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Thread: Meanwhile on Rubi-Ka

  1. #101
    Cordell thought he had seen it all. And he'd seen plenty, done plenty, acted plenty and tried plenty, but this one took the cake. He was perching on a rock in Newland, most curious when an Opifex walked through the whompa from Borealis, dragging a big, heavy trunk that had seen better days, its leather fried by the sun, corners chewed by age and as far as he could with a reet's beak make out, probably been in an old house somewhere damp. She had a tiny playback radio set up to her coat (he couldn't make out what the tiny text on the badge said), and was chewing on something as she navigated apparently by reading a map written on a napkin. Every step she took clattered with the empty cans of Rubirango tied to the trunk. Her destination seemed clear, and she clattered away to the direction where he knew Miss Chan lived.

    During the ten minutes the punk was away, Cordell kept his eye on the transit system, waiting for someone.

    Then the clattering made itself known, and as much as he hoped it would go away or stop, it didn't stop far enough. The trunk slammed on to the ground to signal an end to that, replaced by popping sounds of both the latches and locks of the trunk opposite to the whompa exit he was staking out, not ten meters behind and to the left. For long stubborn minutes, he refused to pay attention, unsure of whether or not he was simply imagining the oddity and far more interested in focusing on a different kind of conversation.

    I swear I've met timelier slime molds.

    A butterfly passed his beak, almost. He nabbed it anyway, as reets of a particular plumage would.

    No, but I'm getting piss bloody bored.

    The cans clanged again midair, clanging dully as they hit the sand. Whatever was going on included shuffling and assembling. Cordell cocked his head.

    It's not like that time. That time they'd plied themselves aplenty with dirtly matters and some -- oh, aye. The reet perked a little, then settled back to resting when someone else came through the whompa and cast a hesitant, confused look in his general direction. But not quite, and even this person went their way to the door to the desert. Entertain me then, Blue. Just thought someone made me.

    The noise from behind had lessened. But now there was whistling, a tune he couldn't place.

    Oh, I'm consp(i)cuous now, am I? Not likely, what with this ******** of a *****--

    Exasperation won over when the cans started clanging again. He looked over to whatever was going on. The girl (or so he assumed) was setting up a booth of some sort, tying the empty cans to one of two poles between which there was no sign yet. This could have been funny. He wasn't sure.

    What? No, just some aspiring roadside attraction messing up a lemonade stand or tripe in Newland. Clan as far as neck tells me. He had to look away -- missing his quarry would only be frustrating, and so he his time having his secure conversation through thought, suitably entertained up until he began to notice more and more passing souls stop to take stock of whatever Soda Girl was up to. He kept busy this way, giving prickly looks at anyone who walked past him to the stand, ignoring most of them unless they passed close enough to warrant a warning peck or flapping. Annoyingly, he wasn't sure exactly what kind of sales jargon Soda Girl was using.

    Then he finally looked, when his quarry showed up. That was all right. Now he had to wait until his quarry returned, and then follow him.

    He really thought he'd seen it all. Cordell cocked his head and stretched his legs, balancing with his wings. The sight was fascinatingly stupefying, the girl putting on a lame smile of sorts and extolling some or another quality. With his attention fully on the happening, he realized he had been assuming all the talk about sand and the beach had been part of sales gospel to get people thirsty. But he'd seen nobody go past with a drink nor heard the popping of a can, just the clanging of the empties in the wind.

    Blue, you will not believe this, but someone is selling sand in Newland.

    The bold letters on sign, expertly printed on expensive canvas, stared back at him.


    The sight kept his attention for a while until he clicked his beak and turned his head, then all of himself to follow Edward Caxton back to wherever his boss was hiding. His mind was full of laughter at the image transmitted away, and it pleased him.
    Last edited by Redtricks; Sep 15th, 2017 at 20:16:28.
    [Vicinity] Hilfy: Expecting?
    [Vicinity] Redtricks: Pregnant? No.

