Project [New Life]: Episodes - Roleplay Thread

[Biggles]

Henry Harcourt, Chief Engineer, IMG Research and Exploration
Jakarta Space Colony

Henry Harcourt strode briskly into Main Hangar B, tapping at the tablet he held in his hand. During the passage from Aland to Jakarta he had been delayed by the sudden appearance of mysterious rocks, seemingly of Nomad origin, in Bretonia. It was an opportunity he could not afford to miss, the rocks being made entirely of en exceptionally rare mineral, Azurite, and he had stopped on the journey from Aland to Jakarta to take samples. As a result he was well behind schedule, and the discovery of two of his apprentices totally stoned on Synth Weed in a toilet cubicle had not done anything to improve matters. He shook his head: these Cryer pilots were a bad influence, but he'd have to put up with them - they were a necessary evil if the success of this project was to be counted on.

He scrolled through his tablet screen, checking his mission brief. In short, he was to oversee the temporary conversion of the research vessel Scotia to a hospital ship to treat Outcasts and rescued slaves alike of their bondage to Cardamine until a permanent treatment facility was completed on Falkirk following expansion work. "Project New Life" they called it. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of welcoming a rabble of Outcasts onboard his ship, but orders were orders.

The first few rescued slaves had already come aboard, freed from a Lane Hacker slaver earlier that day. Although their physical bondage was broken their bodies still belonged to the foul drug. A team of medics was tending to them, administering Stabiline as soon as the symptoms of Cardamine withdrawal became apparent. They reminded him of his own family, fleeing from Leeds after the invasion: dazed, fearful and utterly exhausted. The lucky ones. He remembered his mother's last shuddering gasps onboard Stokes as her lungs struggled to inhale more of the poisoned air pumped onboard by the KNF that was shutting down her body... No. This was not the place.

The familiar bulk of the Scotia looming up ahead gave him some small reassurance. Henry walked over to the gangway, dodging nimbly out of the way of a cargo-bot and up into the hull of the ship. He ran his hand along the battle-scarred exterior as he entered, feeling the rough surface pockmarked by countless micrometeoroids and hostile weapons. The ship's fully modular construction meant that as soon as the last containers of Azurite were out of the hold pressurised habitation modules could be placed in their place to serve as wards. Even so there was still much to do. The living quarters were being expanded to home the dozens of guards that would be watching over the Outcasts onboard, laboratories were being converted into treatment rooms and the ship's security systems were being upgraded to ensure that the Outcasts would not be a threat to the safety of the ship and her crew.

Henry stood in the slowly emptying hold watching workers sending loaded cargobots clambering over the cold steel of the hangar with strange, spider-like movements. With a brief nod to the nearest docker, he turned away and returned to his silent brooding.

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