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Pryce · 08-15-2010, 10:32 AM,

Pryce.Research.N101
Mess Hall

The Mess was mostly deserted, the crew on their various duty shifts.

Elias Nickatelli sat at a table. He had just finished a late breakfast, and was just about to leave when Captain Wells dropped into the seat across from him. There was an instant were Nickatelli considered making some excuse to leave, then he realized he was trapped.

Wells saw the expressions flash across the mans face and correctly surmised their meaning. He sat a moment before speaking. When he did, the words came evenly, and with a slight aura of menace;

"What.The.Hell. Happened down there?" Wells stared into Nickatellis' eyes and the even gaze made Elias want to squirm in his seat.

Nickatelli replied. "That man down there is dangerous, dangerous, I'll telling you. He's a threat to the ship."

Wells was always one to hear someone out, to listen to the opinions and suggestions of his crew. He was well liked because of this, and had gotten out of, or avoided altogether, many tight spots because of that input.

But the main consideration remained that this man had almost started a gunfight in the cargo hold.

"The way I hear it, *you* are the one thats a threat to the ship. Robert told me that you ordered him to shoot our guest. Now, I admit, I almost double checked, but I seem to remember that strike force commanding appears nowhere in your list of duties. Now think carefully, and tell me what you have to say about that."

Nickatelli replied; "I thought he was going to start shooting any second. It was getting out of control, and we had to regain the upper hand before he exploded. He was getting agitated for no reason, and we should have taken him down.You weren't there, and you don't know what it was like."

Wells shook his head. "But I was there. I was watching the visual feed from the hangar. I saw you creeping up on him with that helmet. You escalated the situation when giving our guest a little more space would have defused it. Denise saw that soon enough. I can't understand why you didn't."

"She has no idea what she's doing, can't you see that? She isn't a scientist, she's just an assistant! They've got this clueless school girl messing with squids, radiation, and all kinds of deadly whatzits and no one is saying anything about it. Well I'm saying! She's a clueless as a rock school girl and she's gonna get us killed! She's wanted to be best pals with this guy from point one. The man says he's from the past. That he traveled here, from Sol. *That* *Is* *Crazy* And she takes it as truth right away. I thought these lab types were all about facts. Where's hers?"

Wells hated to admit it to himself, but Nickatelli had made a valid point. He replied carefully;

"I hear what you're saying Elias, but that wasn't the way to voice those opinions. It's moot now. Doctor Ross is calling the lab shots now, so I guess they'll take a more "Lab type" approach.

Nickatelli bared his teeth. "Don't you get it? Ross and Denise are old pals. Denise is still right in the mix, and she's gonna end up doing what she wants anyway.

Wells replied; "Look Elias, I need cool heads, you copy? I need you to stow your baggage and keep your actions squared away. I know Denise, alright?. She's level headed, and she has good instincts that I trust. She's never steered us wrong before."

Nickatelli sneered. "You think she's this perfect little blonde labcoat, who will one day stop refusing you and finally let you bend her over and.."

"Congratulations," Wells interrupted, "You have just won yourself a free ticket off my ship." He'd finally lost his patience.

Nickatelli stood. "It'll be my ship soon enough. Then we'll see."

Nickatelli angrily left the Mess hall.

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Vogel · 08-15-2010, 05:09 PM,

Lieutenant Doyle unfolded his arms and started walking over to the group, at a cautious pace.

'Pretty sure I can clear things up,' he started, catching the attention of the others. 'First off, I'm not here to become a lab rat. Gone through too much Hell just to be locked into a cell and probed. There's a reason I picked your private group over the governments around here.'

He glanced over at his fighter, still sitting snug in the bay. 'Secondly, my fighter isn't exactly one of your 'Guardians'. It can't sustain lift in heavy atmospheres, never designed to. If it goes planet-side wherever your 'Institute' is, it isn't going back up, and I can't have that.'

They were staring at him. Of course they were, he came out of nowhere speaking answers that clearly showed he was eavesdropping.

Nice entrance, moron...

