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| 21 Parsects; Medium Quest: Osiris | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 24 2016, 06:41 AM (233 Views) | |
| Osiris | Mar 24 2016, 06:41 AM Post #1 |
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Pallor Lord
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Title:21 Parsects Location: Ruins of Cauldron Difficulty: Medium Description: The Sponsor is ecstatic at how well you did in the qualifying round. He's offered to continue paying you to race his ship. This time you are racing against other pilots who did just as well as you in the last round, and everyone is vying for a chance to race in the championship. The competition is going to be much more heated, and a lot more dangerous. Watch out for the competition, they would love to retire you, permanently! (You get use of a corvette for this quest only). Reward: +600 zeni, +8 DP, +70 all stats, +8 Rp Credits Requirement: Lessek Run quest completed. Edited by Osiris, Apr 9 2018, 08:44 AM.
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| Osiris | Mar 13 2018, 03:25 PM Post #2 |
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Pallor Lord
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“Your newblood’s got some talent in ‘er . . . although she did scratch up the hull skimmin’ those asteroids like she was tryin’ to shave them.” Sedrick was in his alcove of the maintenance with a grinder running full bore over a couple of fresh surface welds. The Lessek Run had gone well. The fresh faces in the growing pseudo-criminal enterprise they had been building on Suicide Station had proven to be effective enough. “The scrapes were a necessary part of her plotted course. She stuck to the optimal path better than we had expected. The shielding on the ship wasn’t as effective as we had estimated.” Sedrick spoke with a bit of a chastising chuckle, “That’s what you young things get for trusting those simulations too much. Especially for the Lessek! The asteroid field is always changing and big 21 coming up is going to be even more unpredictable.” “The gravity detonations they set off to mark the beginning of the race might make course projections useless - but the simulated flight training is always a solid place to start.” Nellic picked up a buffering rotor and snapped on a diffusion pad before handing it to the canine looking alien. Sedrick slapped on a thick global of black paint over the largest patch of bare metal before taking the implement. With a few swipes, the fresh welds would vanish beneath a polished surface of fused graphene paint. Over the hum of the spinning tool, and through a great puff of glycerin vapor, “So, she going to race again in the 21? The deadline for entry is coming up, and I need to know if I have a pilot.” “Haven’t found yourself a permanent?” The damaskian had a dry tone, but it still sounded sly when they both knew it was pointless question. “Eh, you damn well know I haven’t. Everyone worth hiring is already racin’ with a bigger team, or seem to end up workin’ for you and your ilk. Let’s not play coy. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t intend on offering.” Sedrick took the buffering rotor away and inspected the freshly sealed coat with a grunt of satisfaction. “The lass is good enough to place high in ranks for the Bootna.” Nellic nodded, “She is, and that is why she is busy running a small crew out to Juno and back.” Another snort of warm white vapor was expelled through old mechanic’s snout, “The hell kind of sense does that make?” “No team who makes a pilot switch after the Lessek has made it all the way through the season, did you know that?” “Everyone knows that, but the curse of the first is just a stupid superstition. Good pilots are just hard to find around here after the season starts - which is my whole damn problem right now.” The damaskian nodded again, “Which is exactly why we intend to bet on your ship to win. Helana will be taking the helm and the winner’s purse.” Sedrick took a long drag on his old vaporizer while tapping the side of his snout with a thumb. “Is that, er, yeah, the one with the pink hair . . . short on the top, but with a braid down the back. She’s got a funny accent that one - been on more than one Keliouxian world I’d wager.” “Aye, and enough experience to fly any given Imperial produced ship blindfolded. There was a reason she was training Zangya and not me.” “Eh, is that so? She get all that experience working in the old shipyards?” “Ex-military,” Nellic said the word with a confident smirk. The alien snapped open the vaporizer and let the cartridge bounce on the floor. Before he could pull out his own snuff box to refill the device, his visitor handed him a bundle of three new cartridges marked with a stylized drawing of a single spore. “What’s this girly?” ‘A new blend of vellocet we just got going for vaporizers. It’s suppose to be taken with an inhaler, but the heat doesn’t change the chemical signature. Just speeds up absorption getting deeper into the lungs.” “Given out freebies now, eh?” He put one cartridge in the vaporizer and then held it in his teeth so he could store the others in his snuff box. “Just tryin’ to get me hooked on your new stuff, but I keep tellin’ ya’ I’m only addicted to variety.” She shrugged her shoulders, “The boss tells me it’s less addictive than old mixtures. Hard addicts make for too