Changeling-Earth 2: Freehold Earth - The Hilton's Manifest Destiny

[Dawn OOC]

For the past twenty-four hours, the crew and passengers of the Hilton's Manifest Destiny have been trying to recover from their suspended animation sleep. The trip to T-998 took long enough that the young men and women looking for a new life would have spent it aboard a ship instead of owning their own land. But that sleep is hard on them; sleeping for decades can leave one disoriented and groggy. A few people wake up with no ill effects, but most of the crew is bumbling around, shuffling about their jobs while clutching steaming mugs of coffee.

A long line of people are waiting outside of sick bay. Everyone is to be checked out when they wake up, and though the SA crew has been waking people up in waves, there is still a considerable backlog. The frenzied medical staff is working as fast as they can, despite suffering their own suspension hangovers. Fortunately, the last batch of people is waiting; they were not essential for the ship's functioning, so they were left for last.

It is these people, labeled unessential for now, who will be the backbone of the forming colony. They are the ones putting their lives on the line for an uncertain future. They can't go home; all they do can go forward.

Most people are optimistic and excited. But some of that eagerness has been dampened by a rumor; there are whispers that the forward ship, the Hilton Intrepid hasn't been answering calls. The Manifest's crew, the ones that would know the truth about these rumors, haven't been saying much. They are tense, but that could just be nervousness regarding the upcoming landing.

"Attention. We will be beginning our descent soon. All personnel please secure yourselves in landing berths." Before the intercom can repeat itself, people are moving quickly, rushing toward their stations. Even the personnel waiting for their checkups abandon the line to find their berth. Despite the flurry of activity, there is little chaos. The landing procedure was drilled into the colonists' heads before they left the Solar System. By now, it's second nature, even after their long rest.

The berths are padded and close securely around their occupant. They're also claustrophobic, but everyone knows that they're almost there. It seems to take forever, wrapped in the cocoon of the berths, with only your own thoughts for company. Through the floor, you can feel the vibration of the engines change and a soft shudder passes through the ship. You've been told to expect this, as the Manifest shudders again, making the descent.

And then the engines die. You think, Wait... didn't they say that there'd be a loud noise when we landed? The Manifest was as silent as a tomb for a moment, then there is the sense of an increase in the speed of descent. You keep waiting for the ship to check that fall, but it doesn't. Your heart begins to pound as you realize you're in free-fall. Around you, the ship shudders and you hear metal screaming; then you hear people screaming. You can't see outside of your berth, but you can hear and feel. You remember that there are measures that get taken in this event, but your panicking animal-brain can't remember what. All you can do is panic and pray.

The crash is as bad as you might suspect; a horrific boom, then you're thrown around your berth as alarms scream. Then all goes dark and silent.

Welcome to T-998.

[Evan_Bishop]

"Evan, wake up."

Evan wasn't entirely sure what coaxed him awake. It might've been the cold air whispering over his face, or the dull roar from outside his birth. It might've been the little girl attempting to fuse with his chest -

"Evan, honey, open your eyes. You need to go take your physical."

It might've been the alarm beeping cheerfully as his berth - no, as his casket creeped open, or the light shining against his eyelids -

"Evan Bishop, you have three seconds or I'm coming back with a pail of water!"

Oh, right. That might've been it. Evan reluctantly cracked open an eye, holding up his hands defensively. "You'll soak Lila," he said.

"She's a tough girl," Evan's devil of a wife said calmly, looking far too alert for whatever time it was. Nap time, perhaps. "She can take it."

"She's only seven years old, you monster!" Evan protested, sitting up, causing his half-asleep daughter to mutter irritably in his arms. In many ways, he thought fondly, she took after her mother. Both were quite beautiful and charming, both wildly intelligent (much more so than Evan himself, a fact which he recognized and was grateful for), and both had a biting, incisive wit. He was lucky to have them.

"Well, plan B was to enlist the help of the crew and drag you to the infirmary," Akilah replied, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle in her jumpsuit. "Whichever you prefer."

"Do you have coffee, at least?" Evan asked, yawning, trying to focus on the world around him and ignore the cool, inviting emptiness of sleep.

"Plenty in the sick bay," Akilah said slyly. "If we get there early, that is."

***

They could not find the infirmary. Akilah led them nearly to the crew's headquarters before a helpful gentleman set them right, and then, when they finally got there -

There was no coffee in the sick bay.

This was temporarily acceptable. They were preparing to land. The crew was undoubtably busy. People would be rude and cut in line and cause scenes. Then he saw a crew member sipping a steaming mug of...something...and was unable to completely smother his irritation. He should've stolen some from their rooms while he had the chance.

Oh, and the line? Was there a line? Yes. There was a line, which was actually more in the shape of a clump, but Evan figured it counted as a line anyway. People were waiting in some sort of vaguely-defined order, ergo a line. Evan wasn't thinking very rationally, which is why when Akilah was called in he didn't really notice. He just clutched Lila (who was now fast asleep in his arms) a bit tighter because his grip was rather weak at the moment, and tried to keep his own eyes open. Luckily, or not, someone starting talking to him.

"Nice weather we're having, eh?" The man standing beside him said with an air of forced good humor. Evan grunted in reply. "You know, though," the man contined, "All joking aside...I wouldn't be surprised if this flaming shitpile exploded in the atmosphere." Evan automatically glanced up. The man was tall, taller than him, but soft. Very, very soft. Weak-looking, Evan thought scornfully. Rich-boy looking. Evan was inclined to dislike him both for his appearance, which Evan knew was rather shallow, and because he was tired and felt irritated with nearly everyone around him, even if they hadn't yet done anything. The bastards.

