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Found 46 results

  1. The call to assemble came late in the morning, and by mid-afternoon, the team was tromping into the briefing room. They’d all had time to get used to their new powers; some had adapted better than others. Play-time was over though; it was time to get out into the field and see what they could do. ,, Weir waited until Bates’s team was all seated before she started to talk. “Rabous is one of the Althosians, living on the continent. He was visiting a planet named Kastar when he was approached by a woman. She was very… friendly with him and he realized after a time that she was pumping him for information on Atlantis. Specifically, how to get there.” ,, “Someone’s been talking.” Bates sounded annoyed. ,, “Yes, and we need to know who.” Weir glanced around the table. “The fact that Atlantis’s location is a secret does a lot to keep us safe. The fact that many don’t even know about us is an even better safeguard. The fact that someone knew to target the Althosians for that information is troubling. I want this team to dress as Althosians and try to find out who is behind his and how much they know. Questions?” “What do we know about Kastar?” Bates asked. It was the obvious question. ,, “It’s a… party-planet.” Weir frowned at her laptop. “That’s the way that Rabous described it – it seems that the inhabitants are always looking for a reason to celebrate. He wasn’t even sure how it operated – who provides the food and drink and so on.” ,, “BYOB,” Yseult suggested with a smirk. “They provide the planet and the party, everyone else brings the booze and snacks.” ,, “Perhaps,” Weir said. “Any other questions?”
  2. Here's the place for talking out of character. Some notes on the game: This game is currently closed to new submissions. I'm not requiring character profiles; as small and cozy as this game is, I'm not sure they're needed right now. Consider it an experiment to learn each other's PCs through RP. Discuss if you wish; I'm open to changing this.
  3. Dr. Heightmeyer felt incredibly nervous. She hid it well as she straightened the pillows on her chair one more time, but she could feel it in her gut. It all stemmed from one source: Inoae. It wasn’t just the fact that she was a Lantan. That would be unnerving enough; Dr. Heightmeyer was sure that no other human psychologist had ever attempted to treat a Lantan. But the psychosis that Inoae suffered from would be daunting if she were just a human. Trying to treat a Lantan for these kind of traumas made her feel like she was drowning, like she didn’t know where to start with her. Still, she had to try. She’d do her best to inflict no harm, even if she couldn’t heal. Standing, she smoothed back her blond hair and stared at her pillow arrangement, lost in thought. Worry and doubt rose in her, but she tried to keep it hidden. A soft sound caught her attention and Kate turned. She broke into a smile upon seeing the waif-like woman peering shyly into her office. “Inoae,” Kate called softly, “please come in. I’d like to talk to you.”
  4. For Ayato, The time since the last mission had been spent getting used to his "Enhancements." He was much faster than he'd ever been before. beyond that his physical strength was so much greater. Dr. Goro sat there watching him as he went through his exercises, mostly writing on a small notebook, his observations. ,, "That last lift was over a metric Ton Ayato." "I can still do more, Doctor. I just don't see more weight." ,, Dr. Goro nodded. "Perhaps there may be another way within the systems, i will make some inquiries for you." ,, "Thank you. Have you assessed any of the others?" ,, "No, Captain, I have not. You are the first, though I left an open invitation to any others who may wish to quantify the effects of the enhancements. No one has yet replied." ,, Ayato nodded, and he seemed to shimmer, then vanish altogether. "That makes you more like a Ninja than you think." ,, Ayato appeared a dozen feet away, with not a single sound. "Special Operations Training helps there too." ,, "Do you have any further exercises you wish to see here, or shall we move on?" ,, "Run through your high speed Kata one more time, and we can move to the range." ,, Ayato nodded, and began moving at a speed very few could keep up with, his movements perfectly precise, yet moving as water, smoothly.
  5. Here's how I'd like to talk about the custom powers and rules we want. some of them are going to be an easy up-down, yes-no vote. Others I'd like to talk about a bit. Here's the first thing: ,, Breaking Adaptability into Pieces ,, Tireless Enhancement (A:PG) - In addition to the endurance bonus, Nova no longer requires sleep (the enhancement is a pretty minor one without the addition), to simulate no longer requiring sleep. Health Enhancement (A:PG) - To simulate the resistance to diseases, poisons, and drugs. Unaging Enhancment (TNF) - To simulate the increased or infinite lifespan. Invulnerability: Temperature Extremes - To simulate resistance to hostile environments. Could be made as an enhancement as well, I suppose, granting an extra success or two per dot of M-Stamina versus temperature extremes/hostile environments. Being Space Worth, if one wants that, can be a Body Mod (which I think is written down somewhere).
  6. "With all due respect, ma'am," Bates gritted out, "she's a damn menace, not team material. Neither of them are." ,, Dr. Weir sighed and resisted the urge to rub her temples. "Captain, this is not a request. You insisted on a team that included Sgt. Moreau. According to Dr. Heightmeyer and Dr. Fitzgerald, separating her from the sergeant at this point would hinder her recovery." She held up a hand before the Captain could interrupt her, "In addition, Dr. Fitzgerald has been able to make her own connection with Ms. Amara, one that could prove critical in understanding the Wraith and helpful in establishing allies and trade partners in the Pegasus Galaxy." She leaned across the desk towards him, "That is still the primary mission of any team that goes through the Stargate, Captain. If you're going to take a team out, those are the terms." ,, +~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+ He's considered training them both at the same time, but between crazy and ice queen he was pretty sure he'd snap a neck in the first five minutes. So currently the makeshift was occupied with exactly one inhumanly strong Captain of the Atlantis Expedition and one broken blonde waif of girl that should have died ten thousand years ago. ,, "Can you understand what I'm saying?" He peered at her, trying not to spook the loon. ,, Inoae nodded quickly, not wanting to anger the volatile male. "Yes." ,, "Good." He stalked around her and she stilled completely. "You're going to be on my team," he announced and she flinched just a little at the underlying thread of anger in the words. He ignored it. "I don't like this, but I don't have a choice. If I'm going to take you out through the gate, I'm not going to tie up one of my soldiers babysitting you every time. So, you're going to learn how to defend yourself." ,, He waited for some acknowledgement from her, but she just stood there - completely silent and still. It was creepy. He prodded her with a finger. She stumbled and fell to the floor, a dark bruise already spreading out under the white t-shirt. He heard how hard she hit the ground and she didn't even put out her arms to break the fall or cry out in pain. She just laid on the floor, the bruise slowly yellowing and fading completely under the shirt as he watched. Jesus, I'm gonna kill her and she's not even gonna try to stop me. ,, "Get up," he said, ignoring the waver of nervousness in the words. She stood up, back into the exact same waiting stance she'd had before. For a long moment they both stood there. "Let's get you to the infirmary, before you bleed out internally or something." ,, "This one-" she swallowed and started again, her eyes glancing up at him furtitively. "I am not damaged now. I am learning?"
  7. “Sir.” Bates’s tone was harsh enough that he stopped and forced himself to breathe deeply for a second. Shepherd stopped walking and the two men faced each other in the hallway. His expression was terse and stern as he faced the Captain, giving the other man a chance to calm down. They may not have liked one another, but they both respected the ranks each other wore. “Sir,” Bates continued when he had calmed down, “I respectfully request that you not gut my team.” Shepherd’s eyes narrowed. “A move onto my team is usually seen as a promotion, Captain. It’s a sign of how good your team is.” “Yes, sir. But they are my team. We work well together. We have understandings, sir.” Bates didn’t add that he had liked having the super-powered team. Weir had already started to mention some of the missions they’d be going on, and Bates had been really excited by the opportunity. They still had no idea how long these “super-powers” would last; McKay was no closer to a cure, but none of them seemed to be dying yet. “I’ll let you keep Evana and Shane,” Shepherd started, only to stop when Bates caught his arm. Bates didn’t need to touch people get their undivided attention, not since he’d changed. But he still did it, even as he reflexively added that extra oomph from his strange new abilities. “Sir, you give me Ford, or anyone else who isn’t like us, I’ll kill him. It won’t be intentional, but you know how soldiers are. If there’s one person who’s the super-man, then you look up to him. If you’re the one guy who’s not super powered, you’re going to try to keep up or feel less a man. That’s what whomever you replace Yseult is going to feel like.” Shepherd studied him a moment before nodded. “All right. Keep your team, Captain. Anything else?” “No sir.” Bates smiled, a stiff smile of gratitude. “Thank you, sir.” “Don’t mention it, Captain.” Shepherd grinned before sauntering down the hall. Bates went his own way, his head spinning with plans. There was a lot to do.
