing a curt apology before funneling himself into the corridor leading to the briefing room.

[SliceOfDog]

((Edited on request of Dusty))

Meet The Neighbours? Simon thought to himself, and rubbed his temples. Meet The Neighbours... Sounds damn ominous to me.

He held back from getting hisclothes until the (mostly) good-natured scrum around the lockers had dissapated. When there were only a few straddlers searching for their respective lockers, Simon clumsily moved his way to his own, opening it to find only a generic boilersuit-like uniform. He had, against repeated advice, brought his suit, shirt and tie on board, but he realise with ire that it must have been stored elsewhere. He sincerely hoped no one mistuck him for an engineer, but began to appreciate the uniform in the ease of putting it on. Yet heading to the Primary Briefing Room he still felt awkward and out-of-place. As soon as possible he'd try to find his suit, and see what parts he might scavenge for use in a life without gravity. After all, first impressions, in his business, were everything.

[Khandnalie]

Randle floats by, sporting a new uniform and a pouch of liquid, and claps Toby on the back as he asks the obvious question, sending them both flying away from each other. He had to remind himself to kick Isaac Newtons ass some day, this was annoying. He steadies himself and looks over at the man "Wha'ya think we'd be woken up for? We got's us some visitors." He takes a sip from his pouch and nods as if in agreement with what he had just said, and pushes himself off towards the briefing room.

He spins around in thought as his inertia carries him down the hall, carelessly passing by others less used to zero gravity, clinging to the walls as they crawled along. He closes his eyes, running through the numbers on how long theyd have been asleep, their probable fuel consumption... If Murphy's Law worked out here as well as it did on Earth - and he had enough evidence to silence anyone who said it didnt - then he would have a hell of a time getting the propulsion drives back to ship shape. Poor lil' things musta been sweatin' and strainin' to get us up this fast. He sighs as he rights himself in time to glide into the briefing room, looking at the group of the last living humans.

[Buzzwolf]

A couple minutes of prying her horns from the soft matting of the floor, grabbing one of her CarbonGlass tablets and she was on her way to the mess hall to see what all the fuss was all about. Maybe this would have something to do with 'hole' in her sensor readout. she keyed a few more commands into the tablet in an attempt to figure out what it was. no success. "Dammit! What the hell am i missing?! What am I not accounting for?!? hey! watch it!" she'd almost walked into the serving cart as it zipped around the Mess hall "Oh..." She snagged a mug of Tea Made from a mildly sour fruit resembling a blue lemon with thorns all across it's surface. a dangerous fruit to even try to deal with, but worth every bit in the end."Nevermind then..." she looked away toward the ceiling a moment, attempting to pretend it'd never happened. she tossed her tablet on the nearest table with a loud clatter, giving up on the programming for the time as she leaned back in her chair, taking a deep drink from her tea

[Dusty]

Ramas, who had quietly slinked off to a seat as the Drake began recoiling its wire, again. The low murmur and constant whir of the serving bots were just starting to lull him into sleep when a loud clatter rudely shocked him back to
full alertness. He glanced at the other end of the table to see a female Dietran sipping on a cup of tea, a data pad discarded on the table.

"Uh hi, do you know whats-" he started to ask before a amplified voice drowned his out. The murmurs in the crowd hushed as the captain, a tall, thin, bi-ped with dry green skin and two eyes mounted on stalks began speaking again.

"Alright people listen up. I know how you all feel, my XO had to drag me out of my bunk too. About thirty minutes ago the long range sensors detected a ship moving at 80% light speed. It doesn't match any known sensor profiles in our data-base and as far as we can tell doesn't possess and sort of Slip-Space or FTL drive. Its course puts it originating from far beyond assembly space, which tells us we're dealing with a first contact situation." Instantly the mess hall erupted in shouts and conversation as the science crew giddily started to discuss the ramifications of what had just been said.