many security problems. Think of this as a gift between business partners. Just don’t chain them together, or it will be the last gift you ever get, old dog.” “Variety girly, variety! Aren’t you listen?” Sedrick chuckled a bit at his own false exuberance, “I would never double up on the same dose. What’s the fun in feelin’ the same?” With a smile, Nellic turned to leave. “Good. I don’t want to have one of my crew drag your body off. Too much paperwork to get your shit transferred down to the foundry to be melted down. Helana should be down to get the ship’s controls tuned up to her liking tomorrow.” The damaskian reached out a hand and snatched up a small bag sitting among a scattered pile of tools atop the portable tool chest they should have been stored inside. With a slight bounce, she elicited the sound of small metal bars clicking together and tested the weight. It felt right so long as they were all 50 zeni marks. “Tell the tax man the new stuff is good. Hits quick!” the canine looking alien spoke over his shoulder as he turned back to work on the corvette racer some more. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ WC: 1,033 |
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| Osiris | Mar 13 2018, 03:27 PM Post #3 |
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Pallor Lord
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Helana sat in the cockpit with her eyes closed and ran her fingers along the controls, and tested the pressure of the pedals without getting caught up in the mass of data readouts. She had run enough simulations and test flights to know the corvette’s systems were calibrated for tight turns, and immediate acceleration. It wouldn’t have as much top speed as normal, but in the shifting courses of most asteroid races no one was running full burn for more than a few seconds. Everything felt pretty satisfying with the tactile interface. As she opened her eyes, the digital overlays glared at here from every angle. It was overwhelming at first, but her eyes adjusted and she quickly swept through the preflight readouts. It wasn’t a strictly necessary ritual since all the systems had been checked twice before she even settled in - but it gave the camera tracking her eye motion another good exercise to get everything synced up to her personal habits. Corvette’s normally didn’t have much in way of full A.I. systems, especially racers who would rather add an extra plasma tank than a analytic stack. This ship, Sedrick’s Serpent, had a stripped down custom job which had been tailored specifically to work with Helana. Osiris, Dr. Franlin, and herself had copied the system from her own Corvette she had requisitioned from the Empire. The ship wasn’t a racer like the Serpent. It was a low key tactical craft which sacrificed top tier speed performance for a surprising amount of fire power. The A.I. was meant mostly to act as a dedicated gunner. To do that at top efficiency it had to not only be able to predict the enemies movements, but also the pilot’s, Helana. Even stripped down, the ability to track multiple targets and assist pilot function made it more than worth its hardware’s weight to fit into the Serpent. Sedrick’s gravelly voice was piped directly into the helmet Helana was wearing, “Most of the other flyers are going to be relying on their team to send ‘em long range course scans . . . so ya’ know, hang back for a while.” “I do know, it was my strategy. I’ll hang back and conserve fuel with a more efficient flight path, just like we all agreed.” Helana’s voice was about as blase as she actually felt. Even as the hard metallic thunk of the carrier craft picking up her ship resonated through the hull, the woman’s heart rate only ticked up one or two beats. She could see exactly where the magnetic grappling hook had latched on, because it was blocking one of her rear mount cameras almost entirely. It kept her from having a good angle to look into the cockpit of ship in the sixth slot directly behind her. Only the three top qualifiers needed to be picked up before the carrier craft would shuttle everyone to the designated start zone. It wouldn’t be long. “I know, I know, girly. When the nerves get primed, sometimes it’s easy to forget a plan when you are eyin’ the whole shot. Seen it too many times to count,” the old sponsor sighed a little wearily, “lose a lotta good ships that way, ya’ know, when the pilot gets over eager.” Helana was looking at her own reflection in the polished surface which covered the cockpit of the third place qualifier as it was snatched off the launch deck their sponsor’s private yacht class ship. The Corvette was plastered with corporate logos. Some of which the woman even recognized from planets she had visited outside the Empire. “You can check my vitals. I’m calm.” “Once that flare burns, and the mags drop . . . everyone gets that rush for victory!” Sedrick’s voice had more nostalgia in it than a Keliouxian would express in an entire lifetime. A silent alarm flashed in the corner of Helana’s left eye; someone was trying to scan her ship. The alien dismissed it with a thought. Either the passive counter measures would rebuff them, or not. Shield activation was strictly prohibited before the magnetic couplings dropped at the start of the race. “Once you’ve been in a few battles, you realize victory is matter of survival more than anything else. Making rash decisions