The orders are cryptic, giving little more than a docking bay number at the port and the name of your destination. Not even the name of the organization or superior is mentioned on the screen. "Report to Haven Highport, Naval Docks, Bay 13 at 0700 hours on 2.1951.7.4 for 100 week assignment to Nadir. One black duffel, not to exceed 50kg weight, allowed."
You arrive at Bay 13 with surprisingly little security interference. Once, twice you have been asked to scan your right palm and left retina. No L.P. "boots" or Marine guards have patted you down. No cavity search? Hardly what you would expect as you are about to enter the area of tightest secrecy in your tightly controlled society.
And what about this mystery planet, Nadir? No leaks and very little speculation have come out of the Nadir contact teams. Whatever the situation there, it is so delicate that the Feller has only told the people that it is "Unexpected" and that "We must approach the problems cautiously." Official news reports are that it may be another year or more until any information can be released about the situation.
Meanwhile, a new bureau of the government has been formed just to deal with Nadir. Named "Reclamation Bureau", it is hard to discern a purpose or any real pattern based on who they have selected for enlistment. Academicians, engineers, a noted statistician, historians, bureaucrats, soldiers; all have been accepted into this new arm. Sometimes the best in their field are refused when less noted volunteers are accepted.
In your own case, it is hard to know what on your resume caused the green light to come on for your interviewers. There were tests in your own field and tests outside of anything you have ever studied. There were physical, mental and aptitude tests. Yet you don't feel that you did especially well on any one test. All very odd, indeed.
So now, here you stand, at dock 13. A marine captain motioned you into the lounge area as you arrived. A Navy petty officer welcomed you and offered you a cup of coffee and pastry. A few others, who look just as tentative as you feel, entered the lounge and had their orders taken. Since there is only one table in the room with six chairs neatly flipped upside down and stacked on top of it, you are all standing around balancing cups and napkins and half-eaten pastry when 0700 arrives... and passes. Ten minutes later, when the coffee is gone and the napkins are wadded up and stuffed into the thick plastic cups, you are still standing and waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. It is 0712 and the nice petty officer, whose name is Jenks, reappears and offers everyone a second cup of coffee.
"Feel free to have a seat, if you like, folks", offers Jenks as he refills your cups. "She was almost an hour late last week, so no use standing while you wait."
Before the intros make the rounds, the inner door opens and a short, blonde woman strolls in carrying a heavy briefcase. She heaves the case up onto the table so that it lands with a loud clap, then she flips over a chair and sits down heavily.
"I hate Mondays. Sorry I'm a little late. Excuse me." she says as she stands up again. With a startling shriek she commands a cup of coffee from the petty officer and flops back down in her chair. "Now, I suppose you folks have a lot of earth-shattering questions to ask of me, but you'll need to wait your turn.
Without further ado, she launches into an obviously canned sermon, passing out signature pads containing no less than sixty forms that require your finger imprint as acknowledgment that you have read and intend to comply with the stipulations. You know from prior experience that you are expected to approve without question.
You are able to get the gist of what is going to happen and what will be expected of you. The story is rather hard to believe, but you are not allowed opportunity to question the woman, whose name turns out to be Lindi. She tells you that the scene on Nadir is beyond belief. That the entire population of 100 million people were wiped out, apparently in a matter of six years. The cities of Nadir were bombed from orbit mercilessly by marauders. Her system defense forces were plagued with mass mutinies and rendered useless. Wave after wave of ships from surrounding systems came to Nadir to trade for much-needed goods. The ships were attacked and commandeered or destroyed. Pirate bands sprang up from among the warring factions of the defense fleets. Planetary defenses kept the pirates at bay for awhile, but as the pirate bands condensed into two strong factions, both of whom needed supplies, the planet came under increasingly brutal raiding attacks. One of the pirate bands allied themselves with a large surface faction in return for exclusive rights to trade with the planet. The details get fuzzy at that point, but it appears that the rival faction discovered some nukes at that point and began dropping neutron bombs on the population centers.
Over a century ago Nadir civilization collapsed in a short span of years, degenerating into turf wars, roaming gangs and raiding space bands. Entire cities were ransacked, some were burned, most were filled with corpses spurring disease. Finally, starvation wiped out even the fittest. The few small groups of people on Nadir today appear to be descended from off-worlders who came later, or from a belter station return expedition that reached the planet after the carnage.