  8. Birth Name: Curtis Shane Nick Names: None Aliases: None Calling: Tech Expert Known Relatives: Jesse Shane (Parent), Jeff Shane (Parent) Age: 24 Gender: Male Ethnic Background: Caucasian Nationality: American Height: 5’ 8” Weight: 160 lb. Eye Color: Blue Hair Color: Dark Blonde Handedness: Right Distinguishing Marks: None. Background Curtis was adopted as an infant by Jesse and Jeff Shane, a gay couple in Omaha, Nebraska. When in 5th grade, anti-gay attention angered Curtis, who drew away from others mostly, and focused on his hobbies of computers and electronics. The only exception was working at Jesse's auto shop, where he got along with the other employees. Arguably, it was because in order to prove wrong the 'sissy-man' insults and similar taunts, he joined the military. With his technical expertise, it was not hard to secure a place in the technical ranks of the Air Force. Unfortunately, his admitted hopes of avoiding direct combat were smashed when he was maneuvered into joining the Air Force Tactical Control Party courses and subsequently posted to Afghanistan. That proved to be a difficult time- nay, near catastrophe when a RPG attack downed his helicopter and the unit was under severe attack by a Taliban force for more than a day. Curtis had to indeed shoot and kill for his life, and the experience felt almost more than he could handle. Thus as soon as he could, he finagled a transfer to Material Command and away from the front lines. Then with his technical expertise in full bloom and demonstration, he was tapped for SGC, and admittedly excited to be dealing with alien technologies. Eventually, he was transferred to Atlantis, the biggest joy yet. When he completed a hookup system that allowed the Expedition to interface Ancient computers with laptops, he knew he was in the right place.
  9. Sooooo… we’re converting to Aberrant. This thread will first list the house rules that we’ll be using in this version of the game. I think this is all: please ask questions down-thread. Sources Allowed All Core Books Individual powers will be considered from fan-material Custom-created powers will be submitted for public discussion in the Custom Powers thread Character creation Standard creation for the human portion 15 bonus points that must be spent on non-nova things Additional 15 bonus points to be spent on anything 30 NP Quantum 5 max to start Mega-Atties are capped at 3 for now Convert all experience from the Scion version to the Abby version Deviations from the Norm Attributes Improved Attributes – these are in play and can be bought with NP or xp. I will not allow rampant purchases above five; these are meant to be used when you want to be above average but not mega-levels of great. Abilities We are using the full gamut of secondary skills from the Player’s Guide. Science – Please buy a skill for each major discipline; for example, you can buy Science (Biology) and it will cover biochemistry, zoology, botany, genetics, etc. Mega-Attributes These are capped at 3 to start. There’s no need to take it all the way to eleven out the gate. Enhancements I will allow enhancements that do not require rolls involving mega-dice to be bought without the mega die. The base attribute must be at least a 5, and they cost the same as buying an extra enhancement. Powers Cyberkinesis – This is not a house rule but a warning: please don’t take this power and assume you’ll be able to just pwn the Lantan computer. You will have extreme difficulties because the computer is so vast and foreign. I wanted to be up front about that before people drop NP on it. Pretercognition – not a PC power. Gadgets/Devices Devices – built by calculating the cost of each power on the device, then subtracting 1 NP or 3 xp. Ex. Laser sword-gun – Quantum Bolt 3, Claws 3. Q-bolt is 3+3+3-1 for 8 NP plus claws 1+1+1-1 for 2 NP for a total of 10 NP. Merits and Flaws Iron Will is not allowed. Backgrounds Adversarial Backgrounds are allowed. Node can be seen as an analogy to ATA Gene. Node does not grant taint in this game. ,, Taint is real, as are aberrations. There will be a pseudo-science explanation for these at some point in the game. Willpower Willpower can go above 10 after the character creation phase. If you want to pay for more Willpower, go for it. Just don’t go too crazy; I probably won’t allow it to go beyond 13. This rule might be revoked later if it causes problems. If so, you’ll get back all the points you put into it. Strengths/Weakness Not allowed. Notes Please don’t try to convert super-exactly. Scion is not Abby, and though they are kissing cousins, they are still not that much alike. I will not get upset if your god-like zuper power doesn’t have an equivalent in Abby. I will not be upset if it breaks continuity; we’re adults, we know shit happens. If there is something that you must have that does not exist in Aberrant, we can craft something.
  10. Gossip spread like wildfire on Atlantis normally; this news spread faster than light. Two massive storms had combined into one, covering twenty percent of the planet and bearing down on them. It would sweep over the mainland first before pounding on Atlantis. The command team swept into action quickly, but even they couldn’t outpace the wagging tongues of bored personnel. Manaria reluctantly agreed to take the Earth refuges. The planet wasn’t exactly friendly, but they seemed willing to gain favors. There was a problem with staying with them; the Manarians were only willing to take two hundred of Atlantis’s two hundred forty-nine refuges. Five were staying behind, which left forty-four people who needed to go somewhere else. People were getting legitimately worried about the remaining forty-four souls when Sheppard called a meeting with a group of people. They met in one of the larger room, on a lower level of the main tower. There were about fifty people there – those who bothered to count noted that there were exactly forty-four people in the room, not counting Sheppard. “Thank you for coming,” Major Sheppard said without preamble when everyone was seated. “I’m sure you’ve all heard about the storm and our problems finding enough space for everyone. The good news is that of twenty minutes ago, we found a solution. A planet called Nixar is willing to allow us to put the rest of our people there. You are all smart folks, so I’m sure you’ve figured out that you are the lucky forty-four we’re going to send to Nixar. We’ve been told that we’ll need to camp in their bazaar, so it won’t be very hospitable, but it will be off Atlantis. Everyone is to pack light, essentials only. You’ll be issued tents and other survival gear, as well as some food and trade goods. Remember this will only be for a couple of days, but plan for the possibility that this might be permament. Atlantis might not survive the storm.” “And if that happens?” Dr. Kavanagh asked, his voice tense and nasal. “In that case, find a place to survive and try to find a way home,” Sheppard said before adding firmly, “but that isn’t going to happen. No way McKay’s letting this city sink.”
  11. Starting October 2011, we're doing a monthly experience award. As a thank you for everyone starting for a reboot of the game, I'm granting experience an award even through we didn't have 'regular' game in September. Going forward, I'll be awarding publically here. If no one objects, I'll be listing the awards here as opposed to private messages. For September, everyone has the same award: Standard xp: 2 Human xp: 2 Ancient xp: 2 Remember that Standard xp can be used on anything. Human xp can only be used on Skills, Abilities and Backgrounds - anything a human has access to in normal circumstances. Ancient xp can only be used on Epics, Boons and other Supernatural things - anything a human wouldn't have access to in normal circumstances.
