The Solar Crisis

[Legio de Caesar]

Welcome to the Solar Crisis RP!

A hybrid RP run by the members of Pax Britannia

To join, please visit our discord: https://discord.gg/ACtxX8N

SCENARIO:

The year is 2104, fifteen years since the UNMC victory at the Battle of Olympus Mons, and subsequently, the conclusion of the Second Solar War. Throughout the Solar System, the scars of eight years of near constant war are finally healing. A new development, however, threatens to plunge the system into a hellish conflict once more. On Earth, the recently elected and widely popular Secretary General, Antonio Andreas, has been assassinated while on a tour of the recently rebuilt city of Newer Prague. The prime suspect in the case, a supposed member of the Venusian Central Intelligence Agency, was apprehended shortly thereafter. The hawkish Secretary of Defense, Edward Adler – who opposed many of Andreas’ reconciliation policies – has called for immediate retaliatory strikes against Venus, while the Secretary of Trade, Chen Jie, has pleaded for a calm, measured approach. Skeptical of the purported assassin and their motive, the widow of General Secretary Andreas has offered a reward of $100,000,000 for anyone willing to discover, and apprehend the true assassin. For anyone interested, she has provided the address of her lunar villa.

[Fantrum]

Luna Station, Aldrin City Spaceport Bar

Down on her luck wasnt exactly how Valentine would describe herself. More, between jobs. An Earther by birth, a Venusian by allegiance, and a spacer at heart, Val was never lacking for things to tell new faces when she got going after a few drinks. However, this worked against her now. The slums of Angel city werent anywhere to be if you respected yourself, and even if she'd abandoned a century of family tradition of police work, she had to move on. A jaunt in school gave her a crummy diploma and a halfway chewed master's degree, one she'd never really gotten around to finishing. Still, her stay at school had taught her a plethora of valuable lessons, none of which would help her when she moved to Venus. The change was, in a word, jarring. From the sprawlling, endless urban poverty that covered the western coast of what used to be the Federal Union, the massive towers and floating cities of Venus felt almost abandoned. Two billion people called the planet home, each one working in some way toward a shared dream of turning the silent oven into a new Earth. A goal they were still at least a hundred years away from realizing.

Not that such nay sayer speak was listened to. The exact same process was happening in reverse on Mars, the only difference being that they lived in caves instead of miles high towers and floating cities. That dream was all well and good, but it was boring. And Val didnt do boring for long, being the type that needed to stay animated. Somehow some way she'd found her way into the military. Several far more useful experiences were earned, but that ship had sailed and now Val was here, on Luna.

Tossing back her second shot and ordering a mule to nurse, the woman reflected on the choices that had lead her to this moment. Her latest contract aboard the Kindred Spirit had finally run out and she'd elected not to renew it. As much as she loved working on decades old gas haulers making the run from Venus to mars, she was in need of something more. Something more just needed to present itself before she burned her savings off renting the one room apartment she held to her name on this crappy station. Aldrin city wasnt that bad as far as stations went in the system, the ring stations came to mind. But it's age was showing, and the CN wasnt exactly swimming in cash to update the stained linoleum floors or repaint the chipped walls.

Before she'd realized it, she was working on a second mule. In the Lunar gravity, her golden hair lazily fell down over her face. Back on Venus, she fit right in, blonde hair and blue eyes combined with a somewhat pasty complexion. Given that most of Venus had come from the same stock she had in the Federal Union, it made sense. Being a full impressive height of five foot eleven helped, however, blend in with the spacers she normally rubbed shoulders with. Sighing, Val finished her second drink and prepared to order another.

[Legio de Caesar]

West End Bar and Grille, Mayfair Station, Earth's Orbit.

The last few years hadn't been kind to Niklas, to put it lightly. After leaving the Navy, and discovering his home destroyed, he had bounced around from place to place, never really knowing what he wanted to do, or where he wanted to go. His life was aimless, his only goal being making enough money for the next drink, and the next journey. Now, he found himself on Mayfair Station; a dilapidated, barely functioning hunk of scrap metal hastily built by the UN in a vain attempt to control Earth's ever growing population. This is it, Niklas thought to himself, this is rock bottom.

Looking up from the filthy bar counter, Niklas focused on the holoscreen centered above the bar. The picture that filled the screen was that of Antonia Andreas, the former Secretary General of the United Nations, who has been assassinated some ten days prior. Just as he was about to switch the channel, something caught his attention. Under the picture of Andreas, in bright white lettering, was a message. It read: "WIDOW OFFERING $200,000,000 REWARD FOR APREHENSION OF ASSASSINS." Niklas paused for a moment. Two hundred million is a lot of money, he thought to himself. Enough to pay off his debts. Enough to start again. But what did he know about bounty hunting? He'd flown ships his entire life, not tracked down assassins. He shook his head, and downed the rest of his drink.

"Hey," he slurred, looking up at the robot bartender, and pointing at his empty glass. "Another."

"My sincerest apologies, sir." The bot said in a cartoonish British accent. "But it appears your account is at zero. If you wish to purchase another drink, please return with additional currency. Good day."