'For the record. The name's Doyle. Lieutenant James Doyle, 92nd International Volunteers.' He looked at Denise and grinned. 'And I suppose I'm becoming a popular guy around here.'

Pryce · 08-17-2010, 06:45 AM,

[color=#FFFF00]Main Hangar Bay

Doctor Ross nodded gracefully; a slow, formal gesture, not quite a bow. "Lieutenant Doyle. It is a pleasure to meet you." She had shifted out of the clear evenness of her lecturing tone, and drifted back into her more refined, softer manner of speaking. A trace of her native accent, combined with her delicate manner, betrayed her heritage; a family of good breeding as well suited to affairs of Court, as it was to University. She continued;

"My name is Samantha Ross, I am head of the Theoretical and Applied Physics Branch of the Pryce Institute. Please allow me to introduce some of my colleagues. " She gestured to the man standing beside her, A tall, thin man apparently in his early seventies. "May I present Doctor Marcus Owens, Professor of Quantum mechanics, " (The man nodded pleasantly) "Doctor Ian Graham, Professor in the field of Particle physics." (The short, balding man, was slightly overweight, and had a fairly unkempt appearance compared to the others. He seemed to be about sixty) "Hello Lieutenant." He said.

Ross stepped aside slightly, and indicated the pair standing behind her, before continuing;

"Doctor Paul Donovan, Doctor of Biochemistry, " (This man was younger than the other two men, perhaps in his early to mid forties; about Doyles height, with jet black hair and sharp features. He nodded, somewhat curtly) "Doctor Gwendolyn Hart, Doctor of Mechatronic and Explorative Engineering."

The woman smiled and winked."That's two doctorates in one package; And it's just Gwen now that we're pals. Don't worry James, my labrats get only the best cheese." Graham coughed.

Denise Ellis watched as Doyle patiently endured the gauntlet of introductions.

He still looks exhausted She thought, though she admitted she might be only projecting her own condition. No, he definitely looks uncomfortable..is he ill again?

About a meter away, Angela Wight was considering much the same thoughts. He looks like he did, right before.. She considered everything she had seen so far, realizing the results of what she had seen, if not how.

Angela stepped off slightly from the group and spoke; "Pardon me Doctors. We are in the way. I believe the Lieutenant may wish to check on his vessel." She stood quietly, wondering if her suspicion was right.

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Vogel · 08-17-2010, 07:19 AM,

Gotta introduce every doctor. God knows what the Hell half of these disciplines mean. Mecha-what?

He nodded at them each in turn, trying to be as nonchalant as possible; poker face with newcomers. Of course, when it got to Ms. Hart, he couldn't help but let out a little smirk.

And if it's not in jest I'll break your neck, but not right now...

The whole crowd was staring at him, intently or not, yet Denise and that other one, Angela, were looking a bit more concerned.

The queasy feeling in his gut coincided with Angela's statement.

He looked square at her, not giving her the chance to slink away. Figured out the basics, have you?

"Of course, gotta check on a few things," he said to the group, "Might as well make my own introductions, like for my ship."

He gestured across the bay and started walking around the scientists and towards his fighter. Brushing past Angela, he looked at her briefly and smirked slightly. Attentive one. And suspicious. Not a good combination, but I'll deal with it.

"So," Doyle said behind him, "This would be my fighter. FS-190 Minuteman. Light fighter, nothing fancy. Single-engined light interceptor, twin tachyon Gatling guns and missile launchers.."

Reaching the ship, he turned around and leaned back on its nose. There was the slightest feeling of weightlessness before the turmoil in his stomach died down, and all of his senses seemed to come back to clarity.

"Registry AF 99-0127. Was assigned her back in Aug..."

He stopped. Did they even use the same damn calendar? AS?

"... Back in August," he continued, "Flew her out of Barnegat right up until the, uh..."

He stopped again. The Hell did they call it? The Defeat? The Retreat? The Exodus?

"The, uh... Exodus, I think." He patted the fighter's nose, gently, almost lovingly. "Fifth ship, after a lot of bad days... Hasn't failed me yet."

He looked at the scientists again, matching stare for stare, trying to keep face. He folded his arms.

