Comm Fragment - Printable Version +- Discovery Gaming Community (https://discoverygc.com/forums) +-- Forum: Role-Playing (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=9) +--- Forum: Communication Channel (https://discoverygc.com/forums/forumdisplay.php?fid=59) +--- Thread: Comm Fragment (/showthread.php?tid=31315)

Comm Fragment - TFinnegan - 12-18-2009 Signal Strength 0.0002; Removed from lane-network data feed Origin; Kusari, likely Honshu. Forwarding to Invergordon Control. *hiss* *crackle* ...bert Murp...lot...egan's Wa......tress signa...... ...ssive deto...tion...gine turb...tain hurt, reque.....iate backu..... ...eat Capt....ured....atmos....ll decks....arely func.... *crackle* Comm Fragment - Boss - 12-18-2009 Aboard the SS Ramraider "Hey, Skip, got a signal. Damn weak though." Jack Monroe handed a printout to Marshall "Skip" Davis. "It's garbled pretty bad, but it looks like it came from the Finnegan's Wake. At least, that's what fits those letters 'egan's Wa'." "Interesting. Any idea what the rest says? Something about an explosion, life support failing, all that jazz. Engineering, this is Marshall. Up drills, shut down the salvage arms. We're moving out to Kusari, wanted or not." As he walked back towards his command chair, Jack heard him mutter "God help you, Murphy, we're coming." Comm Fragment - TFinnegan - 12-21-2009 Signal Strength 0.0002; Removed from lane-network data feed Origin; Kusari, likely Honshu. Forwarding to Invergordon Control. *crackle* ...VA teams repor....ssive dama.....omm arr.... ...umber two eng.....tioning.....et a crew on a... ...oody hel....ord on th' Cap'n? Medbay power flux... ...ansplant or he'll d...those bleedin' Hogo.... ....ODDAM COMMS! .....tress signa...NOW mister!... *hiss* Comm Fragment - TFinnegan - 12-21-2009 Connor Sinclair sat in his command chair onboard the Grindhouse, tapping absentmindedly at the comm screen, as again and again, the comm fragments scrolled by. He had disabled audio, as hearing the fear and frustration in the voice of his long-time friend and co-worker, Bobby Murphy was unsettling. Two days they'd spent in a Junker tagged Salvager, scouting Kusar space for any sign of his former captain and his behemoth of a vessel. Comms trickled in from contacts all over Sirius. Noone had heard from him in months, aside from the comm fragments he was staring through. Only a Blood Dragon operative had come across anything beyond what was before him today. What seemed to be a corrupted guncam shot of the tail end of the Wake attached to some kind of engagement notice had been culled from the twisting wreck of a Hogosha ship, spinning in a debris field in Honshu. Yanagi shipyards had as yet produced no result from the further spooling out of the ruined Hogosha compcore. Nor had any of the huge efforts by the .:j:. Junker's Congress. Nor the Chrysanthemum operatives. Nor anyone else either payed by or in debt to Clan Gordon, who nearly emptied Invergordon in thier search for the missing Tim Finnegan. "Cap'n." said the commtech, droningly. "Incoming message from the SS Ramraider." "Put it through here, MacDonegal." replied Sinclair, still tapping absently at the comm screen. Comm Fragment - nephandus - 12-21-2009 Rheinland, New Berlin, Krauzberg station security code:Black. all private rooms and hangars are closed from non Junker personnel. A wery old man stting in an even older armchair. Thousands of wires, cables and interfaces sorrounds the silent statue, most of them connected to the chair, or to the body of the old man. All of the walls are covered with thousands of cables, monitors and various un-known technological objects, plans and sheets. It seems to be an unliving-unmoving mixture of man and chair, but after a while the old man slowly opens his eyes, and even slower- he nods. For the slow an small gesture, four man -fully body-armored soliders enter the room, they are followed by a middle aged man, dressed in white scientist-uniform. The trio stops at the door, and the scientist moves closer to the armchair and lowers himself on his knees. -With my deepest respect, and never-ending trust mein herr, you ordered us to come into your private chamber. Let me hear your commands. The old chair-man nods again, than he closes his eyes, and falls back to his unmoving -unbreathing state of existence. The scientist stands up, and leaves the room faster that it would be excepted from a pure scientist. The three cyber-soliders follows their master, and the room falls back to its time-less wortex. -Al, Be, Et - Immediately inform the Doctors about the current situation. I want you to tell em, that we will need for six special agents, two frigates, and a freelancer gunship. -the scientist stops for a second, looks on his soliders and continues the briefing.