Niklas cursed to himself, and got up from the bar, muttering curses under his breath.

Stumbling into the corridor, he checked his holowatch. It had been six days since he had arrived at Mayfair. It was time to go.

[Scotia Flow]

Dock 7, Mayfair Station, Earth Orbit

"Ah finally.", Sethery thought to himself docking into the station, whilst reclining in the pilot seat. His flight in the old rickety ship wasn't pleasant so he was glad he could finally rest. He was planning to go down to Earth to look into the Newer Prague incident, as instructed by the gentleman who hired him back at 90482 Orcus in the Kuiper Belt. He didn't know much about the assassination or his employer but he just couldn't refuse an opportunity to potentially earn so much money.

Sethery was thrown from his daydreaming about living in unimaginable wealth by a sound of someone persistently trying to get into the ship. He lazily got up from his seat and peered through the door window. The man who has previously been fidgeting with the door lock was now staring right at him. He looked drunk but rather confident. Sethery tried to stop him: "Hey, wrong ship!" he shouted. No response. "Guess you're coming with me bud." he whispered opening the door and pulling the drunkard in.

Closing the door and putting his grumbling hostage on the floor, he is unaware what he has just gotten himself into.

[Sovereign Germania]

City of Angels, West Coast of the North American Continent, Earth

“Command to units V-1 and V-2, your target is located in room 7211. The target was seen entering at 1417 Local Time with 4 gang members. The landlord informs us there are 3 residents in the apartment, one female, one male, and one child. Male is suspected to be a member of the gang as well. 6 hostiles, considered armed and dangerous, and 2 non-combatants. You know the company's rules of engagement, gentlemen. Good luck.”

“Wilco, Command. V-3, keep my bird ready for extraction. The locals aren’t gonna be too happy when we bag their little gang boss.” Vicktor muttered into his helmet comms. He tried not to think about the labored noises the elevator was making carrying two men in assault gear and a robotic mastiff up 72 floors. He turned to the other contractor, a man by the name of Davis, at least, according to the nametag on his vest. “You remember the plan?” “Yeah, this ain’t my first rodeo, pal,” was the gruff response Davis gave. The man didn’t seem too pleased that Vicktor had been given lead for the op, but at least he had come to accept it, even if he still grumbled about it.

On the other side of Vicktor stood his hound and the only companion he could truly trust: Maus. The name was ironic, since the K9-07 unit’s height was just at Vicktor’s calf, and was nearly as long as Vicktor was tall if the hound extended its tail all the way. While Davis was just some other guy the Krieg Security & Military Corporation had paired Vicktor with for this operation, Maus had been by his side since the hound was taller than Vicktor, having been upgraded in capabilities as his master was put through the intense military training that was Vicktor’s childhood.

“*Ding* Floor 72,” came the staticy robotic voice from the elevator loudspeaker as the doors hissed open. “V-1 to Command, we have reached floor 72. Holding position at elevator and sending K9 unit ahead for recon.” The two men stepped out of the elevator with their weapons raised, Maus darting between them and down the hall of the dilapidated apartment highrise with surprisingly little noise. Vicktor watched the feed Maus sent to his HUD, the hound scanning the numbers on the doors until it came to a stop at the room marked 7211. Switching to thermals, the AI that made up the dog’s brain overlaid the approximate positions of the heat sources with the floorplan of the room. “V-1 to Command, K9 unit has located the apartment with the target in it. 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, and a living room/kitchen area at the end of a small corridor with the bedrooms on either side of the corridor. Recon has identified 4 heat spots and marked their locations. V-1 and V-2 are now proceeding to the door.”

Vicktor and Davis moved as silently as possible down the hallway, reaching the door to room 7211. The men got into position on either side of the doorway. “Command, V-1 and V-2 are in position to breach. Permission to proceed?” “Permission granted. Take the target alive. Eliminate any other hostiles that do not surrender.” “Understood.” Vicktor looked to Davis, and the two men nodded. “Weapons free. Breaching.”

The rotting wood of the apartment door shattered under the force of the hound slamming it’s entire metallic weight into it, a loud pop and flash of light and smoke immediately following. The two gangbangers that were standing guard by the door were instantly concussed by the flashbang built into Maus, and then fully winded as Vicktor unloaded a taser round into the chest of each of them from his taser pistol. “KSMC! Drop your weapons!” Vicktor yelled as the men sprinted forward, Vicktor with his shotgun out and Davis with an assault rifle in hand as they breached into the apartment. Davis swung right, breaking open the door to the smaller of the two rooms. “Non-com’s located!” Davis shouted to Vicktor as the young woman in the room screamed in terror, holding a crying infant. Maus charged forward down the short corridor through the small cloud of smoke into the main living area, to which the startled gang members responded by opening fire upon the dog and into the entranceway. Maus attacked the nearest armed hostile, those steel teeth going right for the unfortunate man’s hand. Vicktor, having just cleared the smoke, opened fire upon the other armed men, letting the heavy repeating thuds of his automatic combat shotgun clear the room, aiming for non-lethal hits when possible.