  12. Birth Name: Moira Fitzgerald Nick Names: The Bitch, Ice Princess Aliases: None (Currently) Calling: Anthropology/Sociology Known Relatives: None - Orphaned Nature: Autocrat Age: 41 Gender: Female Ethnic Background: English/Irish Nationality: American Height: 5 foot 9 inches Weight: 139 lbs. Eye Color: Green Hair Color: Red Handedness: Left-handed Distinguishing Marks: Intense green eyes, fair skin, almost constantly stern or irritated expression. Appearance: Moira is stunningly attractive woman in her early forties. She has red hair and green eyes, is fairly thin but obviously works out to keep herself toned and fit. Personality: Dr. Fitzgerald is a very severe woman most of the time. She takes her field very seriously, and is both dismissive and intolerant of anyone who doesn't do the same (either her field, or their own). She doesn't think she's smarter than most everyone around her - she knows it. While she isn't outright hostile, she's in almost no way an approachable, friendly person. She's clinical, detached, and can be a downright ice queen when (not if) you piss her off. However, Moira's interaction with most people is in a professional manner, and as long as you aren't stomping all over her toes, she's an incredibly useful, highly intelligent person to have around and on your side. Interests: History, ancient cultures, human sociology, xeno-sociology, gardening. History: Moira was born and raised in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Left to the church as an infant by an unwed mother, Moira was raised in a Catholic orphanage. Because of the low rate of adoptions in the heavily Catholic country at that time, she was never adopted. As she got older, she grew more and more bitter at her birth mother, her situation, the church, and even Ireland itself. She retreated into academics as her escape, and as she grew more and more frustrated with the people, religion, and culture she was surrounded by, she spent more and more time devoting herself to learning the truth about.. well, everything, really. An overwhelming thirst for excellence fueled her. Moira's motto was that if her mother ever decided to come looking for her, she was going to regret abandoning the daughter that she'd found. When she was eighteen, Moira took the scholarships that the church and any other organization was willing to provide (no matter whether they were based on her religious background, her sex, her history as an orphan, or her intelligence), and accepted an offer from UCLA - Berkeley in order to get her anthropology degree. After Berkeley she spent time at University of Chicago for her Master's Degree, and Harvard for her PhD. During that time she eliminated her accent, and the negative assumptions about her personality or intelligence that always seemed to accompany it. She held positions at both University of Chicago and Harvard, and once she was finished with her education she spent a few years working at Oxford (and without that annoying Irish stigma, too). By that time she had gained U.S. Citizenship, and spent time in Oxford on a work visa before returning back to the U.S. She was propositioned by the United States government at the age of 32, and was recruited by the Stargate program three years ago.
  13. House Rules Backgrounds ATA Genome – This background represents the natural ability with the ATA Genome. PCs need to have at least one dot in this background and may not start with more than three without special permission. The genome allows characters possessing the background to use Ancient technology; without it, Ancient tech will not respond. Additionally, each dot in the ATA Genome lowers the difficulty of using the Ancient Tech by one. Turn It To Six – Adventure backgrounds can go to six in Adventure. This option will be available to PCs at a later date.
  14. Birth Name: Jason Whitley Bannon Aliases: Dr Bannon, Jase, That asshole Calling: Biologist Known Relatives: None Nature: Loner Apparent Age: mid-to-late 30's Gender: Male Ethnic Background: Caucasian Nationality: American Height: 6'1" Weight: 170 lbs Eye Color: Green Hair Color: White-blond Handedness: Left Distinguishing Marks: Appearance: Previously tall, lean and handsome, since the strange events that transformed the team Bannon could be better described as tall, slender and pretty, as he has taken on a distinctly androgynous look that, at first glance, makes those who don't know him assume he is female. His attractiveness is somewhat marred by the fact he rarely smiles, and when he does it's never because he's happy. Amused, maybe, interested, possibly, but not happy. The bad-tempered biochemist is rarely without a lit cigarette in his mouth, save when he is working. Personality: Morose, cynical, and world-weary: 35 going on 35,000. If he seems upbeat, it's usually ironic amusement because the world turns out to be exactly as he predicts. He seldom expects anything of anyone - that way, he claims, he's never disappointed. He knows he is brilliant, knows his own worth, and sees no reason whatsoever to tolerate other people's foolishness, therefore he doesn't. Interests: Botany, particularly breeding and growing rare and beautiful plants; An interest in mysteries and secrets, though he'd rather die than admit it to anyone. Secretly, Bannon wants to believe the universe could be a better place than he usually assumes it to be. History: Jason Whitley Bannon, or Doctor Bannon as he prefers to be called, was born in 1973 to a wealthy New England family who wanted their son and heir to enter politics via the usual path - Law School, DA's office, then running for governor like his father. Unfortunately for his family, Jason was never all that interested in politics. Or people, for that matter. During adolescence, he manifested his rebellious phase by concentrating on the sciences, particularly chemistry and biology. As his family adjusted, they mused that it perhaps wasn't so bad that he go on to be a doctor... But Jason disabused them of that, too. Though the workings of the body did indeed interest him, he wasn't going to be a 'golf-playing, fee-billing waste of education' any more than he was prepared to be a 'banal word-juggling plague on the public purse'. Jason Bannon's acerbic way with words and short tolerance for what he regarded as other people's idiocy was already starting to assert itself... He sealed the unwillingness to have anything to do with the New England politico set by going to study Biochemistry at Stanford, rather than Harvard. There, on the West Coast and as free as he could be from his family's direct influence, the young man became more outgoing, enjoying dates that weren't arranged by family consensus and associating with whomever he chose. He passed his degree with flying colours and, backed by his aunt and grandmother, went on to study for his Masters, then his Doctorate whilst simultaneously expanding his studies to the fields of Molecular Biology, Organic Chemistry and Neurochemistry . It was plain to those who taught and studied with Jason that he was brilliantly gifted in his chosen field, that being of the chemical interactions that take place within and around living organisms. And Jason was never happier. He had forged his own future, one where he would glide along the cutting edge of research, maybe even win a Nobel. He had a girlfriend, about whom he was even crazier than he was about biochemistry, and was going to propose to her as soon as they finished their respective educations. And then he caught her cheating on him. It was an accident, she told him. She got drunk and was feeling lonely because he was spending all hours in the lab... Jason felt something inside him turn withered. He had loved her, but he found himself looking at the girl anew and wondering why. For that matter, why was he even upset? She was a human being, and human beings inevitably let each other down, or forced expectations on one another, or hurt each other. To hell with it all. He should really only blame himself, for relying on another person in the first place. Bannon forged his way through the annals of academia for the next ten years, coming to the notice of the Pentagon during the biological warfare scare of the post-9/11 world when he produced a number of incisive and somewhat scathing assessments of their current think tank's report. An invitation to head up the new brain trust was forthcoming, and Bannon accepted. His lack of personal attachments made him an ideal employee for the D.O.D special projects division, even though his acidic and to-the-point manner was hard to deal with in face-to-face matters. Or even through memos, for that matter. He was nearly fired several times, last time for calling the National Security Advisor 'a pompous, scare-mongering ass with a mind like a puckered anus' during a high level strategy meeting in the White House, which he was attending as an advisor to the Joint Chiefs. But it was recognised by the powers that be that Dr Bannon's dedication to his work and his brilliant insight was worth a few ruffled feathers, so perhaps they should transfer him to a department where he would be out of sight for a few years, until the furor died down... Languages Spoken: Latin French Spanish Chinese Japanese Swahili Indonesian Lantean
  15. Uploaded with ImageShack.us Name: Siva Talia Ilia Moore aka Doctor Moore Age: 32 History Her parents were missionaries to Indonesia from the Presbyterian mission, her mother had a degree in medicine and her father had a psychiatric degree, as well as a degree in theology. When she was growing up it was to find her parents often involved in helping people, in trying to make life better for others, her father focuses on the spiritual and the mental, while her mother focused on healing the body. As the eldest of her three siblings, she was often the most responsible one, even taking care of both of her younger siblings (brother and sister) when her parents were both called away. For the first part of her life they would move back and forth between the US and Indonesia every couple of years, stay for 3 to 6 months then return to Indonesia and it greatly broadened her world view from that of many people who didn't When she was about 15 her parents decided they needed to move back to the US permanently in order to let their children grow up in a more stable setting, and to get to known their home culture better. It was then that her mother began to work as a Doctor and her father eventually found a position running a shelter, and as a psychiatrist. In those years she finished high school, and went into collage, starting with studying medicine like her mother, and working part time as an EMT.. but in a year realized that wasn't what she wanted to do. Instead she turned to study of biology and genetics, to understand the human genetic code and maybe even find ways to repair or deal with genetic problems in the gene code. She began to focus on her studies and by the time she was 27 she had a masters in biology and genetics and was working on her doctorate. During this period she also continued to work as an EMT and did volunteer work at her father's shelter, helping there quite often, this left her incredibly busy, with little time for a social life. Something her mother occasionally teased her about, but with her sisters married and having children in this period, it wasn't something she felt much pressure about. It was her doctoral thesis that brought her to the interest of the SGA project, for she wrote about how life develops to meet certain criteria, and described several alternate ways in which life could develop to meet different conditions, which actually was dead on in terms of some of the worlds visited though the star gate. As a result, she was interviewed and invited to join the Atlantis project, after she promised to keep the matter a secret, all she could tell her family was that she was working for a top secret goverment sponsored project and she wouldn't be available for some time. Excited by the prospect of learning of new worlds and biologies, she agreed and spent the next year or so preparing for the mission, going though the stargate with the rest. She likes to run and exercise to keep herself in shape as well, and is an extremely devoted to duty and honor, she values loyalty, valor and intelligence as import virtues as well. She wears glasses because she is nearsighted and is somewhat unaware of how attractive she is.
