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Majestic [IC, M]

The realms with a strong focus on technology. These are the realms of Science Fiction/Fantasy, Cyberpunk, Steampunk, and their ilk. Examples: Star Trek, Borderlands, Neuromancer.

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Business Narwhal
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Majestic [IC, M]

Post by Business Narwhal » Mon Jan 08, 2018 11:24 pm

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Cast
Rick as Tatloani, the Captain from Kayatol
Georgeanna as Nyx, the Intelligence Officer from Nyeusi
Kookaburra as Artemis, the Medical Officer from Esik
Palacia as Kirble, the Navigational Officer from Chollima
Joule as Nat, the Publicity Officer from Nakthiav
wadjet as Phine, the Science Officer from Kijivu
Śaraṯkṣati as Thirty-Six, the Security Officer from Falzers 2
Aurelia Corville as Lernaia, the Technical Officer from Koloz


***PLEASE DO NOT POST UNLESS YOU HAVE READ AND UNDERSTAND YOUR FIRST MAJESTIC PM AND MY OOC POST DETAILING INITIAL PROCEDURE***


Interstellar Council Super-Station, Exact Whereabouts Unknown

The pinnacle of cooperation in the Majesty Galaxy floated in deep space. No ships appeared to approach it or depart from it, but it was infinitely busy. At its core was a massive orb that housed perhaps the greatest collection of political minds ever assembled in the Chambers of the Interstellar Council. Surrounding that were three segments that spiraled downwards making the entire Super-Station appear like one massive conical shell. Moving too quickly around the shell to perceive were a series of rings that allowed the Super-Station to travel at impossible speeds through some combination of perpetual motion and more resources than the Interstellar Council would ever be able to pool together again.

The uppermost segment was futuristic in only the worst ways – bright artificial light shone over a sterile environment. The perfectly waxed floors reflected the countless people flitting around in every direction. Moving walkways zipped people around the center at remarkable speeds. A dutiful cleaning robot beeped incessantly at an Uchafun whose petals were littering the floor.

Funky furniture was collected in alcoves here and there, but only as a reflection of the many varied rumps that would find rest in them. In one such alcove, a Thavian sat across from a Parameshi with especially dry-looking skin beneath the dignified cloak of an Interstellar Councillor. The Thavian had his eyes shut and snored quietly while his camera pod continued to float around the Parameshi who took it as encouragement to keep talking. “On Parameshvar, we have had tremendous success creating laws that ban certain unnatural flavor pairings. It is taking time to convey our aesthetic and dietary sensibilities to some other members of the Council, but I do believe we are making progress…”


The confined office spaces of the Councillors were also dotted about this top floor. The doors of only two of them were cracked open enough to catch a glimpse of their activities.

In the first, A Kijivun argued in a muffled, underwater voice with an irate Ceran.
“Creatures that can sing are people. Have you ever heard the sea crickets that live in the oceans beneath the surface of Koloz?”
“This is a farce. Utter rubbish. Pseudoscience.”
“You only say that because you can’t hear their music at the frequency I hear 'em at. They are practically screaming about their suffering.”

In the second, a refugee of some species unlike any known to the explored sector of the Majesty Galaxy pleaded with, well whoever it was, he was too short to be seen over his oversized desk.
“We have eighteen families. We are just asking for any moon and enough aid to setup the most basic terraformation devices.”
“How many breeding pairs do you have?” The voice asked coldly and casually.
“Six?”
“Tsk. Majesty Galaxy has filled up quick. That will never do for a terraformation project. I can set your lot up in a single bubble at Hartuitor. All the non-breeders will have to go to labor camp most of the time but that should give you at least a little breathing room.“

The whole time the foreign creature was counting on fingerlike frills on its neck. “Eleven, then… We have eleven pairs!”
“All the worse for the rest I suppose.”


There were even more people in the middle segment, but there was none of the hubbub. The second segment had many floors within itself. Tiny guest residences that were little more than beds of various forms tucked into the walls layer upon layer comprising perfectly neat rows and columns of habitation blocks, and all of them were sealed up tight. The only stirring in all the halls was a lone Badangian who must have smuggled liquor aboard as he smashed a document against his doorknob and peered into the retinal scanner. “Phmassphmort.” A diminutive Bazhannyan in a slick suit walked up with a confident strut, almost certainly a member of some more important guest’s personal security detail. The Badangian whirled around on him quick but the Bazhannyan leaped up onto the Badangian’s shoulders and forced his head back a bit. The retinal scanner took in his foreeye instead of his reareye and the cramped room opened to him. The Bazhannyan slid down the Badangians broad back and tapped his rear end on the way off. The Badangian belched and collapsed on the bed before the door shut and all was quiet again. A day previous and the individuals who were now the crew of the Majestic would have been in their own little private accommodations.

The lowest level was newer and noisier. Engineers and mechanics scurried around working on a block-like craft at the center of the segment – the Majestic. Most of them were Alsadians or Mimpians, but there were some others too. The only sturdy bit so far was the bridge. Some ships ended up being little more than a bridge. But there was massive machinery in every direction of the incomplete vessel.

Strangely enough, it would be that day the Majestic would be ready to launch. The brand-new crew were gathered inside the ship-to-be. Some of them might have encountered spacecraft manufactory close to this scale and speed elsewhere. Some would likely be horrified either at the unfinished state of the ship they were now inside or the intense metallurgy going on just outside. Still others would likely not know the difference any which way. The Majestic would be a high-end, but by no stretch of the imagination flawless, space-worthy ship. It would never be the engineering marvel that the Super-Station was – more planet than ship, but a planet that could vanish in the blink of an eye and be at some opposite end of the galaxy, leaving behind only colorful, distorted space. No, the Majestic would be made more for a practical, unassuming image that would make it far more capable of warm and fuzzy missions and complex maneuverability.

Within the bridge, the crew was settled into their respective places – eight swiveling seats at private, secure consoles paired with unusual coin machines. Their mission would never be a simple one. A charismatic Councillor from Holod had said upon the initial passing of the Majestic project, “This crew is going to change the way space works.” Dramatic sure, but she wasn’t wrong. It only made sense that their journey would begin with posturing for the best toys on the ship...
Last edited by Business Narwhal on Sat Jan 27, 2018 12:06 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Dionysus [Rick] » Wed Jan 10, 2018 3:09 pm

“The slaughter is around this time of year, if i’m remembering correctly, those giant mollusks get incredibly fat during the winter,” Sabatl Asagi reached for the jar filled with small, orange frog looking creatures and grabbed one with his thumb and index finger, his powerful claws crushing the critter’s head.

Sabatl threw the frog like critter’s lifeless body into his gaping maw before snapping down with panache, the small legs hanging from his beak before he slurped them in.

“Incredibly powerful swimmers, especially when they reach adult size, some were even the size of my father! I remember one, during the first winter my father allowed me to participate, reached out with that tongue of theirs and wrapped it around Abatl’s arm, pulled him away with those powerful damn jets deep into the ocean. We were all worried because he wouldn’t come out after twenty minutes, then we hear my father laughing,” Abatl grinned, or what passed as grinning among the turtle like Kayatolians, at the thought of his older brother standing all those winters ago in shame.

Sabatl savored that image for a few moments.
“Not only had he lost the damn bull mollusk, he lost his eye!” Sabatl let out a booming guffaw deep from his stomach full of spiteful joy.
“Is that how he lost the damn thing? He never told me, always kept it a secret and now I see why,” the albino Kayatolian reached for two of the orange critters and popped both into his maw with pleasure, letting the critters squirm around before swallowing them alive.
“Yes, it was his way of being mysterious, and everyone fell for it, smart little shell head, just like you made the gods favor work for you,” Sabatl grinned that grin again, one full of himself.

The gods favor, Tatloani Samaru thought, was what the order of high priests had called his condition. Tatloani was born albino, which among his people was seen as a weakness, but he just wasn’t born to any random female. No, Tatloani Samaru was the only son t ocome out of his egg laid by Emperor Kortuga’s favorite royal concubine. The Emperor was no fool, he would not suffer such an insult as to have a son that would be a stain to his legacy. The priests were gathered and a naming ceremony was initiated, the priest would declare Tatloani a blessing upon the house of the Emperor.
Ever since then Tatloani had to live with the pressure of being blessed by the gods. He had to be exemplary in all tasks and duties, his father declaring him to be of the warrior caste. Since a young age Tatloani was schooled in the ways of war, from tactics to hand to hand combat. It was a debt that had to be paid for having his life spared, to be nothing but the absolute best.

“Ha ha ha, you know I kid, Tatlo, no one is more deserving of such a high honor as you, to be the leading example of Kayatolian superiority,” Sabatl said, not hiding the fact his voice oozed with sarcasm.

Tatloani scowled.

“We both know what this is, Kayatol fought to place me here so they could strengthen their position among the council, they still act like this is just another arm of the Kayatolian army. I didn’t come this far just to be under the thumb of the generals back home.”

Sabatl raised both massive clawed hands in understanding.

“Anybody else, Tatloani, would have been the generals lap frog, but you are the Emperor’s son, it puts you just slightly above them, as long as you don’t do anything too foolish i’m sure you will still have the Emperor’s favor.”

Tatloani’s rough brow furrowed, his current position didn’t sit well with him. Being elected as the Captain for the Council’s latest endeavor to cultivate peace across council space was a great honor and he recognized that he deserved it, but he knew what skewed the end result.

Ding, ding, ding.

Tatloani’s communicator went off, a single message flashing on the glass screen.

You are now cleared to see the Majestic

“I believe that will do it, Sabatl, official business calls, until I see you again.”

Sabatl didn’t even bother to get up or look at Tatloani, instead the giant dark green reptile reached into the jar and pulled five of the critters, stuffing them into his beak as he waved Tatloani away.

After taking the express elevator to the lower levels Tatloani made his way to the area where the Majestic was still under construction. Tatlo wasn’t the emotional type, but watching the Majestic under construction gave the thirty five year old Kayatolian a lump in his throat. This was his real future, one that was free from the shadow his father casted over him. He would prove himself to the people of the galaxy on his merit alone, not based on the doors his father demanded be open for him.

“You can take a closer look, sir, we have the bridge constructed…..for the most part.”

A small Alsadan beamed at Tatloani, who was about as tall as Tatloani’s knee.

“I am engineer Spreckle, sir, I can give you a quick tour if you’d like!”

Engineer Spreckle beckoned the new Captain to follow him. Tatloani went ahead, it would be good to inspect the ship now before it was completed, perhaps he could make some suggestions.

