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Old January 2 2013, 02:55 AM   #105
DarKush
Rear Admiral
 
Re: UT: Refugee Crisis/Dark Territory-"Stealing Fire"

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Aodh Homeworld
One year ago…

The Steersman brought his flitter to a stop. “Urith!” He cried over the surging throng, “Urith!” He shouted his mate’s name once more. His eyes flickered over the ripple of bodies, most dressed in the finery befitting the political strata. He focused his attention on the large circular hatches gobbling as many of the desperate passengers they could. The guards hovering about the entrances, on flitters similar to his, had largely given up on trying to police the mob.

There was a similar sense of dread wreathing many of their features. The Cold Ones were here, their large cube ships carving into the homeworld, devouring people and technology. Once the Cold Ones had gorged themselves below, they would set their unholy sights on the ring space station above, holding the four remaining generation ships: The Gift of Fire, The Pillar of Fire, The Ring of Fire, and The Rain of Fire.

He had been assigned to the Gift, given one of the holiest honors ever bestowed on one of his strata, in fact, of any strata. Shepherding not only the Prelate and most of his clerics, but also the Sacred Fire, the jewel left behind by the Fire Beings so long ago, the cornerstone of their civilization, would be his duty.

But he cared for none of that now. All he wanted was to see Urith once more, before they cast their fate to the frigid stars.

“Fintan!” His heart leapt at the nearly hoarse cry. A flitter zipped up to him, stopping just inches from his own.

“Urith!” He cried out, unable to contain his joy. He took one hand off the controls, readjusting as the vehicle tried to get away from him.

“Some steersman you are,” she joked. Urith wore a similar yellow jumpsuit. His beloved was assigned to the engineering crew of The Pillar.
Fintan grinned. “And why aren’t you aboard The Gift?”

“I had to see you…just once more,” he said, now feeling a bit sheepish, and not sure why. The woman smiled, tears glistening her eyes, before she put on a mock tough expression.

“You’re too old to be so sentimental,” she admonished. “We’ll see each other again, once we have left this world to the Cold Ones,” she shuddered, their very mention chilling her, as it did Fintan. Despite all of their technology, all of their terrible weapons, the Cold Ones had found some way to bypass them. It had taken decades, but eventually they had overcome the Aodh.

“The Gift isn’t going anywhere without me,” he smirked, trying to lighten his gathering sadness. “I am the chief steersman after all.” Urith rolled her eyes.

“Get one little promotion and it goes straight to your head,” she said, reaching out to him and touching his cheek. “I can’t wait to hear all of your stories among the cloistered,” she said, “Stay safe.”

Fintan kissed her hand, not really wanting to let go. “You do the same.”
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Jov’k Tholis
Calcite-class battlecruiser

The anomaly threw out the battlecruiser like it was refuse. Commander Narskene, still grabbing hold to hir console, sent a mental command for a status report. The ship spun wildly, gases and fluids spraying across the bridge. The bridge was dark as space, with each newly sparking terminal providing a brief glimmer of light.

The commander didn’t know where they were, what part of space, or even what time they had been thrown into, owing to the temporal properties of the polaric ion energy that had spawned the subspace rupture. Though she had hir suspicions, but the thought chilled her as much as the encroaching coldness of the void seeping through the hull multiple breaches: a predestination paradox.

We’re going to crash, the replacement Sensor Officer said. Rudimentary sensors have detected a planet below us. We are barreling towards it now.

Is there any way we can…cushion the blow? Narskene asked all the remaining bridge crew. Does the flight control station still have rudimentary functionality?

There is some, yes, the hapless pilot sent the nervous reply.

Try to scan for a body of water and then send us into that, Narskene riposted, annoyed that no one had thought of that before.

Have detected a body of water, the Sensor Officer informed hir. The bridge lit up as the ship hit the atmosphere, and a fiery chariot formed around the Jov’k Tholis, yanking it down toward the planet below. The battlecruiser trembled violently and Narskene flinched at the terrible shrieking of metal and crystal as parts of its weathered hull were torn away.

Angle the ship towards it, Narskene told the pilot.

It is difficult, s/he replied, right before hir console exploded in hir face.

Narskene calmly redirected flight control to hir station. The pilot had been right, s/he realized. The shaking ship and the planet’s gravity were fighting against hir, and they were winning. From what s/he been able to grasp from rudimentary readings, the ship was still not headed for the ocean, but for land nearby it. Breaking free of the atmosphere’s blazing embrace, what was left of the battlecruiser continued plummeting. Through the cracked viewer, he saw flashes of blue, the toxic nitrous-oxygen atmosphere seeping into the cracks.

Narskene trilled, coughing at the noxious brew. S/he had hoped they would crash on a methane planet; at least they would be able to breathe if they somehow survived the crash. But now their fates were truly sealed. Unless they could reach the encounter suits in their armory, s/he thought. That was hir last thought.
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Last edited by DarKush; January 2 2013 at 03:32 AM.
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