"What do you mean?" Evan finally asked hoarsely.

"Well, it's really quite simple, my friend - a child could understand it. We're travelling at, oh, let's say about 50000 ticks a minute, right? Well," and the man proceeded with a rather technical explanation of why, exactly, the ship would explode in the atmosphere, which Evan did not follow at all, and did not try to, instead drifting off into a greyish half-sleep. He came to somewhere around the end when the man was saying "-and all that could be avoided if these damned know-nothing aeronauts would just think outside of their beloved touchdown codes and procedures. Where is the innovation? The daring? To what planet has it flown?"

Evan thought that at this point a little commentary might be appropriate, so he smiled and said, "And what makes you such an expert?" It was meant lightly but came out in a rather bored, hostile monotone. Evan blamed the sleepiness.

The man drew himself up. "I'll have you know, sir, that you are speaking with a graduate of Drury University, foremost aeronautical school in -"

Evan waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. But tell me, if you're such a big guy, graduated from this place I haven't heard of and everything, why ain't you already get checked out? Why are you back here with me and the rest of the grunts?" The man opened his mouth to reply, but Evan never heard it, because at that moment, the intercom went off.

Evan was turning before the person on the intercom had pronounced the second syllable of descent, his stomach clenching up as though he'd just drunk a gallon of curdled milk. Akilah was running out through the knot of sleepy, alarmed people and Evan handed her Lila with a simple "get back to the berth" before forcing his legs into action. Hopefully he would remember the way to his berth.

He managed to find it eventually, but by the time he finally screwed open the door pretty much everyone else was safely cocooned in theirs and there were no crew-members to be seen. A shudder passed through the floor and Evan worked faster, finally getting the goddamn door open. He was a bit panicked; Evan knew he was no expert on matters astronautical, but wasn't there supposed to be some sort of noise when they began landing. It's alright, he thought desperately, scampering into his berth, slamming the door shut, it's all going to be perfectly fine -

They began falling. People began screaming. Evan screamed too, big man that he was. He couldn't help it.

They didn't stop for a long time, and when they did, Evan almost didn't know it.

[Dawn OOC]

Blackness... flash of light... someone talking from a long distance away...

"Hey, buddy... you with me?" A light flashed over his face, painfully bright and searing his brain through his eyes. Evan lifted his hand, trying to block the light, only his hand didn't work quite right; it moved, but almost immediately drifted to one side. He tried to steady it, knowing that it should do as he wanted, but that just made it shake.

The light was gone, removed while he'd been trying to work his hand. He could hear voices, talking about someone, but it didn't seem that important to him.

"... don't dare move him."

"He's gotta get out of there. It's gonna get cold soon."

"He needs a doctor."

"I know first aid." This was a new voice, older and authoritative and female; it sounded like Evan's third grade teacher. "Just clear his berth."

What had her name been? Evan couldn't remember, but it seemed suddenly important to recall that fact; if she was here, he needed to remember her name. His malfunctioning hand was forgotten while he struggled to recall. His pounding head wasn't helping, at all.

There were scraping noises, but they were a distant distraction. He ignored them, right up until something pelted his face from above; sputtering, he coughed on the debris. His teacher yelled, "Watch it! He doesn't need to breathe dirt."

But he was. Evan choked and turned his head to the side, coughing. That woke up his nerves, and he registered a dozen little pains in his back and shoulders. He groaned, inhaled more dirt and coughed again.

There was more light, then someone standing over him, one foot on either side of him. It was an older woman - not old, but she had a sense of agelessness to her, as if she were as tough as wood. She hunkered over him, her hands poking at him.

"'Top it. Aki... Akil...ah won't like it," he muttered, pushing at her.

"Concussion, nothing bad," the woman reported briskly. "We can move him."

Evan took another look at her. "Hey, you're not Mrs. Nordmeyer."

"Nope, I'm Agatha," she said, "and we're about to move you, ok?" Without waiting for him to respond, she climbed out of... the thing he was lying in.

Evan blinked and took another look at where he was. His brain was finally sorting things out enough for him to remember the Manifest and falling from the sky. "Lila," he croaked. "Akilah."

"Hang on," a voice said, and a couple of guys leaned over him. He felt them grab his arms and pull him up, right into a scene of total chaos. There was no wall or corridor in front of him. Instead, twisted metal greeted his eyes, and Evan paled as he recalled that there had been berths on that side, too. People were everywhere, with lights and equipment, working on opening berths. "Watch yourself," one of his rescuers said, and he was bodily lifted out of his berth and set on his feet.

"Go that way, if you can walk," Agatha ordered, pointing toward a gaping hole cut in the side of what remained of the ship's bulkhead. "You need to get a physical and something for your bruising. Can you walk?"

"Yes... my wife... daughter."

Agatha's dour, impatient expression eased a bit. "Outside," she repeated and pointed again. "We're moving everyone to shelters outside. They should be there."

Evan stumbled out, and found out that outside meant literally outside. Above him, a canopy of unfamiliar stars winked at him, while plants whispered in the distance, blown by the wind that tugged at him. He was outside on a planet. Real dirt, virile without any additions was beneath him, while fresh air assailed him. It was stunning, for just a moment.

Reality crashed back in quickly. Someone pushed him aside, cursing at him while carrying half of a litter with a burnt man lying still on it. Evan recognized the remnants of an engineers' uniform. Ahead of him, people were strung in a tight knot milling - talking, working or just being in the way. Hanging from a strung wire, a series of signs swung in the wind. Each one had a name and an arrow.

Mess.

Latrines.

Dorms.

Medbay.

Orphanage.

Morgue.