“What type of shielding will the ship have? Will it be plasma powered or will it use standard nuclear cells? I assume a full armor fitting will also be built in? Those robot missiles can be nasty when they attach to the ship, something light but strong would be preferable,” Tatloani walked with purpose towards the bridge of the ship as dozens of machines whirred away, constructing the ship little by little.

Tatloani hadn’t even noticed that he had left Spreckle far behind, taking a seat clearly labeled for the Captain. This - the Majestic, its crew, their mission - would be his future.
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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Athena [Georgeanna] » Thu Jan 11, 2018 5:22 am

Even in a place devoid of darkness, shadows have a way of slipping in. Amongst the stark chill of space, heat finds its way around. And in the midst of all the purposeful creatures on the Super-Station, one Nyeusian found herself utterly under-utilized.

Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. The ball zipped through the air, slammed into the floor, bounced off of the far wall, and landed back in Nyx’s hand as she lounged on the ground of the continuous corridor. The trick was making the ball hit the ground in such a way that it would rebound off of the curved wall in a perfect arc back to her—all the while missing the numerous passerby who seemed to not notice the sphere’s presence in the first place. Of course she had missed a few times, hitting a Tulaanese in the neck and a Ghamadian in the eye all in the same throw, but no one challenged her or complained. The most they would do was shoot her an irritated glance before scurrying off to whatever task they had before them.

“You know it’s bad form to hurt your fellow passengers,” an Albahrian named Taveh muttered, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit next to Nyx. Turning her brilliant blue eyes on him, Nyx dared him to continue without words. “Fine, fine!” Taveh muttered putting up his upper appendages in a sign of surrender. His tentacles twitched slightly, betraying how nervous she made him.

Nyx took her predatory gaze off of him and went back to her ball. “What’s your name anyways?” Taveh continued on, rambling in his discomfort. “I’ve sat here with you for hours, only to leave you for food breaks, and you still haven’t told me.”

“I never said I would,” Nyx replied simply, catching the ball in one of hundreds of rebounds. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat, For the millionth time, she imagined quickly dispatching of the pesky Albahrian, but remembered herself just as quickly—she would be part of a team soon and socializing wasn’t her strong suit. Might as well use him as target practice. “So, Taveh, tell me about yourself,” she continued with an inflection that begged him not to. It was a start at least.

“You really are a peculiar one; you know that right? Even for a Nyeusian,” Taveh said offended—he had told her his whole life story only an hour previous. It wasn’t the first time she had heard someone say that, and Nyx was willing to bet it wouldn’t be the last. She was softer looking. Whereas her compatriots looked angular and harsh, she was all curves. Other Nyeusians had critical looking eyes, and though Nyx could replicate the glare intensity of her brethren by narrowing her gaze, it was just another way she was different. Even her skin-tight, anti-emission suit was matte black, defying the trend of neon embellishments. But despite her more amenable appearance, all of Nyeusi was fearful of her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why they sent the Mistress of Death out to a giant ship far from home—even predators are scared of monsters. Most of it was rumor, but some of it was true and no one wanted to figure out which was which.

“I’m sure for someone as pea-brained as yourself that must be mind-boggling,” Nyx muttered, throwing her ball again with deadly precision. Taveh widened his eyes and his tentacles curled in anger, spraying Nyx’s suit with a little ink. No reaction came from the unrepentant Nyeutian other than her stopping the cyclical throwing she had grown accustomed to. Once the fluid dried, it wouldn’t show anyways.

“Well,” Taveh huffed, clambering to get up and knocking into an unaware robot who beeped angrily at him. “I know when I’m not wanted. To think, I thought that I could woo you, you wench.” Nyx snorted, cracking a smile at the Albahrian’s gall. Fuming, the creature ambled away, disappearing into the crowd. Pat. Pat. Pat. Pat.

Nyx knew anything could be a weapon. A fist, a well-placed knee, a knife, or even a ball. So she didn’t think when she sensed her assailant before they attacked. The ball zipped out of her hand towards her would-be attacker with startling speed and accuracy. It hit with a thunk and zoomed right back to her. Getting up to haul in her quarry, she noticed it was another Nyeusian. He had dark tealish green skin, only a little lighter than her own, and a suit embellished with yellow strips of light. The Mistress widened her eyes briefly before hauling him up. A well-to-do Zegarian tried to offer his assistance, but Nyx waved him off before he could ask too many questions. A constantly streaming river of creatures was a great place to go unnoticed.

With the male weighing her down, Nyx shuffled down to the middle segment where her private quarters were. Throwing him on the floor of her room once she was sure the door was shut, Nyx perched on her bed waiting for him to wake up.

The Nyeusian assailant woke with a start, sparks flying off of his suit despite its field muting abilities. Nyx only narrowed her eyes at him, holding the ball in her right hand. Everyone carried a charge, as any good Nyeusian would tell you, and most Nyeusians knew how to control their spark to some extent with help of their suit. But Nyx had mastered hers a long time ago. Electricity was her specialty—controlling it, using it, bending it… She liked to think it was of her own volition, but likely it was due to her strong bloodline—even she had to bow to the strength and control of her grandparents. They didn’t rise to control Nyeusi on initiative alone. In any case, she dampened his field herself to avoid damaging the ship’s wiring. No need to alarm anyone.

“You don’t belong here, Nyx,” were the only words that were spoken before the male got up and checked himself for wounds. His eyes darted towards the door, obviously uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Nyx replied lazily. “I took you out with one shot and I can do it again. Why are you here Kivan?”

“Father sent me, little sister. He doesn’t want you going on this fun little adventure,” Kivan replied with smarm that cut through the conversation like a rusty knife. Nyx rolled her eyes and controlled her urge to laugh.

“Since when have I ever cared about that?”

“Worth a shot.”

Nyx looked at her brother and shook her head. “You should know better than to sneak up on me. Honestly, Kivan. I could have killed you!” A devilish grin was all she got in response.

“At least be safe, okay?” Kivan finally said after a long span of silence. He drew her into an embrace, wrapping his arms protectively around her. “I don’t want anything killing you before I have a chance.” Nyx shook with laughter before she pushed him away. She went to the bureau of drawers by the wall and packed up what she had brought with her to her quarters: her ball, an extra matte black suit, and her communicator. Not much, but enough.

“Gotta bounce,” she said, feeling the electrical pulse of a message being received on her device before it popped up on the screen. She punched Kivan on the arm for good measure before exiting her room and heading down to the Majestic. Nyx slipped in between the masses with ease, confidently winding her way to the bridge.

It was horrifyingly underdeveloped—so much so that it gave her a little start. She seemed to have followed behind a babbling Kayatolian who left a poor Alsadan in the dust. Overhearing his concerns, she didn’t disagree. The last thing she wanted was to be blown out of the stars. Even a couple small blasters would make her feel a bit better. Nyx skirted the engineer, not wanting to get into any more conversations than necessary. However, as she passed him she tacked on one request to the Kayatolian’s laundry list of questions:

“Guns. Big ones.”

The engineer widened his eyes in alarm, not having realized Nyx was beside him sooner than she spoke. He scurried off, not confirming or denying the presence of beautiful weaponry, but at the shambles Nyx could observe, she feared for the worst.

Watching the Kayatolian with renewed interest, she saw him plop in the captain’s chair.

Interesting. Nyx thought, slinking ever closer to the group of chairs. Not bothering to make any noise to alert the otherwise occupied captain, she leaned up against a chair she assumed was hers.

“Fine day for a party, huh?” she said with no enthusiasm.
Last edited by Athena [Georgeanna] on Fri Jan 12, 2018 4:06 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Śaraṯkṣati » Thu Jan 11, 2018 12:38 pm

Will you not come as you were?
That verdant night, in shared solitude
has festered in me like a wound in time
and, poisoned with the colour of longing
has become a stranger to me;
so when our years of parting are spent
and we meet again under an alien sky
and I wonder if the hands in mine that night
are the same ones I’ll clasp tonight
Will you not come as you were?
- Majshid

It was one of the classic Kolozite forms-- a question asked, eliciting a reminiscence of some lost love, followed by thoughts of the future and terminated in ambiguity by the same question. These were the verses that had often set Thirty-Six’s mind at ease, in those tenuous early days when she had first forayed beyond Falzers 2 and begun working shipside security, when she had not been nearly so sure of herself as she was now. She no longer needed them for those comforts; they provided different ones now.

Oh, what am I doing here? she thought, shutting the book in her segmented metal hands and setting it down on the bed beside her. Here she was, her last day in the hub of civilisation, the glimmering jewel in the crown of the galaxy, and she was spending it secluded in her private room with poetry like some hermit. She’d already received the notice indicating the Majestic was ready for boarding; it wouldn’t be long now before she was expected to be on the bridge, conducting standard pre-launch tests and configurations.

Along the way, then, she could bid farewell to the Super-Station.

She stood up from the bed and made for the door, stuffing the book into her backpack as she did so. Most of her personal effects, few as they were, had already been loaded onto the ship, but Thirty-Six liked to keep certain things close on hand, and she also liked to stow away whatever curiosities caught her fancy during her sojourns through unfamiliar realms. Over the preceding weeks in which she’d been exploring the station and making the acquaintance of its denizens, she’d become almost as familiar a sight as the station’s cleaning robots—a strange little Version, her sole accoutrement the surah veil pulled over her head, leaving no nook uninvestigated and no question unasked and no person unpestered, her trusty backpack slung all along over her shoulder.

And if her curiosity, unburdened by fear of rejection, had earned her the ill will of the station’s less patient residents, it had also acquainted her with a few friendly faces. She had hardly set off for the lower level of the station before she heard her name called out over the din of people milling about. She’d met far too many people to quite place the voice before she glanced over her shoulder, but the Albahrian face was a familiar one.

She didn’t smile—couldn't smile; variable expression was a sophistication reserved for Versions purpose-built for alien contact, and Thirty-Six was certainly not among them—but her warmth towards the Albahrian, in defiance of her immutably stern face, betrayed itself in the kindly tone of her voice. “Good day, Taveh,” she said; hers was a pleasant drawl of a voice, not quite male or female, issuing from a speaker built into a motionless facsimile of lips.

“I hear today is the day,” he said, falling into step with her.

“So it is. I’m afraid I’ve squandered my last opportunity to get to know the station better.”

“After the past couple of weeks, I think the station appreciates that,” Taveh teased, and Thirty-Six allowed a fleeting peal of laughter. Then a note of mock-injury crept into the Albahrian’s voice, and he added, “You never did finish that story you were telling me the other day, by the way.”