  2. #102

    [id: 'Grahamatic']

    A bearded young man wandering the streets of West Last Ditch, hugging his own shoulders as if he's too cold, his hands grasping the fabric of his sleeves so hard the fingers are almost white. His eyes are darting around, frantically searching for something. The rounded, beige houses and walls are the same to him. He's not finding what he's seeking.
    He mumbles to himself. "Never could find Reet. Should've partied more."
    The sky is overcast and the air is chilly. He kicks one of the walls in anger and frustration but keeps on walking, his eyes still darting around.
    MISSING PERSON ALERT! a poster screams from a wall at him, catching his attention. It's old. The weather hasn't been kind to it and the edges are torn and ragged, but as he approaches he can make out a picture with a face on it. It's his face, but without the beard.
    "Hannah, what the ****?" He pulls the already tattered poster down, sitting down on a low wall to look it over. "A ****** poster? You're kidding me. No one does **** like this in real life."
    He rolls it up, folds it to fit into a trouser pocket. He hugs his shoulders again, then draws his fingers through his dark hair to brush it out with another shiver.
    A tattooed man approaches him. "Hey there! What's up?"
    Graham flinches, facing the stranger as he stands up. "Nothing at all. Nothing's up. You know where the whom-pah is, though?"
    "You're lost?"
    "A bit."
    "It's not too far from Reet Retreat," the tattooed man nods. "I could come with you, if you'd like?"
    Graham shakes his head. "No, no, I'll go alone. I need to be alone. Just point me the right way, okay?"
    The stranger looks sympathetic. "Sure, dude. Just follow the path around the wall until you find a straight road between two walls leading out of town. The whom-pahs will be on the other side of it. There are arches you can go through."
    The stranger hesitates. He asks: "Have I seen you before?"
    Graham shakes his head. "Never met you before." With that he leaves, searching for the walls, the straight road, the way out. He keeps listening for the sound of footsteps, of being hunted, but there's nothing but the distant calls of reets and roller rats.
    The whom-pahs hum as he approaches them. He pauses, looking at the whom-pah to Hope for a moment as he considers.
    "Would be nice if there was such a thing," he mumbles to himself. "I'd go there in a heartbeat."
    He heads into the whom-pah to Borealis, hoping for safety, despite his words.

  3. #103

    [id: 'Kittifixie']

    "Hey, get away from that thing!"
    Hannah shooed the ventilation shaft leet away from her buzzing comms unit as she ruffled her hair with a towel after her shower, picking the unit up from the sofa she used as a bed. The display said Mom. She accepted the call, patching it through an in-ear speaker as she rummaged around the room for clean clothes.
    There was worry in the voice on the other side. "Hello, I have to talk to you, sweetie. You have a moment?"
    It was an expected call. Hannah wished she could explain why she was so busy, but she didn't wish to involve more people. Especially not her parents. Especially considering people were going missing and her mother couldn't move too much. "Hey, I'm sorry about missing dinner yesterday but something came up and I just had to -"
    Her mother cut her off. "It's fine, sweetie. Don't worry about that."
    Hannah fell silent. She realised there was not just a quiet worry in her mother's voice. There was also something else. There was pain. Hannah took a deep breath. Of course it would look the same to her mother. How would her mother be able to tell the difference from when Hannah never showed up because she was running and Hannah not showing up because for once she was trying to stay and fight? In the end, a daughter not showing up for family dinner was a daughter not showing up for family dinner.
    "I'm really sorry for missing the dinner, mom, I mean it," she tried again. "I'm really sorry."
    "Sweetie, it's fine," her mother repeated, then fell silent again.
    Hannah pulled on a purple sweater. It had the least amount of leet fur on it. "Mom? What's wrong?"
    There was a sob in the background. Hannah blinked, picking up the main comms unit again, looking for any missed calls or messages that might have come in while she was in the shower. There was nothing she had missed. No indication as to why her mother was crying.
    A low, scraping sound, as if a hand held device was changing hands. Then a steady voice: "It's Gideon here. You've got to come home, kid. As soon as you can."
    "Dad? What's going on?"
    "Graham's here. Please come home."
    Hannah's comms unit hit the floor, bouncing off the red carpet. She had already meeped out and was halfway to Borealis by the time it came to a stop against the radio in the corner of her room.