Ramas couldn't believe it, they were supposed to be in a section of the galaxy that was bereft of intelligent life. Most of the stars were too volatile and none of the planets that could be observed appeared to be life sustaining. Turning to the Dietran again he said, "My god. We're making history."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the humans enter the briefing room a large flat panel display flashes once before switching to a side profile of an alien ship. As the crew settle in the computer begins an automated message. "Meet The Neighbors protocol. Assumes first alien contact is not initially hostile. Designates Simon Mills as mission commander. WARNING: Unknown vessel has altered course. WARNING: Vessel is on intercept trajectory and has overtaken the Ark's acceleration. Intercept in fifty five minutes. Beginning defensive systems warm-up and shake down."

[Brome Teks]

Toby oomphs as he gets sent flying by the pat to the back. He gracefully lands against the wall and kicks towards the briefing room, well used to zero gravity from his time with the ESA. He kicks off of any surface he can until he reaches a chair and grabs a pouch of liquid.

He listens to the computer brief in silence as he sips from the pouch.

Toby blinks. "55 minutes..." He whistles. "Well, Trying to outrun or out maneuver them is pretty much not an option, we're already going at maximum speed unless the engines can give a lot more omph. Their technology probably allows much faster maneuverability and acceleration, we're pretty much stuck moving in a straight line unless we deploy magnetic sails and try to decelerate, but that'd still take far too long..."

He ponders, doing the calculations. "So, they're going to get to the ship, that's a guarantee. What they want is anyone's guess."

Toby looks to Simon. "What we plan to do to greet them, Mr. Mills, Is up to you. I submit to you my full abilities as an astrophysical navigator."

+===========+

Ike quirks an eyebrow and pauses his coil winding about 90% of the way finished. "First contact?" He mutters in his own tongue. "It's been 52 years since the last one..." To anyone else, it sounds like he's chirping and squeaking to himself.

He drinks his energy drink down quickly and finishes winding the cable, finally leaving the bundled coil on the table until the next time the server bot passes by, at which point he puts both his drink holder and the coil into the receptacle to be recycled.

He flutters over to a wall and clings on with his gecko-like hands, crawling towards the speaker to get a better angle to listen to him with. "Lords of Sondis, they're going to need the entire damn crew for this." he mutters again in his own tongue. "Engineering, biology, navigation..." He grins, suddenly glad that he opted to pay extra for a full mechanical counter pressure suit rather than just settling for a clumsy pressure pod that most of his people use.

"I wonder if I can get onto the away team for this..." he mutters again.

[SliceOfDog]

Simon's mouth fell open. First contact... First alien contact...
His experience as a diplomat and his knowledge of the human psyche battled with his disbelief and shock, as he realised any weakness he showed as a leader reflected on the mission, and that commanders should always know. The should always understand what is happening now, what will happen as a result, and how to deal with it when that comes. The problem, however, was that Simon didn't. He didn't even believe in alien life, and he certainly didn't know how to communicate with them, but he had to appear confident. He forced his mouth closed, and looked at Toby.

"Thank you Mr..." He quickly ran through the names he had commited to memory before the mission began "Wilson. Well, as you can guess this is a very... volitile situation. There can be no mistakes, and no rash actions. Yes, we must protect ourselves, but not at the risk of creating tension between ourselves and our potential new allies" Simon reeled off various stock diplomat phrases while he quickly thought how to approach this contact. He began to organise a team in his head, one that would fill in his knowledge gaps while still following his command.
"I would like an analysis of the ship, so I have more knowledge of how they should be approached. If this ship appears militaristic, scientific or religious for example. Meeting a race with a particular emphasis on any of those would affect how we should best recieve them, if indeed they do plan on boarding us. Whenever possible, if we have the capabilities for this, I would like communications established between our ships. It is possible that the vessel is only a scout, they may not even be seeking contact. However, if a link can be established that means we may learn more about these... ah... aliens, and we must learn as much as we can before we meet them properly. Any language experts on the ship should be present, as I predict that will be our greatest boundary. If there are no questions I will attempt, if I may, to organise a 'first contact' team"

[redtail]

Kevin's stomach manages to perform some kind of double-backflip inside the pit of his chest.