Albahrians do love their stories, after all. “Which one?”

“I believe it was about the time you caused a diplomatic crisis on Zegar because they couldn’t figure out if you counted as female.”

“Oh, right.” A twinge of amusement had polluted the synthetic cleanliness of Thirty-Six’s voice; it was evidently a fond memory. “Well, long story short, they decided I did, and that brought my brief Zegarian holiday to an abrupt end.” Taveh opened his mouth to offer some rejoinder—no doubt the slipshod way she’d concluded her chronicle had offended his storytelling sensibilities—but by then they had arrived at the express elevator, and Thirty-six paused, turned to the Albahrian. “I’m afraid this is where we part ways, my friend,” she said contritely. “They don’t allow uninvolved personnel down there. Thank you for showing me around the station and putting up with my questions.”

Taveh bowed, tentacles flexing proudly. “Of course. If you should find yourself in these parts again, do feel free to call on me." She nodded, and he began to turn away. "I think I’ll head back to Central, then. Here’s hoping that damn Nyeusian’s gone…”

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” He flashed her a grin and said, “So long, Thirty-Six.” They parted, and she turned to step into the elevator.

It was perhaps for the best that the crew hadn’t been permitted in the lowest level until now; the moment Thirty-Six emerged into the Majestic’s home segment, she knew she’d have driven the entire construction team to distraction. The endless motion of mechanics darting this way and that, the all-encompassing chorus of voices from alien mouths, the urgency and the innovation of it all left a thrilled anticipation coursing through Thirty-Six’s processors.

The indefatigable Engineer Spreckle appeared in short order, beaming and offering a tour of the ship; moments later, he was scampering to keep up as Thirty-Six strode through the halls of the vessel, pointing this way and that and asking questions all the while. More than once, she asked about the ship’s armaments—“I’d like to make sure this ship is properly outfitted for the dangers it will be encountering”—but by and large, she just wanted to know everything Spreckle knew about the ship, and a few things he didn’t, too. By the time she thanked him for his knowledge and asked him to point her to the bridge, the engineer clearly regretted every career choice that had led him to this ordeal.

Two of her colleagues had already arrived by then—she knew as much about them as she could find out during the shuttle flight to the Majestic, knew the Kayatolian (who was an odd pearly white—she was definitely going to ask about that) was Tatloani Samaru and the Nyeusian was Nyx Lufane. Heedless of the quiet the two had apparently shared thus far—and apparently uninterested in coming up with grand words to mark the occasion—she said in a quietly warm voice, “Thirty-Six, head of security, reporting for duty.”
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In every word, every sentence, and every page.

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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Palacia » Fri Jan 12, 2018 2:40 pm

Smoke curled off a glistening ivory pipe. With each draw the ornate scroll-work softly glowed a quaint purple trailing after the smoke as it drew through stem and into the downward curved bit. It was, by far, the most exquisite pipe to be seen smoking in the smoke-hazed dimly lit bar. The dim orange lighting highly the smoke dancing and playing in the air, each exhale and slow-burning bowl lent to the skyward dancing. It was quiet, almost too quiet for Kirble’s liking. Back home, places like this, never once a moment of silence, sure my kind are perceptive, and highly intuitive, hence the galaxy wide fame, but in bars we’re a rowdy bunch. Gotta, you know, have some way to cope with all the stress of rich quibbling families worried sick after their precious runaways.

The sound of tooth chewing on ivory signaled a slight pause in his thought-flow, the pipe slowly lit up again as Kirble drew breath.

“ You talkin’ to me froggy?” Came a throaty voice.

Kirble held his breath, only after a few more seconds, slowly releasing the withheld smoke, “ Bandangian, my friend, how could I not be speaking to you!” Truth be told, Kirble was on his fifth or.. what .. maybe eighth bowl of the Grenwurm leaf and it hadn’t occurred to him that is inner monologue may not have been so internal. The slightest of facial flickers told a fairly tall tale of just how much Kirble regretted his quick tongue.

The large Bandangian gave a huff of sorts, “ If you wanna prattle on like that,” He jutted a hand towards a Albahrian sitting at the bar who seemed quite busy with his wriggling drink,” go prattle to one who might give a damn. And leave me to drink in my well deserved peace!” The creature snorted or growled, Kirble wasn’t certain, and then leaned back into his chair raising an exotic looking drink to his or her toothy mouth, Kirble wasn’t positive on that one either.

He drew in another lungful of hi Grenwurm and held it for a good long second before slowly letting it out. “ Oh, go dip yourself in a Wurm dumping,” he muttered under his breath before pulling his fedora down over his eyes and resting backwards, puffing on his pipe.
“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY FROGGY!” The growl/shout startled Kirble out of his dozing high. Gruff hands grabbed his collar hoisted him up to lock eyes with a very big, and very angry looking Bandangian. “ My what big ears you have?” Kirble’s voice trailing off.

Nostrils flared, a roar, and a few moments later Kirble could be seen flying out of the bar and into the opposing hallway wall, he landing with a fleshy thud and a loud cracking noise. One would sparsely be able hear him lament about his surely broken pipe. This hadn’t been the first time poor timing made his quick-tongued nature set him onto a ill fate. Although to be fair it'd gotten him out of far more situations than he could count. Just. During times like this, everything hurt.

buzz buzz buzz

Maintaining his crumbled form, Kirble reached into a rather hidden pocket within his trench-coat and pulled out his communicator. A red lettered message flashed across the screen for a moment.

“ Right, the ship, the hell did they call it again, Majesty, Royalty, no wait… the Majestic,”

Kirble rose up, pushing off his thighs, re-positioned his fedora and headed for the the ship, still deep in the Grenwurm high. He moved quietly as he could given his form fit rubber shoes and the floor material. He’d already memorized several of the pathways from both the bar and his quarters to the ship. “Always know your way around” was Kirble’s motto in life, it seemed applicable to almost everything so far.

He past several viewing portals overlooking the ships construction. The super-station’s ability to manufacture such machine beasts in such incredible time was quite a spectacle. He made a quick glance to find no one in his proximity, he then pulled out his communicator and snapped a picture of the factory bay below. He continued his trek downwards eventually arriving at the boarding portal and took his first steps into his new home.

Upon taking not one, but two steps a Alsadan appeared introducing himself as engineer Spreckle. Offering a tour and details on varying specs of the ships navigation and propulsion systems. All of which Kirble enthusiastically ate up, making several comments on the propulsion system and hooking in modifications and rigging's to sap every last bit of energy from the engines, as well as the ships maneuverability. Kirble made sure to re-emphasize the importance of it.

With one brief tip of his hat Kirble left the engineer to return to his important work and made his way to the bridge of the ship. Right before entering through the last portal he lit up a similar pipe to his previous pipe, well at least in design. As he always carried a spare in one of his many pockets.

He entered the bridge, his pipe glowing a neat orange, “ The name’s Kirble, the most average pilot you’ll find.” Made a extravagant show of his hat, a bow, and he moved to his designated chair. Well at least the one that looked like his..
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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Joule » Fri Jan 12, 2018 7:28 pm

A camera orb buzzed around his head, as if mirroring his own excitement. Nat had to try very hard, to convince himself to hang back a while, observe his surroundings, see what everyone was up to, before finally making his way to the Majestic. He placed a hand on the camera orb, patting it slightly to calm it down. Looking around, it was hard to believe that this ship was supposed to be ready that very day. He walked through the construction site with purpose, taking note of every detail —this was familiar ground for him, after all designing spaceship interiors was what he did for a living. With a swift motion he pulled out his tablet and pen, and began sketching up ideas, or jotting down last minute notes. He'd of course reviewed the plans of the ship, he had gotten any information he possibly could about the design, budget, everything related to its construction, but seeing it in person always offered a different perspective.

He kept any eye out for the other Officers which were supposed to be arriving any moment, and found himself looking forward to a reunion with a certain doctor. Shaking his head, he tried to push the thought from his mind and focus. Everyone was gathering up on the bridge, and he wanted a chance to speak to them all together. After all, as a wise man had once said, you never get a second change to make a first impression.

So when the rest of his fellow crew members had arrived, he joined them on the bridge with a smile and a wave. After the initial greetings and pleasantries, when things seemed to somewhat calm down, he made sure to stand on a spot where he was visible to everyone, and cleared his throat.

"Hello everybody, and welcome aboard— well, about 30% of the Majestic, at this point," he chuckled. "I know you all have things you want to say, things you want to do, I'm sure the last thing you want is listen to me babble, but I was hoping you would indulge me. First of all, as I've said, I am Nathaniel Prescott Bernoulli; maybe you've heard of me, maybe you haven't, but either way, today I am among you as Nat, the Publicity Officer, not the TV persona. And I am overjoyed to meet you all, and to be standing here beside you." There was a broad, bright smile on his face, excitement visible in his eyes. "I was told to expect to work with the finest the galaxy had to offer, and while I'm not one to judge by appearances alone, from what I see, I do have a feeling they were right."

"Now, as your Publicity Officer, I am supposed to record the work we do here, to send a positive image to the public, but I think for this first meeting here, where we're all getting our bearings, my camera orb can stay off," he waved at the little orb floating around him, which gave an adorable little beep, and the little red light that had been flashing at the top of it switched off. He also switched off the holo-display in front of his eye, to show everyone that he was giving them his full attention. "You see... I am not known for getting camera shy, but there's a couple of things I wanted to say which are rather... personal. Two lessons I want to share with you, two lessons I learned when I was a child."

His tone was casual, yet it carried a weight to it. His speech was smooth, yet it did not sound rehearsed —it sounded as if he spoke from the heart. A soft chuckle escaped him, drawn out from a distant memory; a bittersweet chuckle.

"You ever heard of ZN-505 prosthetics? They're all but discontinued now, but two decades ago they were the standard issue for people with no... better options. They're clunky, don't even feature nerve endings and a sense of touch, and the chronic pain involved with them... well, let's not even get into that. But I was a stubborn kid. I picked up a pen, and I didn't let go. Months and months of people telling me to give it up, months of fighting just to be able to draw a straight line, years of watching other kids grow, so much faster than me, go so much farther, while I was stuck, limited by something I could not control."

Nat paused for a moment, hands shaking slightly. He turned his head away, quickly wiping back a few tears, before returning his gaze to everyone else. His eyes were red, but there was a confident smile on his face.

"When someone tells me I can'd do something, I have an innate need to prove them wrong. And I did. When everyone else was out playing, I was working, and that work paid off. An agency discovered me, saw my potential, and took me under their wing. I was outfitted with the best prosthetics the market had to offer, I was given an education I could've only dreamed of."

