Destiny: CRESTUS PRIME

[jackjaques]

The year is 2309.

Alexandria continues to be a disturbingly successful display of organized resistance against the Interstellar Commerce Commission (the ICC is a coalition of Corporations and Nations, now on equal footing — but you all know that from your history lessons).
Although quarantined by military forces, Alexandria benefits from a highly profitable smuggling industry, now made official by the name of Central Space Consortium (CSC), with the neighbouring planets that hosted a limited number of Corporations that openly defy government rule.

The last tactical acts of the United System Military Marines (USM) started from Goliath, a planet of the system that is still aligned with the ICC, but with an atmosphere too thin to breath without assistance. That was the main reason for the establishment of a new military basis on Crestus Prime, from where the insurrection should be controlled in no time.

After spending half a year of training on Goliath you are to be sent aboard the USS Cressida, an assault spaceship of the Conestoga type, up to Crestus Prime where you will wait for new orders.

The distance between the two planets is of 3 jumps, meaning that you'll be spending most of your trip "frozen".

[jackjaques]

Hypersleep was always different for everyone.

Many people specifically remember having these vivid dreams while "frozen", but the great majority say that they didn't felt any discontinuity on their perception of time during the spacetrip.
For each JDT (Jump Drive Technology) they were needed about 10 days of hypersleep, but they were accounts of people having survived for decades n hypersleep without suffering any sequel, any signs of aging or any other side effect.

In truth, hypersleep is the safest way of spacetravelling: just about 1 in each 100 thousand people gets himself lost into oblivion. And that is only 0.0001% of the whole travelers.

Now, comparing to cryogenesis (a practice developed during the 20th and 21th Centuries), the hypersleep only slows (or suspends) the human metabolism to the strictly necessary for the survival of the individual. Nevertheless, terms like "frosting" and "frozen" are still consensual to designate this technology (or, at least, its effect on people).

Your spacetrip shouldn't take more than one earthly month of hypersleep to be concluded. The autopilot should be taking very good care of you.

---

I know your characters (the stats, I mean) aren't finished yet, but that's no reason why you can't be getting some extra XP along the way. So please reply to this post with what you think your character would be feeling during his time "frozen".
Is he dreaming? With what? Is it with things he probably have done in the past or with things he might be doing in the future? Is it something else entirely? Or does he just sleeps like a baby?

We'll then throw a poll to see who gets the extra XP.

[SithLord]

John Dreams of being a pirate stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Sadly his brother keeps appearing and stealing from him. Some things never change not even in dreams.

[skutov]

Go into hypersleep they said...

It'll be a nice dreamless sleep they said...

...

...

Bullshit.

The memories kept swirling around, one moment you were the teenager destroying toilets in the school bathroom with home made fireworks, the next you were at the altar in the third of your 5 weddings (none of which had worked out). No control over the events everything was happening on auto-pilot. Some of the happier memories of sitting in the workshop preparing packages for the competitors of the highest bidder or spending time with various women. Suddenly you get dropped into the one event you promised you'll never forget no matter how much you wished you could.

They had said the house was being used as a storage and barracks site for their body guards. It was owned by the CEO of one of the smaller corporations, the security that was in place seemed fitting for the purpose it had been described as serving. You scream to yourself as you weave through the darkness in the wine cellar and set the final fuse. These fucking fuses.

Fail safes are a very good idea, fail fatals are even better, or so you thought. A fail safe is designed to prevent a faliure in some equipment from becoming a hazard, fail fatals do the exact opposite, meant to ensure death regardless of equipment condition. The fail fatal you put into this fuse design was flawless. If there was any tampering with the case or circuit then the system would trigger immediately. This ensured the job would be completed regardless of meddling hands. Once armed there was no way of making these fuses safe. That was the point. And you remembered clearly every time you used them.

Picking up the bag you make your way up the stairs out of the basement, you have a brief flashback (or forward depending on the context) to something that had happened a few months later, you desperately try to think of that instead of the dark staircase but to no avail, that fleeting memory drifts away again leaving you working your way through the darkened house. As you reach the kitchen you notice the fridge door open, with 90 seconds before the fuse triggers you decide to sneak out and leave whoever was looking for a midnight snack to their inevitable conclusion . As you reach the backdoor the timer in your head ticks down to 30 seconds and you glance back towards the fridge to make sure you hadn't been noticed when your eyes meet those of a small child, no more than 12 years old.

Your heart stops as you realize where you recognize the person that had hired you for this job. He was the traffic officer that had ticketed your wife's car (now ex-wife). You feel the fingers of conciseness begin to take hold as your dream self feels the warm wind of the house collapsing on the family contained inside. As your vision fades back to your actual body you feel a bead of cold sweat rolling down your forehead.