Knowing that your entire civilization was likely wiped out some 250 years ago... Or was it 150? Which were they even counting on, relative time or local time? DId it matter...?
Knowing that much was stressful enough. The doctor wiped his forehead, attempting clumsily to snatch a pouch of juice from the container as he listened.
Knowing that there was an alien vessel floating a few dozens of miles... Hundreds...? Not a long distance away, with little to no idea of their intentions, their makeup, their culture or technology...
It was downright terrifying.

CUlture shock could be a scary experience. Things were unusual, transitioning from American culture to a place where men kissed eachother on the cheek in greeting. What if these aliens had a custom of taking a bite out a new friend when they first met...?
Or what if it was something as simple as their technology emitting a high-frequency and high-volume sound wave when in operation, even something that the aliens had no knowlege of? Something as innocuous to them as a bit of exhaust from the tailpipe of a car back home might make it impossible for the last survivors of humanity to communicate... Harm them, even.

Kevin anchored himself against the bulkhead in the briefing room again, wiping the sweat off of his forehead.
The only thing that was certain, was that nothing was for certain.
WHat he did know was that it was a very, very good idea to procure medical supplies posthaste in case they were needed.
A weapon would be nice too, but the only weapons he knew of on-board were recognized as the personal property of the five soldiers stored away. And they were probably still frozen or still thawing out.

Medical supplies first.
He stayed quiet, waiting to be dismissed with the group to collect whatever was available for him.

[Khandnalie]

Randle floated in silence, sucking pensively on his pouch of beer. He pulls out his data pad and reviews what they know about the alien ship... This sucker could put out one pretty piece of energy if they were already catching up to them, and them at 0.8 c. He thinks for a moment before announcing casually to the group "If they have hostile intentions towards us... were already as good as dead. We couldn't hope to even begin to fight them off." He looks around to see what kind of ripple that made, watching everybodies reactions. He knew this ship, and he knew that what he said was true. Anything that could put out that much energy could tear through them like tissue.

[SliceOfDog]

Simon grimaced as he saw the comment cause unnecessary shock throughout the crew. "Thank you Mr McMurphy," he said before the man could continue "Might I ascertain from that comment that this ship appears militaristic in nature? Such observations are of crucial importance at this early stage; we may be breaking a hundred laws and treaties that we know nothing about, and I need to know, with all due respect, whether I should be grovelling or not." He turned again to the remaining crew "Any action or body language may be misunderstood and send completely unintentional signals. We do not even know, if I am not mistaken, whether these aliens will have recognisable biological features, and they may have never seen the likes of humanity before; As such panic is not an option. Screaming and flailing your arms will, I am sure, only exhaserbate the situation, so I would implore you to remain calm. I am confident," stressed Simon, with a sideways glance at Randle "that we can avoid violence with careful monitoring of our own actions"

[Khandnalie]

Randle spins nonchalantly next to Simon and gives as close to a shrug as one can give in space. "I aint sayin' it's no military vessle, Im just sayin' that whether it is or not don't much matter. The energy theyre puttin' out to catch up to us implies that they could prolly wipe us off the map with what could pass for them as a pea shooter. 'Tain't no reason to panic, just means we should prolly not be routin' no spare energies to our defences. Keep all that in the computers and sensors so's we can get some more info on our new guests." He looks rather unconcerned, because he was. He was very good at coming to terms with situations like this

[Buzzwolf]

The Deitran almost spewed her tea across the table at the mention of the 'unknown ship'. the front legs of her chair slammed to the floor as she reached for her datapad. "There is...no way..." a few clicks brought up the main ship sensors parallel to her own readings. the 'unknown ship' looked like a missing puzzle piece that would fit -perfectly- into her sensors calculations. "Well...that...just raises more questions than it answers..." the Deitran scratched her head idly as she looked over the data from the sensors. it took a few more moments for the gears to click before she realized what else had been said. First...Contact? it'd been years since she'd heard about the last one. she was still a little pissed by that. she was supposed to have been on that ship when it happened, but 'complications' had prevented it and she'd been reassigned elsewhere. her eyes when wide and she let out a squeal of delight "Dibs on the Camera equipment!"