Nat held his hand out in front of him, closing his fingers and then opening them up again, showing the flexibility of his mechanical digits. "An SFD-88 and two IRI-00 later, here I am, ready to take on whatever life throws against us." He let his hand drop and smiled apologetically at everyone. "This is getting a bit long, isn't it? I didn't mean to bore you with my life story —there was in fact a point to it all. The world out there, it says we'll never make this work, that this is a waste of time, that achieving peace is but an impossible dream. I say, lesson number one, fuck 'em. They're not going to tell us what we can't and can't do. Let's prove them all wrong."

For a moment he paused, glancing around the room, trying to see if anyone had been offended at his chosen language —he hoped not.

"Then there's pesky little lesson number two though. At the end of the day, it's people who will help you get through this thing we call life. It was people who had discovered me, people who helped lift me up, people who believed in me and helped me achieve my dreams. So... don't fuck 'em?" he chuckled. "There's a fine balance there. Either we like it or not, we need people to like us, we need people to believe in what we do here. No matter how advanced our ship might be, no matter how fast, or stealthy, no matter how big our guns get, none of that matters if we can't get the world on our side. We are only one tiny ship, in a very large galaxy, just a smaller part of a much larger system. And if you're more the practical sort, this means that the greater our image is, the larger our budget —we get more resources to make our ship better, stronger, faster. Think of it as an investment."

All it took was a thought, and his holo-display implant was activated once again, small projections dancing in front of his right eye. With a pinch of his fingers, he grabbed the holo-screen, dragged it further away, and made it larger, for everyone to see.

"On a different, yet somewhat related note, I have gone over the available space, our budget, and other variables, and have drawn up several suggestions about the interior of the Majestic. Would you like to go over them now? Also, would it be alright with you if I turned my camera orb back on, or would you be more comfortable if I kept it off for now? Our image is important, yes, but there is nothing more important to me here now than making sure that the crew of this ship is happy."

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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Aurelia Courville » Wed Jan 17, 2018 4:51 am

A week before the Majestic was fit to be boarded, she saw it in a dream. Though it had not been a visual of the exact thing, she knew it for the blessing it was, she had felt it. She saw a light so pure, shining off the peak of the Azerian mountains to the east of her. A feeling of acceptance and love and…
She woke with a start. The rare chill sent shivers down her spine and she felt the bitter taste of Pe’tre on her tongue. The Kolozite had been meditating, not dreaming. Lernaia had been at the Super Station for three days. She’d spent the first thirty-two hours fighting with the Parameshi female secretary.

“Are ya’ havin’ trouble readin’ it hun? I know sometimes translating gets a little mixed up--”
“Of course I know what the letter says.”
“Because this says you have access startin’ on the twenty-fourth,”
“Yes I know, but--”
“And today is not the twenty-fourth.”
“Yes. I am fully awa--”
“And I’m pretty bond by a set of rules. Laws, if you will. That dictate unto me what I am allowed and disallowed to do at work. These numbers may not mean much to you people, but I take this seriously.” The small bureaucrat blinked its inner eyelid and tilted her head to the left. “Now how can I help you?”

It had taken everything in her to not attempt to slap some sense into the poor mindless fish. Eventually she’d gained access to the ship before the official day to move in. She had every right to be here before the ship was finished. As technical officer, it kind of just made sense to her, and when she laid eyes on the half connected power grid panel, she felt validated.

There was a spark sound bringing her, for the second time out of her trance-like memory filled meditation bringing her back to the present. “Watch out for the red wire, Spreckle.” She sent over the intercom. The tiny Alsadan kept insisting he knew what he was doing, but the angry yellow sparks that kept flying towards his impossibly large eyes screamed otherwise.

The strange alien scoffed, punctuated by the lift of his shoulders, his back towards her still. “Lady, I know what I’m doing, okay?” Another angry flash made him jump back with a shout. Lernaia hid her smile behind her hand as she continued to scroll through the ships specs on her float pad.

“I just don’t think this circuitry is going to cut it, not if you keep burning my wires together like that.” She’d managed to keep the smile out of her voice this time to let him know she was serious. He looked back at her and, she assumed, smirked back his response.

She could tell he wanted to say something she’d consider rude, but he looked distracted. Instead of a retort to her undermining his skills as a fellow engineer, he mentioned the others. “Your captain just arrived, you might want to head to the bridge. I’ll go make introductions.” at Lernaia’s pleading eyes, he amended his last words, “And I’ll make sure the circuitry is top-notch before you guys set of.”

She knew it wouldn’t be up to him, but his empty promise still made her feel a tiny bit better. As she left the engineering bay, she continued to swipe through the specs in front of her, stopping at seemingly a random few--enlarging here and there. By the time she’d made it to the bridge it was filled with quite a few people. She hadn’t noticed how much longer it had taken her to get there, so deep in thought was she with the mission in front of her.

She took one of the few seats left and almost as soon as she did, the board in front of her lit up in front of her. She let out a pleased sigh and waved her hands over it. Somewhere in the middle of her fawning over the controls, a giant blue and pink man started speaking...and kept speaking...about, something? She wasn’t completely oblivious to the worlds out past Koloz. They had access to interplanetary shows. She had just prefered learning about how they had access to these shows and learning about the Faith. Her ‘image’ was one created by their God. Her mission was one of peace. What was there to sell?
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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Kookaburra » Wed Jan 17, 2018 9:17 am

A robot, a turtle, a blueman, a wetman, an electric pole, a greenman, an emo kid… This'll look good on my resume, he thought, scrolling through the profiles of the Majestic crew as he created medical templates for them in his digital notebook. These races all took much more care than his own kind, but then again, our cat punks were asshats who weren't good at showing up to planned meetings. Snarky, too. Good immune systems make cocky Esikites believe they didn’t need savin’ even if they were draggin’ themselves by the tail.

Speak of the devil, Artemis made a face as he mused, I don't wanna leave my nice, cozy office either. I wasn't joking when I told that blueman this felt like a Ma-testicle ball ache of a space venture… My balls are going to go as blue as him out there!

Just as he was about to keep grumbling, his little niece bursted through the office doors, screaming as she flailed in circles in front of his office chair, jumping up and down at a height that looked like she was going to burst through the roof. His eyelids drooped low, wondering how his sister gave birth to something as un-apathetic about life as this vivacious she-cat.

“Uncle Connie, OMIGOSH! Stop grumbling and talk to me, you're going to age yourself too fast and then you'll be old and then you won't be able to talk to me about the-single-most-handsome-creature-in-this-galaxy-and-omigosh-he-came-here-did-you-say-”

“HUSHA-HUSHA-HUSHA!” He demanded, raising a paw. The room fell quiet save for the noise of his niece Portia’s tail whipping against the carpet floor in anticipation. “…First of all, I'm not going to age - being grumpy is in our nature, I'm fulfilling my instinctual needs. Secondly, that'll be 50 Magma Melts for even stepping in here. Gotta keep your precious man’s air untarnished, y’know?”

The girl’s silver fur suddenly spiked. “Ew, uncleeeee, you farted! That's so gross and how dare you-"

Artemis’ lips curled into his smug ‘3’ shaped cat-smile. His niece, defeated by his ugly face, plopped into the patient’s chair and watched Esik burn from the window. Artemis fluffed up the fur on either side of his face as he talked. “Kiddo, guess what, because of your amazing fairy uncle who makes miracles for little girls come true, by these exact words Mr. B said, I kid you not, you kid: As for your niece,” Artemis straightened his back, made a monocle sign with his claws and placed them over one eye, “she sounds like a wise young woman, delightful really.”

Portia’s eyes shined, dancing with reflections from the moon as she leaped onto the table and grabbed her uncle by the shoulders, shaking him about. “Nathaniel Prescott Bernoulli really SAID THAT?! ABOUT ME?!

Rocking about in his chair, Artemis looked at his sister’s spawn, trying his best to appreciate her joy with a forced laugh that went ha-haaaa like a crow’s caw, “I promise. And you know that despite being an Esikite, we don't break promises.”

Portia tried her best not to squeal, but squeaked excitedly anyway. Artemis tried his best not to curse, but told her to piss off anyway. Portia leaped into his lap and hugged him. The man groaned. “You promise to try and video call him with me when you get the chance? When you're not doing all that ship stuff? I can leave maths class.”

“Don't ditch school. When I'm not doing all that shit stuff,” Artemis corrected, “I’ll see what I can do.”

———

The Esikite waddled through the bridge, being one of the last people to board. “Ello, ello, fellows,” he greeted to the crew with moon-shaped eye smiles - as taught by Portia, hopefully it looked friendly enough. Portia said his approach wasn't always the most inviting. Before placing his dark brown trench coat over the empty chair, he began kneading the chair’s plush part, prepping it for optimal sitting as Nat waffled on about his prosthetics. When enough bits of thread had popped out of the seat, Artemis leaped into the chair, swivelling it side to side. It was pretty nice that they spun round like that. You wouldn't have to keep turning your head to watch people when they played yarn tennis or something.

As Nat concluded his talk, Artemis gave a slow clap. “Very nice, Mr. B. We've got some good sorts in this ship indeed. I think we'd better get to know what we're all about first before projecting it to the galaxy.” Taking a package out of his coat, he slipped out of his chair, walked around the desk, and placed a Magma Melts onto everyone's table. It wasn't 50 of them, but Portia was a girl sweet enough to put up with his teasing, so he let it slide.

“I'm Dr. Artemis Constantine,” he said to the group as he walked with attentively drooped ears, “Here for medical duty. Don't hesitate to let me know if you feel even a little a bit crook, battered or worn for wear, hm? ‘Snot my fault if ya don't tell me. I don't bite, I promise, I'm just a snarky asshat.”

And with that, he scratched the back of his ear, kneaded his chair just one more time to check it out, and plopped himself into the seat comfortably.

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Post by wadjet » Sat Jan 20, 2018 3:04 pm

“The organism displays an interesting reaction to mild electric stimuli.”

Bzzt.

“Instead of trying to get away from the source, it instead draws near.”

Bzzt.

“It almost seems like it’s curious about the sensation. Fascinating.”

Bzzt.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” the Kijivun muttered, putting down her instruments and retracting her finger’s back so her fins appeared smooth again. She pressed the button then, allowing the message to come through.

“Pethephine Shayde’Nirro, your presence is requested on the bridge of the Majestic.”

“I’m in the middle of something,” she growled back at the thing.