  4. #104
    Asher leans forwards looking at his screen and re-reads the message.

    :: Operational Report ::

    Op: Op-Bikini-Girls
    Submitted by: Renard, Sara. ID "Gumiho"

    Recruited Faith "Proelium" Mercer to assist in recon. So like the Clan chicks kind of suck in their pool side rumbles.

    :: End Report. ::

    Asher shakes his head, leans back in the chair thinking for a moment before activating the inter-comm.

    "RENARD! In my office. NOW!"

  5. #105
    //== :: Transmission B80-7T :: ==//
    //== :: Feed: 032.t75 :: ==//

    A blip of light appeared in the night sky that grew larger with every passing second, Rex Larsson knew what it was, it was the 'ICC-ST 015.2' passenger ship that was due to arrive that night. Much to his dismay he had been posted here to 'greet' the new arrivals. Reluctantly he retrieved the data pad from his work slacks and pondered why his electronic device produced more light than his head torch. “No matter” he mumbled to himself, “lets get this over with.”

    //== :: Transmission-End :: ==//

  6. #106

    The air was still but it had a thickness to it, this is what Ossirus initially thought as he stepped off the passenger ship to look upon the planet that would surely take his life. He was told that the air would be thicker due to the level of suppression gas they used for habitability, which in turn lead to even more unsettling thoughts for him. Buzzes, beeps and chirps could be heard all around and as his eyes fell upon a skittering robotic mouse thing it emitted a flash of light and a fizzle sort of sound and just stopped. “Great” he mused sarcastically, “Even the robots don't work here.”

    Ossirus was scanning the area where he stood, noticing stacks of containers, smoking barrels and rubbish literally everywhere when the memory of how he ended up here resurfaced. It was less than pleasant and he still recalled vividly the dying screams of the professor that he was under tutelage of. How was he supposed to know the experiment they were performing was illegal, of course now he could see why. He was working on a new robot power core prototype with the professor and stumbled upon a substance sold by a less than reputable character that claimed it would boost efficiency by two thousand percent. Long story short, it blew up in the professors face spraying him with corrosive goo, in turn melting his head into a green tinged pink mess.

    Alas, here's the worst part, they were working in an Omni-Tek laboratory so you could imagine there reaction, after a very vigorous and personal interrogation Omni-Tek came to the conclusion that his skills could be better utilized elsewhere, the deal for his life was signed then and he was on the next passenger ship to Rubi-Ka, the 'Alpha Centurai' for the human race. The deal was that he will work for Omni-Tek till the end of his days contributing to there progress and expansion. He didn't really have much choice in the matter though and he couldn't complain about the living standards of loyal Omni employee's, but was also informed that ICC has a strict contingent in place to prepare new colonists for the trials and tribulations of life on Rubi-Ka. He didn't know what to expect, but here he was and he was not impressed. With the recollection over something caught his attention in his peripherals, it was man standing about eight meters away waving way to enthusiastically for his liking. The man was wearing orange work slacks and had a very inefficient light on his head......

    >[Memory:Stop: DE-AUTHENTICATED]<

  7. #107
    Sara sat staring intently at the streams of data flowing across her screen, the computer calculating and recalculating probabilities. One life depending on a computer's calculations. Was there something they were missing? She sat there waiting for the next signal blip to show up. Finally it came, blinking once for half-a second on the edge of PW.

    Sara leaned over hitting her com unit, "Hey Ash-man, the blimpy thing happened... Yeah dude, she's in. Waiting for next ping." she closed her com and leaned back watching the data streams recalculate.

