Weslow Rykes's Story

Weslow Rykes
Weslow was down in the hangar bay making sure his ship was fully functional. Having recently installed a much needed cloaking upgrade some things still needed a few more things calibrated before it would be ready to take out without any hiccups. Mumbling his way through each check he finally flicked the switch, felt the engine pick up and watched as the ship was slowly engulfed by the invisible layer. He checked his weapons and navigation and with everything in the green shut down his ship. It was then his armband blinked several times alerting him to the newly received message. "You have been requested by Captain Rayne to report to the bridge. You have ten minutes and counting."

With nothing else to check on he swiped away the message, picked himself out of the cockpit and hopped down from the ship. Ten minutes, eh? Throwing his jacket on he made his way down the hall and took the lift the rest of the way to the bridge. There was already a couple of people there when he entered, some of which he recognized. Stepping in line he saluted Captain Rayne “Sir, Lieutenant Commander Weslow Rykes, Reconnaissance specialist and Expert Marksman. Reporting.”

---

Kerstin Wilde
Snoring away on a makeshift fort somewhere in the cargo hold was Kerstin. She had gotten aboard the ship several hours ago and with nothing to do decided to walk around, which somehow ended up with her building a fort out of a couple boxes and her trench coat. Within a few short minutes she had gotten herself into an outrageously comfortable position and fallen asleep. She would have stayed that way too if not for the excessive beeping of her watch.

Squinting through the sleep she realized the excessive beeping was telling her to report to the bridge. That, however, isn't what caught her attention. What actually caught her attention was the fact that she had ten minutes to get there and had slept away five minutes. Shooting up she ran for maybe five steps before turning back because she forgot her trench coat.

“How the hell d’you get out of this place?” she asked aloud after her third circle of the same looking stack of boxes. Right then she noticed the doorway against the wall a couple rows down. Taking off through the doorway she only had to turn down one hallway before jumping on the lift. She had only wasted a total of seven minutes which was perfectly fine for her. Looking on the bright side she thought she wouldn’t be the last one to head up. At least she hoped that was the case.

Noticing she had started nibbling on her lip, Kerstin reached into her pockets and pulled out a lollipop. Rolling it in her mouth she stepped off at the Bridge. She scrolled over the others that had already arrived before turning to Captain Rayne. “Sir,” she saluted “Kerstin Wilde.” She wasn't one for introductions and had gotten used to people knowing who she was. Albeit most of the time it was about how unprofessional she was, so she usually just brushed those off.

"Wonderland my ass" was what Reese thought of the new ship, the Warhammer was a new ship, but he had seen so many ships he didn't really care anymore. He walked to the bridge, rifle still slung over his shoulder and his duffle bag still in his hand. He hadn't the time to change either, so he was still wearing his BDUs with the combat gear still on as well. He looked out of place in his uniform, a marine adrift in a sea of navel crewmen.



The door to the lift open and he stepped out towards the captain. He stopped in line with the others and snapped to attention wile saluting. Out of the corner of his vision, he could just make out the BDUs worn by marine pilots.

"CMSGT. Reese Coal, reporting as ordered, sir.

Mackenzie, Bob to some, and Twister only to his close friends and squadron mates, was in a bit of a pickle. Instead of opting to transport directly onto his new post the U.S.S Warhammer he had elected to take a shuttle in order to get a view of the ship first. However now the ship wanted to get under way and the Captain wanted him on the bridge in 10 and here he was stuck in a shuttle that was still 15 minutes out by it's current route and schedule. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat and looking around, finally he got up and started to walk forward towards the cockpit. Once up there he tapped the pilot, on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Hi, how ya doin'. I'm going to need to borrow this for a second." The crewman gave him a puzzled look. "Umm sir? I'm not sure I'm allowed to do that, it's only my first week"

"Tell them I ordered you to give me control. Also congratulations" he said all the while guiding the pilot to the copilots seat. He settled in buckled up and flipped the intercom switch. "Attention, this is your pilot speaking. Your scheduled stop at the U.S.S. Warhammer is now scheduled 8 minutes earlier. For any of those crewmen on board, you're welcome. Please fasten your seatbelts, keep all hands legs and other appendages inside the vehicle and hold on tight" Flipping off the intercom he turned to the shuttle pilot with a manic grin. "Now pay attention, they don't teach you this in flight school." Fingers dancing over the keys he quickly dialed the inertial dampeners in the cabin up to 100% and the ones in the cockpit to 95% and without further ado spun the ship into a hard right turn and gunned the throttle higher.

No longer were they proceeding through the orderly space transit lanes, if you wanted to get anywhere fast you went direct. In this case, direct meant right through the ship building and refitting docks and on through the high capacity cargo lanes. He pushed the throttle to just about maximum and the ship gained momentum as it swung towards the first bay. Spinning in a tight half loop over the struts he took the ship down through the actual super structure of one of the giant warships in the process of being built. He weaved his way through startled construction tugs executing a smart snap-roll that brought him just around an EVA welding crew in transit. Suddenly a gigantic steel girder started to swing around in front of him. In a moment of sheer panic he slammed the ventral attitude thrusters popping them over the girder but then had to string together a Split S maneuver and corkscrew in a dizzying display of aerobatics to take him away from the ceiling and back through the hull. As suddenly of that they burst back into open space and sprinted through the cargo lane pitching and rolling through the large transport hulks.