[Dusty]

One of the Captain's eye stalks rotated till his eye was glaring at the Deitran, "There will be time for all the press and media gathering after we actually pull this off with out starting a galactic war." With that he looked back down at his personal data pad. "So first off could our chief biologist.... Dr. Uramoz.... please step forward?" he looked up expectantly, no one was moving.

The ships medic stood up sheepishly, "Sir he's still recovering from the burns he got on Malchior 7, won't be out of the regeneration pod for another few days."

"Right then. Volunteers?" The Captain asked. Instantly Ramas's hand shot into the air. This is my one chance! I could actually be on a first contact mission, he thought to himself.

"You, the Akalian in the back... Ramas Egatis. Your officially our first contact biologist. I also need the following crew members to step forward: Kirra, Wingrattle, and Detra. You comprise the rest of our first contact team. Congratulations. Now report to the bridge, I'll meet you their to finishing the briefing. The rest of you are free to go back to sleep." Envious grumbles rose from the rest of the research staff. Needless to say, no one would be sleeping anytime soon.

[Brome Teks]

Toby furrows his brow. "Let's work under the assumption that they're not hostile. Because if they are, we wouldn't stand a chance anyways, so let's just assume that if they're hostile, we're all dead. We should look into other dispositions and examine our options. What if they're curious, friendly, or just don't care? What should we do for things like that? Send a welcoming party down to the airlock? Wait for them to find us here? Play dead and hope they don't notice?

"I personally think we should ask if they can do anything to help us. Who knows, maybe they have a spare habitable world lying around somewhere. Of course, first we need to establish a method of communication. Think it's worth it to start beaming information or something in their general direction?" He looks to Simon. "Of course, it's your call."

+===============+

Ike's eyes widen. "Oh, excellent." He's glad that he took some energy drink. With someone as small as he, it doesn't take much to pick him up. He's once gone a whole week on energy drinks in a college age game marathon.

Ike detaches himself from the ceiling and flutters around the others. .oO(Hmm, I suppose this makes sense. We don't know how big they are, so it'd be useful to have the smallest crew member available in case they're once again Zrackli-sized. Heh, that was a fun movie...) He thinks back to a documentary movie he once watched, regarding the Zrackli's first contact with the galactic community. The first contact team's reaction was quite funny when they saw that the airlock was only a foot across.

"I'll prepare a tool kit in after the briefing, and ready my suit."

[SliceOfDog]

Simon shook his head slowly. "We don't want to ask for help just yet, but the information stream, that is a good idea. We need to be careful what we send, though, we don't want them to know all about us before we know about them..." Frowning to himself, Simon ran through what information would be best to send over. He had, in the run up to the ARK Project, had several conversations about what information to send to an encountered sentient species, but as he never expected it to happen he hadn't committed it to memory. He could remember the Junior Minister of Economics telling him maths was the universal language, but the head of the Teachers Union had wanted to send the Latin Dictionary, and the ex-Minister of the Arts had, predictably, had suggested sending the contents of the Tate and the Louvre, as well as countless scores of classical music. These suggestions however had simply seemed self-serving and unrealistic.
Simon suppressed a groan. In all of his diplomatic experience on Earth, the civilisation he was contacting always knew of Britain, and Britain knew of them, and often shared a language and large amounts of culture. There were few groups on Earth at his time that did not have an open media and trade policy, and those that didn't, the tribes isolated from 'civilisation' in dense forests in South America and deep Africa, could be reasoned with using simple medicines. Offering any medicine to a different species was unquestionable, however, as the reaction to an entirely different biological system would be unpredictable.
"Right... right," he turned to Toby "You mentioned, ah, 'beaming' information. I think to begin with we should send "Greetings, we mean you no harm" in every major world language, including binary and morse code. Begin with English, and then go through the other Latin-based languages. If possible send both audible and logographical versions. Then wait for about a minute, and send it again, until there is a response. Would that be possible, could we recieve information from this alien ship?"