  8. #108



    “A bureaucrat without a suit is like bread without butter, dry and boring”
    Said the antonymist.

    The low vibrating hum of the blue light at the centre of the table irritated Krayton to no end. He didn't like spending time in the fair trade shop at ICC, to many low life's he thought, but no matter he needed the tools provided by the shop just as much as he needed the comfort of society around him, even though he irked at the thought of being surrounded by such simpletons. For the past two day's he had been bedding down in the random caves and tombs of Nascense in the Shadowlands and although to him it was a harrowing experience his company thought otherwise, if it was not for the devilishly witty opifex that was with him he doubted he could put up with the cold damp he had endured. Fixer's did not grace his social circle usually but she was very astute and her intelligence was somewhat attractive.

    It was there, in a particularly dark tomb filled with some sort of elemental shadow creatures he received a message on his comm unit, somehow a contact on Rubi-Ka had found a way to transmit a message to this god forsaken place. One of his connections had found something interesting on the global market, a sealed order form and on further investigation his contact had discerned that this was the ticket to that shiny suit that did wondrous things he saw a few of his peers wearing. He could not pass on this opportunity.

    So there he was hunched over a table in the trade section of the fair trade shop looking at the sealed order form and a plethora of other tool's he needed to accomplish his task. The hardest part was opening the seal, he only had rudimental knowledge in breaking and entering but he was confident that he could achieve the desired effect if he was very, very careful. He did indeed manage to deactivate the seal with his advanced hacker tool and he retrieved the plastic like data sheet from inside. Krayton's eyes sparkled at sight of the digital text along the top of the data sheet, it read, “OT Standard Executive Secretary Suit”. The gleam in his eye soon faded away as he reminded himself there was still work to do, he swiped the expendable hologram camera off the table which had already captured his physical form and then the ID-extractor, there was a small click as he inserted the camera into the extractor then a small whir and finally a beep as the device converted the data to an ID-data strip. Then at that moment he paused and thought “I'm gonna look damn good in this.” he pressed the strip against the unlocked form and it instantly fused transferring the data through the means of nano bots he presumed. Well other than the infusing he had no idea whether it had worked or not so he came to the conclusion he might as well call in the order, he didn't stop to ponder the consequences of being found out, considering how Omni-Tek reacts to this type of situation. Never the less he opened his comm unit and mentally issued the command to contact the Omni-Requistion department.

    “Please hold until an officer becomes available” A very monotone female voice said. He hated these automatic response's and he hated even more how employee's where to made wait, he knew it was on purpose too, the rumour was that it kept the idiots where they were through subconscious belittling, allowing the strong willed and skilled to rise the ranks quicker.
    “Hello sir” an overly chirpy male voice blurted suddenly “how may I help you today?” The fact that the man sounded happier than a wild bronto added to his growing frustration with having to talk to these mindless drones, although sometimes he could see himself in the same light, the curse of Omni-Tek he supposed.
    “I wanted to redeem this order” Krayton replied callously as he started to initiate the grid transfer service and the order form that was just on the table in front of him dematerialized as if it had been sliced into sections using a blue laser and then it was no more.
    “One moment please” The officer shot back obviously not appreciating Kraytons lack of politeness.The passing seconds seemed like minutes and he was starting to think his handiwork had not been up to scratch, his neck started to itch and he could of sworn the temperature of the room had risen by a few degree's.
    “All done sir, enjoy your new suit” the officer's words were dripping with sarcasm “have a wonderful day.” Krayton's patience was its end and as he closed the connection without so much as a good bye a smile crept on to his face as the pristine black suit and tie materialized on the table in front of him. Silently praising the omega he picked up the vacuum packed suit and began making his way out of a place that frustrated him sorely but this time provided something immeasurably useful. He couldn't of been sure but he felt as if his awareness, wisdom and knowledge had been increased by a considerable amount, but maybe that was just the elation of obtaining such a perfect suit.....


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