"So, what can I do for you fellas?"

Pryce · 08-18-2010, 08:14 AM,

[color=#FFFF00]Main Hangar Bay

He looked at Angela and at that moment she knew her guess was right. He saw that she knew the fighter was more than just transportation, more than just a weapon to him. He was tied to it somehow. He started towards his fighter, a faint smile as he passed her. For these moments at least, this small bit of knowledge was a secret kept only between the two of them. She felt pride, something she hadn't felt for quite some time, pleased with herself at making this small connection, a small point, and finding it before the others did, despite their greater age and experience. Then a tinge of guilt for feeling that way.

Doyle reached his fighter, beginning to relate the basic details of his craft, the significance of which was lost on Angela. She glanced to her side, seeing Doctor Graham was leaning forward slightly, hanging on Doyles every word. As Doyle leaned on the fighter, Angela intently watched both Doyle and the craft. She couldn't see anything....and yet in moments there was a faint, decernable change in his demeanor, the strained look he'd worn only minutes ago had faded. She remembered what she'd seen through the "eyes" of the helmet, and realized there was a great deal happening here that simply wasn't visable. She glanced at Denise.

Denise had now made the connection herself, having just seen Doyles "recovery" , and was trying to process what she was seeing.

Doyle finished his remarks with a question, jolting Angela to the present.

Ross replied to Doyle; "One small detail, Lieutenant Doyle, please let us prepare to properly document our work here."

Doctor Graham cleared his throat and was about to ask a question when Doctor Ross spoke to Angela. "Miss Wight, will you please go and fetch the trancription voice recorder please? It is in the small blue case, there, near the coffee." Pointing at the edge of the hangar nearest them.

"Yes Doctor." Angela replied. She turned and started walking towards the bulkhead, as Graham asked Doyle some mundane technical question about his fighter, trying to start a converation. Doyle replied, Angela hearing the context but not the words.

She reached the small table Gwen had set up for the coffee, stopping a moment to pour herself a cup, her back to the group. She had calmed somewhat, and her initial apprehension of their guest had settled abit, replaced by her normal, constant discomfort she always felt when around groups of people. She closed her eyes, and took a long, slow breath. She wished they hadn't sent so many, knowing even as she thought it, still more would come. If she were in Doyles place, she'd be more comfortable with a more informal, smaller group, not this mass of faces and instruments. If she were in charge, she'd have done it differently; but she was only an assistant. Nothing more. At least eight years yet for her doctorate, if she managed to do well enough to get there. Years more to be accepted at the same level as Doctor Ross or Owens. She sighed, very faintly. At least Denise seemed to feel mostly the same way she did.

"Get lost sweetie?"

Gwen Hart had moved up beside her, pouring her own cup of coffee, then another for Ross. She glanced at Angela, noting her demeanor, before adding; "Here, I'll take care of this part, why don't you relax a minute?" Gwen picked up the case beside the table, and slung the strap over her shoulder. She picked up a coffee cup in each hand, and headed back to the group.

Poor kid Gwen thought. Needs to learn to relax, and learn fast Graham was saying to Doyle; "So the "jumpdrive" burns up fuel that fast? Perhaps thats why we don't use them anymore. Not very economical. I guess thats why we have the trade lanes anyway." Gwen smiled and interrupted; "You missed your calling Ian. Shoulda been building engines hmm?. There's time, go on, we'll wait." She reached Ross and extended the coffee cup. Ross waved her off. "I am grateful Doctor Hart, but I am afraid Libertonians version of coffee doesn't agree with me."

Gwen shrugged; "More for me." Bretonians Keller had just come back in , and wordlessly set up a table next to the fighter, with Crowley coming in a second later to set up some chairs. Gwen set the case on the table, opened it, and extracted a small rectangular device, setting it on the surface of the table. After nodding at Ross, and a faint smile at Doyle, she wandered off to start an inventory and power draw assesment of the equipment.

Ross, Owens, and Donovan each took a seat at the table. Graham stood at Doyles side near the fighter. Ross took a breath, looked around the table, and spoke; "Shall we begin?"