because they feel good is the best way to end up dead. I’m calm, and I’ll stay calm until we get into the thick of it and I need the adrenaline boost.” Sedrick’s chuckle echoed inside the helmet softly, “Between you and Nellic, I’d say your outfit looks more like a militia than a station gang.” The first place qualifier and winner of the Lessek Classic was locked into place with another resounding thunk. Fully loaded, the carrier craft lifted off and headed away from Suicide Station and the surrounding ships. It would only be a few more minutes before they were set to rip into the fresh course. “Even criminals can crave the regularity of discipline. When the law isn’t there to protect you, having a reliable network is all the more important. Surely an old timer like you has lived long enough to understand that.” She could see the twin rows of beacons marking the starting line. It made her heart beat pick up an extra beat, but nothing more. “A reliable ship was all I ever needed to make it through a day, girly,” he had a raspy tone of arrogance . . . . . . but Helana didn’t buy into it. Everyone said he reminded them of a dog or a wolf or the dozens of other canine like species which seemed to inevitably evolve on the various biogenic worlds. Her rosa colored eyes only saw a snake too old to shed its age worn skin. “Why not join us and see what it’s like then?” The offer was false, but she wanted to hear his inevitable excuse. “Ah ha, variety is my vice, girly. The only boss I like takin’ orders from everyday is myself.” There was a small chime in the background, “Ah, well, doesn’t look like their scans got deep enough to see our new mods.” “Good. The extra layer of signal shielding was worth it then.” The adoptive Keliouxian was tempted to try to push Sedrick to see why he was really so non-commital. After all, basically all the credits he made lately came through the Saoirsen - and no matter what he said, everyone likes a steady flow of zeni. Unfortunately, the final countdown was beginning. It was time to focus on race, and nothing else. “After the gravity bombs detonate and you send me the long range scans, keep the comms clear. The false update pings will be enough - I shouldn’t need any actual outside data unless it’s critical.” She flexed her grip around the controls, and heard the gloves of her space suit strain under the pressure. The flexion was immediately followed by a willful attempt to relax not just her forearms, but every muscle in her body. It was a common exercise within the Academy. The biochemical release from the relaxation helped to keep the mind steady - especially coupled with nine breathes of slowing: a technique meant to bring the performer’s heart rate down to a near standstill on the final breath. Of course, you could stop earlier, once you feel satisfied with the sense of calm reached. “Understood.” The audio line clicked closed, and everything was silent. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________ WC:1,283 TWC: 2,316 Edited by Osiris, Mar 13 2018, 03:27 PM.
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| Osiris | Mar 13 2018, 03:59 PM Post #4 |
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Pallor Lord
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“Read out the competing ship’s names and link them to their tracking icons.” Rigella. Cruxion. Timberfork. Nexus Jumper. Kaleoan’s Pride. KN-7-PTO. Correction’s Vanguard. Each name snapped into a fixed position on top of the simplified scanner readout which gave the pilot a simulated god’s eye view of her surroundings. The affixed text was tiny in order to compensate for how close the competitors were clustered. “Set name transparency on a sliding scale by proximity. The closer the ship, the more solid the label.” The immediate change was slight, but she could still tell there was a difference. “Good.” Dark rosa eyes squinted at the second to last name on the list. The meaningless call sign made her uneasy. It may have been the same crew and same pilot from a previous race, but the ship looked brand new from what Helana saw when she was being picked up by the transport. Someone had splurged to get their racer a better machine, and that meant more than the normal amount of unaccounted variables. It also didn’t help that the rules for the race were largely negligible given enough spare zeni to throw into a bribe. She flicked her fingers as though clicking on something floating off to her right. A drop window slid open with the symbolic display of missile casings marked with the ring and inward swirling arrows symbol keliouxians used to represent gravity. With her ring finger, she flicked again, six times to toggle each missile. One last check . . . she thought to herself with a tiny tingle of anticipation. A part of her didn’t want to waste any of the warheads on such a petty pursuit. They were a gift from her Lord, and oldest friend - but no matter what she would have to fire at least one. A red flare suddenly exploded to life on the view screen. It burned in the void between the starline and the beginning of the asteroid field with the intensity of a plasma torch. It was the start of the countdown. The next detonation couldn’t be seen, only felt. A queasy sensation rippled through Helana’s body as the ship groaned gently around here. The shockwave from the gravity bombs going off in the asteroid field was always a