As he docked the shuttle he looked over at his erstwhile copilot. The man was sitting there, staring directly forward with his hands in a deathlock around the armrests of the seat. He looked as pale as a sheet. Robert waved a hand in front of his eyes then patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks for the lift". He made his way to the bridge and with only a minute to spare, straightened his uniform mad a final adjustment to his fighter wings and lifesaving medal and entered the bridge in his dark green duty outfit. He presented himself "Second lieutenant Robert Mackinaw, Marine Aerospace Corps, Reporting for duty sir." He pronounced lieutenant as Leftenant.

"New directive not to your liking, I take it?" Rayne heard Mat's voice ask, his hologram appearing a short ways in front of the chair. "It's not the mission itself that bothers me, it's why we're doing it. A simple scouting mission near deep space is nothing to sweat over, it's that two scouting teams went missing there in the past month under the same circumstances," Rayne said, agitated. Then he heard the sound of movement behind him.

Captain Rayne stood, and turned to watch as seven new crewmen filed in line before him. 'The military will make you punctual, if nothing else. Then again, I did give them ten minutes,' he thought to himself. Once he counted the full seven, he saluted and said "Welcome aboard the U.S.S. Warhammer. You are now standing on the latest, most advanced Federation ship. Don't get me wrong, we're a long ways from being the best armed, but it should be a small bit of an honor to serve on her." Rayne then tapped on his forearms's datapad, and opened seven files.

"Commander Weston Carter..." his voice trailed off. Rayne looked up at the 6'8" human who stood before him. "Ironhide? My cousin was aboard your ship, the one that was downed with the ambassadors and whatnot. Damn impressive work, it's a pleasure to have you aboard," Rayne said, almost beside himself with wonder. 'It's a small world, after all.'

"Ensign Solactu Passsinon. Fresh out of the Academy, Engineering department. Hand-made your own ship with various non-compatible pieces. I'm impressed. Welcome aboard."

"Lieutenant Commander Weslow Rykes. Specialty in reconnaissance and a marksman sniper to boot. One day, you may beat my record. Maybe. Welcome aboard."

"Commander Atan Vuloris. From diplomatic aide, to ambassador, to military. Specialty in logistics and medical fields. Not sure how the men will take to having a Kara'kan patching them up, but they'll get used to it. It's just not everyday you see one in the military. Welcome aboard."

"Lieutenant Commander Kerstin Wilde. A bit of a rough record, but you've survived, and found your way onto the Warhammer. Good job, and welcome aboard."

"Chief Master Sergeant Coal. It's a good thing this isn't a marine vessel, else you'd be my commanding officer. But to make it to a marine Chief Master Sergeant and navy Lieutenant? Damn impressive. Welcome aboard."

"And lastly, Second Lieutenant Robert Mackinaw. Scored incredibly highly on you Pilot's exam, but had a rough ride through the Academy. Nonetheless here you are, and judging by your registered "kills" on your instructors, I'm glad to have you aboard."

With that Captain Rayne lowered his arm and closed the program. He looked these soldiers over one by one, mentally noting their stance, facial expressions, and other psychological things he was taught to look for. "Very well, you are dismissed," Rayne said, saluting. "Report to your cabins and make sure everything is in order, we have a two-day trip through warp speed to the edge of Deep Space," he finished, finally dismissing the new crewmen. He turned and sat in the Captain's Chair, his worried look returning. "Mat, plot a course. The edge of Deep Space. Get clearance, you know the drill."

Resse nodded to the captain and walked back to the lift. He took it down to the armory first, for he had to log his rifle side arm and gear as well as his marine combat armor. Wile he was filling out the paper work, the courter master handed him a officers belt and his side arm back,. Reese eyed him and the crewmen said "standard issue officers belt, most tend to wear one, and seeing that your a marine, I figured you would want to keep your side arm", he handed him his side arm, a modern .357 revolver, steal plated, water proof and vacuum proof. It had been his pistol of choice since winning the "gunslinger" award in training for having a rather quick draw. Resse nodded and took the revolver and the rounds and clipped the gun in to the holster, putting the rounds in a small pouch. He turned and walked towards the mess hall, it had been 6 hours since he had eaten, and hey, maybe he could meet some one there.

Atan nodded as he addressed each of them. Listening to each description, he was pleasantly surprised at the variety of skills that were being brought aboard the vessel. An engineer that had built his own ship, a marksman sniper, a marine officer, an ace pilot, a doctor. And the man who had single-handedly saved the survivors of an ambassadorial ship on a Dyren planet. And this was just seven of the crewmen. The Federation had taken no expense when choosing the best of the best to take posts on the Warhammer. Whatever awaited them at the end of the journey through warp, he was certain that it could be handled. If not through s skill- which was abundant, so an almost non-existant worry- then through the equipment on board the ship.