[Khalid Al-jamari]

For a moment, Khalid thought he was high again … soaring, with that weightless feeling that was the sweet reward right before the inevitable fall. For a moment, Khalid wasn’t really afraid. The moment pasted and he knew with crystal sobriety right were he was and what was happening. He was going to die.

He cried out against the injustice of it all. His hands hammered against his tube. Khalid had felt he was so close to making up for all his mistakes only to have it taken all away again. This time, it wasn’t his fault. This time he hadn’t stumbled. He hadn’t given into the horrible pangs of need and desire for one more sweet hit of the magic drug. No, this time the world has conspired against him and it wasn’t fair.

Being awake throughout the plummet wasn’t fair either. Gaining the sense at the last moment that they weren’t all going to die wasn’t right, not for Khalid. If he was going to have death shoved down his throat, then give him death, damn it, but no. Khalid arrived on T-998 terrified, alive, and very much awake. His tube had met and exceeded all manufacturing specifications. If popped right open once it sensed the momentum had ceased and Khalid hit the hatch. Khalid got to be one of the first people to respond to the crisis and that wasn’t fair at all.

Khalid wandered aimlessly back and forth in front of his capsule. A man wandered past in a daze. The two men stared at one another. Khalid’s gaze went to the capsules next to his and they weren’t open. He looked back at the man who was about to walk away.

“Help me get these open,” Khalid half ordered, half pleaded. The man stared at him like Khalid was some alien being speaking for the first time.

“Help me. There are people trapped inside.”

The man seemed to suddenly recognize that Khalid was speaking English. He pointed to the capsules.

“Yes, people trapped inside,” Khalid all but screamed in hysterics.

The man stepped forward, eyes clearing and starting to act less like a zombie and more like a man trapped in hell.

“How do we get them out?”

Khalid’s mind whirled. He really hadn’t thought that far. The man kept looking at him as if Khalid knew everything, but he didn’t. He didn’t know a damn thing about …

“I’ll pop the emergency release’s here,” he indicated the panels that needed to be off, “and then we’ll need to wedge the tops off.”

As if on queue, they could hear and see the person inside start to weakly pounding against the opaque face of the capsule. Khalid had dreaded doing all of this just to find someone dead inside. He had to stifle a nervous giggle.

A quick search had given them a pry-bar from the fire-fighting kit and they opened the first panel. The woman inside was hyperventilating and Khalid was forced to calm her down. Now he had two people, but he could hear others stirring about him on this level. There had to be someone in charge. There had to be someone he could go to for direction. That someone could not and should not be him. God, don’t let it be him.

He set the two people to opening more capsules while he wandered off to find help. He told them he was going off to find more people to help, but in his mind he was clearly running away. He didn’t’ get far.

A crewman came down through a hatchway. Khalid all but jumped on him.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” responded the crewman, who looked panicked and on the verge of tears himself. “Everyone had to get out the L2 and L3 passages and exit the ship. They’re getting organized out there.”

“But what happened to the ship?”

“I don’t know,” the boy sobbed. “I don’t know.”

The boy, no – a man on the edge of panic shook Khalid loose.

“I’ve got to keep going down … get other survivors out.

Khalid took a step toward the L2 exit. It was so close. He really wanted to fail his test as a member of the human race right then and there. He wanted to run like hell was on his heels and get the heck out of there. Then he remembered Akilah, Lila, and Evan. A tear of frustration rolled down his cheek.

“You there,” he shouted to another person moving around. “Get everyone who can walk down the L2 and L3 exits and off the ship. We are getting organized out there. Pass the word.”

The man nodded and left. Khalid went the other way, back toward the L3, telling people as he went. He came back across the two people he had organized opening capsules and they were now nearly twenty strong. They looked up at him and some even smiled. For some strange reason they had hope in their eyes.

“Doc, you came back.”

How did they know he was a doctor? Wait, he was wearing the damn medical jumpsuit. Allah the merciful, why hadn’t he changed before descent?

“What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got several capsules crushed and we can’t open them. The people inside look pretty badly hurt. We did get one open just now, but the woman’s in a lot of pain.”

“Okay,” Khalid spoke loudly to be heard over the murmuring. “Everyone needs to go down to the L3 corridor and exit the ship. The crew says the way is clear. We are getting organized outside, but all those who are capable will need to get out of here.”

A man stood up, looking dazed and haggard.

“I can’t leave. My children are stuck. I need to get them out.”

As far as Khalid could tell, the man’s children were probably dead, but he opted not to suggest that to him.

“We need to get help. You need to go outside and tell the people in charge that your children are trapped … on this level and what section, and they will be able to get them out. You need to hurry … before other people get there with their problems first.”

Greed and fear were his motivators. Khalid wasn’t great on speeches, so sue him.

The people allowed Khalid to start herding them toward the exit. He was the last one in line, mainly because he knew he didn’t have the strength to come back for anyone. Anything was better than this coffin.

“Help me,” a voice whispered barely heard over the shuffling of feet.

Khalid turned back and saw the woman in the last capsule pried open raising a feeble left hand into the air. Reluctantly, he felt pulled toward her.

“What is it?” he asked her, kneeling down at her side.

“Don’t leave me here alone, please.”

The last of the people were gone around the bend in the ship. Khalid felt terribly alone.

“I’ll come back with help.”

“You are a doctor. Help me,” she pleaded.

Khalid examined her now. It wasn’t pretty. Her entire right side from shoulder to hip had been crushed. Her liver was undoubtedly so much mush. She was bleeding into her lungs. Hell, he thought, if the floor fell through onto an operating table he would only give her a thirty percent chance of survival. Still, she would take some time to die. All he had to do was wait for the blood loss to knock her out.

The people were getting farther and farther away, leaving him alone here in the near dark.

