The Galactic Opera IC

[whoiam]

March 1st, 2200.

Last night was a night of heavy drinking for the personnel assigned to the LEO Shipyard. In fact, it had been a night of heavy drinking for most of the military - the tenth anniversary of first contact with the Yor.

An anniversary that had held special meaning for Commander Bruno Magrini. For a start, it was his last night as a Commander. Because at the stroke of dawn (Due to its orbit, the shipyards did get a day-night cycle just like a planetside installation would have) he officially took up his new posting: Captain of the TSF Unnamed Prototype. The yard workers who had given him the tour the day before had joked this new ship was so fast that its name had not caught up with it yet, and they were not far off.

Theo had known he would get command of this ship for a week now, ever since Admiral Briggs had passed over a handful of dossiers and a cover note. The dossiers were for potential officers for the Unnamed Prototype's first voyage, all skilled, and all between postings. They would all be waking up to the sound of their quarters' terminals beeping with the presence of an urgent message...

Design of the LEO was slightly unusual. Like most of the facilities around earth, it was in a geostationary orbit, and served as the tether at the upper end of a space elevator. Unlike most such stations, it actually had a split-level architecture - one ring (the closest to earth) served as habitation, and one served as the shipyard facility. This allowed the living quarters to have actual windows!

What was more important was the lack of artificial gravity on the upper, shipyard, level. This was mainly for docking reasons - getting a ship into or out of the shipyards while they were rotating enough to generate full gravity would not have been easy.

Thankfully, the walkways in the upper level had handholds.

Docks were clearly signposted by number, so finding dock 4 would not be a challenge. There was noone there to greet new arrivals when the first of the crew reached the docking hatch. Well, that's not strictly accurate. A couple of the dock workers who had helped build the ship were floating near an observation window above the airlock. But they were paying more attention to the ship than to the people.

The airlock from the station was mated to the armoury airlock via a short extendable tube. The ship was docked with its nose pointing inwards towards the heart of the LEO shipyard. And it was... silent. Inactive. Even the internal lighting was off. It was why the orders to board had not been sent out until after local sunrise.

The windows, darkened as they were, would still provide just enough light for the crew to find their way to, and activate, its power plant. It was tradition. The ship's first crew were the people who turned it on. And, as the dock workers noted, they would also be its last crew if the antimatter reactor was faulty...

The Message

<Charname and Rank>

You have been assigned to service on the Unnamed Prototype ship currently connected to airlock 4. You have been posted as the <assignment>. Please relocate to your shipboard quarters immediately.

A ship layout map is enclosed. You will need to report to the bridge to receive your full orders.

Admiral Briggs.

[daelrog]

The stereo was broken. It was an old relic that was well past its time. It continued to rattle off the same three notes, Do Mi Do, Do Mi Do. It was soft, with the twang of guitars. In another few moments, it whirrredinto silence.

Lieutenant Commander Shray Holdt

You have been assigned to service on the Unnamed Prototype ship currently connected to airlock 4. You have been posted as the Armoury Officer. Please relocate to your shipboard quarters immediately.

A ship layout map is enclosed. You will need to report to the bridge to receive your full orders.

Admiral Briggs.

In the dark, musty room, a young woman sucked on her cigarette, one last time before putting it an ash tray, a few of the grains falling to the floor silently. She held her hand to her temples, trying to ease even a little of her headache.

Her fingers moved to her eyes, yellow like a cat's. With a twist and pull, she removed them, and dropped them into a jar. The woman felt around her, grabbing a pair of microscopic implants. She pushed them in, as if her own body were just another tool that need a swift kick to get running. Witha twist and lock they glowed green. The two eyes moved on their own, locating everything she would need. It wasn't much.

Did he say Lieutenant Commander? Apparently she had received a promotion. That damned Allister Smits. No wonder he had seemed so please with himself last night. Allister, the man who had taken her from the Wyoming Junkyard and had raised her like a daughter, well, perhaps a niece. Fathers didn't try to get their daughters into as much trouble.

She grabbed her bag, and began tossing in a few books, and some random pieces that may come useful later.


A ship layout map is enclosed. You will need to report to the bridge to receive your full orders.

Admiral Briggs

Rabbaj Astrati smiled. As an Altarian it was quite an honor to be allowed onto the new terran prototype. That is, what he thought he should have been thinking. In truth, it was simply because he was the best choice. No one else within the entire shipyard was as capable as he.

"Ruhi, come here please."

The young Indian woman, 19 by her record, briskly walked over to her commander. "It appears that you have been ordered to the new ship as well."

"Very well, sir."

