Ns_altair
KungFuDiscoMonkey
Creator of ns_altair日本福岡県 Join Date: 2003-03-15 Member: 14555Members, NS1 Playtester, Reinforced - Onos
Creator of ns_altair日本福岡県 Join Date: 2003-03-15 Member: 14555Members, NS1 Playtester, Reinforced - Onos
<div class="IPBDescription">[wip] Backstory</div> Edit: 10/23/04
Just to prevent confusion this is a really old back story. Altair has since sunk to the depths of the ocean where it resides as an official map as of b5. Figured there was no harm in leaving this story here even if it's poorly written.
Version 1.01
12/18/03
The TSA <i>Caster</i> did a roll and came in for the final approach to the Altair Station. Its holds were maxed out, carrying entertainment media and fresh supplies. The station had become one of the largest producers of nano-sludge in the Ariadne Arm.
“Altair Station, this is the <i>Caster</i>. Making our final approach”
Static was their reply.
“Altair Station, this is the supply vessel <i>Caster</i>. Do you copy?”
“Comm systems must be out,” said the pilot as he shook his head. “Seems like they’ve been having trouble with their communications equipment ever since they installed those new computer systems. We’ll just go ahead with the docking maneuvers and greet them in person. Bring us around the aft airlock. I’m sure they’re expecting us.”
The <i>Caster</i> began to shake a bit as it entered the station’s gravitation field. The pilot, Lewis Nordstrom, slid his hands over the controls, compensating for it. These simple adjustments had become second nature to him after the first hundred or so hours of flying. He didn’t even have to think about them any more. The maneuvering thrusters let out some flames as the <i>Caster</i> slowed down in preparation for the docking clamps.
“Nice and steady. We don’t have time to stop and fix holes in the hull. We have a schedule to keep.”
Nordstrom rolled his eyes. Captain Jane Parker was never going to let him forget about his one accident. It wasn’t even his fault. On the last cargo run he had flown, they were delivering some nano-sludge to one of the corporation facilities when the ship got a bit too close on the final approach. The <i>Caster</i> has sustained minor damage, but a few tanks of O2 were vented before they were able to close off the compartment. It took them a week to patch up the stupid hole. The corporation had given them the run-around until they threatened to deny the corporation their supply of nano-sludge if they were denied the use of their repair facilities.
“Steady”
He just ignored the captain and finished the docking maneuvers. There was a small jolt as the docking clamps locked on, and then the sound of pressurized steam released as the engines powered down.
“Nice work Nordstrom, now let’s go reestablish contact,” the captain said as she exited the cockpit and headed toward the back of the vessel.
Nordstrom undid himself from the pilot’s chair and made his way toward the airlock. He punched in a few numbers to get the airlock online and begin cycling. He figured a representative from the station would be waiting on the other side to begin the transfer. Food for fuel. That was the basic job for the <i>Caster</i>. Provide outposts with food and other supplies and fill the storage tanks with nano-sludge to sell out on the open market. The airlock finished its cycle, and the light above the door blinked green. Nordstrom punched a few more buttons to open the airlock door while Parker and the two other crewmembers (Mark Thompson and James Meade) joined them. The airlock doors opened, the <i>Caster</i>’s crew walked through to be greeted by silence.
“Wonder where everybody is,” Thompson said with a puzzled voice. “Must be working on the comm systems. Darn thing keeps going out.”
Parker led the crew in search of the station’s personal. She stopped at the first door and looked for a minute. She then took her finger and wiped it across the keypad, then rubbed her fingers together. “There’s some kind of film on the keypad,” she explained. She shrugged, punched the open button on the keypad, and wiped her finger across her trousers. They continued down one of the access corridors and arrived at the recroom. Still nobody.
“Captain, look at this.”
Thompson pointed to a panel in the floor that had been removed. Parker took a glance and looked back up, then did a double take and looked closer. She bent down on one knee and peered into the hole. There were two pipes running under the floor, but what caught her attention was a greenish, yellowish, pinkish growth. She wasn’t sure how to describe it. It looked like a mass of vines, with layers of pinkish membranes, and sickly yellow veins woven throughout.
“Nordstrom, Meade, come look at this.”
The crew gathered around the hole and stared. Meade was the first to speak up.
“What is that crap?”
There was another pause before Thompson spoke up.
“I have no idea but this silence is really starting to creep me out. Can we head back to the ship and run some kind of scan or something?”
“I agree. I don’t like the look of this crap and I sure don’t want to be stuck here. Lets head back to the ship.” Meade was already turned around and walking back toward the <i>Caster</i>.