The room fell silent except for the yells of terror and pain as the smoke cleared. Davis came up behind Vicktor, and with Maus, they checked over everyone there and searched the remaining rooms. Davis, twisted the doorknob to the bathroom, and upon finding it locked, simply shot off the knob and kicked the door in. “Halt! Do not move! V-2 to Command, I have eyes on the target. Target appears unarmed and not injured… and I think he’s pissed himself.” Indeed, their target, the leader of the local street gang, was cowering and sobbing in the bathtub, having apparently been on his way to take a leak when they breached. Vicktor stepped forward and shot a stun round from his taser pistol into the gang leader before he and Davis tied his arms and legs together. Vicktor hefted the target onto his back in a fireman’s carry as he yelled into his comm. “V-1 to V-3, get that bird to the roof right now!” The men and dog rushed out of the apartment and down the hall to the elevators, slamming the up button as they arrived. The elevator opened with what might have been at some point in the past been a cheery “*Ding*”. The button for the roof was slammed as well, and the doors closed just as neighbors started poking their heads out to figure out what all that noise was.

[Sovereign Germania]

Aboard the ship Gloria, approaching Mayfair Station, Earth's Orbit.

“Pete, you sure you’ve got the hang of this?” Vicktor asked the young man who was assigned to pilot his ship for this contract. “Relax, Vick, I’ve got it. Compared to the air traffic at ‘Angels, this is nothing.” Pete reassured Vicktor.

“Shit!” Pete yelled, the ship banking heavily to avoid another craft that was making a rapid departure from the station. “Learn how to fly, ya moron!” Pete yelled to the oncoming vessel, even though there was no way the other pilot would actually hear him yelling that or the expletives about the other pilot’s mother that Pete was yelling at him.

Pete was quickly silenced however as an emergency message from the station’s security branch was forced through to the ship comms. “Command to Gloria, pursue that fleeing craft. Bonus checks will be provided for your assistance of the station’s KSMC units.” Pete’s frown turned into an excited grin at the mention of bonus checks. “Permission to pursue, Vick?”

“Hell, why not? Let’s add a little more excitement and earn a little money from this flight.” Vicktor chuckled before opening the ship’s internal comms while Pete flips the ship around and guns it after the fleeing craft.

“Davis, prep the EVA gear. We might need to do some boarding actions.”

[Legio de Caesar]

SCOTIA POST

For a few moments, Niklas wasn't quite sure where he was. He was in a ship, yes, but it definitely wasn't his. Taking a cursory glace around the darkened cockpit, he could tell it was an old Consolidated SS. The "Winnebago of the Stars", as an old ad put it. His attention was eventually drawn to the pilot's seat, where Niklas saw a man scanning over the controls. Getting up from his position on the floor, he stumbled into the front passenger seat.

"Weegh- wee ah pa? Ze goi to leeewna?" he mumbled towards the clearly frightened pilot, who just stared back blankly. Becoming agitated, he turned over and tried to get some sleep. The man who's ship he entered clearly didn't mind him being there. Or so he thought.

Niklas had just dozed off to sleep when he heard shouting and commotion from in front of the ship. Looking up, he saw the ship's owner gesturing to several station security guards through the cockpit window. Cursing to himself in semi-understandable English, he hit the owner over the head with a nearby glass bottle, and shoved him into the stowage compartment.

Niklas had never flown an SS, let alone while drunk, but he knew the reputation of hired security on stations like these, and he wasn't about to surrender easily. Taking a seat in the pilot's chair, he glanced at the dash. The ship wasn't in good shape. Several warning lights that were obviously lit had been taped over, the temperature gauge read "OVERHEATED" and the fuel gauge was completely missing. It'd have to do, he thought to himself. Sealing the docking hatch, he disengaged from the station, narrowly missing another ship as he pulled away.

[Arrstotzka]

Avenue 23-B, Aldrin City, Luna Station

Upon idle pavement, a lone glowing roll of white and orange fell. As sparks sputtered from its end, it was squished beneath the black heel of a boot, extinguishing its meager embers, suffocating its life with a hiss and crunch. He had resolved not to indulge in another for the night, even if his face still stung.

Looking down the street, a gargantuan street sweeper approached with pace, steam spewing from its every orifice as it huffed and puffed. Lights of blue and pink danced in the night, snatching the attention of every possible consumer. He always preferred the pink lights, and as thousands illuminated his inky curls of hair, TJ let a slight grin crawl under his nose. The blood that flowed from it had become dry and caked like a crimson mustache. So too had the cut on his forehead ceased its spillage. These were the stamps of an unsuccessful night of pickpocketing at the Club Premiere.

Unsuccessful, to him, meaning that he had failed to pull in more than an entire chest's worth of goods. Most nights he was able to make off handily with enough to feed himself for months. Tonight was not one of those nights, as it had swiftly concluded with the interlinking of two fists with his face, followed by his removal from the club as the owner threatened to call the police. Not that the police did much a thing out here, anyways.