[Brome Teks]

Toby nods. "Of course. If we factor in blue/redshift, then they figure out to beam back a response on a similar frequency, we can work to decipher their language as they work on deciphering ours. Would make things much smoother when they arrive and hopefully are in the mood to talk."

He thinks. "Making a simple computer loop to broadcast and then listen for a response will be easy enough, I'll get right on that." He opens up a new program his console and begins to type a program in to do what Simon requested. That sort of thing could probably be done in less than 20 lines of code. Once he finishes typing it, he links it up to the ship's antenna control system and sets the broadcast rolling.

"That's broadcasting in their general direction now, if they have a reasonable amount of EM sensors, they should be able to pick it up and start picking out the patterns. Now we just have to wait and see if we can detect a response." He leans back in his chair, watching his console screen.

[AlWayZFrE3]

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Rayne breathed slowly and deeply, filling his lungs to the point that his diaphram would go no further, then slowly letting the expanse go. As he did, he reflected on his life. Ninty nine years of dedicated service, seventy nine in direct service of this particular ally of Riharia. The first twenty were grueling, nearly evil regiments of training. Rayne did not miss those days. He did, however, miss the days when he'd been stationed close to Riharia and the occasional mission from home.

That, however, was not something to dwell on. Rayne cleared his mind of those early years, when even his fellow Riharians had insulted him because of his hieght. His 'return from the dead' fixed that, even if most of those years were spent comfortably in the presence of courtesans and weapons dealers. He'd never 'used' the courtesans, however. Rayne just liked the presence of pleasent women. For a the last ten years of his self imposed exile, he'd had four constantly around as maids or servants. Well treated, well paid servants. The pleasent thoughts brought Rayne into a lull, in which he failed to notice the announcement.

Rayne was floating in the very center of his room, almost perfectly so, having used a bed sheet to push off and hold himself mid air until he was comfortably still. But still, his reflexes were honed through nearly a century of training and combat. The hull began to rotate quite suddenly, and though Rayne was both short and agile, he still landed on his side, despite twisting as soon as gravity became a factor. Sadly, he miscalculated and landed on his combat knife, the one he always carried, as was standard for Riharians. It was unsheathed and sharpened to a razor edge, but Rayne landed in a way that he only minorly cut his left hand. He sat up, listening to the rest of the order and watching the blood flow from his palm. The pain was there, but useless currently. No poisons could reach it. It wasn't a heavy wound. The warning system that was pain had no meaning here. Rayne concentrated for a few moments, willing the pain from his hand. When it finally eased away, he licked his hand free of the crimson liquid and stood.

Seeing little need to dress appropriately, Rayne pulled on a muscle shirt, strapped his sidearm onto his urban camo pants, and worked the stiffness of meditation from his limbs. For a few minutes, he just stretched, limbering up for a battle that would never come. Finally, he was satisfied with himself, and walked out of his room towards the meeting place. On the way, Rayne adopted a lazy air, slouching quite a bit. It wasn't that he was angry about the meeting. In reality, he'd been waiting for something besides waiting and standing around while everyone else did everything else. A reason to get out of bed was welcome at this point.