The rest of the crew fell in line as they made their way back to the ship. Every creak and groan of the station sent shivers down their spine. They were nearly jogging as they rounded the corner to arrive at the airlock.
“CRAP!” yelled Meade when they keypad wouldn’t allow access to the airlock.
“Let me try,” said Thompson. He reached for the keypad when the station was plunged into darkness.
Meade let out a scream while the crew quickly backed up against the wall. The lights slowly came back on but only at half brightness.
“Please refrain from girly screams in the future,” Parker ordered. “Lets see if we can get this stupid keypad to work. We are getting off this station. See what tools you can find.”
The crew fanned out and searched the room, looking for anything they could use to pry open the keypad. Thompson ripped open drawers and dumped the contents out on workbenches. Meade threw open cabinet doors and swept everything out onto the floor. Parker ran her fingers around the edge of the keypad, examining its installation and figuring out the best way to open it. Nordstrom walked toward one of the doorways when he was knocked backwards by a huge yellow hairball. Thompson was closest and looked down the hallway to glimpse a fat creature hoping down the corridor and disappear around the corner.
The crew was on its highest alert and crowded around Nordstrom as he brushed the slimy hairball off his jumpsuit. Meade got up and walked to the doorway to make sure nothing was there. He saw a blur in his peripheral vision but was too slow to react. There was a sickening sound of flesh and bones being cut in half and Meade fell into a small pile of tissue and cloth.
The three remaining needed no invitation and before the sound of Meade’s body hitting the floor, were on their feet, sprinting in the other direction as fast as their legs would carry them. The crew raced down another corridor trying to escape this creature. Parker and Nordstrom leaped through an open doorway as a ceiling panel fell to the ground behind them, knocking Thompson to the ground. The last thing Thompson felt was a warm liquid running down his leg as he was greeted by a set of razor sharp teeth.
Nordstrom slammed his hand backwards, smashing a keypad and locking the door behind him as the sound of Thompson’s skull being crushed filled the corridor. Parker and Nordstrom scanned their current location quickly. Parker ripped a fire extinguisher off the wall, and Nordstrom found an exposed pipe, ripping it from the wall and choosing it as his weapon. Verbal communication wasn’t needed anymore as the situation created a kind of ESP link between the two survivors. Parker nodded toward an exit on the opposite side of the room and Nordstrom nodded in agreement. They had to find a way off or at least a way to summon help. Nordstrom pointed to a touch screen and quickly tapped several buttons and pointed to a map. Parker glanced and set off in the direction of the docking bays. Nordstrom followed close behind.
They settled into a fast jogging pace, pausing long enough to hit the doorway keypads as they went. Within moments they had arrived at the docking bay and were fortunate to see two small vessels located in the center of the room. Parker took two steps forward and was crushed under by the weight of a four-legged creature. The same kind of creature that had taken Meade and Thompson. Some of Parker’s blood sprayed Nordstrom in the face, but he didn’t need any more incentive to leave. He was already turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction.
Nordstrom sprinted down more access corridors, adrenalin fueling his muscles. He entered a room with several screens and quickly turned around to shut the door. He then ran to the other side of the room to make sure it was secure too. He looked around rapidly to see if there were any more entrances to the room. He jumped as the sound of claws scraping metal filled the room. His head was spinning around in all directions trying to figure out what to do, to figure out what options he had left. He ran up to one of the computers and quickly scanned the screen. His final bit of luck had allowed him to end up in the communications room. He hit several buttons before making a hurried plea.
“The is Lewis Nordstrom of the TSA <i>Caster</i>! The crew is dead and I’ll be dead soon! Do not approach the Altair station. Repeat! Do not approach the Altair station! The station has been overrun! Send any help possible! I’m probably already dead but send help! Please send help!”
The message ended with the sound of growls and a scream. There was a few minutes of static then the message ended.
Change Log:
12-18-03
Finished the second part, fixed some errors, and inserted some paragraphs.
Just to prevent confusion this is a really old back story. Altair has since sunk to the depths of the ocean where it resides as an official map as of b5. Figured there was no harm in leaving this story here even if it's poorly written.
Version 1.01
12/18/03
The TSA <i>Caster</i> did a roll and came in for the final approach to the Altair Station. Its holds were maxed out, carrying entertainment media and fresh supplies. The station had become one of the largest producers of nano-sludge in the Ariadne Arm.
“Altair Station, this is the <i>Caster</i>. Making our final approach”
Static was their reply.
“Altair Station, this is the supply vessel <i>Caster</i>. Do you copy?”