A man who lived day to day, TJ treasured the rare occasions where he was truly at ease. He always sought out to live in the present, as the past was far too... blackened. Besides, he already saw enough of it in his nightmares. Many were the nights he'd thrash his way through the terrors of zip ties and the torrid cargo containers only to awake in his bed, doused in fresh sweat. There was some otherworldly relief in the moment he realized these horrors were but dreams, followed by some unseen longing to return to Earth. He rarely pondered whether he'd ever wish to see Saint Didicus again. There wasn't anything left for him there, but he fancied the possibility of making something out of nothing.

Crossing the street, the artificial lunar air whimsically brushed on his face, cooling his mending gashes. Figuring he could call it a night and top it off with a drink, he set foot within the Spaceport Bar and scanned the almost vacant room as he always did. Searching with his jade eyes for the exceptionally complacent - easy targets - and the exceptionally inebriated - even easier targets - he made for the bar. Disrobing his sable microfiber jacket from its collar and revealing a simple red button-down, he covered a seat with his coat before noticing but three seats down a hunched figure with blonde hair that glistened beneath overhead lights. He couldn't tell what she was downing, but he always got a slight kick out of surprising himself with the unfamiliar.

"Whatever she's having." His voice flowed like a hearty bourbon as the bartender reached beneath the counter.

[The United Helios Assembly]

Posted using the wrong nation, ignore.

[Sovereign Germania]

SCOTIA POST

Police Assault in Progress

"Keep flying, Pete! I'll force open a comm line." Vick yelled as he rapidly inputted the correct security codes before picking up the microphone and broadcasting to the fleeing craft.

"By order of KSMC and the Mayfair Station Authority, halt your vehicle at once!" As he spoke, Command presented the list of legal charges the craft was being logged for.

"You have been found in violation of multiple docking and flight protocols, as well as reported kidnapping and theft of a private spacecraft! Halt now, or force will be used to bring you into custody!"

He paused for but a split second, thinking on how to resolve this shitshow he found himself in. "Davis, change of plans. Get up here and man the weapons console." "Wilco, heading up now!"
"Pete," Vicktor said as he turned to the pilot. "Try and match speed as best as you can. I know this baby isn't built for acceleration but we need to be as close as we can get."

Davis rushed into the cockpit and got into one of the two weapon controller chairs. "Guns up, boss. Orders?" "Davis, prep the Mag Harpoons and get ready to hook our catch. On my command."

Davis activated the turret, taking the joysticks and aiming the Magnetic Harpoons so that the fleeing craft was right in his sights. "Locked and loaded."
Vicktor nodded, speaking into the comm line to the other craft. "You have failed to cooperate with our orders to halt your craft voluntarily. Force has been authorized, and you will now be boarded."

He turned to look at his gunner. "Davis... Fire." With the pull of a trigger, Davis fired off a pair of harpoons right at the rear of the other craft.

[Legio de Caesar]

The last thirty minutes had had a sobering effect on Niklas. He was alert, focused, and keenly aware of the trouble he was in. He was now being tailed by a private security ship, and he wasn't all that confident in the capabilities of the piece of junk he was flying. Cracking his knuckles, he accessed the ship's hyper-nav database. His ship was low on fuel, so he had to make his one jump count. Scanning through the database, he selected the option for Luna. It might not be the safest destination, but his contacts on the moon could keep him safe, at least until the heat died down.

Confirming his option, Niklas began spooling up the ship's accelerators. As he was preparing to jump, his ship shook violently. Glancing through the airlock window, he could see that the private security ship, now right behind him, had attached to his ship using two magnetic harpoons.

He cursed under his breath. He he wasn't about to give up so easily. bracing himself, and hoping his ship had enough power to jump, he slammed down on the launch control and waited.

[The Grand Peruvian State]

Beep beep beep beep beep beep

"Ugh, puta madre . . ." Castilla groaned.

The young investigator lifted her head from the covers, her frizzled hair sicking to her cheek as she did so. memories of the night before rushed back to her, she had been at a party celebrating the capture of one of Lima's most dreaded crime lords, Condorito Rojo, who had basically held the the Lima space port hostage for the last 12 years. Now that he was soon to be behind bars, probably for life, the Lima City Police Department decided it needed a little celebration to mark the occasion. Castilla, having been a part of the team which finally brought him in, was more than happy to celebrate such a momentous occasion. In hindsight, she might have let herself party a little too hard, barely able to remember the night.

She flung her feet over the bed and after a quick moment of dizziness, realized she wasn't wearing any clothing. It wasn't like her to not wear anything to bed, but then she looked over her shoulder and realized what had happened. Two people laid in her bed, a man and a short haired woman, both holding each other in a cuddle. Castilla didn't know then, which was a relief.

"Shit" she said under her voice, realizing she had slept with two entire strangers. Chastising her dunk self for being so damn careless, she realized how weird it was going to be having to wake them up, which she should probably do soon if she was to get to work on time . . .

"SHIT!" she shouted. Her clock read 10:45 am. she already 2 hours late.

Castilla jumped from her bed.