strange sensation. Almost like being a lake and having a child throw a fistfull of pebbles into you: a harmless and momentary disruption of your inner calm as the overlapping waves rebounded and echoed off one another. A brighter yellow flare was launched from the transport and exploded into a brilliant little star even as the last of the rusty smoke from the first flare fully dissipated. The metamaterial gauntlets creaked as Helana squeezed the primary flight controls in anticipation for the final signal. Tension spread across her shoulders and her core tightened to lock her slender frame into place. Picking up on the muscular contractions, the internal bioscanners reflexively tightened the interlocking mechanisms between her spacesuit and flight seat. It felt like having a hand made of living foam gently wrap around her torso and hips. It felt comforting, an extra barrier buffering against any spikes in adrenaline. After only a few seconds, the burning yellow flare began to fade into a smoldering trail of opaque smoke obscuring optical scans of the now erratically jostling asteroids. Falling! Helana’s body suddenly screamed the warning at her as the void of space was suddenly replaced by an omnipresent body of blinding green! She threw back the throttle control with her left arm, and felt the full force of the Serpent’s engines send her hurtling into the fray. ________________________________________________________________________________________ WC: 618 TWC: 2, 934 |
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| Osiris | Mar 13 2018, 04:00 PM Post #5 |
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Pallor Lord
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Osiris sat in the cargo hold of Perse’s Fist with an ancient book balanced in one claw, and a plain looking plasma carver in the other. He had been working on burning a set of arcane runes into the interior casing of a field generator - a critical component of his relefare production chamber. For the moment though, his attention turned to the wall monitor near the interior doorway. He had set the device to pick up the broadcast of the race, but had been ignoring the pre-race chatter of over eager announcers. The flashes of high powered signal flares had brought an abrupt end to the idle speculation and ushered in the breathless silence of anticipation. It didn’t last long. “Couplings Away! BURN BURN BURN!” The two announcers screamed with tandem fanatical fervor as the collected ships were magnetically thrown clear of the transport and eight engines suddenly ignited into a brilliant array of superheated plasma. So many high output engines running into a full burn so close together made for a spectacular sight. Each of the eight ship’s hulls were equipped with shielding to protect it from the intense heat and friction of whoever was in front of them - but only by repulsing the ion stream. That meant while streams of plasma were shunted away outside the pack, just as much was being compressed inside the racing formation. It was the kind of phenomenon you saw nowhere else - and it made for interesting mechanical setups as different crews tried to manipulate the collective exhaust depending on their starting positions. The leaders were kitted with weaker shielding in the front, but a specialized “bumper” projector which allowed them to extend a ring shaped shield backwards around their own exhaust allowing them to be pushed by the condensed core without creating drag from their own engine. Mid-pack, it was all about streamlining and controlling the flow. Essentially, changing the variant shielding polarity from different emitters on the hull not only kept turbulence in check, but acted as the trajectory controls instead of the peripheral thrusts. As long as the pilot could stay “in the wave”, they could stay in a full engine burn without diverting any energy or velocity to maneuvering. Those in the back had it the hardest, naturally. The turbulence at the back, amplified by the mid-pack’s manipulations, made keeping a straight course a nightmare.And then there was the “crest”; When the pack suddenly broke apart and diverged into various courses through the asteroids, the condensed plasma became a chaotic torrent spraying loose from its confinement. Most chose to peel off from the very start and simply accept the handicap of starting their first full-burn late. Making up the lag time was difficult, but not impossible. But today, the last seats were feeling lucky. Both KN-7-PTO’s sleek silvery skin and Correction’s Vanguard’s aggressive neon-red fins were barely more than a singular black blot barely hanging on to the tail of the inferno. Around and between the two ships, the condensed exhaust was even brighter as it streamed into a singular white torchlight. They were engaging in a very dangerous strategy. Much like the ‘bumper’ projections the leaders used to ride the collective wave, the trailer’s were combining their shielding configuration to effectively generate a third, shared thruster - an improvised ramjet where their own ships were acting as the fuel injectors. It was a complicated maneuver, and required an extra generator installed on the ship, but it meant no handicap . . . And a properly timed dismount before the wave broke would slingshot both of the racers into the asteroid field at speeds the others couldn’t manage to generate. “Ah man, these