Rabbaj sighed. "Honestly my dear, your ability to categorize your life amazes me. Not once have you ever shown me a glimmer of life, yet last night I heard you-"

"Is that all sir?"

Rabbaj waved her away. "Get ready, but please make it quicker than the last time. You're not royalty you know. A simple bit of eyeliner is all you really need to..." He looked up to see her already gone. "Why must the best assistants also be the most annoying?" Probably because those were the ones he bothered to pay attention to their flaws as well, he mused.

Still, his brow furrowed slightly.

[Carden]

Engineering

Piotr had awoken early that morning, as was his custom. His cot neatly made and his left shoe shined, he had begun work on his right when the terminal had beeped at him. He was never one to stop in the middle of something important, so he picked up a pen lying nearby and tossed it at the other sleeping officer in the room. "James! Get your sorry self out of bed and see what that message is!"

Yawning and stretching, the black-headed man was wide awake. He had been since the third or so squeak of that damnable shoe. Why couldn't he learn to shine those without being so noisy? "I dunno, Smiley, it's too early for that. I think I'm-a go back to sleep..." James had always been like this, pushing his friend's buttons to get a rise out of him. He always asserted that if he'd just lighten up he'd see the joke in it all.

The book that landed on him next, it wasn't light at all. Jumping to a sitting position, he spoke with a twinge of resentment, "Jesus, man! I was just kidding!" The disapproving stare showed him, yet again, that Piotr didn't appreciate the joke. "Here, I'm getting to it. Just keep your heavy physics books to yourself in the morning, alright? You know me and the numbers don't get along, much less without a few cups of coffee first."

With his assistant at the console, Piotr went back to what he was doing. After a few moments went by without comment, he began to get annoyed again. "Well? What's the message say?"

James, absorbed into the layout as he was, had forgotten all about reading the message. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Reassignment orders, for you, me, and Ash. New ship, the 'TSR Prototype.' Ya know, whoever's in charge of RND should be fired for that name. Everything's a damn prototype at some point, might as well call it the TSR Space Ship, or TSR Big Thing." Moving through the layout, he quickly skimmed through the unimportant parts. What he wanted to see were the shuttlecraft, and lo and behold. "Nice, man, nice. You remember that last ship with those miniature little craft I was forced into, outdated by a decade? These are the new models! I think I can get you whatever you want with these, won't even be a hassle. Here, Smiles, you take a look at this. I'm gonna go get Ashley, not sure if she got the message."

Finishing his work first, he walked over to the computer screen. "So, this is the bucket of bolts they've tied me to, huh? There better not be anything wrong with it to start with." Glancing over the layout, he was generally satisfied with the size of the Engineering Bay. He'd have plenty of room to spare in there, but, if it came down to it, he'd have James talk whoever the science officer was into letting him spill over into there. Moving away, he began to pack his essentials. It wouldn't take long before he'd be needed to turn the thing on, but he wasn't going to leave even one of his books here.


First Officer

Maxwell had hit at his computer until it shut up. His hangover was strong, his sense of rejection from whoever that girl was last night even more so. Combined, he wanted the world to shut up and let him sleep some more. Receiving a slap to the head for his apathy, he angrily mumbled at his friend. "Dammit Flynn, get me some aspirin or something. Turkey just ain't my thing."

Snickering, the small man standing beside him went first to the computer. "Max, there ain't nothing that agrees with you. You stomach's as weak as a schoolgirl, and you won't ever learn to eat first. You know, I wouldn't be surprised if that chick you were hitting on last night wasn't a higher ranked officer and this is your court marshal." Clicking on it, the man let out a string of expletives.

"What, Flynn, what? You weren't right were you?"

"Naw, but, dammit, you just got one helluva promotion, Commander Eamon, First Officer of the 'TSR Prototype.' Ah, well, looks like I get to go as well, but I don't get a pay raise. Man, I'll never hear the end of this."

Standing, Max stumbled to look over his friend's shoulder. He couldn't believe it either, and if his head wasn't in excruciating pain, he would've thought he was dreaming. "Psh, yeah I'm gonna hold it over you! Five years you've been higher rank than me, and now I get a jump that far in one night of drunken rowdiness? Hey, listen to this, 'As your superior officer, I command you to open up that layout now!'" Letting go a good laugh in spite of the pain, he gave Flynn a good slap on the back.

Taking turns jabbing at each other, they started to get packed and ready. Max could barely hold in his eagerness, especially at working with whoever this "Erin Holt" character was.

[LongVin]

Captain Bruno Magrini

Magrini pulled himself from his bed. It was far too early for messages after a night of celebration. Tapping at the keys of the console he pulled up the message, quickly read through it and deleted it.