-----------------------------

Castilla practically sprinted from the mag-train the moment the doors opened. She hated taking public transport, but in her rush to get out the door that morning she had forgotten her keys and didn't hav the time nor inclination to go back up to her apartment to fetch them. Atleast she had remeberd to push her two 'lovers' out the door. As she darted across the train platform, she caught sight of the Lima PD building in the distance, a massive holo-image of the departments symbol spinning slowly above it. She weaved through the crowd, some huddled to the side the street, looking at the massive news screens covering the walls of the building on the main street. This gave her the respite she needed to get to the building without bumping into or knocking someone over.

Finally she arrived at the precinct, barging through the doors huffing and puffing from her run, her lungs burning from the less-than-clean Lima air. Expecting her director to be waiting form her she began to plead.

"I'm sorry, sorry, hangover go the better of . . . me . . ."

Castilla looked up, realizing the lack of noise and commotion in the building. The lobby was empty. Her eyes darted around, put off by the lack of people. her ears caught the fair sounds of a TV in the distance. Eventually she found the rest of the precinct, gathered around a large viewing screen.

"What's going on?" she asked no on in particular as she approached the group. Looking over the others to the screen, easy with her 6 foot height, she saw a headline she thought would never come, as if her morning hadn't been bad already.

"The Secretary General is dead."

[The Grand Peruvian State]

"I haven't done anything wrong! What did I do- aaugh!" screamed the man as Castilla tightened his restraints.

"Cierra la boca, no me jodas! Yo hago las preguntas!" She responded, falling back into her mother-tounge from her stress.

Castilla forced the man into her squad-ship. It had been 10 days since Secretary General Andreas had been killed, and in those 10 days Castilla had arrested more Venusians than she had in her entire life. Talking with the veterans of the department, she learned that this was unprecedented; even during the war fifteen years ago there had never been so many Venusians arrested, ever. These people weren't criminals either, simply normal citizens many of which with no connections to the Venusian military or intelligence agency.

These orders for arrest weren't from her department, however. They were coming all the way from the top at the Department of Defense, bypassing the need for a warrant. It put Castilla off, but she new orders were orders.

As she loaded into her vessel, her radio hummed to life with a call.

"Agent Investigator Intina, who is this?"

"Ms. Intina, get back to the precinct as soon as possible."

[The Socialist Republic of Astrakhan]

The Signal

Ms. Intina went to the control room to receive signals from the terraforming planet colony R.P 76MN. Meanwhile , a company of Vanguard Corps received the signals and responded

Guard '' Hello ma'am , why have you sent a signal''
Intina '' Um , actually our spacecraft is facing an acute electricity shortage , without which we can't travel.''
The Guard accepts the response and goes inside the planting station , where he is posted. He gives orders to Mr. Longbecker to send a spacecraft to fuel the stranded spacecraft.

Legio de Caesar responds to the call and says '' Iam no Julius Caesar , and I will be able to handle all the problems , meanwhile just relax and I will send the spaceship''
The Assasin was actually hiding in Ms. Intina's compartment , he forces her to steer the spacecraft to PlanetX45. Suddenly , the Assasin tried stabbing her in the back upon reaching X45 via a wormhole. But Intina ejects the Assasin into space and he is killed.

Ta -Da! , the end of the R.p .The Assasin is killed and the The Solar Crisis R.P is over.

[Fantrum]

Bababooey

By the time another poor unfortunate soul had drifted into the dead end bar at the end of nowherevill, Luna, Val had emptied another Mule and a shot. She wasnt drunk by anyone's definition, certainly not her own, but the pleasant warmth that loosened her tongue was swiftly spreading through her body. By her measure, she was buzzed, but could still use a few drinks before crossing the finish line to drunk. A stint in the Venusian navy and later marines had seen that her tolerance for alcohol was among the greats. Using your liver as a punching bag to forget problems you faced in life wasnt a uniquely military venture, but being able to function as an adult while doing it certainly was.

As far as she was concerned, going shot for shot with far larger navy men than herself then spending the next day working together to run a space ship was just a skill you were required to possess in that line of work. That said, her instincts told her this guy was trouble. At a glance, his face was beaten to a pulp, and he held himself with an air of confidence and suave self assurance. His clothes told a hard life living day to day, and the look deep in his eyes said he'd seen his fair share of horrors. That wasn't to say he was gaining her sympathy, merely that she needed to keep her eyes on him, like you might a snake that was too close for comfort. This was the moment, she could engage, or she could simply huff him off and go back to her drink and self pity. A heartbeat, another. She took in the nearly empty room around her, and sighed under her breath. It must have been the alcohol steering the ship, because she took a drink, and loudly said, "What, you lose a fight with someone's boot?"

Normally, she'd be on the receiving end of a far more intrusive invitation to socialization, which warranted a bitter tongue and a snappy insult. This one hadnt interrupted anything of hers, and really hadnt committed to her, but in times of struggle and inebriation you tended to fall back on what you knew. And come on, old hamburger face was asking for it.