Denise was standing next to the seated staff and saw Doyle eyeing the box on the table. "It's a trancription device," She said. "It's important that we keep records for the research, so nothing gets lost. It's only in case we need to refer to details later on. We'll keep it safe." Denise hoped they weren't moving too fast with this. However, there was no sense in deliberately dragging the work out.

Ross watched Denise speak with a quiet caution, and Ross was reminded to reign herself in a little from the norm.

She asked;

"Lieutenant Doyle, will you tell us how it is you came to be in Sirius?

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Vogel · 08-18-2010, 07:56 PM,

Dropping the big one so quickly? he mused, Not even a chance to validate my service record, if it still exists. Damn.

"Well..." Doyle muttered, "That depends, do you want the technical side or the 'what I think happened' side? Because the technical side doesn't exist; I haven't a clue. And I hardly know what happened, other than that one minute I'm staring at Hell and the next..."

He stopped. Again.

And looked directly at Doctor Ross.

"The Sleeper Ships left before... You people don't know what happened, do you..?"

This isn't going to end well...

Pryce · 08-21-2010, 04:09 AM,

[color=#FFFF00]Main Hangar Bay

Samantha Ross returned the gaze with a puzzled expression. She paused, to drag up what she recalled of The Alliance-Coalition War.

"It is presumed that the Coalition, having pushed the Alliance forces to a small dwarf planet at the edge of the Sol system, Pluto, wasn't it? would have made their final attack. It is known that the sleeper ships themselves only just escaped the opposing fleet. At the time, the last elements of the Alliance had lost most of it's access to resources and production capacity.Their ability to resist was severely diminished, and it is unlikely they would have been able to fight for much longer. The Coalition was known to be quite inhuman in the treatment of conquered ..." She stopped, having almost forgotten who she was speaking to.

She glanced away from the Lieutenants' uncomfortable gaze before returning. She frowned slightly before adding; "It has always been known that the Coalition would have won the war. We would consider Sol, and its planets would now likely be under Coalition control."

Doctor Marcus Owens had listened to Ross speak, and was now watching Doyle intently, though the same was true of the other staff within earshot.

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Vogel · 08-21-2010, 04:31 AM,

"Inhumane" was an understatement. Then again, where he came from, "humane" was no longer a meaningful word.

These people had been completely isolated from their past, and had no wish to relive it. The Sleeper Ships were a proverbial "reboot" of the human race, or at least of the Alliance nations, made in the face of duress. Duress entailed Extinction. But at the hands of the Coalition; the aliens were unknown to them.

If they even existed..

Doyle frowned, nodded slightly, just to act as if he was paying further attention. Should he bother describing what he saw? What he felt? They already thought he was insane... was he insane?

"Sounds about right.." he finally managed to say, looking down at the floor, "Everyone on Pluto died, except for me."

A half truth: everybody in the Solar System died, except himself, and a certain General Rockford.

Neither of them should have lived.

Pryce · 08-22-2010, 05:22 AM,

[color=#FFFF00]Main Hangar Bay

Denise covered her mouth with her hand and thought; He's lost everything

It hurt her heart to think of anyone experiencing what this man had. To be so alone. There was a voice in the back of her mind telling her to be more objective, but she had already realized that she believed this man, though she couldn't say why. She felt it, sensing his guarded vulnerability, his loss.

Graham listened quietly, and Doctor Donovan leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. Ross learned forward
to reply when Doctor Owens asked; "How did you manage to escape?"

Keller, Crowley, and Doctor Hart exited the hangar, to get more equipment.

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Vogel · 08-22-2010, 08:46 AM,

They cut straight to the chase, these people...

Dodge it.

"Like I said, I'm not sure."

He was somewhat sure.

"Warped, or something.."

Across a couple thousand light years, and years.

"Don't know how, or why."

Except he knew how, just not exactly why. Those creatures, the ones that destroyed everything he knew...

He was beginning to feel uneasy, but it was a natural feeling, unlike what he experienced when leaving his ship. Not that it was a good feeling regardless.

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