- Make sure that noone follows you. The depot's private rooms are currently closed. Make sure to use up all free soliders. The old Doctor received a signal from someone and he wants us to find em. And for Rot's Sake, we will definately do that for him. Ahh and take a dozen of the S31 broken-units from Bornholme. Maybe we can use up those demons finally. Let em hunt for Kusari citizens in New Tokyo and planet Honshu till we proceed our operations there. That would save us enough time to...hell. Only the old Doctor knows whats he planning. So keep moving! Ahh And I almost forgot: the Commander ordered me to get the tziganes on the job aswell. I dont know what he plans with those filthy dream-speakers, but send em to Kusari, and make em to use eir so-called techniques to track down our target. A junker at this time. In a huge ship. At least this was what the commander told me. Now hurry rottens. There is no blood to waste. The three soliders splits up and hurries to inform their superiors about the new situation. one hour later seven junker controlled vessels leaves ,,K depo,, and four Bornholme. Comm Fragment - Boss - 12-22-2009 Davis took the latest comm feed from Jack. Prognosis: Not good. The Ramraider had left New London within hours of getting the first signal, but, as usual, the authorities were proving problematic. They'd been stuck in Leeds near the Battleship Derby for far too long already. Marshall sighed, running the fingers of his right hand through his graying beard. "Derby, this is Marshall Davis of the SS Ramraider. Look, people could be dying out there. No, no, don't start" he cut off the comms officer. "I do not bloody care if there's a damned war on or not. I want clearance to proceed!" Jack reclined his seat and lowered his hat. Knowing Skip, this could take a while, and a bit of sleep never hurt anyone. Comm Fragment - TFinnegan - 12-22-2009 Invergordon- Sean MacElroy sat in the worn Comms chair facing the sterile rock called Planet Cromarty. The cigarette burns and discoloring of the chair leather was not his doing. The permanent coffee cup ring on the steel console before him was none of his doing. This was Connor Sinclair's chair. It had been for years, on and off. Then one day, Sean was shoved into it by his C.O., only to watch a Salvager tagged Grindhouse fire her drives and slide out through the Newcastle jumphole. Told to watch incoming comms tagged 'No Wake Zone', remove them from the datastream, and forward them to the Grindhouse, he sat here for nearly eighteen hours a day. The cot shoved haphazardly into the corner of the office was where he spent the other six. The last two days had been interesting. At first. Seems that Finnegan's Wake had gone missing. He was anxious to do anything to help his Duke, and felt he had real purpose here. However, forty-plus hours of clicking buttons and transferring comm messages began to drone on him. Until now. Junker civilian comm networks were reporting some odd activity, and civilian Junker launches had spiked. Sinclair himself had called numerous times in the last few hours. He'd asked to be patched through to numerous Congress vessels, as well as the Ramraider, holding in Leeds, and had actually thanked the young rating for his efforts. Bolstered by this renewed feeling of purpose, he started taking some of the investigation on himself. He accessed the station database from Sinclair's console, which seemed to have none of the security buffers that were so common on base interfaces. He began running searches for anything pertaining to the Wake, and cross checking inbound comms for the same parameters. After reading the transcripts of the Wake's last comm fragments, he was inspired to add 'Kusari' and 'Distress signal' to the mix. He punched in the words 'Hogosha' and 'Mission'. His eyes widened. The cup he held dropped to the floor jetting cold water into the air, soaking his pant leg. There, on the screen before him was a message addressed to Tim Finnegan himself. One