[Arrstotzka]

Bezowdoobop

His shoulders slumping as he began to deflate, TJ watched intently as the watery fluid swashed into his glass. Its sound climbed in its pitch as it filled quickly. He only sat and stared into it, pondering possible reasons why he always felt attracted to the foreign. He fancied most surprises, and while his nose no longer could withhold for him the scent of the shot, he was confident he'd be in for one. A smile almost formed under his chapped lip before the stranger's words passed his almost clogged ears.

Their gazes connected and his pair of greens met a duo of blues. In a face slightly paler than most, he reasoned the woman to be around his age, but possibly older. Between locks of gold, he almost thought he saw her azure eyes squint in bewilderment at the sight of him. Deep behind them TJ sensed ambition emanating from within - courage, resilience. But her composure displayed more of a malaise of uncertainty. Uncertainty for the future, uncertainty of where to go next. But then again, she didn't seem too worried about it. After all, she must have comfortable enough to try and converse.

A chortle escaped his nostrils. A boot? He almost laughed as he grinned at the thought of having his teeth violently kicked in. "I've had worse. What's it to you?"

[The Socialist Republic of Astrakhan]

His shoulders slumping as he began to deflate, TJ watched intently as the watery fluid swashed into his glass. Its sound climbed in its pitch as it filled quickly. He only sat and stared into it, pondering possible reasons why he always felt attracted to the foreign. He fancied most surprises, and while his nose no longer could withhold for him the scent of the shot, he was confident he'd be in for one. A smile almost formed under his chapped lip before the stranger's words passed his almost clogged ears.

Their gazes connected and his pair of greens met a duo of blues. In a face slightly paler than most, he reasoned the woman to be around his age, but possibly older. Between locks of gold, he almost thought he saw her azure eyes squint in bewilderment at the sight of him. Deep behind them TJ sensed ambition emanating from within - courage, resilience. But her composure displayed more of a malaise of uncertainty. Uncertainty for the future, uncertainty of where to go next. But then again, she didn't seem too worried about it. After all, she must have comfortable enough to try and converse.

A chortle escaped his nostrils. A boot? He almost laughed as he grinned at the thought of having his teeth violently kicked in. "I've had worse. What's it to you?"

[Fantrum]

Badabing

Yes, he was a bold one. Obviously the man knew his way around seedy bars, not surprising really, given that this particular establishment was one such location. "Whats it to me?" She tried, giving herself time to take a closer look at him. Her initial impression of him still stuck, he was an ally cat through and through. But like her, he was far shorter and more firmly built than someone who'd been raised at less than a full Earth gravity. That made him an Earther. She polished off her latest shot and set the glass down lightly, deliberately taking the time to form her thoughts. "You're from Earth," Luna had a large population of natives, but being the first stop into the wider system, it also held massive transient populations of all walks moving from place to place. Primarily ship's crews and people on some kind of business. "But unless youre a pirate youre not flying with anyone, and youre not rich, unless you enjoy wearing potato sacks and dive bars." She waved to the barkeeper for another drink and tapped her chin with an index finger, "So what are you doing on Luna? I thought Eros was where the downtrodden went to fester."

Deep down, she knew she was wasting her time even speaking to the street trash, but what else was there to do? She could go back to her broom closet and drink, or she could keep drinking here and wallow in her self pity. No, better to share in pain like this. Blasting a random stranger with her powers of guessing was just something to pass the time, and it was mildly enjoyable, and that was a step in the right direction. "If I didnt know any better, Id say you remind me of home."

[Arrstotzka]

Hamogogonga

This one certainly had a way of reading people about her. A deep breath of musty air entered his nose as he further took in his surroundings. Cheap neon lights buzzing behind him, the occasional flicker of the lantern above him as it hummed. It was all punctuated by her remarks. He never really saw places like these as dive bars. Her remarks were rather on the spot. An Earther, he reasoned his own physical disposition must have at least clued her in. The woman, too, bore the proverbial marks of the dirty planet. He wasn't positive she was shorter than him, only seeing her seated across the bar, but he felt slightly confident that his height would triumph should they both rise from where they sat.

The longer they faced one another, the more he picked her apart. That look of conversational analyzing, a knack for the bottle, and the teeming suspicion that she barely gave away in her demeanor all pieced together. TJ knew a hefty amount of ex-military folk, and she may have just made the mold. But that was a question that could come later. He raised his fingers to itch his scalp between his dark strands, all the while composing some kind of answer. To say he didn't really want to think about why he had ultimately wound up on Luna was an understatement. Alas, the question came up often enough in conversation with others that he had almost begun to repress it. "I don't even remember sometimes. Sure as hell not on this rock through any choice of my own."

He almost was perplexed by her appearance. Undoubtedly, she was of Earth. Home, she said? "Say, where is 'home,' anyhow?"

[The Socialist Republic of Astrakhan]

This one certainly had a way of reading people about her. A deep breath of musty air entered his nose as he further took in his surroundings. Cheap neon lights buzzing behind him, the occasional flicker of the lantern above him as it hummed. It was all punctuated by her remarks. He never really saw places like these as dive bars. Her remarks were rather on the spot. An Earther, he reasoned his own physical disposition must have at least clued her in. The woman, too, bore the proverbial marks of the dirty planet. He wasn't positive she was shorter than him, only seeing her seated across the bar, but he felt slightly confident that his height would triumph should they both rise from where they sat.