Khalid took out a syringe from his belt pack. He pulled out a vial, marked Thiamin and pulled out a few cc’s. Of course, this was high grade heroin, not vitamins, which last of Khalid’s stash.

“Give me your arm,” he told her gently. He took her right arm with only the barest hint of resistance.

“What is that?” she mumbled.

“This will take you to a better place. The pain will go away and you won’t be alone anymore.”

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded one last time.

“I won’t,” he lied as he pushed the needle in. It didn’t take long.

Once her head nodded, he stood up and raced after the others.

[Helena Lindsay]

Helena had been hung-over precisely once in her life.

She considered this fact as she stared at the cup of precious, precious coffee warming her hands, blearily listening to the drone of the other passengers and crew as they chatted and milled about.

She'd been seventeen, and a group of older students had issued an open invitation to their pre-graduation party. Her poor parents had never been the wiser; after all, their daughter was certainly not the type to say she was attending an all-night study group for final exams if she was really going to some drunken bash. She wasn't the type to even attend such a debauched gathering, much less lie about it.

Lie she did, though, and the memory of that evening remained forever etched in her mind.

No, she thought ruefully. It was the memory of the morning after that had stuck with her. No amount of antiseptic mouth rinses would ever completely erase the bitter taste of bile and cheap liquor commingled on her tongue, nor would her high marks and diligent study afterwards remove the distinct impression that her brash gambit had failed, and miserably. Oh, there hadn't been any grand humiliation, and her parents hadn't punished her excessively. In fact, she mused, it might've been more worthwhile if they had. Instead, she'd managed to sequester herself in a corner with a half-empty bottle, watching the rest of the revelers abandon their inhibitions and sanity, and received only vague intimations of "disappointment" from her family. There hadn't been any reaction, really, from either camp. It was almost as if she hadn't gone at all, and only the miserable headache she'd endured proved otherwise.

What a waste, she grumbled inwardly, downing another swallow of coffee and wincing. Then, Cold already.

She wondered, as she watched the cluster of people waiting for their examinations, how many of them would survive the first year... the first six months. After all a new world meant new opportunities, new discoveries... But new perils, new diseases, new dangers as well. Of course, their old lives were gone, never to be reclaimed- lost in a haze of stasis-dreams that even now tugged lazily at her consciousness, refusing to dissipate completely.

A new life...

A new Helena, perhaps? queried the voice of her thoughts.

She sighed, lowering her head to rest against her forearm on the small synthwood table.

The blare of the intercom caught her completely off-guard, and she lifted her head sharply, silently cursing the sudden movement that sent a fresh ripple of nausea and dizziness washing over her. Had she dozed off? Glancing around, she couldn't be sure how much time had passed, but the increase in the crowd's activity pulled at something in her brain, at the base of her spine... Something that tasted like fear welled up in the back of her throat.

As she rose from her chair, she felt a tremor, a shudder move through the ship, and a distant whine that might've been the engines. Dazedly, she allowed herself to be caught up in the movement of the passengers, letting the group carry her back toward the padded enclosure of her berth like a fleck of sand being drawn by the current.

The doors sealed.

It was like a coffin, she'd thought as she'd awakened, or a womb. Like rising to greet a new life. Now, with her arrival on an uncharted planet imminent, she marveled again at the similarity.

Her last thoughts, before the lights went out and the screams began, were of her parents, and regret.

Then, a final, wrenching shudder rocked the ship (death throes, or labor pains? she wondered wildly) and then there was nothing.

[Dawn OOC]

Helena jerked awake. It wasn't the awake when your cat makes an odd noise, but the awake that you only get when the killer is already kneeling over you. Her body was rigid with fear; her animal-brain was screaming DANGER!. It wasn't telling her what was wrong, only that something very, very bad was happening.

She was slumped in the bottom of her berth which was mostly upright. After a moment, her rational mind began to piece some thoughts together. She'd survived the crash; her berth was still closed, though a thick crack ran up the door. She could see faint starlight through that crack, and a touch of dim light. Helena moved her face closer to the door, trying to see more.

She was attached to a part of the ship based on the berth's stability, but debris spread out on the open field before her. Even the strange tree-like plants fifty feet in front of her had pieces from the Manifest hanging from them. Helena felt a thrill of excitement, looking at the plants; this was her life's work and she reached without thought for the emergency release-

Something passed between the light and her, and she heard the soft thump of a footstep, unmistakably upright. That crawling fear doubled, and it felt like her skin was going to pull itself off her body. And she still wasn't sure why she was so afraid; T-998 wasn't inhabited by any bipedal life, so that footstep was probably a rescuer. She should just open the door.

Her shaking fingers wouldn't hit the release.

The light from the crack disappeared completely. Something brushed against the outside of the berth. Helena's body shrank back from the crack instinctively, shivering. Something sniffed at the crack; after a moment, something scraped at it, sounding just like claws on plastic. And then it looked in.

All Helena saw was its eye; that was enough. Its shadow should have blocked her vision, should have blinded her, but she saw that eye clearly. It was a deep red color, and appeared to have no sclera. Or perhaps its entire eye was sclera and it had no iris. Four pupils of various sizes gazed at her. The alienness of the eye bored into her mind, turning her muscles to water.

She barely heard the shout. But she became aware of it when the creature moved, gone in a blink. Slowly, that paralyzing fear left her, and Helena could breathe. As her heart rate slowed, she could hear voices - human voices, yelling in English, "Hey, here! This one isn't ruptured!"

Two minutes later, her berth was open, and Helena was being helped out by eager people. A medic quickly looked over her as she stared into the darkness. There was no creature; it was gone. But it had been there.