  16. Background: Not really relevant. He's 'that guy'. Most people who went to school with him can't remember his name. Those who remember his name can't recall either his first name or last name. Out of High School, he went into the Army. Not the Rangers, or the Special Forces, but the Army Infantry. He served well, but not spectacularly. All his fitness reports read as "Acceptable" or "Adequate". He never screwed up, got into fights, or missed a roll-call. He was liked by those who served with him. He was an agreeable guy. Nice, pleasant, easy to get along with, first to pull you out of a bar when you were too drunk to drive. Last guy to volunteer. Why be on Atlantis? Partly, it was a mistake. He scored high on the ATA genome search, and he was on a list of alternates (a very long list). He was in fact on the bottom of that list. What happened? There was a computer glitch. The final roster of recruits for the Atlantis mission was being prepared and they had one fewer than they needed for the project. One project manager scrambled to 'remember' the last name ... and suddenly remembered Rivets. Paul Rivets (finally, someone remembered). He made the final list. Now Paul is on Atlantis, the lowest of the low. More than one person privy to the personnel records has tried to figure whey he is 'really' here. Is he some kind of mole? A plant by some other government agency? The problem is, Rivets is a good soldier. Not stunning, but good. He follows orders, does his job, and never complains (out loud). He's 'that guy' you see standing around with a gun until some minor task needs to be done. "Hey you ... (reads his name tag) Rivets. Communications out. Get down to medical and have them get a team up here, stat." "God damn it (looking down at the spilled coffee). Hey you. Get a mop and clean this up, but get me a fresh cup of coffee - two creams and one sugar - first." "Rivets? (pause for thought) Oh, yeah. He's the guy that ... hmmm ... no, that's Donaldson ... wait, he looks like ... yeah, that's the one. Didn't know his name, but he's down in storage room 33C. They are moving things over from the lower flight bay. Needed some strong backs. At least I think that's him." "Coming off of Teagulus 3,we were jumped by three Wraiths. I took a spike and went down right away. Sgt. Lopez took over the team. Yelled at this guy - Rivets I think his name was - to get me to safety. Guy picked me up and ran me over to the 'Jumper'. All hell was breaking loose." "Put me down slowly then said he would be right back. That guy ran right back into the firefight. Came back around, in about, I guess - toxins were working me over pretty bad - thirty seconds screaming for the pilot to take off. That's when I passed out." "When I came to, I was back here. My first question was to ask about my team. One other guy made it back, she told me. Then she handed my a Mission Patch. There was blood on it. It was Sgt. Lopez's. It was clutched in my hand, she said." "Yeah, I think that guy who saved my life's name was Rivets."
  17. Inoue was rescued from the Wraith by the team sent out to rescue Col. Sumner and the captured Athosians. She is very emotionally and mentally unstable and suffers from a somewhat mangled version of Stockholm's syndrome; accordingly, she has attached herself to Sgt. Yseult Moreau as her new 'Keeper'. Little else is known other than that she was a child on Atlantis when the city was abandoned and that her family name (or at least a second name) is Amara. She answers to Inoue now, but either seems confused or upset when pressed for memories about the city or her childhood. While she accompanied Sgt. Moreau on several missions off-planet, both Dr. Weir and Capt. Bates have done their best to ensure she has no contact with the Wraith. She seems to be adjusting to life with the Atlantis Expedition, but still does so in terms of a Wraith hive; neither the Expedition head nor the Head of Security is quite ready to test her loyalty to the Expedition (or at least Sgt. Moreau) nor her mental stability if faced with conflicting orders from the Wraith and Sgt. Moreau or any other Expedition member. Hesitation could endanger an entire team or even Atlantis itself. Mechanics & History Birth Name: Inoae Amara Nick Names: Io (Childhood), Regina (Wraith (Latin) means Princess) Aliases: Calling: Rescued Lantean Known Relatives: None Nature: Pedagogue Age: Unknown - Younger Adult Appearance Gender: Female Ethnic Background: Alteran/Lantean Nationality: Atlantean Height: 5 foot 6 in Weight: 130 lbs Eye Color: Hazel Hair Color: Blonde Handedness: Ambidextrous Distinguishing Marks: Intense hazel eyes, very fair skin Appearance: Inoae is a fragile and hauntingly beautiful young woman. She appears skittish and often stares off into the distance, seeing and hearing nightmares from her past. Personality: Usually quiet, the young Lantean is prone to emotional outbursts and erratic behaviour. Interests: Pleasing her current Keeper - Sgt. Yseult Moreau. History: Inoue is the only remaining survivor of a warship that fled Atlantis during the end of the war. The captain, hoping that Atlantis would either somehow prevail against the Wraith or rally to Earth and return at a later date, purposefully set the ship to a near-lightspeed travel in order for time to pass. Once the ship came out of lightspeed travel, they were quickly spotted by the ship of a Wraith Keeper and attacked. During the battle, the remaining Lanteans decided it was better to die and destroy the ship than to allow their ZPM's or themselves to be taken by the Wraith. Inoue was one of the few Lanteans that the Wraith managed to capture before the ship exploded. They were all tortured for information, and all would have been executed except that the Keeper herself took an interest in the young Inoue. Still a child, Inoue's innocence and beauty amused the Keeper and she decided to keep the Lantean girl as a pet, giving her the mocking name Regina ("princess"). That was nearly four hundred years ago. The Keeper, along with an inner circle of male-caste Wraith on this ship with her, kept Inoue as a personal servant, sex slave, whipping post, and favored torture subject. "Regina" barely remembers who and what she is or that she had a life before the Keeper's ship, but buried deep inside her fractured heart and psyche is her true self: battered, broken, but still fiercely holding out for something, anything better than this. Virtues: Endurance 3, Intellect 4, Loyalty 1, Vengeance 1 Physical: Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 3 Epic-Physical: Epic Stamina 3 (4 auto suxx) Knacks: Self-Healing, Regeneration, Extended Youth Mental: Perception 4, Intelligence 5, Wits 4 Epic-Mental: Epic Perception 1 (1 auto suxx), Epic Intelligence 3 (4 auto suxx), Epic Wits 1 (1 auto suxx) Knacks: Spatial Attunement; Fast Learner, Star Pupil, Concept to Execution, Language Mastery, Instant Translation; Rabbit Reflexes Social: Charisma 3, Manipulation 3, Appearance 4 Epic-Social: Epic Charisma 1 (1 auto suxx), Epic Appearance 1 (1 auto suxx) Knacks: Benefit of the Doubt; Damsel in Distress Abilities: *Academics 1, Animal Ken 1, Art 1, Athletics 1, *Awareness 3, Brawl 2, Command 1, *Control 2, Craft 1, *Empathy 3, *Fortitude 4, *Integrity 1, Investigation 1, Larceny 1, Marksmanship 1, Medicine 1, Melee 1, Occult 1, Politics 2, Presence 1 (1 free re-roll/scene), Science 1, Stealth 2, Survival 1, Thrown 1 Languages: Lantean/Ancient/Wraith, English Backgrounds: Allies , Backing , Contacts , Gadget , Influence , Mentor , Nemesis 5, Reputation , Resources , Sanctum 1 (2, shared with Yseult Moreau) , ATA Genome 5 Boons: Scīre 3 (Fundamental, Literati, Intuitive Adaptation) Join Battle 6 Attacks: Soak 3B Stamina: 3 Epic-Stamina: 3 Armor: 0 Total: 7B / 4L / 3A Health Levels: 0/0/0/0/0/0/Incap, Dodge DV: 2 Willpower: 7 Legend: 4 Legend Points: 16 Misc. Equipment: BP & XP Log Bonus Points: 8 pts (Int 4 &5) 4 pts (Man 3) 3 pts (ATA Genome 3-5) 14 pts Legend 3 & 4 1 pt Fortitude 4 XP: 09/01/2011 +4, +0, +0 (4 Standard, 0 Mortal, 0 Ascension) E1 09/01/2011 -3, -0, -0 (1 Standard, 0 Mortal, 0 Ascension) Integrity 1 09/01/2011 +2, +0, +0 (3 Standard, 0 Mortal, 0 Ascension) E2 09/01/2011 +3, +0, +0 (6 Standard, 0 Mortal, 0 Ascension) November 09/01/2011 +3, +0, +0 (9 Standard, 0 Mortal, 0 Ascension) December 09/01/2011 +3, +0, +0 (12 Standard, 0 Mortal, 0 Ascension) January 10/01/2011 +2, +2, +2 (14 Standard, 2 Mortal, 0 Ascension) September 10/01/2011 -4, -2, -0 (10 Standard, 0 Mortal, 2 Ascension) Brawl 2, Politics 2, Stealth 2 11/01/2011 +2, +2,+1 (12 Standard, 2 Mortal, 4 Ascension) October 12/01/2011 +2, +1,+1 (14 Standard, 3 Mortal, 5 Ascension) November 01/01/2012 +2, +1,+1 (16 Standard, 4 Mortal, 6 Ascension) December 02/01/2012 +2, +1,+1 (18 Standard, 5 Mortal, 7 Ascension) January 03/01/2012 +3, +2, +1 (21 Standard, 7 Mortal, 8 Ascension) February 03/12/2012 -0, -0, -5 (21 Standard, 7 Mortal, 3 Ascension) Language Mastery 03/12/2012 -2, -0, -3 (19 Standard, 7 Mortal, 0 Ascension) Instant Translation 05/16/2012 +2, +2, +0 (21 Standard, 9 Mortal, 0 Ascension) March 05/16/2012 +4, +2, +1 (25 Standard, 11 Mortal, 1 Ascension) April 05/16/2012 -7, -0, -1 (18 Standard, 11 Mortal, 0 Ascension) Epic Perception 1, Spatial Attunement 05/16/2012 -8, -0, -0 (10 Standard, 11 Mortal, 0 Ascension) Epic Wits 1, Rabbit Reflexes 05/16/2012 -8, -0, -0 (2 Standard, 11 Mortal, 0 Ascension) Epic Charisma 1, Benefit of the Doubt 08/15/2012 +3, +2, +1 (5 Standard, 13 Mortal, 1 Ascension) June & July