After getting dressed he began to put his things in order. The ship would be his new home now. After fitting everything into his bag and assuring that all was in order he made his way towards the airlock and towards his new home and his new assignment.

Lieutenant Horst Omert

Horst was a bear of a man and there wasn't enough liquor to knock him out, that didn't mean he wasn't in pain though. His arm was killing him, he had been challenged in numerous arm wrestling contests throughout the night and the effect of them all was now taking hold.

It was time to go, he knew it as soon as he saw the blinking message. Checking his orders, he grabbed his already prepared duffel bag and started off for the airlock and the ship. He was a marine, he knew enough to travel light and that he might be called upon at any minute to be dropped into a hot zone.

[Binks]

Lieutenant Benjamin Giles
Last night had been a fairly uneventful night for Benjamin and so he found it easy to awake at his normal time and run through his morning routine. Checking his messages at his terminal he paged through the normal ones, a few drunken messages from old enemies, quite a few pointless entries that served no purpose besides filling a few more bits of storage space, and an oddly short message from one of the Admiralty with a rather large attachment.

Reading the message Ben froze. Four times he read over the entire message before it sunk in fully.Thinking it was an incredible opportunity, the chance of a lifetime he quickly pulled out his communicator to call Denver, his old buddy...just as it rang. Denver always was a bit faster on the uptake.

After a short conversation in which Denver confirmed he had been posted as well Benjamin was feeling on top of the world as he set out for the prototype, taking only a small bag of personal possessions, the rest of the equipment in his old room having been standard military gear that would simply be passed on to the next person to occupy the temp room.

Lieutenant Mark Bates
Mark awoke to the sound of his alarm going off at its normal time...and promptly hit snooze and went back to sleep.

4 snoozes later...he'd had way too much to drink at the celebration last night...he awoke to a different sound, a loud banging at his door.

"Mark! I know you're still sleeping. Get up already!" Naomi's voice came, loud enough to make Mark groan.

Standing with another groan Mark made his way to the door, unlocking and opening it quickly before moving to sit on one of the chairs. Naomi entered without another word and moved off to one of the wall terminals, quickly tapping in a few commands before stepping aside to show the results.

"What is it?" Mark said as he clutched his head and tried to will away the headache. "I'm not exactly in the right state of mind for guessing games."

"Looks like you just got a promotion and a posting Lieutenant Bates."

Looking up Mark quickly read the message...and then, noticing the login name, blinked a few times before speaking. "I don't recall ever giving you my password." he said questioningly, wondering if he might have blurted it out while inebriated.

"You didn't, but you did write it down...something you should think about when you assign another person to clean your desk."

Chuckling Mark leveraged himself out of the chair and walked towards the bedroom. Naomi just shook her head at how calmly he was taking it and got to work on some of the paperwork Mark was always falling behind on, figuring that there was no chance he'd do it while getting accustomed to a new ship.

Half an hour later the two of them headed out, Mark freshly cleaned but still very much hungover from the celebration, Naomi in much better shape but struggling to contain her excitement at the post, and annoyance at Mark for being so apathetic towards it.

[whoiam]

OOC:
Alright, decision time for the four of you. We can continue as we are - no doctor, no pilot. We can go back to recruitment to replace the JJ, who appears to have just disappeared on us. Or two of you can take on one of the missing roles. I'm not too fussed, but for obvious reasons, we need this sorted before you make the ship launch!

[daelrog]

Dr. Cho Xing folded his last shirt into his bag, then zigged it up. Slinging the fifty pound military issue duffle with ease, he opened the door, and headed down the hall. He considered briefly last night, how many women had approached him. The ifrst two had been welocme and he even considered excusing himself from his sister to be in their company, but soon after it became too much. He was a doctor, not a playboy. He wished that stupid competition of naming 'the most handsome male officer' or whatever had never happened.

Still, maybe after this mission he'd have a few more drinks, get drunk, and take one of these women, or more than one, up on their offer. He'd have to break the two day rule and go a bit longer to reply.

"哥哥我门去在那里？“ (Brother, where are we going?)

“我不知道。'Prototype.'" (I don't know. The 'Prototype'.)

Lu only shurgged her shoulders. Sounded like another ship to her by the sound of it. Unlike her brother, her English was poor at best.

However, like her brother, she was already ready. There was a good chance they would be the first ones there.

[Binks]

Lieutenant JG Mars looked about the small quarters for one last time, fretting about whether he'd forgotten anything in the rush to pack for his new position. Satisfied he strained to lift his slightly overfilled duffel and headed out. Before the door could swing shut, however, he rushed back in to check one of the drawers that he was sure he'd left his favorite pen in...before feeling it's familiar weight in his pants pocket. Backing out of the room Mars let out a deep breath, heaved his bag once again, and headed out, taking another look at his orders on his tablet to make sure he hadn't missed something.