guys are crazy tryin’ to shoot the wave with Cruxion ridin’ out in front!” The announcers had highlighted the three ships on the screen to draw the attention of their audience. “Yeah, I agree with ya Jaxsion. Cruxion is known to carry a refractor even when he is in the midpack - you know damn sure she is packing now. These guys must have something up their sleeves to even consider trying to run up on her.” “Well, we are about to find out just what that pretty new PTO ship can do!” The group was approaching the boundary of the now shifting field of rocky debris. The true startline as far as most fans were concerned. Now matter how well you did or didn’t manage the complications of collective exhaust - if you smashed your ship into a planetoid it didn’t mean shit. Osiris eyes tracked the Sedrick’s Serpent as it peeled off from the pack early; a singular strand of light snapping off at an almost forty-five degree angle from the rest of the racers. Helana must have already picked out an optimal path she could use to maintain position without having to carry as much velocity into the field. It was a good instinct. A few seconds later, and just a few kilometers from the debris strewn tract, a flash of multicolored energy was suddenly injected into the exhaust wave. Cruxion’s purple hull dove to the right to escape the refraction the pilot had just unleashed into the plasma mass. “There it is! Dive out, dive out!” The announcers excited voice seemed to elicit an immediate response from every ship . . . Except for the two who should have been the most worried. As the makeshift confinement field split apart, the super heated exhaust churned into a torrent of angry ions held together only by their own impermanent magnetic attraction. In an instant, the pillar of light had transformed into thrashing shape more reminiscent of a jellyfish crossed with a stingray. “What are they doing Jaxsion?! The wave is about to break over them!” As the lead announcer stammered to find an explanation for the aberrant strategy, Osiris could see it clearly. One of the ship’s had locked the other in place and was hijacking their energy reserves to maintain the integrity of the artificial compression chamber - and that was trick an older ship like Correction’s Vanguard wasn’t about to pull off. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ WC: 1,032 TWC: 3,966 |
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| Osiris | Mar 13 2018, 07:11 PM Post #6 |
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Pallor Lord
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Aboard the Correction’s Vanguard Everything was shaking, the cockpit was so hot he could barely breath, and a cacophony of alarms were screaming from what felt like every data read out screen - but Steshion could only focus on two things: One, why the fuck couldn’t he disengage the secondary shield generator and pull away! Two, how the hell was his engine core bleeding reserves so fast! His head snapped to the side and he bit down on the old-school com toggle on the inside of his helmet, “Rax! Rax! I can’t pull out! What’s happening?” Steshion’s eyes darted around wildly trying to find something he could do, some control that would actually respond. He was flying blind in the center of a broken wave. For all it mattered, he might as well have been skimming along the surface of a star for what his sensors were telling him. He was absolutely sure the compression field was still in place though, and that meant KN-7-PTO had to be right next to him. “Rax! Respond!” There was only static in his helmet’s audio piece. Steshion’s voice turned into a guttural scream as paranoia washed over him, “Rrraax - th’fuck did you do to my ship you lizard faced bitch!” His hand reflexively dropped to the panic handle at the base of his flight seat, and considered trying to eject the cockpit for a moment. He wasn’t sure the pod would survive the plasma cloud any better than the rest of the ship - but he knew if it destabilized his core he would be blown apart. A cool, soft voice suddenly slithered into asteroid racer’s ear. “Just dump your core when I say, fool.” Steshion’s eyes went wide with anger and fear, “Why are you doing this, we had deal!” The ship suddenly shuttered even harder as one of his control fins was sheared off the hull and an entire section of his primary shielding went down. Sweat rolled off his face and collected into an uncomfortable ring where his helmet latched into the rest of his environment suit. “My ship’s not going to hold together! Let me go, Rax!” He was literally punching the interface which should have controlled his secondary shield generator and kicking his pitch pedals. “Dump it.” “Wha-” centripetal force slammed into his body as his ship was set free and sent into a wild tumble from the combination of extreme turbulence and his own kicking at the pitch pedals. He struggled to regain his composure and sense of balance. Then, the last thing he heard was the singular high pitched whine of the last alarm and pilot wanted to hear: Core Breach! “Nononono!” Steshion screamed impotently as he was abandoned to destruction and last place; Maneuvered out of the race before it had even started, and straight into an early grave. ____________________________________________________________________________________ WC: 504 TWC: 4,470 |
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