As you pull away the web of electrodes used to monitor your body you mutter to yourself "Never again."

// Does it have to be a general description or can it be something like the above?

[jetdoggy]

Hypersleep? Perfect! Just what this tired old brain needs.

As my senses start to go, one by one and as the world outside the hypersleep chamber darkens and fades to black; my mind wanders to the only place I feel at home.

Musty air fills my nose with nostalgic delight, a silence that cannot be broken, and a dim light that’s easy on these elderly eyes coupled with the touch and feeling of an historic ambiance. A Library... My library! The place I always travel to when I’m alone, a place for my thoughts both old and new, my history, my life, my soul.

I open my eyes to the sight of a vast array of bookshelves stretching out as far as the eyes can see in all directions. There are stairs and alcoves and all manner of twists and turns; anyone else would be lost at the sight. I know from my previous excursions here that I could travel for miles and miles and not see and end. Everything I have learnt or been taught, every thought and every question is stored here, safe within my mind.

“Damn this aging mind!” I always think to myself before laughing aloud, breaking the silence.

”In my youth I could dart about and find anything I wanted!” I mutter, as I slowly walk from shelf to shelf, flipping through random books to gaze upon the knowledge within.

This goes on for the entirety of the hypersleep journey. I use this ‘downtime’ away from my body and the material world to filter through my mind and ponder its many dark recesses for knowledge previously forgotten.

Because, I never truly forget... only save it for the future.

[pointyfingerofdoom]

I’ve always hated travelling like this. Why couldn’t I be one of the lucky ones who just drift off into peaceful sleep, or at least one of the ones that dream about their past. Instead I just get bombarded with random images of myself; images that I have deduced are an amalgamation of all possible futures for me. It’s disturbing how many of them result me floating in the cold recesses of space over some unknown world. But that’s not even the worst part. It’s the song, the never ending song, normally so innocent but so sinister when combined with images such as these...

(couldn't remember the name of or find the song I was thinking of, you'll have to use your imagination)

[Dudeicuf]

The screams are deafening. Every bed in the medical ward is full. Nurses run frantically around, tending to the wounded. I stand there, over another dead soldier. I couldn't help this one. Shot straight in the heart. Its a miracle he made it this far.

Doc! Doctor Morgan! We have another one!

Some field medics run in carrying yet another man on a stretcher. No time to properly sort out this corpse infront of me. It has to go on the floor with the others. This man has had his knee shot through. He won't make it to morning. There aren't enough supplies to quench the bleeding.

---

Morning. Yet another lonesome morning. One whole month of Lonesome mornings. While the crew rests peacefully in their hypersleep, I spend the days monitoring their vital signs, preparing everything for when we arrive. These are not all soldiers. Most of them are civillians. They do not know the horror of war. They are not ready for it. I will continue my research and continue crafting medicine. I will need it. Night again, and I must go through my charge cycle. I must do my systems checks. Not that I remember them. Instead, my fault acts up. Thats what it must be. A fault. Somewhere, someone programmed something wrong. That is why I cannot stop the clips. The... Memories.

---

Evacuation. Its a nightmare. Half the force is dead, one quarter wounded and the rest broken and with no morale. They enter hypersleep as we leave this god forsaken planetoid. Ha. If God had anything to do with anything, he wouldn't have allowed me to know what fear and horror is. Why can't I choose to not know it. I cannot feel it but I know how it affects a man. And so it affects me.

---

Morning. The same routine. 1 month and not a day goes by where anything is different. Occasionally the neural signs for some of these people flare up. It seems they are dreaming. Is that why I have? Dreams? I cannot have dreams. I am not a real person. But their signs show anger, peace, joy, fear. Surely this is what I show at night. But I cannot of feel. Only know. Every day is exactly the same.

---

At last we are back. More men have died on the way, only a few survived to the end of the trip. The men who were not wounded talk to me as though I am one of them. They call me 'nick names'. I think I like this. They are kind. They understand what I have seen. They feel what I know to feel. Some of the survivors have lost legs, arms, eyes or more. They say what kind of a life can they live now. They can at least live a life. What can I live? Nothing. I am not alive so what am I? Why am I? Hesitantly I discuss this with some of my comrades. They say I am Their Doctor. I am there to keep them alive. And I am 'Damn good at it'. They thank me.

Then I am to continue. These humans are weak. I must be strong.

[jackjaques]

For some of you being "frozen" meant dealing with some ghosts of the past, for others it meant a well deserved sleep, but for others still it had been has if they'd just fallen asleep and they were already being awake again.