Rayne entered the room and took a shot of overkill, extra strong coffee from the serving cart. The stuff made from Riharian beans was much, much better, and held so many more healthy substances...plus almost tripple the caffine amount. Still, something was better than nothing. Rayne downed the shot as he listened to the briefing, thinking carefully about the different ways this could go as the caffine began to take effect. Due to their overexposure to the stuff, most Riharians could control a sugar or caffine rush to some extent. He downplayed the rush for as long as his body would let him, which could very well last until he got to bed that night.

The Riharian decided to sit at the same table as the Diedran. He soaked up the briefing as it took place, staying calmly out of the spotlight until it concerned him. He wasn't so concerned with the unknown race factor. Riharians had only been brought into the 'alliance' of other races recently, within lifetimes of warriors still breathing. So new species coming into the fray were not so outstanding. But there was another thing. Something that most deffinitely concerned him. "Captain," he said softly. His voice was still young and soft, but the experience gave it an unintentional, heavy air. "Requesting permission to join crew on away operations, sir."

It was likely the first time many in that room noticed him, as he tended to blend into the background. But, as always when he spoke, it was short and to the point. The motive behind it was simple: Rayne wanted to move for a while, even if it was just looking at another ship for a while. Rayne dialed down the caffine high even more. Control would be useful and necissary on this little trip. And if he didn't go, well, he wouldn't have to do pointless excersizes to pass the time. And, of course, at least some part of him was worried about a hostile first encounter.

[Buzzwolf]

The deitran sighed, and leaned back in her chair, staring at teh ceiling, as the captain dismissed her cam job request. it was as though the captain had never had any hobbies of his own "I meant personal documentation, not film crew...it's not everyday you get the opprotunity to get the first known photos of a new species" She said to anyone still listening. when the captain barked her name, she almost tipped her chair over. her heart now racing as the legs slammed back onto the deck, she took a minute to relax, and finished her tea "Aye, Sir" she grabbed her carbonglass tablet from where it'd slid on the table, only just noticing the sec officer as he spoke up. She smiled, seemed everyone wanted to be a part of this thing...though, who could really blame them? she headed off down the nearest corridor, toward the cargobay, remembering where her old suit was stored down there...it was better than these damn bubble suits they give scientists these days...look like a freakin balloon. She laughed to herself and pulled up some data points on her tablet, pouring over the data already collected as she made her way to the cargo bay

[Khandnalie]

The engineer frowns at their quick assumptions before floating over to Toby, tapping him on the shoulder "I think ye might do our friends a bit of a favor, an' send all them transmissions in as uncompressed a format as ye can manage - in my experience, ye cain't see naught but static if ye don't know how to interpret the signal, an' I don't think our friends up their got the memo on how to decode radio signals into audo - atleast not the way we'd send 'em." He floats off towards the reactor control panel to see to his own duties, adding back "An' if I were you, I'd send the stream in pulses - two times, then three, then five, seven, eleven - prime numbers, ya know? That might clue them in that we ain't no floatin' hunk o' metal just shittin' out radiation." He taps up the reactor specs and eyes them over. This baby had held up admirably over the years.... But hed be damned if she didnt need one hell of a tune up. She really was throwing out radiation - not enough to be harmful to the crew... yet... but it made him cringe as an engineer. Efficiency was close enough to wave at the single digits and have pleasant, if slightly hampered, conversations. He sighs and sets about seeing what could be done.

[Brome Teks]

Toby looks to the engineer. "It shouldn't be an issue, I'm sending it both as digital data and with analogue frequency modulation and amplitude modulation. With a simple transistor-diode choke, the signal would be interpreted into sound, so I'm not worried about that. From there, if they figure out that we're sending the same message in multiple ways, they hopefully figure out from the simpler signals how the more complex ones are configured. And I'm not using data compression, that's a given. As for the prime numbers, that's a good idea. I'll set the program to break it up."

He begins to type into the console, changing the continuous stream into a pulse of messages, each pulse repeating the message equal to a prime number.