The wind pushed at her - fresh air, filled with a tantalizing scent. Helena smiled as she recognized the floral undercurrent in the ginger and spice smell. Under her feet, the dark earth rested, burned and charred but still full of life. Helena automatically knelt, scooping up a handful of the dirt. It was richer than the "dirt" she'd used in her labs on the lunar colony, which had been stuffed full of chemicals to make it viable. This was the real thing.

For a moment, she knew she'd made the right choice; she'd be born on this planet again. But her eyes caught a depression in the earth - a bare footprint with oddly pointed toes. She started to point it out, but someone stepped on it, removing it as completely as the creature had removed itself.

Exasperated, Helena looked up; the young medic was gazing at her with concern. "Hey? You ok? I know that this is a lot to take in, but you can relax now. You're fine. We'll get you back to the settlement, and get some food into you, and get you some sleep. You'll be fine." She was pulled to her feet, protests ignored. They kept telling her that she needed to get to camp, to rest, and if she wanted, she could come back tomorrow.

As they put her into a small all-terrain vehicle, Helena glanced back. She'd just been rescued from a piece of the ship; it must have broken up at some point on the descent. The berths on either side of her were twisted, shattered messes; the rescuers were working, but no one was hurrying to get them open. There was clearly no point to rushing, not anymore. Of approximately ten berths that she could see, she was the only one walking away. She shivered as she realized how close her birth had been death.

They drove for about thirty minutes, her driver skillfully navigating the rough terrain. The approach to what was left of the Manifest was horrifying. The lowest level of the ship was smeared over a mile of earth; Helena remembered that cargo had been in the lowest hold. Silently, she wondered how much equipment she was going to have left. The engines - designed to detach from the ship in emergencies - had been sheered off at some point, but instead of cleanly coming free, they'd torn off the back of the ship. The Manifest had also cracked open amidships, opening all the levels to the air. Given the burn marks, some of that cracking had occurred during re-entry.

But there were a lot of people running around, people she remembered from the ship. The berths had done their jobs in many cases, she judged, just based on the long lines of people outside the Medbay with minor injuries. Her ride eased to a stop in front of the mess and let her out. "I'd stay and see you settled," he said with a smile, "but there's more to be done. I'm Steve - I'll see you later, ok?" He leaned toward her, almost vibrating with hope and energy. "Don't worry. It'll get better, promise." He gave her another reassuring smile before zipping off and leaving her in chaos.

[Adam]

Twenty four hours prior to when most of the others woke up several members of the staff were already out of stasis to facilitate the smooth transition towards awakening and organizing everyone who would soo be colonizing an exciting and wonderful new planet.

Executive leadership, engineering, and security staff were awake and dealing with twenty nine years of disrepair long before most had begun to stir. Basically, they were already cranky.

Adam Bristow, Head of Security aboard the Hilton's Manifest Desiny entered the bridge at roughly 19:00 hours standard Earth time. "Gimme the bad news."

"Nothing really," A huge, dark-skinned man replied to him in his deep basso voice. "A minor squabble in the infirmary over the amount of waiting everyone's having to go through. Typical stasis fever, you know how attitudes get."

Adam grinned and sighed, which seemed more an internal chuckle than anything else. "Yer tellin' me. Thanks Zeus, send Rabbit and Bertowski down to help keep things civil, would ya?"

"Already did." The massive man called 'Zeus' replied.

"Well... looks like big man has it all under control." Adam quipped in an exaggerated and poorly-conceived Colonial British accent. "Guess lil ol' Head of Security me will just retire for the evening for a spot of brandy and a nice cee-gar."

Half the crew on the bridge chuckled along with Zeus, whose white smile could have lit up the night sky back home. "Seriously though, I'll be heading to Engineering. Keep holdin' it down big guy."

Adam moved through the ship's corridors. A handsome man who would have found a more lucrative career in underwear modeling than working in the Security Division for Hilton Enterprises, he had a winning smile and a rather charming personality. Although not a socialite by any stretch of the imagination he possessed a way with people that most good looking macho types didn't seem to bother picking up in 'Macho School'.

Attention. We will be beginning our descent soon. All personnel please secure yourselves in landing berths.

He stopped like most everyone in the hall, and in less than a second people were in motion. "Alright people, you know the drill. Let's go. Last one to their berth has to get out and push! C'mon, hustle!"

Second nature it might have been for those on board but Adam assisted in securing everyone he could and making sure that none were unaccounted for. He secured D-Block and began making his way for his berth when a violent shudder rocked the ship. Kay, seriously guys, learn to fly please... he silently muttered to himself as he was tossed from side to side in the ship's corridor.

A massive tremor tore at the bow of the ship and Adam could feel the shock wave several hundred feet away through meter thick reinforced tungsten-neutronite. The bulkhead several feet away sprang clear from its bolts, slamming into him with several hundred pounds of pressure. Lodged in a far corner, the bulkhead covering him, Adam felt hot blood well up in his mouth. As dizziness set in the world around blurred. Crunching metal and several shock waves ripped the ship open from the outside but he had already slipped away into unconsciousness.

[Dawn OOC]

"Adam? Can you hear me?" A white crescent guided Adam back to the waking world, which was painful and bright and generally an unfriendly place. Groaning, Adam focused his eyes on Zeus, who was beaming down at him.

"Wha?" he said, trying to remember what happened. He was lying on something hard and not terribly comfortable. Meanwhile, something in the distance burned with an awful smell, like a cat caught in a microwave.

"You are the luckiest son ova bitch I know," Zeus cackled. "That's what."

"The ship..."

"Went down like the Titanic," Zeus said, growing solemn. He leaned closer, and his already tired face added a couple of new lines as he muttered, "They don't expect Saul to make it."