“Comm systems must be out,” said the pilot as he shook his head. “Seems like they’ve been having trouble with their communications equipment ever since they installed those new computer systems. We’ll just go ahead with the docking maneuvers and greet them in person. Bring us around the aft airlock. I’m sure they’re expecting us.”
The <i>Caster</i> began to shake a bit as it entered the station’s gravitation field. The pilot, Lewis Nordstrom, slid his hands over the controls, compensating for it. These simple adjustments had become second nature to him after the first hundred or so hours of flying. He didn’t even have to think about them any more. The maneuvering thrusters let out some flames as the <i>Caster</i> slowed down in preparation for the docking clamps.
“Nice and steady. We don’t have time to stop and fix holes in the hull. We have a schedule to keep.”
Nordstrom rolled his eyes. Captain Jane Parker was never going to let him forget about his one accident. It wasn’t even his fault. On the last cargo run he had flown, they were delivering some nano-sludge to one of the corporation facilities when the ship got a bit too close on the final approach. The <i>Caster</i> has sustained minor damage, but a few tanks of O2 were vented before they were able to close off the compartment. It took them a week to patch up the stupid hole. The corporation had given them the run-around until they threatened to deny the corporation their supply of nano-sludge if they were denied the use of their repair facilities.
“Steady”
He just ignored the captain and finished the docking maneuvers. There was a small jolt as the docking clamps locked on, and then the sound of pressurized steam released as the engines powered down.
“Nice work Nordstrom, now let’s go reestablish contact,” the captain said as she exited the cockpit and headed toward the back of the vessel.
Nordstrom undid himself from the pilot’s chair and made his way toward the airlock. He punched in a few numbers to get the airlock online and begin cycling. He figured a representative from the station would be waiting on the other side to begin the transfer. Food for fuel. That was the basic job for the <i>Caster</i>. Provide outposts with food and other supplies and fill the storage tanks with nano-sludge to sell out on the open market. The airlock finished its cycle, and the light above the door blinked green. Nordstrom punched a few more buttons to open the airlock door while Parker and the two other crewmembers (Mark Thompson and James Meade) joined them. The airlock doors opened, the <i>Caster</i>’s crew walked through to be greeted by silence.
“Wonder where everybody is,” Thompson said with a puzzled voice. “Must be working on the comm systems. Darn thing keeps going out.”
Parker led the crew in search of the station’s personal. She stopped at the first door and looked for a minute. She then took her finger and wiped it across the keypad, then rubbed her fingers together. “There’s some kind of film on the keypad,” she explained. She shrugged, punched the open button on the keypad, and wiped her finger across her trousers. They continued down one of the access corridors and arrived at the recroom. Still nobody.
“Captain, look at this.”
Thompson pointed to a panel in the floor that had been removed. Parker took a glance and looked back up, then did a double take and looked closer. She bent down on one knee and peered into the hole. There were two pipes running under the floor, but what caught her attention was a greenish, yellowish, pinkish growth. She wasn’t sure how to describe it. It looked like a mass of vines, with layers of pinkish membranes, and sickly yellow veins woven throughout.
“Nordstrom, Meade, come look at this.”
The crew gathered around the hole and stared. Meade was the first to speak up.
“What is that crap?”
There was another pause before Thompson spoke up.
“I have no idea but this silence is really starting to creep me out. Can we head back to the ship and run some kind of scan or something?”
“I agree. I don’t like the look of this crap and I sure don’t want to be stuck here. Lets head back to the ship.” Meade was already turned around and walking back toward the <i>Caster</i>.
The rest of the crew fell in line as they made their way back to the ship. Every creak and groan of the station sent shivers down their spine. They were nearly jogging as they rounded the corner to arrive at the airlock.
“CRAP!” yelled Meade when they keypad wouldn’t allow access to the airlock.
“Let me try,” said Thompson. He reached for the keypad when the station was plunged into darkness.
Meade let out a scream while the crew quickly backed up against the wall. The lights slowly came back on but only at half brightness.
“Please refrain from girly screams in the future,” Parker ordered. “Lets see if we can get this stupid keypad to work. We are getting off this station. See what tools you can find.”
The crew fanned out and searched the room, looking for anything they could use to pry open the keypad. Thompson ripped open drawers and dumped the contents out on workbenches. Meade threw open cabinet doors and swept everything out onto the floor. Parker ran her fingers around the edge of the keypad, examining its installation and figuring out the best way to open it. Nordstrom walked toward one of the doorways when he was knocked backwards by a huge yellow hairball. Thompson was closest and looked down the hallway to glimpse a fat creature hoping down the corridor and disappear around the corner.