"Prototype..." he said as he wandered out of the building, nearly running over a few people in his focused state. Mars was so focused that he didn't even hear the complaints as he passed. This was the sort of thing that every true pilot wished for, Mars was sure, the chance to put a prototype vessel through her paces...and here he was, being offered this chance. Not for the first time he checked to make sure the message wasn't some kind of prank, but everything seemed to check out, and so Mars shouldered his bag with some difficulty and headed to his new position, doing his best to look calm and collected...and failing horribly.

[whoiam]

There were moderate crowds around on the LEO Shipyard's lower level, but as the crew filtered up onto the docking level they had thinned out dramatically.

This was the fault of the gravity, of course. The upper level did not spin to generate gravity - it would have made docking and undocking needlessly dangerous. But it did mean that once you were on the upper level, you were floating.

Hand rails were provided to facilitate your movement, and the corridors tended not to be all that thick - to reduce the chance you'd get stuck in the middle of one.

The Prototype itself was docked directly to the upper ring, as most ships were during construction. The 'nose' - the docking bay at the front of the armoury section - was connected to Dock 4. The rest of the ship was doubtless to be accessed via the armoury.

There were no lights on in the Prototype - neither of its power plants (the Antimatter power plant in the engineering pod at the rear, or the backup Fusion power plant in the science pod) were active yet. This was how a ship was delivered to it's first crew... complete, but silent. Still.

They got to turn it on. For the first time.

The Unnamed Prototype itself had the same gravity-generating mechanism as the lower ring did - it rotated around its central axis to generate gravity. For obvious reasons, this was not possible until two tasks had been completed: One or both power plants were brought online, and the ship was disconnected from the station.

Probably best to get the entire crew on board before leaving dock, though.


Starting the fusion plant: DC20 (Fusion Reactors)
Starting the Anti-Matter plant: DC 25 (Anti-Matter Reactors)
Disconnecting from the station and backing away: DC 20 (Deep-Space Piloting)

[Binks]

Lieutenant Benjamin Giles
Floating off the space station's elevator and quickly grabbing one of the rails Ben made his way towards Dock 4 in silence, only interrupted as he passed Dock 5 and was met by Denver.

"Hey Ben! Man, can you believe this?"

Ben simply nodded with a smile, allowing Denver to fall in behind him on the way to Dock 4. Arriving there with no other incidents Ben paused for a moment at the threshold, causing Denver to bump into him in the low-gravity and let out a loud 'Ouch!'. Of course Denver was just trying to play it up, and Ben knew it, but he still turned with some concern, only to see Denver already over at a nearby window looking at the prototype with some amazement.

Joining him at the window Ben simple stared for a couple of minutes, still amazed at the second chance he'd been given.

After nearly 10 minutes just staring at the ship Ben and Denver made their way aboard without a word, heading first to their rooms to drop off their gear, then splitting up, Denver heading to the lab to check on the equipment and prepare the area and Benjamin heading to the bridge, just as his orders told him to.

Lieutenant Mark Bates
"Alright! Alright! Geez, calm down. It was a long elevator ride...can you blame me for falling asleep?" Mark said as he and Naomi floated towards the prototype, Naomi simply shaking her head at Mark's seeming lack of concern and professionalism on his first day on a new ship.

Passing a pair of strangers, one with Lieutenant's bars, staring out an observation window Mark boarded the ship quickly, for once waiting for an awe-inspired Naomi who paused to stare at the ship for a moment out the window. Quickly dropping off his gear Mark headed for the Bridge right after meeting Naomi at her room, still acting completely calm...and a bit tired. Naomi remained a step behind Mark, looking about in curiosity and looking fairly confident for a Warrant Officer headed to the Bridge of their new posting.

Lieutenant JG Mars Debold
Becoming more and more obviously stressed with each passing dock number Mars wondered, not for the first time, if he was heading in the right direction. He'd already gotten lost on the way to dock 4 once, and he wanted to make sure he wasn't late...holding up the launch of the ship would be a poor way to start out. Passing dock 3 he braced himself for whatever awaited at the airlock...

And found nothing. No crowd, no one waiting on him...just an airlock that he quickly passed through and a relatively empty ship. Dropping off his bag at his room, and thanking his lucky stars that the gravity wasn't on so he didn't have to look like a looser struggling with his luggage, Mars headed to the bridge, looking about with a mixture of curiosity and fear of what might await him on the bridge.