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Author Topic: A Space Adventure (Open to anyone)  (Read 97 times)

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Offline TortugaTopic starter

A Space Adventure (Open to anyone)
« on: July 20, 2020, 06:54:39 PM »

I started playing this plot a long time ago. Due to personal reasons, I had to drop it. I'd love a shot at playing this again.

Plot:  In 2300 the Space Exploration Initiative was begun. SEI looked to diversify the human race's living space from a single system to number of systems, after Pseudomonas phage phiKTM, a virulent plague, threatened to end the human race. This initiative was based on the use of hyperdrives and cold sleep, and worked fairly well. By the year 2400, humanity had spread to a dozen systems, some harsher than others, but all of them inhabited in one manner or another. SEI was stronger than ever, sending out dozens of scouts a year, another dozen systems were planned to be colonized in the next decade. These one man scouts were the pride of the fleet, slick vessels with sophisticated systems, and the highly trained specialists that control them on their missions. The cutting edge of the cutting edge, only the very best were selected to pilot these vessels, which cost more than entire continents.

The year is 2457, the ship Bulwark, scheduled to return to Earth in 2405, after scouting a remote blue pulsar designated Tau Epsilon Prime, begins its standard emergency protocol. It begins to awaken its single crewmember. She quickly awakes from cryosleep, alarms blaring in her ears, and discovers three facts. One: She is not anywhere in known space. Two: She has no idea what has happened, Three: her ship is currently in the process of failing catastrophically...

Setting: Futuristic sci-fi/horror

Cold Open:
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
The Bulwark was... distressed. Nothing had gone as planned. Nothing had gone as indicated. Its mission had been simple. All the Bulwark had to do was exit the Earth system at sublight velocity, a proposition that should take a little under a year, then rotate 37 degrees along the gravitational vector, deploy the ram-scoop, and break into hyperlight velocities, Two years later the Bulwark was supposed to arrive at Tau Epsilon Prime, where recon would take a little over a month. Then the Bulwark would shed weight and initiate its return. By 2405, a little over 5 years since the beginning of the mission, the Bulwark would return home, laden with data, its passenger safe. If anything were to go really wrong, the Bulwark would awaken its passenger and have it take over, assuming it wasn't something so wrong, that the Bulwark would be destroyed before it could.

Things however did not go as planned. Passing Jupiter, the Bulwark received an anomalous data package, however after verifying the protocols, the package was safe to open. Not just safe to open, it bore the marks of high command and maximum priority. The orders were marked Anaphora, the highest level of clearance, The Bulwark committed them to automated execution, and then effectively deleted that part of its brain. Even the ship wasn't cleared to know what was happening. Then, it executed the commands.

Now comes the distressing bits. The bulwark is in pain. Systems are damaged.  Internal chronometer indicates it is not 2405. It is 2457. The memory banks since the automated execution begun have been deleted. This is not Tau Epsilon Prime. For one the star is not a blue pulsar, its a sol like star, paired in an orbit around a red dwarf, which dwarfs the tiny sol like star. Six planets orbit the pair, while another two loop between the stars. A ring of debris pollutes the system, forming haphazard rings around some of the planets. The bulwark can't quite see this, its sensors are... off somehow, this is the result of a probe sent out during the autonomous phase. The probe was apparently in similarly sore condition, as records show its telemetry burnt out less than a kilometer away from the ship. All that matters, really, is that this is not Tau Epsilon Prime. Its only when the Bulwark tries to scan the system and itself that it realizes how extensive the damage to itself is. Its sensors are for the most part, burnt out, the outer cores have been all but destroyed, the nano-fab has been abused beyond almost all reason. It looks like during autonomous execution, extensive repairs had to be made to the life support and drive systems, but both are failing. The anti-matter plant containment is at 12% stability, it will go cold soon, and the Bulwark lacks the autonomy to fix it. Its resources are at such a critical state that it requires outside input. At least its passenger is safe, a bit of good news in an otherwise dire situation. It begins emergency protocol #17. Accelerated Awakening. Then, it settles into content stability. Soon, someone else will take over this. Address its distress and pain. The cryo-pod begins to pulse and groan with the effort of awakening its occupant.

There is only cold between the stars. While this is not technically true, for Angela Morrison it probably was true enough, the cocktail of drugs involved in cryosleep shut down all neural function. There were no dreams between the stars, just cold. Oh, and the almost crippling pain of awakening, the feeling of partially atrophied muscles sucking in every drop of moisture as IVs pump in needed fluids. Cryosleep is not a pleasant process, its not a desirable process, but it is a necessary one. Its the only way to survive the year long trip without neural degeneration, without radiation burning out every cell and giving the traveler cancer a dozen times, without the occupant losing their mind. Other techniques had been tried, but only Cryosleep had any kind of reliability. Angela knew this, intellectually, but right now her brain was still stepped down, she could no more think of these facts than a fish could do math. It would take a few minutes for the dozens of shots of neuro-receptors, and repair-nanos to get brain to a level where it could be considered vaguely human.

The accelerated protocols demanded that the Cryo-pod use resources it would not normally use, packets that reduced the life expectancy of their occupant by years, resources saved for crippling, otherwise lethal, injuries. But in went the adrenaline boosters, the orgo-nanos, the dozens of extraneous hydrators, and the neural accelerators. The upside, Angela would feel very little of the sluggishness and slowness of awakening, a process that usually took a few days to a week, would be done in minutes and hours. The hangover however, would be hell.

As Angela awoke, Diana spoke. Regular neural exercises, stimulating imagination, mathematical ability, vitalization and problem solving. The motherly, comforting voice, egging Angela away from the edge of brain death over to full neural capacity. As she awoke, bit by bit, the information available to the bulwark would stream in, explained gently and carefully by Diana. By the time Angela fully awoke, she'd know more or less what was going on...