The news was a shock to Adam, in multiple ways. Saul Armstrong was the Manifest's Mission Leader. If he died, this entire mess would fall to Adam. Worse, he'd actually like Saul; he was a grouchy bastard sometimes, but he got things done. "What happened?"

"About the same as you," Zeus muttered. "Ship crashed and he got caught between a hard place and a harder place. Only, unlike you, he didn't land in a convenient corner." Zeus clapped his hands together in an all-too-clear display of what had happened to Armstrong.

"The medical crew is on their way," a high pitched voice said, accompanied by the sound of debris shifting. Adam felt a tiny bit better, in a place that he'd never admit even existed; Bertowski was alive. "Rabbit's going to show them in." Bertowski's scrawny frame was covered in dirt and worse as he crouched next to Adam. "Glad to see your pretty face made it out. Not a scratch."

"Luckiest man I know," Zeus said with a grin and he and Bertowski shared a laugh. Under that laugh, Adam could hear Rabbit's voice, urging the medical team to hurry. She sounded really frantic, but Adam didn't have the strength to tell her to calm down. Sleeping sounded good.

"Hey, don't," Zeus said, his bald palate shining in the flashlights that he and Bert were holding. "Stay with us Adam."

Adam grunted an affirmation, wishing he could sit up. He was really sleepy. A noise made him turn his head, and his entire body ached with that simple movement. Holding back the groan was instinctive.

Rabbit skittered down a wall of debris, moving faster than was safe. He heard her land hard, but she didn't seem to notice as she scrambled to kneel at his head. Her hands sank into his hair, gently holding his head. "Don't move," she murmured, gazing down at him. "You look like shit." Tears welled in her eyes.

"Hey... they said I didn't have a scratch," Adam protested.

"Yeah, but you're all bloody and shit," Bert snorted. "You look like you've been mackin' on a vampire. One who's just feed, who's tried to snowball you with blood instead of-"

"Bert!" Zeus and Rabbit said at the same time, giving him a glare that was more exasperation than true anger. Adam started to laugh at the common scene, but his ribs burned with fire and he choked it back quickly.

More debris pelted the ground to the side as a couple of men in white jumpsuits climbed down to join them. Belatedly, Adam realized that they were lying on the floor of the Manifest's corridor, not fifteen feet from his berth. "How bad is the ship?" he asked, raising his head slightly to look at his crew.

"We don't know," Zeus said. "We've been looking for you."

"Lazy," Adam grunted, drawing a laugh from Rabbit, though it turned into tears. "You're dripping on me," he muttered to her. "Ain't hygenic."

"Ma'am, please back up," one of the tech said, and Rabbit relunctantly scooted back.

"Thanks," Adam muttered as the techs bent over him.

Five minutes later, they had a diagonsis. "Broken ribs. Let's wrap him and get him to Medbay."

[Dawn OOC]

Day Two

The crews had worked throughout the night to find the injured and the dead. They had cleared the berths and found supplies.

Now, the ship was turning into a tomb. The long night combined with humanity's ability to turn away the darkness had given the crews enough time to clear out the ship. It was mostly dark and silent in its empty halls.

[Adam]

It wasn't much but the old bridge of the Manifest made an adequate meeting room. Adam looked around as the two security teams squabbled like SEALS and Marines in a testosterone laden debate that, if not stopped soon, would end up a contest involving penis's and rulers.

For the sake of Ms. Harper's sanity he thought it prudent to put an end to it.

"Alright, knock it off!" He shouted over the mess. "Put em' away fellas, there's ladies present."

Bert looked around to Ms. Harper and the several female CoprSec (who were probably more manly than a few of the men in here) and snidely asked with a chuckle: "Where?"

The room exploded again with "Fuck you Bertowski.", "I got yer 'man' right here!" and several other more colorful outbursts.

"Enough!" Adam tossed his arm out wide to either quell the noise or announce them all 'safe' at home plate. He was half smiling, he couldn't help it. Ninety percent of everything being said in this room was smack talk and jokes, the other ten percent was actual business. "Ladies, he's playin'..."

He sat on a desk next to Ms. Harper who was standing instead. "Down to business people, c'mon. I need intel and I need all of it. Supplies, casualties, all if it. Let's hear it." He rotated his arm in it's socket, the 'enough' caused his ribs and side to ache some more.

[Dawn OOC]

There is a slight pause, and then Zeus drew out tiny, gold-frame glasses. Setting them on his face with an expression that defied anyone to makes a big deal of it, he lifted up an actual piece of paper which had been scrawled on over and over. Clearing his throat, he started to read, "We had five thousand on the Manifest. We lost six hundred and ninty-four in the crash. Another one thousand three hundred and sixty-nine were injured, of those 458 will require continued care for at least a week, most for longer. At this time, all are expected to recover. That nine hundred and eleven injured but able and two thousand nine hundred and eighty-two together is three thousand eight hundred ninty-three. Of those, so far, we're missing another five hundred and one.

"The department that lost the fewest numbers is agronomy; the one most affected is engineering." There was a soft whisper of disappointment at that statement.

"Supplies would be shitty if we weren't down so many people," Bert piped up, holding up his own paper. "But with our current numbers, we're looking at one month of food." That was a little bit less than they were supposed to have at this point. "The good news is that the greenhouses and the farming equipment are pretty much untouched by the wreck; the bad is that some of the really sensitive medical equipment, you know, that stuff we're going to want in ten years when we're all dying of prostate cancer? That's hosed, largely. And because of the injuries and stuff, we've flown through medical supplies that were supposed to last a lot longer. We're down to twenty-five percent of the supply of Bone-Knit that we brought. That was supposed to last us until the factories could get running, sometime next year. We've been knocked back to the twenty-first century, kids."