The tone didn’t change overtly, but there was a definite threatening vibe as it replied, “Immediately if you do not want to be kicked off the mission.”

Pethephine, or Phine for short, growled, angrily shutting it off.

“Ghine, I’ve got to go. You can find my notes next to the specimen’s container!” The other Kijivun she was talking to twitched his frills in acknowledgment.


********

She lumbered surprisingly quickly down to the ship, pushing past the engineer that was probably waiting for her and made her way to the bridge. “I’m late, I know, deal with it,” she grumbled to the gathered officers. She went to her station, standing at it and studying it.

“Well. What now?”
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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Business Narwhal » Thu Jan 25, 2018 1:11 pm

The crew of the Majestic had all settled at their respective consoles to input their votes. For the most part, the voting process went smoothly. The officers input their coins into their respective slots and the votes went through. But at Thirty-Six’s console, something went wrong. A coin passed through the machine, but nothing popped up on the screen indicating a vote. Thirty-Six put it through again and the screen fizzled for a moment and then all the consoles went black.

The first console to come back on was Nyx’s. It flashed bright red before settling into its original on appearance. Then a message flashed. DEFENSES: MAJESTIC PRIORITY F. A single new button appeared on the console’s touchscreen that read “Sound Alert” and connected to the ship’s alarm system.

Lernaia’s console switched on next. No red screen appeared. Instead it immediately read CIRCUITRY: MAJESTIC PRIORITY D. A widely recognized symbol for a battery appeared on the screen and started at 50% efficacy under compromised conditions: the civilian standard for space worthy vehicles. Another moment passed and the battery filled to an upgraded 75% efficacy under compromised conditions: not the most stable system but it would certainly hold up outside of combat.

Phine’s console fired up next with the text RESEARCH: MAJESTIC PRIORITY D. A single program uploaded on the screen: “ICDB: Interstellar Council Database.” It was an encyclopedic compendium of all the knowledge the Interstellar Council had gathered on the Majestic Galaxy to date. This was followed by the loud sound of movement outside the ship – heavy metal clunks and high-powered torches. Somewhere just beyond the bridge a brand-new door opened as if it had been vacuum sealed – a separate workshop space for the scientist.

The console before Artemis lit up next and read MEDICAL: MAJESTIC PRIORITY C. A pop-up appeared and indicated the stable installation of the ship’s basic life support system, air refresher, and limited supply air reserve. More heavy metal clunks and high-powered torches and opposite the new workshop a separate patient exam room opened. A second door was revealed beyond it indicating quarantine functionality for the new space.

Kirble’s pilot console fired up with a few different features already on-screen once the text ENGINE: MAJESTIC PRIORITY C passed by. The standard inputs for orbital slingshot to hop planet to planet were most central. A separate input for the TAIL (Thruster Assisted Integrated Landing) System that would allow the ship to land via autopilot in normal conditions to allow for more tactical operations appeared on the right of the screen. Then the more exciting Jump Drive appeared on the left of the screen – the use of which would allow the ship to travel quickly to any point within a given star system.

The entire ship shook as Nat’s console came on. The ship creaked with weight as massive machines operated on it from outside. HULL: MAJESTIC PRIORITY B. Then a detailed schematic of the addition appeared on Nat’s screen. Beyond the bridge and the immediately subsequent workshop and medical space, a massive addition was attached. There were four private rooms declared “Officer Quarters” each designed for two of the initial crew. There was also an additional “Crew Bay” which had open living space that could fit approximately 24 additional individuals. Then there was a sprawling mess hall with its own hydroponic garden that maintained some level of in-house food and water. The space could also fit the ship’s living capacity of roughly 32 individuals. Upon further investigation, the crew would discover a small counterspace designated as a bar. It was barely stocked with two half-empty bottles of unnamed, sludgy, Badangian liquor. There was a six pack of Asteroid Belcher with a tag “Take care of my ship, Spreckle.” And a single bottle of galactically expensive Muvdalaglagertigok’s Aged Limpenliquor which sparkled in the light of the room.

Thirty-Six’s console came back on next reading WEAPONRY: MAJESTIC PRIORITY B. The authorization commands for four weapons appeared on the screen. Thirty-Six would be able to operate the entire weapons system from the one screen or could delegate weapon command to other officers in firefights requiring additional precision. The ship was equipped with two laser turrets (one to each side), a forward particle cannon, and a six-capacity missile silo toward its rear.

Before the final console came on, the temperature on the entire ship raised several degrees for a few moments. Tatloani’s screen finally read ARMOR: MAJESTIC PRIORITY A. The armor itself came in three layers. The closest to the ship was the Self-Sealing “Snake” Skin which was top of the line and cutting-edge technology. That was layered over with a reflective coating. And over them both was a standard generator-powered shield. Two additional command controls appeared on Tatloani’s screen. A sandcaster to aid in escape, and a cloaking device which could be activated for temporary travel while undetectable by most known means.

The crew had voted and the Majestic was as adventure-ready as it was ever going to be. The ship’s Captain stood up before his new crew. Now, they would each have a moment to pitch a cause for their first mission. Only one could be chosen.
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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Dionysus [Rick] » Fri Jan 26, 2018 6:39 am

Tatloani, with great curiosity, studied every new member of the Majestic as they came in to the ship’s bridge. He took note of those who simply came in, sat down, and offered little, perfectly comfortable to sit in silence as the Majestic was built around them. Tatloani had smirked at the sarcastic tone of their pilot who had introduced himself as the most average pilot in the galaxy. Humble, Tatloani had thought, none of them were average, the Council had made sure to only select the best of the best. He was intrigued by those who had something to say, like Nat, his enthusiasm for this assignment and genuine desire to see it be successful was infectious. The corners of Tatloani’s maw slightly curled upward, this was the kind of devotion the publicity officer should have, someone who truly believed in what the Majestic stood for and could promote that to the galaxy at large. Tatloani was looking forward to having a few words with everyone individually, but that would have to wait after all official business had been taken care of.

First up was the vote for the ships systems. Once the results displayed on Tatloani’s screen the giant Kayatolian grinded his teeth; the ship’s internal security defenses had been given the lowest priority. At least the Majestic’s armor and weaponry were of the highest caliber, the crew just had to make sure no one boarded the ship. All the other results Tatloani was neutral on. He was used to serving on military ships, knowing full well how many corners were usually cut no matter how impressive a ship was meant to be. The Captain was not surprised the Majestic was no different. Tatloani gave the rest of the crew a few seconds to whisper to themselves as they inspected the results on their respective consoles before standing up and facing his new crew, giving a quick scan of the room to make sure everyone was giving him their undivided attention.


“I am Tatloani Samaru, seventh prince of Kayatol, Captain of the Emperor’s shokku legion and now…now I am honored to be the Captain of the Majestic. Each one of us was chosen because of our exemplary skills, our commitment to our people, our devotion to a better future. Out of an ocean of countless billions, eight of us were selected to be a task force to promote unity across the galaxy. I do not take this assignment lightly, I truly believe we can be a force of change, a force for good, a spark of inspiration to the rest of the galaxy as they see different species working together towards a singular goal,” Tatloani held up one white claw,” Peace.”

“In each one of you I see expertise,” Tatloani looked at his Security officer.
“Knowledge,” Now he looked to his science officer.
“Skill,” this time he smirked at his pilot.

“I see in you the tools that are required to inspire the masses towards a future free of conflict, free of needless war, and I truly believe we are that first step towards that lofty goal,” Tatloani let his words hang in the air for a moment before going up to his console and inputting a few commands that brought up info on a planet currently in a bloody civil war, it displayed on everyone else’s consoles.

“That is why I believe our maiden voyage should be to a savage planet that has been embroiled in a bloody civil war for generations. They have plenty of resources and the capacity to be a galactic trade hub, but their constant in-fighting has kept them from joining the rest of the galaxy. Why this planet? Why now? The Majestic’s maiden voyage should prove to the galaxy that we are a force to be reckoned with, that we are just more than soldiers or an experiment by overzealous councilors. Let us end the civil war on this planet, let us help them become a trading planet so that they might build schools, hospitals, roads, a prospering civilization!” Tatloani smashed his massive fist on the head rest of his chair with a loud thwack.

“Let our first mission be one not of war or petty squabbles, but of elevating an entire people towards something greater. There are already planetary governments and contractors lining up to assist in the rebuilding effort once we stop the in-fighting, this will help create trust and understanding with outside species. This will elevate the Majestic from a single ship in a vast galaxy to an idea…an idea of hope, we shall be a beacon of light anywhere we go.”

“As a Kayatolian, we believe in baptism through fire, we have a lot of work to do and the faster we learn to work with each other, the faster we shall bring peace to this galaxy.”

Tatloani looked one last time at his crew, his bright red eyes filled with passion, then he took a seat on the Captain’s chair.

“I know a Captain usually makes these type of decisions, but the Council felt it was best everyone have a voice in these matters, so, please, if any of you has any suggestions, now would be the time,” Tatloani held out one massive hand as if to say ‘the floor is yours.’
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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Athena [Georgeanna] » Fri Jan 26, 2018 8:35 am

The room was charged with electricity: excitement, apathy, anger, and disappointment all changed the feeling of the air. Nyx glanced briefly at every member of the team, lingering on some and skimming over others. She wasn’t one for introductions, and she wouldn’t make one now. Propping her feet on her console, Nyx leaned back into the portrait of ease.

Truthfully though, Nyx was glad for her anti-emission suit at the moment. Fear wasn’t the exact word she would use to define the feeling that crawled in her belly and settled there like a parasite waiting to breed, but perhaps uncomfortable would be an appropriate moniker. She had, of course, read over the files of each of her fellow officers, and even the captain, but she hadn’t gotten the information that she wanted from them. Yes, yes, she knew some of them had vices, others had family members, some were notable in their home planet, and others were not. None of that mattered to Nyx. Her job was to know what motivated people—was it pride? greed? justice? What would make a person, and what would break them, was her business and she played her part well. That was something the case files did not offer up. Some things, you have to just assess once you are thrown into the chaos.

As the creatures settled and voted, Nyx felt every pulse of their consoles as they voted. Momentary blips that would define what this ship would be made of. Pulling her feet down, she looked at the result and sucked in a quiet breath. An alert button? That was it? Blinking, she pushed her anger aside. She had had the whole of Nyeusi in her grasp—nothing was kept a secret from her, and she had had far less. Nyx would find a way to manage; she always did. Silently, she pulled the ball out of her knapsack and considered it in her hands. It was only when Tatloani stepped up that she looked towards him. As it was, she didn’t quite hear him, but rather she assessed him.