  18. Captain Simon Tanner stats Str *** Dex **** Sta **** Cha *** Man ** App ** Int *** Wit *** Per *** Abilities: 30 Academics 1 Favored: Animal ken 2 Art Athletics 3 Awareness 3 Brawl 3 Command 2 Control 2 Favored: Craft(sewing) +1 Craft(traps)+2 Empathy Favored: Fortitude +3 Favored: Integrity +2 Investigation Larceny Favored: Marksmanship 3 +1 Medicine Melee 2 Occult Politics Presence 1 Science 1 Favored: Stealth 3+1 Survival 3 Thrown 1 Boons and Epics(select 6) Epic dexterity Epic perception Epic Wits Purview Animal Purview Chaos Purview Water Purview Scire Virtues: Courage * Valor *** Harmony **** Loyalty * Backgrounds: 7 Ata genome: 3 Backing: 3 (rank of Captain) Resources: 2 Willpower= 7 Bp: 10 on skills(all favored), 4 on willpower, 1 on Background Captain Simon Tanner grew up the son of a Ranger. He was taught from early childhood to fend for himself in the wilds, but was also instilled with the strict code of honor his held to. It was a perfectly natural thing for him to follow in his father's footsteps and join the Rangers in turn. Several tours of duty later earned him enough recognition for valor, adaptability, and honor to get him recruited to the SGC, where he served as first a member of SG-14, and then later as leader of SG-17. When the opportunity presented itself for the mission to Atlantus, he was one of the first to volunteer. He had no family left excet his father, who he was permitted to tell only that he would be on an extended mission of as yet undetermined length during which he would be unable to contact home. Retired Ranger that he was, his father took the news with pride. Simon has always felt a strong affinity for the wild places in the world and wild creatures in general, an affinity that he doesn't share as much with his fellow men. He prefers to operate alone or with people he knows he can trust, but knows that this is not always possible. He would die to save his men, but would also die to stop one of his men from becoming the kind of embittered soldier who started shooting children in Vietnam because they would eventually grow up to be the enemy. His code for his men is, "We are here to stop evil, not become it. We will always be the better men because we choose to not let ourselves be lesser."
  19. Birth Name: Yseult Moreau Nick Names: Yse, Ice Aliases: Calling: Hard Fightin', Hard Playin' Special Forces Soldier Known Relatives: Dylan Harvey (unwanted Husband) Nature: Somewhere between Bravo and Survivor Age: 25 Gender: Female Ethnic Background: Caucasian (Nordic/Gaulish) Nationality: Canadian Height: 5'10'' Weight: 210 lbs Eye Color: Ice Blue Hair Color: Black, shoulder length, usually tied back in a pony-tail Handedness: Left, but ambidextrous Distinguishing Marks: Several tribal tattoos. Appearance: A gorgeous woman, tall, nicely curved and athletically powerfully with sleek, dense muscle, Yseult moves with a dangerous, pantherish grace. Her icy blue eyes are penetrating and constantly scan her surroundings with deceptively languid arcs. Her husky alto carries traces of her native Quebec, which deepen with rising emotions. Personality: Hard and determined, self-reliant almost to a fault, Yseult tends to be blunt and foul-mouthed, with little tact. When on duty, she's professional and coldly fierce, but off-duty, she expects to have a good time, and on or off duty, is always looking for a thrill. She doesn't make friends easily, but those she does gain a loyal companion who will stand by them through anything or give them a beating when needed. Interests: Extreme Sports, MMA, Anything outdoors, Video Games (FPS mostly), Comedy Movies, Trashy Romance novels (vehemently denied) History: Born and raised in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, Yseult proved to be a gynmastic prodigy. Her father, Jean-Marc, was a severe man who pushed her hard, and was abusive towards her mother, who retaliated in kind. When Yseult was fourteen, her father went to far and nearly killed her mother as well as tried to touch her inappropriately. In the process of defending her mother and herself, Yseult grabbed a carving knife off the kitchen counter and stabbed her father in the guts. Police found Yseult and her mother, Louise, pummeling each other in the kitchen next to the dying figure of Jean-Marc. Though Louise accused Yseult of maliciously killing her own father, the incident was ruled self-defense and Yseult was not convicted. Considering the animosity between Yseult and her mother, the government was inclined to place Yseult in foster care. But she was having none of that. Having earned some modest endorsements and grants due to her Olympic caliber gymnastic, Yseult applied for, and was granted, emancipation. Her gymnastics coach, giddy with the thought of getting his hands on his star athlete without the interference of parents soon began to regret it. Yseult may have had the skills and then some to be a champion, but her personality left much to be desired. She pushed herself hard, attempting tricks that were deemed dangerous, and wanting to use music that her coach and the judges deemed 'inappropriate'. When her coach tried the get the stunning and precocious teen to try some modeling, to help raise awareness for gymnastics (supposedly), Yseult found the other girls involved contemptuous and left two of them in tears before walking out. Her gymnastic career ended at the World Championships when she lost to a Russian who did everything by the book. She knew the judges didn't like her, she didn't disguise her own loathing of their completely arbitrary judgments and she blew up. She tore into them right there, describing in vivid detail what she thought about them, their mothers, and their pet dogs. Security escorted her out and Yseult never competed in professional gymnastics ever again. Now needing another goal, Yseult took odd jobs to help pay the bills while training, competing in various extreme sports, and generally have a good time. She wanted to try Mixed Martial Arts, but had to wait until she was eighteen to officially compete. Turning eighteen found Yseult completely broke and evicted from her tiny apartment. With few other prospects, at least ones she was willing to consider, Yseult signed up with the military. It was one of the best decisions she ever made. Yseult took to military life remarkably well, despite a dislike for authority. Sure, most of the officers were complete dicks, but combat was a visceral thrill, a rush like no other. Her drive and skill earned her a position with Joint Task Force-2, a counter-terrorism and black ops unit, and she cross-trained with the U.S. Rangers, as well. That the missions with JTF-2 tended to be solo or in small units was even better, as far as Yseult was concerned. She served with distinction in Afghanistan and Iraq, among other places, which are classified. A year ago, while on leave in Las Vegas, Yseult was having a great, time, wild and free. Then one day, she woke up, hungover... and married... to a teenager, no less. Sure, he was cute, and a fine ride, but come on! And she had had no desire to marry. Even more annoying, her husband was being a complete pain in the ass, fighting her completely reasonable request for a divorce and/or annulment. Changing her number to unlisted didn't seem to make him stop calling either. She was seriously (half seriously) contemplating beating the annulment out of him, or perhaps ending the marriage with a bullet from a thousand meters - she was sure she could get away with it. When the IOA began sending out covert feelers, looking to recruit for the Atlantis mission, Yseult's file got flagged. She was an elite soldier, who had shown the capability to survive in varied environments, with little support. Her commanding officer, after having a brief affair with her, was all too willing to see her go, and Yseult had no family to speak of. Even better, a surreptitious examination had shown that Yseult possessed the ATA genome sequence. The best part, as far as Yseult was concerned, was that she'd be a galaxy away from Dylan Harvey and she wouldn't have to ever think of him again. Her only regret was that she hadn't heard of the StarGate program years ago. Explore alien planets and fight alien lifeforms? She felt like Lara Croft and Master Chief, all rolled into one.