The longer they faced one another, the more he picked her apart. That look of conversational analyzing, a knack for the bottle, and the teeming suspicion that she barely gave away in her demeanor all pieced together. TJ knew a hefty amount of ex-military folk, and she may have just made the mold. But that was a question that could come later. He raised his fingers to itch his scalp between his dark strands, all the while composing some kind of answer. To say he didn't really want to think about why he had ultimately wound up on Luna was an understatement. Alas, the question came up often enough in conversation with others that he had almost begun to repress it. "I don't even remember sometimes. Sure as hell not on this rock through any choice of my own."

He almost was perplexed by her appearance. Undoubtedly, she was of Earth. Home, she said? "Say, where is 'home,' anyhow?"

[Scotia Flow]

oof ouch owie

Sethery was awoken from his involuntary nap when his ship, now piloted by a man he tried to kidnap approximately 40 minutes ago, shook to the core.

He stood up and stumbled across the ship towards the pilot and co-pilot seats. He sat into the co-pilot seat and strapped himself in.

"Oh, hey, uh.."

"Shut up for a moment, I'm trying to get us out of the situation you dragged me in. There Is A Private Fucking Military Contractor Ship Harpooned To Us. "

The man sounded considerably more sober than when he first encountered him. He tried to ask what's his name was but was interrupted by an announcement by the ship's computer.

"COMMENCING JUMP"

The ship harked itself forward a bit and entered into jump speed. Sethery was amazed, he didn't think his, or well, currently the man's ship was capable of jumping, especially after his experience from the journey to Earth. He scanned the dashboard. They were travelling to Luna, so he leaned back in his seat and tried to ignite conversation again. Even if he didn't like talking to people much, it seemed this previously drunk man is going to be his companion for a while.

"So yeah, my name's Sethery. What's your name?"

"Niklas. Niklas Novotný." the man said, slightly agitated

"Sorry about the whole um, kidnapping and uh, getting chased by mercs thing."

Niklas stayed silent. Sethery cringed at himself and pulled out a bottle of beer from under his seat. This was going to be a long and awkward hour.

[Legio de Caesar]

We wuz back and shieeeet

Niklas did his best to ignore his new travel mate, and cursed himself under his breath for not locking the door to the cargo bay. Once he got to Luna, he could ditch this ship and it's owner, and disappear. The jump, it seemed, had worked, and they could expect to be there any minute. Glancing over his shoulder, Niklas' heart nearly skipped a beat. Attached to his ship, some twenty feet behind, was the vessel of the mercenaries he was attempting to avoid. Cursing out loud, he turned to Sethery.

"Well, what should we do?" He said, in a panicked tone.

Sethery just stared back. "I donno, you're the pilot."

"Right, well, it's been awhile, so we might be a tiny bit fucked. Let's hope this wor-"

Niklas was interrupted by a bright red flashing light on the ship's dashboard. The female voice of the ship's nav computer then came over the intercom.

"WARP EXIT IMMINENT. PLEASE PREPARE TO RETAKE CONTROL."

Niklas barely had time to turn back around in his chair before their ship jerked violently out of warp space. The ship's nav computer was defective, it seemed, as while it had brought them to Luna, it had also deposited them in the middle of a large debris field. Niklas barely had time to curse, before they narrowly dodged a large piece of space scrap, the word "Ilmarinen" painted on it's side in faint white lettering.

"Look at the radar!" He yelled to Sethery. "I need you to guide me out of this shit show!"

The man nodded, and pulled up the radar screen in front of him.

"Uhhh, okay! Now you wanna go right! No, not that right, the other right! There, now, once we get to the large phallic object, go under it, and then I think we just keep going straight!"

Niklas followed his instructions closely, and miraculously, they made it out of the debris field.

"Wow," Niklas said, "I can't believe we actually made it. You know, maybe I DO still got it."

"Well," Sethery said, staring out the window. "you, uh, might want to rethink the whole 'made it' part. Look."

Niklas glanced over Sethery, and immediately noticed that their ship's right engine was completely missing. Looking back at the control panel, half a dozen warning lights flickered on, and they were rapidly losing speed. Once again opening the nav computer, he scanned Luna for the nearest city. There was one, and only one, it seemed, that could be reached in time. Aldrin City.

[The Socialist Republic of Astrakhan]

In Aldrin City , something new happened. Niklaus found himself in a large city filled with extraterrestrials from all parts of the galaxy. The city was filled with a lot of stores and everything to do. Niklaus had a job to do , ''tring tring tring..'' a sound came over from his phone. It was his senior officer - Ravi Saravanan , who had pinged him. Ravi Saravanan had recruited Niklaus to find a smuggler hiding within the city. Sethery said '' What happened Niklaus , your face seems to be dull.''. Niklaus told the reason and both went off to find the smuggler , using GPS. The smuggler saw Niklaus and immediately recognised him , he tried to run away.