[Lindi] "So, you all have the same stupid look on your faces and the same question on the tip of your tongues, 'What am I here for?', right? Well, people, we are the clean up crew. Our mission on Nadir is multi-fold. Firstly, we hope to locate and remove working, technological 'artifacts', for lack of a better term. Secondly, we hope to clear areas for recolonization. That will mean making them safe, rebuilding infrastructure, etc. Thirdly, we hope to spare the general population of our society most of the gory details of Nadir's recent past. It's not top priority right now, but at each step we keep this goal in mind."
"To give you an idea of what we want from each of you, let me explain how we work on Nadir. We organize workers into teams and cells. Teams have a common project goal, like reverse-engineering a defense computer system or dismantling a communications facility for shipment to Haven. A cell is a small division within the team that is given a series of task-sized goals. They have autonomy to complete their tasks within a certain frame work. You four will be forming a cell. A fifth, experienced person will be added to your cell to help you to get oriented as you dive right into your task. Look around this room, folks. For the next twenty weeks you will be working together as a cell. Your task will be to assess the systems of and damage to a starship at its crash site. You will live and work at the site. Your cell consists not so much of a few individuals, but of a group of skills and aptitudes that an assessor has deemed important to the project: electronics, mechanics, piloting, ship's systems, engineering, computer, survival and defense skills are all present within your cell."
"Now that you have thumbed all of my paperwork and have received a general overview of your task, I must say that I'm sorry that more detail on the ship itself is not available. The only person who has actually visited the crash site is Cell Leader Akense. He will be joining you once we reach Nadir. Please grab your carry-on gear and follow Ensign Elkers to your quarters aboard the Governor Feller. Your orders are not to discuss your task with any of the Navy personnel. For the next three days, as you make the trip out-system, you are free to take your leisure or to begin planning your task, as you see fit. After you have folded over to Nadir you will begin to receive more detailed info on the wreck and it's location on the planet." Lindi finishes abruptly and stands. A Navy Ensign appears immediately in the doorway as the door opens. Stuffing things back into her case she fairly barks the last, "You are late, already. Best not delay the launch any longer. Bon Voyage."
The nice young Ensign is quite cheery as he shows you aboard and to your quarters. He tries to assure you that you haven't held up departure and that the accommodations aboard ship are above standard. His mustache spreads across his face with his large smile as he motions you through a final hatch marked "Flag Quarters - Welcome". Entering the lounge area, one steward attends to your carry-on gear while another shows you around the private lounge, galley, ward room and observation deck, taking you finally to your individual staterooms. The rooms are twice standard size and well appointed. The steward has told you to prepare for initial maneuvering. After approximately two hours there is an announcement that refreshments are being served in the lounge. The four of you get a slight feeling of deja-vu as you enter the lounge and are face-to-face with your cell-mates (pun intended) once again...
1.1
Ren Fallom breaks the awkward silence by engaging in some professional chatter. "My name is Fallom and I was recently with the CES. I recognize this Akense fellow, I think. I believe that would be Alexander Akense, late of the CES Academy. He was there for years teaching Axis Fold Device operations and maintenance. I had to take a course with him during pilot training. Very knowledgeable fellow. I had heard he was recruited for Nadir. It didn't make much sense when I first heard it, but it does now that I know the... interesting details."
While Ren was speaking, a Petty Officer with a name tag reading "Salazar" entered with a small cart and is now offering a rare delicacy called Far Fields Ale on tap. It appears that you are going to be treated well for this trip. The tall woman with the military bearing and nose a bit too high in the air is eying the buffet of sea food, spiced fruits, fine olives and fresh potato breads approvingly. The stocky man in the ball cap emblazoned with the Space Marine emblem is making his way toward the ale cart. The young, fidgety man is leaning against the bulkhead, his eyes darting from one thing to the other while his fingers move across the panel of a wrist computer with practiced ease. While the steward fills a frosty glass for the advancing marine, the lack of conversation starts to feel uneasy.
The air of professionalism begins to dissipate slowly, like the head on a newly poured glass of ale. There's some curiosity, a bit of suspicion (a very little bit), and a lot of time to wait. Thirty 68 more hours out to jump and at least that much longer making the orbital approach to Nadir. Is there nothing productive that can be done in that time?