The crew was on its highest alert and crowded around Nordstrom as he brushed the slimy hairball off his jumpsuit. Meade got up and walked to the doorway to make sure nothing was there. He saw a blur in his peripheral vision but was too slow to react. There was a sickening sound of flesh and bones being cut in half and Meade fell into a small pile of tissue and cloth.
The three remaining needed no invitation and before the sound of Meade’s body hitting the floor, were on their feet, sprinting in the other direction as fast as their legs would carry them. The crew raced down another corridor trying to escape this creature. Parker and Nordstrom leaped through an open doorway as a ceiling panel fell to the ground behind them, knocking Thompson to the ground. The last thing Thompson felt was a warm liquid running down his leg as he was greeted by a set of razor sharp teeth.
Nordstrom slammed his hand backwards, smashing a keypad and locking the door behind him as the sound of Thompson’s skull being crushed filled the corridor. Parker and Nordstrom scanned their current location quickly. Parker ripped a fire extinguisher off the wall, and Nordstrom found an exposed pipe, ripping it from the wall and choosing it as his weapon. Verbal communication wasn’t needed anymore as the situation created a kind of ESP link between the two survivors. Parker nodded toward an exit on the opposite side of the room and Nordstrom nodded in agreement. They had to find a way off or at least a way to summon help. Nordstrom pointed to a touch screen and quickly tapped several buttons and pointed to a map. Parker glanced and set off in the direction of the docking bays. Nordstrom followed close behind.
They settled into a fast jogging pace, pausing long enough to hit the doorway keypads as they went. Within moments they had arrived at the docking bay and were fortunate to see two small vessels located in the center of the room. Parker took two steps forward and was crushed under by the weight of a four-legged creature. The same kind of creature that had taken Meade and Thompson. Some of Parker’s blood sprayed Nordstrom in the face, but he didn’t need any more incentive to leave. He was already turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction.
Nordstrom sprinted down more access corridors, adrenalin fueling his muscles. He entered a room with several screens and quickly turned around to shut the door. He then ran to the other side of the room to make sure it was secure too. He looked around rapidly to see if there were any more entrances to the room. He jumped as the sound of claws scraping metal filled the room. His head was spinning around in all directions trying to figure out what to do, to figure out what options he had left. He ran up to one of the computers and quickly scanned the screen. His final bit of luck had allowed him to end up in the communications room. He hit several buttons before making a hurried plea.
“The is Lewis Nordstrom of the TSA <i>Caster</i>! The crew is dead and I’ll be dead soon! Do not approach the Altair station. Repeat! Do not approach the Altair station! The station has been overrun! Send any help possible! I’m probably already dead but send help! Please send help!”
The message ended with the sound of growls and a scream. There was a few minutes of static then the message ended.
Change Log:
12-18-03
Finished the second part, fixed some errors, and inserted some paragraphs.
Comments
Also description e.g.
'faster than many professional runners'
This does not fit the style of your story, and seems a bit child-like.
Also, the death of Meade could be more detailed. Its good as it is, but try and add some more adjectives to emphasise the imagery, smell and sound.
A few spelling mistakes e.g. to steeps forward . two* steps*
But apart from them minor mistakes its good.
Keep re-drafting and bingo. <!--emo&:)--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='smile.gif'><!--endemo-->
I thought Parker would live...oh well....she felt the weight <!--emo&:(--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/sad.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='sad.gif'><!--endemo-->
(para)The crew was on its highest alert and crowed around Nordstrom as he brushed the slimy hairball off his jumpsuit. Meade got up and walked to the doorway to make sure nothing was there
thats a little rest. But I cant be arsed to read through it all again <!--emo&:)--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='smile.gif'><!--endemo-->
Just read through, and when you feel there should be a distinct division of written matter, then slap in a paragraph. New topic/ section...you need a paragraph. ok ? <!--emo&:)--><img src='http://www.unknownworlds.com/forums/html/emoticons/smile.gif' border='0' style='vertical-align:middle' alt='smile.gif'><!--endemo-->
Oh, and I'd say that the ending is overly clichéd.
Oh, and I'd say that the ending is overly clichéd. <!--QuoteEnd--> </td></tr></table><span class='postcolor'> <!--QuoteEEnd-->
Yeah, I'm a level designer and not a writer, but I was pretty happy with how it turned out. You can make some suggests to make it less clichéd and less clinical and I'll try to take them into consideration. I was just bored so I thought I'd have some fun and try to write a backstory.