Niklaus and Sethery dashed after the smuggler and chased him down the 15th street. It was an alley , as Sethery tried to shoot the smuggler with his hand gun ; two extraterrestrials tried to hold him back , but Niklaus rescued his friend by fighting them back. ''Do not let him board the hijack ship!'' , shouted Niklaus. Sethery sprinted and caught hold of the smuggler. A fight ensued between Sethery and the smuggler , he punched him in the face. Two policemen dragged both off and asked them what was the reason for their fight , Niklaus said '' I am Niklaus Roberto - Commisioned Officer working for the Vanguard Corps.''

[Scotia Flow]

We wuz back and shieeeet

"Large phallic object"

With the merc ship still stuck to them, they were now approaching Aldrin City. The glass dome shined in the now barely flying ships' reflectors. And it was getting larger. Fast.

"There!" Sethery called out, pointing to one of the larger cargo docks he could see. "We could land on there safely even with the PMCunts stuck to us."

His travel buddy replied "Oookay, let's try that, but if we die, it's on you."

As Niklas tried get the ship level and slow it down, the ship computer had a yet another very important announcement.

"PULL UP. PULL UP. TERRAIN."

They were now only about 20 metres off the ground and still quickly approaching the cargo dock entrance. There was one problem. Being a cargo dock, it was a bit higher off of Luna's surface than regular docks and there was a pretty high chance they'd slam into it.

"C'mon, c'mon..." Sethery muttered under his breath whilst Niklas tried his best to fly the ship into the dock entrance. He braced himself. The ship flying slightly sideways just got in. If it wasn't for the lack of the right engine, it would've most likely exploded in a fiery ball of doom. Sethery wanted to cheer and high-five his travel-mate, but his joy was quickly shattered when he looked back. The mercenary ship was still with them.

"I am going to get my shotgun, you land this wreck, 'kay?" He said to the focused Niklas at the ship's controls. He didn't reply.

The storage compartment was a mess. Sethery rummaged around in the fallen storage containers but with no luck. While walking out, he almost tripped on something. He looked down and there it was. His shotgun. Broken in half. He picked it up anyways, knowing there was a repair kit somewhere in that mess behind him, and made his way to the front of the ship. Niklas has miraculously managed to land in the empty cargo dock without alerting any security and was getting up from the pilot seat.

They both got out of their ship and walked toward the ship of the PMCs. They stood quietly in front of the ship's door. Sethery looked at Niklas and nodded. He nodded back. Sethery was about to take the stock of his shotgun to swing at any coming out mercenaries but then he remembered he has a pistol. Pulling it out of his holster, he was prepared. Half of shotgun in his right hand, pistol in his left. He glanced at Niklas. He was staring at him, bewildered and confused, then he shook his head and pulled out a pistol of his own. Neither of them knew what would happen but they were ready.

[The Socialist Republic of Astrakhan]

Niklas did his best to ignore his new travel mate, and cursed himself under his breath for not locking the door to the cargo bay. Once he got to Luna, he could ditch this ship and it's owner, and disappear. The jump, it seemed, had worked, and they could expect to be there any minute. Glancing over his shoulder, Niklas' heart nearly skipped a beat. Attached to his ship, some twenty feet behind, was the vessel of the mercenaries he was attempting to avoid. Cursing out loud, he turned to Sethery.

"Well, what should we do?" He said, in a panicked tone.

Sethery just stared back. "I donno, you're the pilot."

"Right, well, it's been awhile, so we might be a tiny bit fucked. Let's hope this wor-"

Niklas was interrupted by a bright red flashing light on the ship's dashboard. The female voice of the ship's nav computer then came over the intercom.

"WARP EXIT IMMINENT. PLEASE PREPARE TO RETAKE CONTROL."

Niklas barely had time to turn back around in his chair before their ship jerked violently out of warp space. The ship's nav computer was defective, it seemed, as while it had brought them to Luna, it had also deposited them in the middle of a large debris field. Niklas barely had time to curse, before they narrowly dodged a large piece of space scrap, the word "Ilmarinen" painted on it's side in faint white lettering.

"Look at the radar!" He yelled to Sethery. "I need you to guide me out of this shit show!"

The man nodded, and pulled up the radar screen in front of him.

"Uhhh, okay! Now you wanna go right! No, not that right, the other right! There, now, once we get to the large phallic object, go under it, and then I think we just keep going straight!"

Niklas followed his instructions closely, and miraculously, they made it out of the debris field.

"Wow," Niklas said, "I can't believe we actually made it. You know, maybe I DO still got it."

"Well," Sethery said, staring out the window. "you, uh, might want to rethink the whole 'made it' part. Look."

Niklas glanced over Sethery, and immediately noticed that their ship's right engine was completely missing. Looking back at the control panel, half a dozen warning lights flickered on, and they were rapidly losing speed. Once again opening the nav computer, he scanned Luna for the nearest city. There was one, and only one, it seemed, that could be reached in time. Aldrin City.