Some were awaken before others, though, depending on their status within Mother's list*: first half of the ship's crew as well as the commanding officers, and then, gradually over a period of 8 hours, all the rest.

In the first wave were people like technicians, medical staff, civilian observers and staff officers, even low ranking ones. Only then would the grunts, garrison and auxiliary marines be waken. After all, they had to be fresh when they first stepped in Crestus Prime.

The drug induced awakening was slower for some, but the smell of food was more than enough to revive an army. There was only one canteen to break the fast of all these people and it could only take about three hundred at a time. It would take at least six or seven rounds to serve them all. But at least the food serving process was all mechanized so the queue was always at a good pacing.

After eating everybody resumes their positions. They would still have one week until they reached Crestus Prime and there was some weapon polishing and weight lifting to be taken cared of.

Still, past a couple of hours, the intercom puts the general chattering to a halt:

"USS Cressida, this is your Commander speaking. Apparently we're not approaching the orbit of Crestus Prime. We have already figured that we're just one jump away from our main objective, but we're still waiting for our orders. As you were. Over and out."

Then, some of you** get a private message on your privcom:

I here summon all officers, science and medical staff, as well as all civilian observers to the bridge. Over and out."

---

* Mother is how everyone calls the ship's operative system, Mu/Th/Ur 9M.
** Those who got the summons:

• Lieutenant Marshall,
  
• Professor Hemmingway,
  
• Doctor Morgan,
  
• and Lucia Rei.

All others are free to take care of their own business.

[Dudeicuf]

I will finish up my research and medicine crafting*, put on my medics uniform and make myself presentable (comb my mustache, neaten my hair etc), having spent a month more or less alone I imagine I'm currently a bit of a scruff.

Once ready to present to officers, I will head to the bridge.

---

*Craft Pharmaceutical? Can it be used for this? Can I have been making medicine during the hypersleep as I only was 'asleep' at night?

[jetdoggy]

*I grumble something about being 'summoned'*

I take my time to boil another mug of tea and throw on a dressing gown and my slippers.

Then, with tea in hand, I make my way to the bridge.

[pointyfingerofdoom]

Not wanting to keep my commanding officer waiting, I immediately hand over the supervision of the men training below to their squad leader and head to the bridge. It wasn't that these men needed my supervision of course, but it paid for an authority figure to be seen and heard in terms of the men's morale.

I continue musing over morale issues, especially given our apparent change in plans which could lead to conspiracy talk of misjumps or similar, until I reach the entrance to the bridge. Taking a deep breath, I walk in with a confident air.

[jackjaques]

When both of you arrive the majority of the summoned personnel was already on site so the Commander had already started. Amongst the cohort were some of the most prominent figures of Goliath's Marines, like Captain Laycock and Lieutenant Brightman —both Science Officers—, Master-Sargent Powell and Tech-Sargent Isamu —the first trained half the forces that were on that ship and the later was pilot for as much people counting all his missions. About the same number of bridge crew members were stationed there and half as much of high ranked Field Officers surrounded the Commander-in-Chief as he went:

Commander: Can you repeat that?
Lieutenant Brightman: Well, as I understand it, Commander, it must have been an error on the first jump... and, as we were off track, Mother had to compensate for that with the second jump...
Commander: But if there was a compensation, why haven't we jumped again?
Lieutenant Brightman: After the second jump Mother receptors collected a stress message from a spacecraft...
Captain Laycock: From a ship thought lost hundreds of years ago, Commander, which is most intriguing...
Commander: Intriguing!? They ought to be all dead by now!
Lieutenant Brightman: The underline message is that of an S.O.S. but there was also an encrypted message layered on top of it that we are still trying to decode, Command...
Captain Laycock: I've checked the registration number myself, Commander, and it belonged to the USS Emerson, a research vessel...

They didn't needed to explain any further. The Commander knew well what was going on but, from a corner of the room, Lucia Rei —the Corporate Observer— thought it wise to remember everyone:

The Decree* states very clearly, if I'm not mistaken, that no spaceship should ever ignore a stress call, whatever the source may be... Commander.

After the protests that ensued from the side of the Field Officers the Commander-in-Chief asked for a few seconds of silence in order to evaluate the situation.

Now, does any of you want to add something to the discussion at this point? Please, feel free to do so. If not, just wait until Sunday — I'll be posting again then.

As for the rest of the gang, how do you entertain yourselves with while waiting...?

ANYWAY, have you an individual thread already? If not, maybe you haven't provided me with some information I asked...

---

* The Decree is the way that people usually refers to the document that marks the foundation of the ICC, signed by all its constituent members. It states the fundamental laws that should be observed while spacetravelling, the terms that rule over the salvaging of wrecked spacecrafts and the definition of spacepiracy, amonst other things.