  20. Captain 'Evana' Birth Name: Evana Nick Names: ‘Eva’, ‘Vana’ Aliases: Calling: Soldier/Assassin Known Relatives: None Nature: Perfectionist Age: ?? Gender: Female Ethnic Background: Caucasian Nationality: Unknown Height: 5’ 8” Weight: She’ll never tell. Eye Color: Ice Blue Hair Color: Ice Blue Handedness: Ambi / Favors her left. Distinguishing Marks: None. Appearance: Evana is a gorgeous woman of five feet, eight inches. Her body is firm and sculpted to a measure of perfection that exemplifies her training as a soldier. Strangely enough her hair is bleached a pure blueish-white and she never speaks of how it came to be that way. Personality: Despite her perfectionist mentality, Evana is a light hearted and rather whimsical soul. She is flirty, seductive, and some would say, a bit of a tramp but she simply feels that if others can’t take a joke or are intimidated by her beauty then they are under no obligation to like her. Considering the sort of work she’s done, she’s come to accept that some people will always view her with a measure of condemnation, after all using one’s sex appeal to spy or assassinate one’s target is never easy to explain when looking for public approval. When acting as a C.O. (Commanding Officer) on a mission however her professional demeanor changes dramatically. She is very serious, considers the welfare of those under her command and doesn't tolerate her command being questioned unless done so in a respectful manner. She despises 'pulling' rank, but will from time to time if the situation demands it. She is a shameless flirt that possesses a certain joy de vive mingled with a gift for sarcasm and understatement. She insists on wearing clothing that just isn’t practical and certainly not professional consisting mostly of leather in one form or another from skirts to pants and almost always leaving very little to one’s imagination. History: A gorgeous child born into a life of luxury and privilege, her parents entered her into modeling competitions and fashion shows starting at the age of six. As she grew she only got more and more beautiful and winning more and more competitions until she eventually became a very successful professional model. Skipping through the boring bits… Living a life of fame, fortune and no accountability eventually led her down a path she never intended. In order to escape a prison sentence for possession, reckless driving, and attempted vehicular manslaughter, she enlisted into the military. Surprisingly she found her calling, discovering that she honestly preferred the fast paced life of excitement and duty to her country. More than just a pretty face, Evana successfully moved through the ranks, displaying an incredible aptitude for leadership and disciplined thinking. Evana was recruited into SpecOps on the third year of her first tour of duty, after that she disappeared into the shadows of espionage for her country. OOC: Why doesn’t Evana have a last name? Simply put, Evana isn’t her real name. When she signed on to her new life in espionage, the woman she was (name and all) was sealed up and she was literally erased from existence. Her family received notification that she was K.I.A. and buried with full military honors. When she was hand picked for the Atlantis expedition they received all the parts of her file that weren’t blacked out, which wasn’t much. Without much time to sort through the specifics, General O’Neil approved her based on her credentials. O’Neil has her file back home, but it doesn’t do the Atlantis expedition much good, as a result she simply uses her code name ‘Evana’, refusing to give her real name or disclosing much personal information about herself. How come her hair and eyes are icy-blue? She had a mishap with Ancient technology. She doesn't talk about it and no one seems to know much about what happened. Birth Name: Evana Nick Names: ‘Eva’, ‘Vana’ Aliases: Calling: Soldier/Assassin Known Relatives: None Nature: Perfectionist Age: ?? Gender: Female Ethnic Background: Caucasian Nationality: Unknown Height: 5’ 8” Weight: She’ll never tell. Eye Color: Ice Blue Hair Color: Ice Blue Handedness: Ambi / Favors her left. Distinguishing Marks: None. Appearance: Evana is a gorgeous woman of five feet, eight inches. Her body is firm and sculpted to a measure of perfection that exemplifies her training as a soldier. Strangely enough her hair is bleached a pure blueish-white and she never speaks of how it came to be that way. Personality: Despite her perfectionist mentality, Evana is a light hearted and rather whimsical soul. She is flirty, seductive, and some would say, a bit of a tramp but she simply feels that if others can’t take a joke or are intimidated by her beauty then they are under no obligation to like her. Considering the sort of work she’s done, she’s come to accept that some people will always view her with a measure of condemnation, after all using one’s sex appeal to spy on or assassinate one’s target is never easy to explain when looking for public approval. She is a shameless flirt that possesses a certain joy de vive mingled with a gift for sarcasm and understatement. She insists on wearing clothing that just isn’t practical and certainly not professional consisting mostly of leather in one form or another from skirts to pants and almost always leaving very little to one’s imagination. Physical: Strength 3, Dexterity 3, Stamina 3 Epic-Physical: Strength 1, Dexterity 1 Knacks: Strength (Holy Bound), Dexterity (Cat's Grace) Mental: Perception 2, Intelligence 3, Wits 3 Epic-Mental: Wits 1 Knacks: Wits (Social Chameleon) Social: Charisma 3, Manipulation 3, Appearance 5 Epic-Social: Charisma 1, Manipulation 1, Appearance 1 Knacks: Charisma (Blessing of Importance), Manipulation (Blurt it Out), Appearance (Serpents Gaze) Virtures: Duty 3, Endurance 2, Harmony 2, Vengeance 3 Abilities: Academics 3, Animal Ken, Art, *Athletics 3, Awareness 2, Brawl 2, Command, Control, Craft, *Empathy 3, Fortitude, *Integrity 3, Investigation 2, Larceny, Marksmanship 3, Medicine, *Melee 3, Occult, Politics, *Presence 5, *Science 3, Stealth 3, Survival, Thrown Backgrounds: Allies , ATA Genome 1, Backing/Rank 3, Contacts, Gadget, Influence, Mentor, Nemesis, Reputation 3, Resources 3, Sanctum Boons: Chaos 1 (Eye of the Storm) Frost 1 (Frost Immunity) Illusion 1 (The Subtle Knife) Join Battle 5 Attacks: Unarmed, Heavy (Acc 4, Dmg 7B, Def 2) Unarmed, Light (Acc 6, Dmg 4B, Def 3) Combat Knife (Acc 7, Dmg 5L, Def 3) Colt M1911 (Acc 7, Dmg 4L, Rng 20, Cl 15, Spd 4, P) -Soak- Stamina: 3B / 1L Epic-Stamina: Armor: Bullet Proof Vest (2B / 2L, M -0, F 1, Total: 5B / 3L Health Levels: Standard Dodge DV: 4 Willpower: 6 Legend: 2 Legend Points: 4 Misc. Equipment: Bonus Points: Athletics 2 (2) Empathy 1(1) Presence 5 (2) Intelligence 3 (4) Duty 3 (3) Resources 3 (3) Other 15 Bonus Points: Epic Strength 1 (5) Epic Dexterity 1 (5) Epic Wits 1 (1)
  21. Earth date: November 12, 2004 Atlantis date: unknown yet Days since arrival: five months, two weeks and three days Dr. Beckett brought me more data, just as disturbing as the first set of facts. He’s convinced now, and so am I, that my people here on Atlantis are undergoing a strange mutation. The alterations are still slight enough that few have noticed but that will change. I have some of the smartest people in the world here and they will be asking tough questions. They are questions which I don’t have the answer to. As before, there seem to be three groups that people fall into: those that are getting sick, those that are unaffected and those that are getting better. Personally, it’s the last group that bothers me more. The first group have been falling ill more and more; I have already had to pull men off of field duty due to nagging illnesses that don’t respond to medicine. Carson tells me they’re reacting as if they were suffering from an immunosuppressant like AIDS. This was my worst and unspoken fear when coming here; Atlantis, killing us with some unknown pathogen. I’ve had nightmares about it and it seems to be coming true. But some people aren’t affected. They show no adverse affects and no lingering illness. They have no problems, or at least they haven’t reported issues in themselves or their coworkers. By far is the smallest group; they are getting healthier. Old injuries are healing further, a feat that leaves Dr. Beckett unable to explain. We have reports of cavity healing and eyesight improving. There have been only a few cases, but they are getting more noticeable. Today, it was reported to me that our most injured crewmember, our stowaway Dr. Jenings-Izumi, has started to heal. Her twisted knee is starting to straighten. What scares me the most is that Dr. Beckett has finally found a link between all three groups: the ATA genome, or lack of it. Those without are getting sick. Those few who have it naturally are becoming healthier. Oddly, those who have received the gene therapy treatment have been unaffected: they don’t get sick or find their inherent weaknesses receding. The question is what to do now. We don’t know the source of these mutations and that is the next step. I have given Dr. Beckett orders to take those who are the sickest off Atlantis. The Athosians, despite the ill relations between them and us, have agreed to take them and care for them. If they get better, then it is Atlantis making them ill. I have also ordered that Dr. Beckett does whatever is necessary to give everyone the ATA gene therapy. While I am loathe to force people to take any medical treatment, I cannot afford to lose any more personnel. Unfortunately, it is only successful in forty percent of the cases. Unless Dr. Beckett can find a cure, we will lose sixty percent of my people, either to illness or, in the worst case, death.