Proud, that was obvious, and well-suited for his role. He was passionate, but with a likable air that made him seem trustworthy. Nyx considered all of this as she listened to him speak. His cause did seem like a noble one, but a bit ambitious for their first mission as a team. They had no experience thus far working alongside one another, and to fail on a mission that political in nature would surely send them all back to their respective corners of the galaxy. The Council did not suffer fools.

As he concluded and offered the floor, Nyx felt a thrill in her stomach, despite keeping her face a stony mask. She wasn’t much of a leader, but she knew strategy, and she hoped that that would be enough.

Standing up fluidly, Nyx bowed to her fellow officers, only then cracking her facade with a small grin. “Hello everybody. So nice to see we all made it here in one piece. My name is Nyx Lufane, your intelligence officer, though by my best guess you probably already knew that. I want to thank our captain for his leadership, and I want to thank the rest of you in advance for what I am sure will be an interesting assignment to say the least.”

Flicking her wrist at her screen, she sent an electric impulse that fired off a picture to each of the officer’s respective screens.

“Our duty as the Majestic is to keep peace where it is tenuous and to create peace where there is none. That being said, we should pursue those disputes that threaten this mantra, with the aim to better the galaxy. I assume you all agree or at least see the merits of that statement. Therefore, I would like to present the blight of the galaxy. I believe that this creature, this monster, should be our first target as an interstellar peacekeeping brigade. This sea monster has not only terrorized the inhabitants of planets across the galaxy, but it is capable of space travel beyond which has been seen for many years. It is powerful, and hungry, and looking to multiply and fill the galaxy with its abominable progeny.”

This time, just twitching her fingers, the screens all changed again to that of the ship’s current status and various upgrades.

“But, luckily, we are well suited for this monster. Since we have all made our priorities quite clear, this mission would be ideal for our current ship conditions. We have the weaponry, we have top-notch armor, our researching facility is sufficiently prepared to study the beast, and we have the machinery and engine to make it—not to mention medical facilities that could prove to be advantageous in its current state. This is a quest that would not only save countless lives but also win us respect in the galaxy—and likely it would be in our favor to take this chance while our abilities are at their strongest. The beast’s strengths are unparalleled, changing entire ecosystems with the ease of a titan. We need to have the strength to match it, and we have that currently. The time to act is now.”

Without realizing it, Nyx’s voice had raised to a confidently loud pitch, echoing in the bridge around them, like a ball bouncing back and forth against the wall. Lowering her voice to a hushed tone, she pulled on the crew’s attention like a wayward net.

“Creatures are dying, without a chance to save themselves. Children now without parents, friends seeing friends being eaten alive, and neighbors watching as their home planet is utterly altered beyond repair. Who are we, to deny them the chance at the peace we are all supposedly here to promote? And if we wait, there won’t be anyone left to save. Just empty rooms, full coffins, crowded burial grounds, and barren landscapes altered in one swoop of the monster’s rage.”

Still holding her ball, Nyx bounced it off of Tatloani’s chair, catching it just as easily.

“And if we don’t stop it in its tracks, who is to say your home won’t be next? Or yours?” she continued, snapping the ball off of Artemis’ chair. “Or yours?” she said, hitting each chair in turn until there was no one left whose seat hadn’t been hit.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Or any planet in this godforsaken galaxy?” she said, her voice nearly breaking.

“This is our galaxy now, and we must protect peace in all its forms. But being part of this team, this peacekeeping group, doesn’t mean a damned thing if there is no one left to protect.”

Nyx let the silence blanket the room as she stood for a moment longer, looking each creature in the eye.

“Your choice,” she said sitting again, looking at her ball. As she held it in her hand, she felt as if it represented all the planets at risk, all the galaxy’s peoples, right there in her palm.
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Re: Majestic [IC]

Post by Śaraṯkṣati » Sat Jan 27, 2018 4:38 am

Thirty-Six was not an orator.

It was nothing to do with reticence-- a trait nobody who’d found themselves on the business end of Thirty-Six’s insatiable curiosity could accuse the Version of possessing. It was also nothing to do with self-abnegation. But some people were speakers. Some people were persuaders. Some people were even visionaries. Thirty-Six was a soldier-- and even that had not come naturally to her. There were reasons she’d been selected for this mission; her powers of persuasion were not among them.

Samaru and Lufane advanced their cases with all the elan of born rhetoricians, delivered lofty panegyrics to the principles of prosperity and responsibility. The precision of each gesture and each crescendo-- the thud of an impassioned fist against a chair’s headrest, the catch of a voice perched on the precipice of breaking-- it impressed Thirty-Six even as it disappointed her. She had never been able, and probably would never be able, to help construing insincerity in practised oratory. For that reason, she had never been able, and probably would never be able, to speak with such a silver tongue.

She’d admitted as much to her poet once, watching Upindian politicians on the newsnet attempt to inveigle their way into the hearts of voters. Her poet, knowing better than to flatter Thirty-Six with a denial, had said simply that Thirty-Six had other ways of inspiring, of educing respect. “And anyway,” she’d added slyly. “You don’t actually have a tongue, silver or otherwise.”

That didn’t matter right now-- least of all because Thirty-Six was fairly certain that the ways she had at her disposal weren’t going to serve her for this purpose. That didn’t mean she was nervous. Thirty-Six was never nervous. And she wasn’t when, Samaru and Lufane now silent, she spoke up.

“My colleagues raise fine points,” she said in that synthetic, that urbane, voice of hers, the glowing embers that approximated irises shifting in the wide eye sockets of her metal face to meet her counterparts’ gazes. “And there is much to be said for acting in our capacity as emblems of galactic harmony-- as the captain maintains-- or, as Officer Lufane argues, in shows of heroism.” And Lufane, Thirty-Six was certain, was playing a little fast and loose with the facts-- she figured a planet-eating monstrosity from space would have come up on the news once or twice-- but leveling that accusation openly wasn’t going to play well, not at this point.

She chose instead to table that concern for the time being and move onto her own pitch. “However, we are principally accountable to the Council, and part of acting as a symbol for peace and harmony is addressing infractions which transgress upon galactically agreed law and threaten the tenuous consensus our governments have developed. Scouts from Falzers 2 have identified a facility hosting research and procedures in flagrant violation of Edict 119.832.C.”

She paused, and then added solemnly, “That’s the statute prohibiting illegal cloning operations. And I think the incident on Svarg last year painted a thoroughly grim picture of what happens when illicit cloning enterprises are left unchecked. These operations are not only hotbeds for abuse against both the cloned and the clones, their ill-begotten research can wreak havoc on organic society and lead to consequences unanticipated by even the finest of our own Version calculators. I therefore urge you, my colleagues, to take this opportunity not only to demonstrate our team can get results and uphold galactic consensus, but also to apprehend a potential crisis before it becomes one.”
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Re: Majestic [IC, M]

Post by Palacia » Sat Jan 27, 2018 12:50 pm

Kirble’s console flared to life, delivering vital information to Kirble… He stared at the screen, his nostrils flared slightly. He leaned back on his chair, he took another long drag of his pipe, the Grenwurm nearly burned up. He released the smoke slowly, it lazily rising from his nostrils. He focused inward for a minute reordering his thoughts and assessing the ships mobility, speed and operational chances for success in situations where running would be the only answer.

Hell.. this tub of soap will get us places, but it sure as hell won’t catch some zippy mutherfucker, nor will it run away from some other aggressive zippy mutherfucker. Which means, in those situations, it’ll come down to my navigation skills and this lard-assed mobility. Well..

He took in another long drag, this time releasing it in a much more hasty fashion. The smoke blew upwards. He watched the smoke interact with the ships natural air currents. The interactions momentarily memorizing him. With the smoke out of sight, he dove back into thought.

Armor, guns… some flagship of peace we are. More akin to a capital ship of war; the councils Personal Enforcers… You know what I’d go for right now? A hunk of bread and some good old fashion Brimal cheese, oh, and some classy ass alcohol.. You know the stuff they let “breath”--- His thoughts were cut off by the sudden movement and well spun words of their captain. The Grenwurm was certainly aiding in the captain's word-spinning, it's effect almost entrancing Kirble. Even with only a few words spoken by the albino… Kayatalions.. Kayatalions…... I know they introduced themself.. Was only a second ago, in the name of the Network, what was their damn name… Whoa, maybe I should stop smoking at this point.. I mean I have to make an impression right? Nah, they’ll figure it out... It? No, me. They'll figure me out.

He’d be the first to admit it, the turtle was damn inspiring, even as high as he was, the Kayatolian spoke well. No doubt about it, but like a smart little frog he’d wait and listen to the rest of the crews mission. Well he assumed everyone had their own private missions as he had his and so did the turtle. His thoughts caught a train of thought: Was this a game of the council? Spread out the mission to the separate members, create some sort of voting system to create a sense of equality? How a such a simple concept can grant the illusion of personal input, no matter how easily a system could be conned… Well no matter, someone plays the strings, and the frog was determined to figure it out… But for now:

He sucked in the last bit of Grenwurm, letting his mind drift through the next two crewmate speeches. Something about space monsters threatening the galaxy, the tin can spoke about something. Wasn't too shabby for a tin can, although Kirble’s mind was starting to shear away from reality, so it could have very well spoken of causing the doom of the galaxy, and Kirble may still have thought of it as being "Not too shabby". Even with the Grenwurm now deeply wurmed in in his mind. He was still mentally preparing his speech, although he knew he’d throw away all preparations once he started speaking.

Once the tincan had finished speaking the averagely fashionable Kirble rose.

“ Right.. So.. erm.. ribbit..” He laughs, his voice clearly aged by smoke, “ Anyway, I’m not a silver tongue in situations like this, but I have a few questions really.. Well and maybe an answer.. Depends on how smart you are I guess.” He takes a moment to repack his pipe with a small ball of bluish buds. Touches the rim of fedora and pulls a finely engraved flip-lighter from his pocket and lights up his pipe again.. “ You know, I really hope this place has got some good vents, cause if not.. Well you get the picture, well except for the tincan up there,” pointing his pipe at the bipedal machine.

“ To the point, well in a round about fashion, you know they say it’s the journey that really counts, not the destination.. Honestly though I think that saying is bullshit for a number of reason, but I won’t go into them here.” With every pause in his speech, the Cholliman puffed on his pipe.