"The perimeter of Camp Manifest has been secured," a woman with the name tag of 'Griswold' said, lifting her short hair off her forehead. The air was thick and hot with the atmospheric controls off, and getting hotter the longer they stayed in here. "We got lights up, but given the report that we got from the rescue of the engineers, those are minimally useful. Bullets will slow them down, but not much. What we need is to capture one and see what makes it hurt. There's got to be something, maybe even in the environment here, that will hurt them. Every living creature has a weakness."

[Adam]

Originally Posted By: Dawn, OOC

There is a slight pause, and then Zeus drew out tiny, gold-frame glasses. Setting them on his face with an expression that defied anyone to makes a big deal of it, he lifted up an actual piece of paper which had been scrawled on over and over. Clearing his throat, he started to read, "We had five thousand on the Manifest. We lost six hundred and ninty-four in the crash. Another one thousand three hundred and sixty-nine were injured, of those 458 will require continued care for at least a week, most for longer. At this time, all are expected to recover. That nine hundred and eleven injured but able and two thousand nine hundred and eighty-two together is three thousand eight hundred ninty-three. Of those, so far, we're missing another five hundred and one.

"The department that lost the fewest numbers is agronomy; the one most affected is engineering." There was a soft whisper of disappointment at that statement.

Bristow did the math in his head and nodded slowly while Zeus read off the figures. As the people complained towards the end he spoke up. "Keep those nine hundred and eleven injured but able people helping out where they can, but keep the load light. Have them helping the salvage crews in shifts of four to six hours depending on the severity of their injuries."

"Get the agronomy people up and out there in the field. Ms. Harper may have a plan for getting us off this rock but until that happens we'll continue function as we should. That means research into growing our own food and live stock. The more we work the more we'll keep our mind off how messed up this shit is."

Quote:

"Supplies would be shitty if we weren't down so many people," Bert piped up, holding up his own paper. "But with our current numbers, we're looking at one month of food." That was a little bit less than they were supposed to have at this point. "The good news is that the greenhouses and the farming equipment are pretty much untouched by the wreck; the bad is that some of the really sensitive medical equipment, you know, that stuff we're going to want in ten years when we're all dying of prostate cancer? That's hosed, largely. And because of the injuries and stuff, we've flown through medical supplies that were supposed to last a lot longer. We're down to twenty-five percent of the supply of Bone-Knit that we brought. That was supposed to last us until the factories could get running, sometime next year. We've been knocked back to the twenty-first century, kids."

Bristow twisted his arm in the socket, his ribs were bothering him and stretching the muscles helped relieve the pressure. "I want the green houses and farming equipment inspected, prepped and ready to set or constructed in seventy two hours, and consider that order twenty four hours old."

A few moans and complaints rose up over the small crowd. "Hey, you people wanna eat? In a month we're ass out on food. Out of this shit storm we've ended up, by some stroke of luck, to have our farm equipment ready to go and greenhouses intact along with a staff of dirt doctors ready to tell us what's okay to eat and what's going to make you ladies think Bertowski would make a fine date. Now ask yourself: do you wanna take that chance?"

Light hearted laughter took hold of the room for a moment and for that Bertowski took one on the chin. He knew Adam would pay him back later and he knew that he didn't envy his commanding officer's position right now.

"In the meantime, Bertowski, I want all medical stock inventoried and logged by medical personnel every seventy-two hours, Ms. Harper and I will review it. Work closely with the salvage crews and if we can get a synthesizer up and running I want it put right to medical use.

Quote:

"The perimeter of Camp Manifest has been secured," a woman with the name tag of 'Griswold' said, lifting her short hair off her forehead. The air was thick and hot with the atmospheric controls off, and getting hotter the longer they stayed in here. "We got lights up, but given the report that we got from the rescue of the engineers, those are minimally useful. Bullets will slow them down, but not much. What we need is to capture one and see what makes it hurt. There's got to be something, maybe even in the environment here, that will hurt them. Every living creature has a weakness."

"I agree," Adam squinted in the dim light to get the name from her uniform. "Griswold. But our focus should be on keeping the people safe. If we find ourselves in a skirmish ladies gentleman shoot to kill, but remember that our goal is not to be recovering specimens, it's to lay waste to anything that seeks to do harm you us or our personnel. If they don't like lights, fine, it's better than nothing. I want squads on patrol in groups of five, senior officers will armed with the heaviest shit we have available. Light the night up you have to people, until I see one of those things drop I want you to scour through everything we have. White Phosphorus, sabbot rounds, try it all."

He looked to Zeus. "You know the drill."

Adam looked over to Rabbit who was never really much into these meetings. "Rabbit." A few officers snickered at her being called that. She was the 'runt' of the CorpSec and usually always treated like a child despite her intelligence and relative age being close to some of the other members. "I'll need you working with Ms. Harper, you got the brains to help make whatever she has planned run a lot smoother."

[Adam]

Originally Posted By: Dawn, OOC

There is a slight pause, and then Zeus drew out tiny, gold-frame glasses. Setting them on his face with an expression that defied anyone to makes a big deal of it, he lifted up an actual piece of paper which had been scrawled on over and over. Clearing his throat, he started to read, "We had five thousand on the Manifest. We lost six hundred and ninty-four in the crash. Another one thousand three hundred and sixty-nine were injured, of those 458 will require continued care for at least a week, most for longer. At this time, all are expected to recover. That nine hundred and eleven injured but able and two thousand nine hundred and eighty-two together is three thousand eight hundred ninty-three. Of those, so far, we're missing another five hundred and one.