  22. "Alright, so a quick review, Dr. Fitzgerald.. to make sure we've covered all our bases?" "That would be fine, Andrew. Please proceed." "I, Moira Fitzgerald, resident in the city of Colorado Springs, County of El Paso, State of Colorado, being of sound mind and disposing memory and not acting under duress or undue influence, and fully understanding the nature and extent of all my property and of this disposition thereof, do hereby make, publish, and declare this document to be my Last Will and Testament-" "Yes, yes, Andrew.. just the highlights, if you would. I have a dinner reservation." "Ah.. yes. Of course. Let's see then.. all historical artifacts are to be donated to various museums and libraries, including but not limited to the Art Institue of Chicago, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, the Library of Congress.. ah, perhaps you'd just like to review the list briefly?" "Certainly." "...everything look alright?" "Yes, this is all correct. Proceed." "Excellent. Let's see. All items related to the care and maintenance of your cat are to be inherited by a Miss Jennifer Anne Stewart, along with a one-time stipend of twenty thousand U.S. dollars in order to compensate for any future care and maintenance costs associated with ownership of said animal. If said animal has passed away at the time of this will's execution, the stipend is null and void. Who is this woman again, Dr. Fitzgerald?" "A UCCS student working on her master's degree in sociology. She's a very bright young woman with an impressive career ahead of her. Also, she cares for the house and the cat in my absence, so she'll be notifying my accountant if there are any maintenance issues that need to be addressed. Susan will be in contact with you monthly so that you can review the expenses and make sure everything is as it should be." "Alright. Let's see. All clothing and personal care items to be donated to the Colorado Springs Women's Shelter. All other possessions, including your place of residence, are to be liquidated. All proceeds and assets to be split 90/10 between the American Anthropological Association and the Chicago Botanic Garden. That's ninety percent to the AAA and ten percent to the gardens. Correct?" "Yes, that is also correct." "Both societies will be honored, I'm sure, Doctor. Hopefully we'll be keeping you with us for awhile, though. How long are you planning on being away?" "Honestly, Andrew, it's completely up in the air. I may be gone for years, and I will most likely be completely out of contact. The military will, of course, notify you if the will is to be executed." "Of course. And if anything happens to me in your absence, then one of my partners will take over your file. So that's it.. everything appears to be in line. Have a safe and productive trip, Dr. Fitzgerald, wherever you're going." Moira stood up and smiled politely, exchanging a firm and professional handshake with her lawyer before picking up her briefcase and purse and stepping out of his office.
  23. "Asshole!" The National Security Advisor looked like she was going to attack the pale blond man, prompting the nearby Secret Service agents to exchange a coolly concerned glance. The Doc had screwed up this time, they both thought almost in unison. The pale man didn't seem too affected by the woman's wrath, however. He just sighed as he regarded her with his cold green eyes, as though she were a child throwing a tantrum and he was an adult without patience. Which was, in his mind, a fair assessment of their current working relationship. Her assessment of him was unprintable. They were currently standing in a White House anteroom having a 'post-Presidential brief meeting'. Or, in more colloquial terms, a right royal row. "We agreed that the findings would be presented as inconclusive for now!" Emily Bloque stormed. She wasn't the first female N.S.A these Secret Service agents had seen, but she was definitely the most hawkish. And, when she didn't get her way, the most ball-busting. They'd seen this woman tear strips off generals and civilian consultants alike. Thus far, however, Doctor Bannon didn't seem to be very fragile. "No. You decided they were, because you think the President is as simple-minded as you are." he said with cool disdain. "The man had no trouble grasping the concepts I outlined, as you seemed to think he would. Though having felt my own eyes glazing over whenever you try to explain anything more complicated than ordering breakfast, I can see why he might encounter problems with his National Security briefings. Thank god he can read the notes in his own time, or we'd all be speaking Chinese." "Now you listen to me, you... you shit. You ambushed me in front of the President, in the Oval Office, in front of the Secretary of Defence and the Joint Chiefs. I took you in there as a preliminary face-to-face, so the President could get to meet you for future briefs-" "So you were wasting both my time, which is bad enough, and the time of the leader of the free world in there." Bannon said with a sneer. "You're obsession with spin-controlling and spoonfeeding the man is mindboggling. It's not a hard concept, Emily." he continued across her attempted retort, the only sign of his own irritation with this banal woman in the hard glitter of his eyes. "Biowarfare as it exists is not currently a significant strategic threat in terms of infrastructural damage. It's primary purpose is to scare people, to get them to jump at every cough or sniffle. Furthermore, the treatments currently being used by the CDC and the Army Disease Center are not as up to date as they could be-" "They don't need to be, if it's not a significant threat-" "Shut up and listen. Those men and women do need more funding, as I told the President. Anthrax, were it to break out in downtown Chicago, would kill less people than the water-based diseases suffered after Katrina did. We were not up to par there. In addition, there is genetic-based research originally intended to strengthen immune systems that could just as easily be used to strengthen pathogens and viruses, prolonging their survivability in open air, and thus their virulence, and that could have repercussions in the strategic arena." Bannon pointed a finger in the direction of the Oval Office. "The President needs all the facts in order to make the right decisions. He doesn't need a glorified PA deciding what facts to feed him so he makes what he or she considers to be the right decisions. So I nodded placidly when you handed me my song sheet, and then I threw it in the bin and told him the truth. Shocking, I know. How dare I. Basically, Emily, if you want a puppet, you can stick your hand up someone else's ass." "You're finished in this place, mister. I'll be revoking your clearances and you can go scuttle back under whichever bookshelf we found you." The National Security Advisor turned and stalked towards the door. "That's doctor. Not mister. Perhaps if you understood the difference, you'd be more interesting to talk to. Though I feel whisky may need to be involved too." Bannon hurled at her back as she left the room, then muttered as he turned and paced over to the window. "And a facelift, you trout-faced harridan." The two Secret Service agents were professionals, so they didn't laugh or applaud, or even raise eyebrows at the confrontation they'd just witnessed. Now, though, as Bannon removed a slim silver cigarette case from his jacket, one spoke up. "This is a no-smoking area, sir." "Fine." Bannon left the cigarette unlit and tucked it behind his ear. "I was just leaving anyway." He nodded to the agents and headed out the door, only to run into a man with a general's insignia on his uniform jacket. Bannon squinted at him bad-temperedly as he stuck out a hand. This officer had been in the briefing earlier. "Doctor Bannon? General ONeill, Department of Homeworld Security." "Homeland Security is a military joint now?" the scientist asked as he shook ONeill's hand. "Well, if that Bloque woman sent you to arrest me, you're being awful polite. I was expecting tasering and strip searching. I need a smoke." he started off in the direction of 'out' and 'away'. "I'm not with Homeland Security." the general replied, falling into step and smiling politely as his dark eyes studied the pale younger man. "I said Homeworld." "Homeworld?" Bannon stopped and blinked, looking at the soldier suspiciously... and curiously. "Never heard of them." The general smiled like a cat that just caught a mouse with cheese on a hook. "Let's go somewhere you can light up, and I'll tell you a little about us..."