that had no filing tag, and no storage folder. It sat suspended int he comms matrix, and but for the fortunate search parameters and Sinclair's tinkering with the console, would have likely stayed there. It read; .:j:. Captain Finnegan, --I have been authorized to ask you, indeed beg you, your crew and personnel to look into something for us. The Congress fears the implications of some recently intercepted comms from our worthy Hogosha adversaries, specifically the Black Dragon Society. --Without indulging in the substance of these comms, suffice it to say that we have need of further investigation. Ambassador Tinkerbell left some time ago on a diplomatic mission for Gallia, but never arrived, and we fear the BDS may have something to do with his dissapearance. No distress signal was ever recieved. --It would appear that you and your vessel are especially suited for this work, and have the kind of sublety required to pull it off. In short, we need you to do some intel gathering in deadly Kusar space. --If we are not mistaken, your arrays are second only to the Vagrant Raiders', and can pick up the needed comm chatter from far above and below the plane of the eliptical, even at pirate points outside of solar magnetic fields. --Please respond directly to .:j:. Secure Diplomatic Channel #815-3. We await your reply. .:j:. Another message, attached to the first, read; .:j:. Captain Finnegan, --We have recived word that you are willing to fulfill our request and have the deepest thanks for you and yours. --A diplomatic package will await you near Leeds tradelane ring #1347, and credits sufficient to lay in supplies for an extended tour have been transferred to your accounts. The package details the systems and planets we need survieled. --Rather than attempt to transit in and out of hostile space, we have also provided you with a modified Recycler bomber, stripped and refitted with a tight-beam array and coordinates for relaying info to our datanet satellites. It has been fitted to dock with your vessel seamlessly. --Only two of us are aware of this mission, and you are 'officially' unsupported by the Congress in this endeavor. However, an offer of full comission as a .:j:. Congressman awaits you upon succesful completion. Godspeed, Captain. .:j:. MacElroy slammed the comm button connecting his console to the Grindhouse. "Priority One message for Capain Sinclair." he exclaimed, while processing the transfer to piggyback the data to his comm. There was no reply. He tried again. And again. Deep into the long night he tried to raise the Grindhouse. Comm Fragment - Boss - 12-26-2009 Davis pointed at Jack. "Take us to Newcastle. We might as well restock our repair bays there. Run some scans, too, see if you can't find a jumphole or so we can use to skirt around the Derby." "Wilco, Skip. Want me to say anything to the battleship, or what?" "Screw them, just take us out of here. I'm sick of sitting in one place." *********************** CARGO MANIFEST SS RAMRAIDER PRIMARY REPAIR STORES MANIFEST BEGINS: CONSUMER GOODS - 100 UNITS ENGINE COMPONENTS - 20 UNITS FOOD RATIONS - 200 UNITS H-FUEL - 100 UNITS MINING MACHINERY - 5 UNITS OPTRONICS - 50 UNITS OXYGEN - 100 UNITS SUPERCONDUCTORS - 20 UNITS WATER - 200 UNITS MANIFEST ENDS Comm Fragment - TFinnegan - 12-27-2009 --Message recieved via Tightbeam Maser Comm-- ...epeat, This is Grindhouse hailing Ramraider. Cap'n Davis, We're burnin' hot to Invergordon. Seems we've gotten a hit on the Wake's last known position and course. We'll need some sensitive scanning tech to track it. I've filed a request to the Raiders for equipment and installation. Best course I have is deep space. I would be honored if you would sell me some of your manifested supplies. I need to lay in for weeks in extra solar space. Expected arrival, barring trouble, one day. Inv'gordon to recieve ye like kings till then. Connor Sinclair, ou.... --Message Repeats-- Comm Fragment - Boss - 12-30-2009 "Hey, Skip, got a signal from a ship called the Grindhouse. They want us to head for Invergordon; looks like they're interested in some of our repair kit." "Are they now? Compose a reply: We'll be there quick as a wink. If they want any more of the manifested goods, well, Lancaster's on the way. Sort of." Jack nodded and turned to do just that. Marshall bade farewell to Leeds as the good ship Ramraider entered the jumpgate to Newcastle.