As Hether delicately and carefully fills her plate at the buffet, the frosty, distant words of her mother echo in her mind. "Don't ever forget who you are, Hether, or what is expected of you. Be courteous, always. But take care to never get too 'familiar' with those beneath your station. I will *not* have my daughter bring any shame on this house! Remember *especially* that where you go, so goes the Rayeth name!"
The rugged darkly-tanned man in the well-worn but crisply-starched military-style fatigue uniform with no insignia glides to the side of the ale cart. His movements are fluid, precise, and effortless, belying his impressive breadth of chest and shoulders. He moves like a natural predator. "Is this real Far Fields Ale, Salazar?" asks the resonant baritone of the man in the Space Marine field cap. He takes the offered glass and sips the brew "Ah, that's good and frosty."
The bright green eyes under the Space Marine field cap sweep the lounge, seeming to penetrate everything "When I was in the Navy we sure didn't have luxury liners like these Type C's. Navy's deployed three cruisers of this class now; and they've got three more building, don't they?"
Ren looks around the room at the people he's going to be working with. He bounces a little on his toes, and although he tries to remain professional he's not quite able to contain his enthusiasm.
The tall woman sighs, almost inaudibly, as her eyes scan the room for a socially appropriate seat. She thinks to herself, "So goes the Rayeth name. Lovely. Sometimes it's like working a 24-hour job, having to 'keep up appearances'! Well...at least the others look friendly enough..."
She looks at the other people in the room, and makes a quick calculation as to who to introduce herself to first. Having heard Fallom speak up first, she figures that he'd be the best bet. Hether puts her food and drink down, and heads over to Fallom.
The Marine's eyes watch and ears prick up as Hether Rayeth puts down her comestibles and introduces herself to the man who identified himself as Fallom.
Fallom is wearing a neat semi-formal jacket and slacks, and obviously takes care of his appearance. He has an easy smile for everyone. He's a little surprised that his foray at breaking the ice didn't have immediate results. He pulls a mug of the frosty ale, and when he turns around is pleased to see that the only woman in the cell is approaching him.
Hether smiles politely and extends a manicured hand. She's wearing an impeccably-tailored black business suit with white trim, a matching skirt and expensive shoes. Her short reddish-brown hair and make-up are "just-so", as if she'd spent a lot of time on perfecting her "look". Hether's voice seems genuinely friendly, but she has a snobby air to her that's rather annoying. "You're um...Fallom, I believe I overheard you say while I was at the buffet? I'm Hether Rayeth. Pleased to make your acquaintance." Her handshake is surprisingly firm. [OOC: Str-B]
The easy smile is right there as he extends his hand. "That's right, Hether. Call me Ren. And it's a pleasure to meet you as well." He seems genuinely pleased. "Why don't we sit down?"
He turns slightly to include the others. "Shall we sit and get acquainted? Please." He gives Hether his attention again.
Hether pauses for a moment, weighing in her mind whether or not her accepting the graciously offered seat would be considered acceptable behavior. However, Ren's suitable attire and polite manners convince her that he's probably a man of good breeding and suitably high station. She sits gracefully yet with care, so as to not crease her skirt or show an unseemly amount of leg.
"I think it would be a good idea for us to get to know one another, don't you? As I've said, I'm ex-CES, and I fought in the Inhuman War. I suspect you did too (to Hether, and include the Marine if he's seated by now). "I know enough about ship systems and operations that I understand why I'm on this assignment."
"Well, I wasn't stationed on Black Rock during the war, but I did go over with one of the recovery teams afterwards." Hether takes a sip of her coffee, with her slender pinky up in suitable "Miss Manners" fashion. "Mm...the coffee *is* excellent. Oh, and I'm an electro-mechanical engineer by the way, so I suppose I'll be able to help with the ship systems and damage assessment."
"Well then, you've got an idea of what it was like." Turning to our Marine, "You were there?" Ren takes a pull on his ale. "Good stuff, isn't it?" He smiles. "Ren Fallom, sir." He extends his hand to the Marine.