“ Right, so I think it’s fantastic that we’re all ready to depart on some epic, grand mission. You know, solving a civil war, killing some unkillable space terror, or some..uhh.. Honestly, tincan, I totally forgot what mission you spouted. You know I was supposed to make good relations today, but that went out the window, ‘bout fiveishhh minutes ago.” He tapped his foot, and spun, the flaps of his trench coat mirroring the spin in a delayed fashion.

“ Sooo, yes I’m all for saving some planet, or the galaxy from a space terror, or whatever the tincan said, but perhaps we should start a touch smaller, no? Here’s my thinking, would it not look bad if we failed our first mission? Even the slightest chance of failure and potential realization of that failure… Would that not look terrible on our track record? I propose we start a bit smaller, save the poor defenseless residents under the tyrannical thumb of a pirate… uh… captain.. Leader, whatever, that’s not the point. Simple mission, a group of terrible evil-doers claimed a floating hospital and are doing terrible, terrible things to the patients within…”

He paused, taking another long puff from his pipe, and slowly released the smoke within. It’s tendrils climbing up his face, coiling around his fedora, before cresting the brim of the hat like some alien waterfall. The method, the precision and grace in which Kirble smoked on his pipe would make anyone desire to look that “cool”. This was surely something Kirble had spent his life perfecting, for just moments like this.

“Things like… making omelettes out of some poor would-be bird-littleones. Is just one of the many horrific things this man in charge has done and will keep doing unless someone puts a stop to it. Which we, of course, could do so. And then our amazing PR man takes care of business, fluffs it up, puts a coat of gold on it. With little effort we take out some baddies, earn some good repp with those upstairs and then start on the next bigger mission. Besides, does anyone really think we can pull off a difficult mission when we don’t even know each other, much less expect to function in a high tension situation successfully? Hell though, if ya'll are down for, why the fuck not..”

With that Kirble took an elegant cross legged bow and then proceeded to sit back down into his chair. “ Oh! I sure hope that all made sense… I’m really fucking wurmed right now.”
Last edited by Palacia on Sat Jan 27, 2018 1:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Majestic [IC, M]

Post by wadjet » Sat Jan 27, 2018 1:18 pm

Phine stared at the pilot. Just stared for a bit. Blinked (all four eyes) twice. Then shook her head, turning her chair to face the rest of the crew.

“Are we sure this is the guy we’re supposed to have as our pilot?” she muttered, mostly to herself, then sat up a bit, her scales glimmering in the light of the various screens.

“Well, this is supposed to be a symbol for the greater good, right? Well we shouldn’t waste our time getting stuck in political quagmires like civil wars or dealing with rumors of monsters. There’s only one way to do that and that’s with a ecological rescue mission.”

She shrugged a little, as well as one could with fins, and glanced around, meeting the others’ eyes before continuing. “There’s an fish currently being hunted to the brink of extinction. Illegal poaching and the like. This little species can’t help itself, unlike all the rest of these problems, it’s completely defenseless. There’s a moon they can be transplanted too, so long as we save enough of them.”

She nodded a little, having said her piece. Well. “I mean, if you can sleep alright knowing you could prevent an entire species going extinct, that’s on you. But I can’t.”
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Re: Majestic [IC, M]

Post by Aurelia Courville » Mon Jan 29, 2018 8:18 am

Amber eyes shimmered like fire at the incoming message. She had noticed somewhere in her periphery that they each were receiving something one at a time. She closed her eyes while she turned with a deep sigh. She knew what the report would say. She’d seen the wreckage with her own eyes. And…MAJESTIC PRIORITY D.

In her mind, the “D” was almost tangible, floating in front of her her, taunting her. Of course her mind grumbled out with an audible sigh. The battery finally settled on seventy-five percent, not the greatest, she assumed their mission wouldn’t bring them across any form of people that could hate the idea of peace for all that they could turn to violence as a response.

Though she was confident that the circuitry would get them through a few missions before failing them, she was quite certain there was better need of more upgrades on the battery than on a bar…

Lernaia shrugged of the negative thoughts as their captain stood up to speak. With his words, she found a sort of solace; forgetting for a moment her unhappiness over the lack of importance the rest of the crew put on the one thing that could make everything else, including life support, work. She stifled a sigh as the captain was looking around now, pointedly at each of the members. A second later, a flash on her screen brought up a planet. Her eyes widened and she whipped her head back around to face the captain. He couldn’t be serious, right? Throwing one's hands into the messiness of a civil war… She had to admit she was impressed by his willingness to risk a lot for the cause, but that was probably the only thing she was willing to acknowledge.

The Security Officer offered up something slightly more reasonable than a war that seemed, at least for now, contained on its own planet. The space monster traveled across the galaxy. She had known people that had suffered from its actions. Yet still, chasing that thing seemed a lot more battle-esque and she didn’t want to burn through their measly seventy-five percent in the first go.

Lernaia had shifted in her seat with each new member case thrown into the ring. As she was now, the fabric of her tunic pulled tight on her right knee as it lay crossed over her left. She struggled to keep her foot still, her racing thoughts making her feet want to do the same. Her left arm was crossed over her belly, right arm bent to tap one bright purple finger on the darker shaded lips. Her mouth scrunched up with worry as the Pilot sat down. She had to trust that the council knew what they were doing, right?

“I, for one, believe that if we are to get the public on our side,” She started off more calmly than she thought she would when she stood up to speak. She had bowed to them first, placing her palms together, remaining at chest height throughout. “We must ensure that they see us as Peacekeepers only. How many times have we seen outside interventions shouting messages of peace only to kill the soul of the people they have purportedly saved? We Kolozites are lucky, the Faith has kept our ancient past alive. But there are others that would not be so.”

It was here she paused to upload a file from her float pad to the ship so that it appeared on their screens. Still images flashed around the planet in question. “The annual Harvest celebrations are coming up for one of our Allied planets. An Imperialist neighbour has been terrorizing our planet and our intelligence believes they’re targeting the children.” She stopped again, this time to ball her right hand into a fist, it shook for a moment, then stopped.

With a renewed calm, she tried to drive her point home, “I strongly believe that a show of maintaining a planet’s sovereignty under our banner of unity, it will show them they have nothing to fear from us, or the Council’s overall mission.” She closed her eyes realizing how uninteresting it sounded, even to her own ears. But she truly believed in it. “At least this could buy me some time to rig something up with the circuitry so I can get it at a level that I’m more comfortable getting into battle situations with.”
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Re: Majestic [IC, M]

Post by Kookaburra » Mon Jan 29, 2018 3:35 pm

Huh, not too shabby, he reckoned, as he took note of the ship’s medical status. Artemis’ ears perked up ever so slightly at the sound of a patient exam room opening opposite the scientist’s workshop. And a quarantine section paired with it, too! Thank goodness some people cared about surviving on this hunk of metal - Artemis wasn’t too fond of loosing touch with the Esikites in the middle of nowhere, even if it meant galactic peace or whatever have you.

He raised his head at the Captain’s speech. Artemis nodded, smugly smiling as he held up his own claw when Tatloani pointed his. It was a nice notion, though, wasn’t it? Peace. Who didn’t want to be at peace, kick up one’s legs, with only have the innately annoyingness of every species’ children to bother you? Nobody needed to deal with war. It was too bothersome to be in and too tiring to clean up. ’Tis why Artemis only ever worked on his own planet. Until now. Ugh.

Thankfully, this lot of critters, despite all carrying different blood (or electric currents), seemed to all have their heads screwed on in the right places, with the right concerns which all revolved around this main concern of peace. He looked to Nyx, and as the ball bounced over to his seat, he couldn’t help but swoop an arm at its direction before it flew away. Hyah! But this monster… It sounded pretty spooky. He tilted his furry face to the side at that one, before the conversation moved to Thirty-Six.

Edict 119.832.C. He had heard this one before, it was something that many doctors had to study. Cloning, and its violations, had become an increasingly hotter topic in not just the fiery pits of Esik, but in the whole of the Majesty Galaxy’s medical sphere. Cloning without its proper ethical and technical treatment was certainly a nasty affair. How could he just hear of such a poisonous bite on a planet and not make himself concerned about it?

He pinned the thought to the side, rotating his chair to Kirble. He chuckled at his mid-puff remarks, nodding as if to say naw mate, don’t you worry, that made perfect sense. Next chimed in the Kijivun. Artemis resisted the urge not to smack his lips at the phrase ‘fish’. But oh, this wasn’t a fish for eating. Poor buggers are going extinct. Hmmm…

Artemis’ face darted at the screen to our Security Officer. He thought about the children. Despite them being rather annoying works, he thought about Portia, sympathising with Lernaia. All of these endeavours - they all bore good intentions. Artemis scratched his floppy ear, narrowing his eyes as he sunk in his chair to think.

After a drawn-out groan, he brought his legs up onto the chair to perch himself into a cat-squat, his stumpy arms resting in front of him like a Tyrannosaurus rex’s.

“Okey dokey, hokey pokey. I’m glad to hear we’ve a bunch of thoughtful people on board. I was worried someone was gunna say ‘let’s just ram this metal rainbow into battle!’. And make my life traumatising. Thankfully - although I guess you wouldn’t be here otherwise - you’ve all got nice, stable brains in those melons of yours.”

He clapped for a moment whilst spinning his hands into a circle, giving them a quick round of applause.

“Here’s the thing about our first mission, though. With everyone’s eyes on us, we should prolly try to give people a nice, solid first impression, hm? Since this is the Majestic, our mission should tell people that we’re tryin’ to bring universal peace under one basic doctrine that says ‘hey, do what you want, but quit hurtin’ others because that sucks and doesn’t help anything’. I think it’d be grand if we could iron out Edict 119.832.C into place so that people know we ain’t just messin’ around, killin’ a bunch of stuff in the name of this ‘peace’ as the very first thing we do, or getting our tails - oh pardon, our, uh, feet - stuck into things too big for us to handle just yet. To test out the waters, we should do something simple, that allows us to sus each other out before having to panic with teamwork in a desperate ship-threatening situation, yet still leaves a powerful impression.”

“As Thirty-Six explained, let’s ensure these illegal cloning processes are stopped. Let’s let people know that we care about the ethical conditions - and in turn peace - of all creatures, from great to small, no matter where they’ve spawned from. These laws that the Majestic is called to defend weren’t put into place to limit our abilities or scientific advancements. I reckon people tend to think that the ‘rules’ are out to eat ‘em, y’know? But we could change that with this metal rainbow of ours. Let’s lettem know that peace comes through a common practise of respect. We could stop illegal cloning, take away the incorrect tools that have been damaging the mental and physical states of these poor victims, and instead put into place the right equipment and teach the right moral practises that everyone should live by… ” Thoughts of his people came to mind, thoughts of his medical friends that had told him those gnarly horror stories of abused clones. It was funny how talking openly like this made you feel sorta more responsible than usual, hey?