  24. Captain Phillips, battalion S-4 of third battalion, 4th Infantry Brigade, 3rd Infantry Division, sat in his tent inside Camp Zulu, Afghanistan. It was dusty, hot, and dry - in other words, just another day in the armpit of the world. It was another day of letting some other lucky bastard get out of this Hell Hole, while he remained behind. At least his latest case was something new. Usually you got out when your enlistment was up, you had Emergency Family Leave, or you got promoted. This order was something ... else. [Private First Class Paul Rivets - no middle initial] Serial # xxxx-xxxxx Date of Birth xx-xx-xxxx Enlistment Date xx-xx-xxxx Current Assignment - A Co./4Ba./23Reg./2ID/CFLCC Reassignment (effective immediately) - SSG/21SW/CMD/AFSC/USSTRATCOM --Upon receipt of these orders, the above mentioned person(s) is to be directed without delay to the assigned departure depot for immediate reassignment to the above mentioned facility. Travel Status is Grade I. Personal equipment is to follow per procedure SMC 9.1C. Any inability to follow this order is to be immediately reported to the above command. (blink) The Captain had to look up most of these command designations and the more he looked up, the less he liked these orders. He reviewed Rivets file then read it again - it didn't take too much time. The Private had all the right certifications without accumulating anything special in his three years of service. No commendations except a notation for no sick leaves and a selection for holiday duty. Nothing to warrant a promotion, except longevity. There were no demerits either, which was a tad unusual. Hardly worthy of promotion. Hell, if it wasn't for the facts staring him in the face, the Captain would have not even believed a Private Paul Rivets had been in this unit for - three years. Phillips had only been in the battalion for two. Phillips went back further. The guy had low grades in high school, barely graduating. He scored low in his Entrance testing, qualifying for Combat Infantryman. He failed to qualify for any other designation. Clearly this guy wasn't going anywhere on his intellect. Further back than that: the family history. There was nothing. Nobody in his family stood out. Everyone was alive. There were two brothers - one in prison and one ... apparently unemployed. His mother worked in a canning factory. His father was on disability from a car accident seven years prior. The guy was poor white trash. There was no indication that he had ever met anyone of any influence what so ever. This guy wasn't a cipher. He was a non-entity. "Private Paul Rivets, reporting as ordered, Sir." Within hours, the Private was back at battalion and standing before the Battalion's Logistics officer. The S-4 let him stand there for a moment while he pulled up the relevant material. Phillips looked over the orders again: SSG was Special Studies Group: 21SW was 21 Space Wing (blink); CMD was Cheyenne Mountain Directorate (wasn't that NORAD?); AFSU was Air Force Space Command (blink) (blink); and USSTRATCOM was United States Strategic Command (what the he-ck?) 'The anti-brainiac grunt is going to Space Command? God, there has to be another Paul Rivets in the US military.' So, Phillips looked. No such luck, he had the only Paul Rivets in service. Hell, the only other Rivets was a female dive instructor down in Pensacola. So what did they need a nobody like Rivets to do? Kick the tires on a Space Shuttle? Wait, those were in Florida. Maybe he was going to chase birds off the runways. The dusty, weary looking soldier snapped a salute and remained at attention. Phillips looked him over. Not ugly, or handsome. He was a grunt's grunt. He had the look of a man who did his duty, no more-no less. 'How totally unremarkable.' "Like Afghanistan, Private?" Phillips began. He leaned back in his seat and studied the man before him. "Not sure, Sir. I go where they send me." "Know anyone in the World, Private? Someone who owes you a favor? A BIG favor?" Paul seemed perplexed, furrowed his brow, and seemed to be thinking really hard. After nearly thirty seconds he finally spoke. "Can't say I do, Sir." "Not very verbose, Private." Verbose seemed to confuse the non-com. "Maybe you can help me with something that's bothering me. Why is someone with your qualifications being sent to an Air Force facility in Colorado Springs?" Paul looked perplexed. "That's Space Command, Private." "No Sir. I mean, I don't know anyone like that, Sir." Seeing the Captain wasn't satisfied, the Private added, "Not a clue. Never volunteered for anything like it. I don't much like flying for that matter. I'll go where they send, Sir." There was a long silence. Phillips was hoping somehow the Private would enlighten him, but it was clear the orders were as much, if not more, a conundrum for him. The man stared blankly over the Captain's shoulder, as per standard military drill. "Okay then, Private. You're off to Space Camp. Have fun back in the World. Anything you need taken care of before your go?" "No Sir. I'm good." "Your mail will be forwarded, as will your belongings." Phillips handed Rivets a packet (it had come with the orders). "Take these. They are your transit papers, as well as your assignment documents. DO - NOT lose them." "Sir! No Sir. This Private will not lose his orders, Sir." The Captain stared at him for another long second. "Get out of here." Rivets gave a strong salute, spun around, and marched back out the door. The smallest amount of dust swept its way in, as usual. This day was going to be another long, hot one. The dust kept sneaking in. Some grunt would come in and sweep it out. Everyone's war went on. Phillips went back to the mountain of paperwork that an army ran on. The nature of that strange re-assignment would last in this Captain's mind for a long time, but somewhere around lunch the name of Paul Rivets had already receded into the fog.
  25. A run for fast food didn't seem like such a bad idea, Curtis had considered, since he was in a hurry. A lunch break before getting his additional files and materials packed up for interstellar transit was thin perforce. He'd learned this from preparing for a tour of duty at Dakara, that there was so much to get done and so little time. Goa'uld technology was so finicky at times. He had heading back to Stargate Command at Cheyenne for that matter, having made his road trip to Nebraska to say goodbye to Jesse and Jeff, and let them know that he would be out of contact for a while. His parents had wished him well, and Jeff had insisted on making one of his classic egg salad sandwiches that Curtis had enjoyed back in the days of childhood- but that had been wolfed down during the first stop for gas. When he entered a local Burger King, the cashier who was taking his order looked familiar, and he seemed to recognize Curtis alright, though Curtis could not place his face oddly enough. Then he caught a muttered whisper of "Nerd-hole." when the cashier thought he wasn't listening and Curtis grinned, despite the comment. "Is that really a good idea, Barry? If the manager heard you insulting a customer...." Barry Brenton, former high-school bully of Curtis Shane blanched, but his annoyed face still retained a slight arrogance of the jock bully. "Knock it off Shane." Barry snapped, albeit in a low voice. "It's hard getting a job around here as is, please just leave me alone." The irony that Curtis had used similar words- of that last phrase- in locker rooms did not escape either of them. The fries and Whopper were handed over in paper bags, but Curtis- feeling turnabout to be fair for once, quipped just before he stepped away with his haul: "I understand. I mean the Air Force wants to promote me, the Navy and Army trying to poach me..." His Whopper would taste extra good today. ************** Curtis took a moment from the list he was inspecting to make sure the equipment he was bringing alone had all been cleared. Everything, including The Laptop. Or as some snickered, Shane's Little Boy based on the attention he'd bestowed on it. The personal laptop he'd been forced by the SGC to leave with the military at Cheyenne before he'd leave for Atlantis. Given that the machine had been used in the labs to the point of being heavily upgraded and patched full of Goa'uld technology, the concerns were understood, certainly. Thank goodness it was coming with him now. "Look at me now," he mentioned to himself. "Curtis' going to another galaxy, gonna study lost alien technology and do it the fun way. Viva La Vida." From a tormented kid in high school, to a respected scientist and techie in the military working with secret knowledge the likes of which geeks would sell their souls for... "I've made it. Just can't do things by halves down there."
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