To dudeicuf:

Both the Craft and Research skills can take hours to complete. Are you really sure you want to let your Commander wait that long?
Still, yes: you can use Craft (parmaceutical) to create ad hoc medicinal drugs.

[pointyfingerofdoom]

"If I may interject, Commander. The morale of the common trooper could be seriously affected if word gets out that being in our current location was unplanned. The presence of the USS Emerson and the S.O.S call gives us a reason why an emergency course change was implemented. If we act like we are in a rescue operation we may even see a boost in morale, as the safe return of USM personnel would surely be a cause of celebration."

[SithLord]

I quickly have a wash and head off the the engine room to make sure that everything is ok and nothing down there was the cause of the sudden course change.

[jackjaques]

The Commander's expression doesn't show whether he's pissed or proud at Lieutenant Marshall, and he turns to Captain Laycock:

Commander:You have 30 minutes to give me more details on that message and the location of that ship. — and then he turns to Lieutenant Marshall: It seems that you have a strong opinion on the well-being of our troops, Lieutenant. But has it cross your mind that this could be a CSC trap!? I'm not going to risk going on a rescue mission that could mean the death of us all!
Lieutenant Brightman: Excuse me Commander, if I may... — the Commander isn't too prone of being interrupted but he lets him continue: This system has only been colonized in the last 40 years. And by all the reflected frequences and noise that has been added to the original mess...
Commander: And your point is...?
Lieutenant Brightman: This message must have been sent at least one hundred years ago, Sir. Perhaps if I use some filters, I could...
Commander: Yes, do that. I imagine Captain Laycock will want your help. I will have you both back in... (looks at his watch) 28 minutes with more intel.

It felt like the Commander was to begin talking to Lieutenant Marshall again, but one of the crew members had something to say:

Co-Pilot: Sir, Mother says we only have a window of one-two-zero hours before the next jump."

To which he replied, with a smile in his face:

Commander: We don't even know what we're dealing with here and Mother's already saying it's time to leave our toys and go to bed! (sigh) And, turning to Master-Sargent: Powell, I'll need you to assemble your men into four teams: two Rifle and two Gun. But Powell,... no trigger-happy grunts this time, would you!?

Then, as if thinking out loud, the Commander starts making a list of who should be on the salvage mission:

Commander: We'll need a medical doctor. Someone who has training in Zero-G... one from the technical staff, a couple of scientists as well and... — there he stops, looking at Lieutenant Marshall: ...a Second-in-Command.

About ten minutes past, Captain Laycock returns with more information:

Captain Laycock: Commander, Sir, I have new intel on the message we received. — starts looking around as to create suspense: One: the stress call wasn't sent by the crew, but by the starship itself... one hundred and sixty years ago! Two: their mission was one of colonization and science research, destination uncertain. And three: the auto-pilot detected an anomaly between the weight of the crew and the distribution of food, deciding to make an emergency stop on a close-by planetoid with nominal atmosphere.

After a few seconds of self-introspection, the Commander replied:

Commander: They must be all dead by now... But still, I will give you a chance to prove yourself, Terrence. You will be commanding this operation. But remember, it's a getting in-getting out situation! Shouldn't be too hard for you to handle! (Some giggles amongst some of the others present in the room, being Captain Laycock chief of the H.A.R.D. Specialists and all.)
Captain Laycock: I will do as commanded, JIM. — as if not appreciating the use of his forename by the Commander: May I just ask to have Dr. Brightman with me? — Doctor, not Lieutenant. Another open defiance towards the Commander.
Commander: That you cannot, Captain. The Lieutenant will stay in his post. Who better to understand your reports than him...!? — he spat back.
Captain Laycock: Then can I have the Professor? ...and Dr. Morgan!?
Commander: Yes. Those you can have. And Lieutenant Marshall will go as well, as your deputy. — and, to everyone: Dismiss. I'll make an anouncement within the hour.

And, through the intercom:

"USS Cressida, this is your Commander speaking. The following personnel has 4 hours to prepare for the recon mission: Captain Laycock; Lieutenant Marshall; Professor Hemmingway; Doctor Morgan. As for the Rifle Teams: Private 1st-Class Bolivar, Private Beliveau, Private Cherkovsky, Private Lambert. For the Gun Teams: Lance Corporal Birkeland, Private 1st-Class Porter, Private Duples, Private Medina. As Auxiliary: Lance Corporal Fawkes; Private Stude; Eng. John "Tool"; and Lucia Rei, observer. I will meet you all in four-double-0 hours at the launch deck. As you were. Over and out."