The Marine sets down his ale and sticks his cap into a pocket, warmly shaking first Ren's hand and then Hether's in turn. "Fallom, Rayeth, pleased to meet you both. I'm Hemming." Hemming unconsciously pulls his hand over his stubbly pate. "I've been with the Marines since the beginning." "And yeah, I was on Black Rock; from the first Marine landings 'til the bitter end."
Delicately putting down her coffee, Hether smiles politely and gives Hemming a nice firm handshake that seems very out of place given her "posh girl" appearance.
Ren: "Well, Hether, sounds like we'll be working closely on that aspect of things. And our combat man here might be securing the area, and evaluating defenses? What do you think?"
Hemming nods silently in agreement with the question to Hether and picks up his ale. Hemming thinks "Two hours out of dock and Fallom is setting up a play for Rayeth. There's a womanizer on every team and this is no exception. At least he's smoother than many I've seen."
Hether looks at Hemming for a moment with a detached, professional look in her grayish-green eyes, almost as if she were mentally calculating his worth. Afterwards, she nods, her polite smile returns and she says to Ren, "I think that'll do nicely." She looks back at Hemming. "The very fact that you were able to get yourself through the entire Black Rock experience intact indicates to me that you must be a very capable person."
Ren: "And you, sir?" to the younger, aloof man. "Please, come join us." He gestures to the group.
Hether turns her head to see the man that Hemming is addressing, and the slightest trace of a frown forms on her face. She doesn't seem very impressed with him.
Hemming sips more ale and looks at the young, fidgety man using the wrist computer. Hemming says under his breath to Hether, "Holding up the bulkhead, long hair, worried looking; a civilian."
Finally realizeing that Ren was speaking to him, Kain speaks as he walks to the drink cart, "I'm Jamison Kain, or JK...". Aside to Salazar, "Just a soft drink, thanks." He continues sort of over his shoulder to Ren, "I was told that I'm here for computer work, possibly repairs and retrieval of data, maybe dealing with security issues."
Ren continues: "And our cell leader, Akense, an expert on the drives and on the site. He's a bit of a strange bird, as I recall." Ren takes another pull on his drink.
Petty Officer Salazar signals that he has an announcement to make:
"Sirs and Ma'am, I have been directed to mention to you that we will be adjusting the day-night rotation on this deck to coincide with the time zone of Nadir where you will be working. By that rotation, 1200 Zulu is sundown, which is just about now. To ease your adjustment we will be serving buffet-style meals over the next day or so, and will have a formal meal at 1200 Zulu tomorrow. That meal will be a dinner, best dress, candle-light, and the captain and his officers will attend you. After dinner the captain would like to entertain you for a short while in his suite, which will include a tour of the bridge. Unfortunately, this is the only authorized contact you will have with the ship's officers during the trip.""Between now and then we have several activities and a sleep period. There is a Safety Vid about the dangers of Nadir, a fitting for Bureau coveralls and Vacc suits, a technology briefing, and, best of all, several entertainment Vids recovered from Nadir." Salazar smiles at his own humorous remark and then finishes his speech. "At this time, we are switching you over from simulated Haven daylight to indoor evening lighting. Sunrise will be at 2300 Zulu, less than eleven hours from now. The lighting will be much brighter and the spectrum will cause some eye strain. Your physician recommends #3 contact shields from shortly after sunrise until just after sunset. Our junior steward, Petty Officer Rose will be on duty in one hour and will attend you during your sleep period and at the sunrise buffet. Oh, and taps is at 1400 Zulu. Good night."
Move 1.2
The lights dim and change color, giving the feeling of being in a typical military dining hall or officers club in the evening. Suddenly your buffet lunch seems like a light supper. Kain suddenly becomes disgusted with his wrist comp and slaps it closed with a growl. Looking up, he notices all eyes on him and starts to explain, still sounding a bit peeved, "Well, I can get at the mundane things like your service records, a crew roster, duty roster, and some duty logs, but I can't access the main clock from here. You have to be at a hardwired terminal to access anything interesting." Kain looks about at the blank faces and changes his tone. "Hey, not that I would do that, just in case you were wondering, that's all." He finally wanders over to the table with his root beer and begins looking over the spiced fruit. While doing so he absent-mindedly asks, "Did it sound to anyone else but me like we are 'confined to quarters'?"