"The department that lost the fewest numbers is agronomy; the one most affected is engineering." There was a soft whisper of disappointment at that statement.

Bristow did the math in his head and nodded slowly while Zeus read off the figures. As the people complained towards the end he spoke up. "Keep those nine hundred and eleven injured but able people helping out where they can, but keep the load light. Have them helping the salvage crews in shifts of four to six hours depending on the severity of their injuries."

"Get the agronomy people up and out there in the field. Ms. Harper may have a plan for getting us off this rock but until that happens we'll continue function as we should. That means research into growing our own food and live stock. The more we work the more we'll keep our mind off how messed up this shit is."

Quote:

"Supplies would be shitty if we weren't down so many people," Bert piped up, holding up his own paper. "But with our current numbers, we're looking at one month of food." That was a little bit less than they were supposed to have at this point. "The good news is that the greenhouses and the farming equipment are pretty much untouched by the wreck; the bad is that some of the really sensitive medical equipment, you know, that stuff we're going to want in ten years when we're all dying of prostate cancer? That's hosed, largely. And because of the injuries and stuff, we've flown through medical supplies that were supposed to last a lot longer. We're down to twenty-five percent of the supply of Bone-Knit that we brought. That was supposed to last us until the factories could get running, sometime next year. We've been knocked back to the twenty-first century, kids."

Bristow twisted his arm in the socket, his ribs were bothering him and stretching the muscles helped relieve the pressure. "I want the green houses and farming equipment inspected, prepped and ready to set or constructed in seventy two hours, and consider that order twenty four hours old."

A few moans and complaints rose up over the small crowd. "Hey, you people wanna eat? In a month we're ass out on food. Out of this shit storm we've ended up, by some stroke of luck, to have our farm equipment ready to go and greenhouses intact along with a staff of dirt doctors ready to tell us what's okay to eat and what's going to make you ladies think Bertowski would make a fine date. Now ask yourself: do you wanna take that chance?"

Light hearted laughter took hold of the room for a moment and for that Bertowski took one on the chin. He knew Adam would pay him back later and he knew that he didn't envy his commanding officer's position right now.

"In the meantime, Bertowski, I want all medical stock inventoried and logged by medical personnel every seventy-two hours, Ms. Harper and I will review it. Work closely with the salvage crews and if we can get a synthesizer up and running I want it put right to medical use.

Quote:

"The perimeter of Camp Manifest has been secured," a woman with the name tag of 'Griswold' said, lifting her short hair off her forehead. The air was thick and hot with the atmospheric controls off, and getting hotter the longer they stayed in here. "We got lights up, but given the report that we got from the rescue of the engineers, those are minimally useful. Bullets will slow them down, but not much. What we need is to capture one and see what makes it hurt. There's got to be something, maybe even in the environment here, that will hurt them. Every living creature has a weakness."

"I agree," Adam squinted in the dim light to get the name from her uniform. "Griswold. But our focus should be on keeping the people safe. If we find ourselves in a skirmish ladies gentleman shoot to kill, but remember that our goal is not to be recovering specimens, it's to lay waste to anything that seeks to do harm you us or our personnel. If they don't like lights, fine, it's better than nothing. I want squads on patrol in groups of five, senior officers will armed with the heaviest shit we have available. Light the night up you have to people, until I see one of those things drop I want you to scour through everything we have. White Phosphorus, sabbot rounds, try it all."

He looked to Zeus. "You know the drill."

Adam looked over to Rabbit who was never really much into these meetings. "Rabbit." A few officers snickered at her being called that. She was the 'runt' of the CorpSec and usually always treated like a child despite her intelligence and relative age being close to some of the other members. "I'll need you working with Ms. Harper, you got the brains to help make whatever she has planned run a lot smoother."

[Dawn OOC]

Zeus nodded as Adam gave orders; he wasn't writing them down, but Adam knew that he had a great capacity for remembering them. Bert, on the other hand was muttering to himself as he jotted down what he'd need to be responsible for. Rabbit was probably recording the whole thing; she really was the smartest one there. No one argued with his orders, just listened and nodded and maybe groaned a little.

Until the very end. Rabbit looked disgusted and rolled her eyes, while Harper looked angry. "I assure you, I'm smart enough to handle this. After all, we've done it once already," Harper said tightly.

"I got her," Rabbit said, smirking. "I'll take care of her, no problem."

"Right. We'll get to that," Harper said before turning and physically dismissing the other woman. To Adam, she asked, "Thanks for the help, but if you need her, you can keep her.

"Also, are you folks moving down to New Terra? Teaming up and having more numbers together would help all our chances I think. Plus, we already have some greenhouses going, though the first of our synthesizers is currently in the process of coming on line."

[Dawn OOC]

Zeus nodded as Adam gave orders; he wasn't writing them down, but Adam knew that he had a great capacity for remembering them. Bert, on the other hand was muttering to himself as he jotted down what he'd need to be responsible for. Rabbit was probably recording the whole thing; she really was the smartest one there. No one argued with his orders, just listened and nodded and maybe groaned a little.

Until the very end. Rabbit looked disgusted and rolled her eyes, while Harper looked angry. "I assure you, I'm smart enough to handle this. After all, we've done it once already," Harper said tightly.

"I got her," Rabbit said, smirking. "I'll take care of her, no problem."

"Right. We'll get to that," Harper said before turning and physically dismissing the other woman. To Adam, she asked, "Thanks for the help, but if you need her, you can keep her.

"Also, are you folks moving down to New Terra? Teaming up and having more numbers together would help all our chances I think. Plus, we already have some greenhouses going, though the first of our synthesizers is currently in the process of coming on line."