“It’d be cool, I think, if we could show the galaxy the right ways in which we could teach peace through respect for each other. So yeah, that’s my blab done. Thank you for listening, this uh - has been Doctor’s Report with guest Dr. Connie." He jokingly remarked, trying to lighten the mood for a second. It wasn't in his nature to be this serious. He sorta weirded himself out. "I will now direct you to the more interesting show of this television channel.”

He kicked his legs outward, letting himself fall back into the chair as he stretched a paw to the iconic Mr. B, passing on the baton. Whatever this next mission may be, Artemis hoped his fast feet were enough to save him. Or that his shipmates stayed as faithful to this ship as they had seemed here.

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Re: Majestic [IC, M]

Post by Joule » Tue Jan 30, 2018 1:56 am

Nat couldn't have been more pleased with the ship's priority ratings even if you'd assigned them himself. Medical was at a good enough stop to help him if he found himself in need of assistance, Weapons were high enough to give a firework show worthy of intergalactic television, and Hull space, while not terribly impressive, was satisfactory. After all, the only thing with a higher priority than the above was Armour, and Nat rather enjoyed being safe and not dying. Not dying was probably amongst his top priorities in life.

He went through the ship schematics, already picturing ways to improve the space. That piece of furniture moved there, a plant added here, better lighting in the kitchen, and of course the bar would need to be stocked up, but all in all he had a lot to work with. As for the rooms, he would have preferred to have his own private quarters, but perhaps this could be interesting. He wondered if the good doctor would be interested in bunking together —Artemis was the only one who had already seen the extent of his prosthetics, and Nat would rather keep it that way.

Next came the speech of the Captain, which Nat made sure to record in high definition, from several different angles. So very heroic. He felt as if he was in a movie. And apparently the Captain was a prince, adding to the whole cinematic feel of the experience, albeit not quite the type of Prince Charming Nat used to daydream about when he was a kid. A proud smile rested on Nat's face as he heard his Captain speak, and a small tear sat right at the edge of his eye.

Nat made sure to make direct eye contact with every person who spoke. He wanted them to know that he was focused on them, that he heard every word they spoke, and considered their speeches carefully. Nyx was an interesting one. One could say she had an electric personality. Nat tried not to snigger at his own pun. She looked like she'd find his sense of humour shockingly bad. Hah. He gave himself a mental high-five for that, then returned his attention to the actual speech.

A giant space monster terrorising the galaxy? Sounds like this could be fun.

Others presented their cases in turn, though Nat found that none of them quite possessed Nyx's gift when it came to making a speech. She was serious, dramatic, the whole ball trick added to the show too, and still she made it seem effortless. Very different from his own style, but equally effective. Respect.

A small grin crept its way up Nat's face when Artemis spoke. It was strange, seeing him try to be serious like this. It didn't suit him.

"Darling, don't sell yourself short," Nat said cheekily and gave Artemis a wink when he finished his speech.

Taking a deep breath, Nat stepped up, discreetly going over his own messages and instructions on his eye projector. Not that it made much of a difference —Nat had already made up his mind.

"My gosh, everyone is eager to get started, aren't they?" He chuckled softly. "And here I was, still going over ship schematics. Actually, before I dive right back into serious matters, I would like to lighten the atmosphere a bit. So first of all, let's all take a good look around us. We got so caught up in all the troubles surrounding us, the weight of our first mission, that I don't believe we quite got to take in where we stand. Look at this magnificent ship! Our new home! I would like to thank everyone who made this incredible feat possible, and I would like to wish all of you good luck on this tremendous task we have undertaken. And as a thank you to all of you, I have an offer. Since we have some time before we actually depart, I can bring in my team, and together we can all make sure this ship is in the best shape possible for everyone."

His eyes went from person to person, lingering on Phine. "I am aware that everyone here is different, and therefore has different needs. My team of specialists could modify living quarters to best match everyone's needs —some are more comfortable in specific environments, others require certain spaces for religious practices, some have... special medical needs." He glanced down at himself. "My team and I can do this extremely fast —it would not delay our mission— and of course at no cost. So if you are interested, or have any specific needs or requests, please do not hesitate to tell me."

He let the offer sink in for a few moments, then his expression grew more serious. "Now then, on to more pressing matters. Every mission presented so far is an important one. I only wish we had the ability to be in multiple places at once, so we could help everyone. Perhaps one day, if we grow in number, we'll have the power to do that. For now, we must bring ourselves to make impossible choices."

He walked around as he spoke. Not much, just a little, just enough to keep himself visually interesting. He stopped when he was facing Nyx.

"Many of the suggested missions seem to be focused on specific planets, about specific civilisations. The mission I was going to present to you was of a similar nature. But a monster threatening the entire galaxy? I find it hard to imagine anything of more importance than that. The Majestic does not stand to protect just one planet or two, but everyone. And our first mission should convey that exact message."

His camera orb swirled around silently, capturing the moment, though it kept its distance. Nat did not want it in his face, at this moment. This was important.

"What's more," he continued, "as our exceptional Intelligence Officer suggested, the Majestic is perfectly suited to take on this threat. We have the power to do something no one else can. And it would be best to act fast, before this monster reproduces. To those of you worried that we may be biting off more than we can chew on our first mission, I say this. We were chosen for this, because people, important people, believed in us, in what we could succeed if we worked together. We are qualified. We are prepared to take on this foe, to achieve things no one has ever done before. We are majestic. And fear has no place in the hearts of trailblazers."

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Business Narwhal
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Re: Majestic [IC, M]

Post by Business Narwhal » Thu Feb 01, 2018 10:01 am

The crew of the Majestic finished their first round of exhilarating speeches as they discovered the extent to which their jobs would have them representing not only the best interests of their homeworlds, but of the entire galaxy. They cast their voting coins and the process went without a hitch. This time nothing popped up on their individual screens. Instead projection lights lit up from the back of each console to cast an image in the center between them all. Royal purple words appeared first:

Linguistic Artificial Intelligence Research Database

The words rotated around slowly so each crew member could read them, then most of the letters fell away leaving only:

LAIRD

The graphic letters crumpled themselves into a purple ball that slowly stretched out into a vaguely humanoid form, neither entirely similar nor dissimilar to any known species. It spoke to the crew with an almost neutral, vaguely masculine, synthetic voice.

“Greetings Majestic Officers. For your convenience, I am called LAIRD. I have been installed in this ship by the Interstellar Council to provide functionality and basic guidance on all matters related to this galaxy. I will aid in all mission planning pre-briefs and can be requested by Officers for use at any time. While my visual projection is limited to this area on the bridge, I may be voice-enabled in any room on the ship, again by Officer request. I have been activated now to inform you about your mission to the planet Haluda.”

The purple figure shimmered momentarily before transitioning to complex yellows and greens and becoming a spherical shape once more as it became a projection of Haluda. Two informative blips appear around the planet: a description and world ratings as determined by the Interstellar Council:
Image
A purple humanoid head emerged from the planetary figure and spoke. Somehow it already had more personality in its voice as it spoke this second time.

“Looks like you all better pack your rebreathers for this one!”

The purple humanoid form stepped free of a diminishing and then vanishing Haluda. A moment later it had reskinned as a Haludan modeled after their representative on the Interstellar Council. The projection could hardly be distinguished from a real being and its jowls inflated massively through simulated breathing. Several different blips rotated around the new figure:
Image
“You’ll notice that last bit of information is of critical importance. The Flensing has been occurring on Haluda for as long as they have recorded history as a means of maintaining species strength. Recently, a separatist movement has been formed. However, the assessment that this is a true civil war may be an exaggeration as the separatist forces are comprised primarily of children fleeing the traditional practice. The Haludan government, while little more than loosely allied tribal chieftains, and in possession of relatively rudimentary technology, does maintain surprisingly capable propaganda and infiltration operations. The Flensing Festival is expected to begin soon on Haluda. We will be travelling to the Haludan capital, Grenouille, where your interventions are likely to make the most impact as most tribal chieftains will be gathered there for the occasion. The Interstellar Council expects an intervention that prevents violent extremism and warfare, and that promotes stability for the planet Haluda and its neighbors.”

The crew heard a heavy metallic noise as the Majestic was freed from its mooring. Then they felt the momentum of a sudden drop as the ship plunged below the Interstellar Council Super-Station and the engine kicked in. Just as quickly, the Super-Station vanished, leaving behind a haze of displaced energy. Clearly more credits had been invested in every aspect of the Super-Station. LAIRD restored to its humanoid form at the center of the crew once more, its voice once more subdued.

“Departure for Haluda, second planet of the Espiritu System, confirmed. Upon the Captain’s orders, the crew will be dismissed until mission briefing scheduled for initial approach. Goodbye.”

The projection lights dimmed way down but remained on. LAIRD reduced to a laser point-sized purple sphere at the center of the consoles.
Image

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Re: Majestic [IC, M]

Post by Joule » Mon Feb 05, 2018 12:58 am

Nat wondered if these people even listened to him when he spoke. His eyes went from person to person, narrowing slightly as he observed them. There were only two possible explanations for the outcome of their vote. Either they had no knowledge whatsoever when it came to strategy and politics, in which case this whole “Majestic experiment” thing was doomed to crash and burn, fast, or people were voting based on allegiances and simply “who they liked best,” the same way school kids did. Either way, things were not looking so promising.

With a motion of his head, the camera zoomed in closer, capturing his profile with the rest of the officers also in the frame. Then he stepped forward and spoke.

“I know the mission is decided, and doubt that I can now change it, but still, it would not sit well with me to simply leave this unspoken. I believe that going to a planet, with an established civilization and destroying their ancient traditions, possibly through the use of violence, is unbecoming of us. Their traditions may seem cruel to us, but who are we to pass judgment? There are countless of species out there, each with their own customs, each magnificently different. As long as they keep this behaviour contained on their own planet, and do not threaten other races, I believe interfering is a mistake, both morally and politically."

Nat paused for a moment, to let his words sink in, and then his trademark smile returned to his face, polite as ever. "That being said, I respect that this is what the majority has decided on, and I am prepared to lend my assistance in whatever way is necessary. I would just rather have it on record, that if this ends up evolving into a political nightmare, I've washed my hands of this affair."

His expression lightening up completely, as if everything that was just said was already behind him, he turned to Artemis with a fist extended for a fist-bump. "Roomies?"

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