Returning to the comment towards him, he nodded. The captain was correct in his assessment. While they may have been in contact with "aliens" for centuries at this point, many humans were still uncomfortable with the sight of one, especially ones such as Atan. Many humans seemed to hold an unexplained aversion towards insects, some of which looked similar to Atan's species. But as Rayne had said, they would have to get used to the fact he was there. If not, he was going to make sure they lived anyway.

As Rayne dismissed them, Atan dropped his hand down back to his side. All of his supplies were already stowed away in his cabin, perks of being on the station already preparing the ship. Only problem was the room itself. It was designed for human-sized occupants. He was a bit bigger than that. I guess I'll have to become used to stooping, he thought. After the captain had finished giving orders to the AI, he addressed Rayne, "All necessary supplies and spares have already been loaded. Is there anything specific you would like added to the inventory before we leave?"

When the captain dismissed the group, Sol allowed the others to pass him before exiting himself. This time, he walked at a much more leisurely stroll. Not only was he on an up to date human ship, as most of the Federation like to put tylo on the old ships that barely held together, but he was on one of the most advanced human ships in the fleet. Sol just couldn't believe it as he slowly made his way down the hall.

Sol looked through the hall with amazement. Everything was covered. You couldn't see the struts, or the wires, or the vents. All you could see was the metal coverings, and this amazed Sol, both in the thought of how much it must have costed to put them in place and in the reason that all the other races seemed to obsess over having them. Tylo found that they only got in the way most of the time, but Sol was open to the new idea.

When he reached the elevator, he nearly ran into the see through doors. His attention was now brought back to where he was going. Stepping into the elevator, the metal underneath him making so little noise, Sol resisted the urge to get lost in thought. Once he was in the center of the clear, pill-shape elevator, Sol said "Hanger 12."

As the pill rushed across the ship, Sol stared on in awe. He could see so much as he shot through the various layers and passage ways of the ship. Sol could tell why the humans liked to use these as their main way of getting around large places.

Upon reaching the destined area, Sol walked out of the pill that carried him there. Taking the time he now had to look at the hallway that led to the hanger where his ship sat, Sol tried to formulate why the other races liked the wall plating. It must have just looked nice to them. Breaking from his previous thought, Sol began to walk to the hangar with his ship.

Once inside the actual hanger, Sol gave a quick look around. Several of the obvious pilots were looking through their respective fighters. Some seemed rather pleased while others seemed to have something against the model of fighter that were scattered across the hanger. With another look to the Wrenn, with its awkward looking external cargo bay, Sol decided to finish getting his stuff off of his ship.

After the slow task of removing the external cargo bay, Sol was maneuvering the crane that held on to it with a doctor's precision. Placing the cargo bay that held all his belongings gently onto a cart, Sol quickly jumped down from atop the Wrenn. A quick look around the cart to make sure the bay wouldn't fall off, and Sol was ready to leave for his room.

"Look at the lizard's ship, boys. It looks like he just pulled it out of a junk yard!" Spoke a pilot, of rather large size, with two groupies following him. His tone was filled with what the people at the Federation Academy told him was arrogance. This confused Sol greatly, as all the Academy pilots crowded the engineers constantly to try and get their ships preforming better than the other pilots-in-training.

Then one of the groupie pilots spoke up, his voice sing-songy as he spoke. "What's it run on? Duct tape and crazy glue?" The other groupie then piped in with "How does it even hold together?"

"Take the plates off your own fighters and see." Sol shot back, walking away proudly with the cart in toe. He was proud of both his ship and his come-back, at least that's what he believed they were called. Humans have such a strange way of interacting with each-other.

Weslow Rykes
Almost did. he smirked while listening to the rest of the Captain’s praise for the others. It was certainly clear that these were a good group of people.

"Report to your cabins and make sure everything is in order, we have a two-day trip through warp speed to the edge of Deep Space."

Weslow finished his salute and made his way down the hall, stopping in the lift. He had his bags checked in a while ago and wasn’t sure where they were now. With a few clicks to his armband found that they had been delivered to his bunker. Everything except for his gun. Which, for some reason, was still reading that it was being inspected. Wiping it away he said the floor he needed to go to and stood staring for a minute with his arms cross, leaning against the wall. What the hell was taking so long? This should have been finished hours ago and the only reason he could think for why it would be taking this long would be for a mod but he was sure he took it off. ”They better not be touching my baby.” he grumbled stepping off the lift and storming down the hall.

After a couple turns and a few short hallways he was in the armory. ”where’s my rifle?” he shrugged It’s supposed to be with my stuff.”

”Number?”

Number. He thought before quickly swiping over a few panels on his armband. ”Number Four Eight Two dash Seven.”

After a quick search the clerk looked back over to Weslow ”Yeah, that weapon had an unregistered modification. Had to be disassembled. He said placing a box on the counter with what was clearly recognized as his sniper rifle, granted it looked more like a mixed batch of parts.

”Great.” Rolling his eyes he grabbed the box, signed it out and left.

Making his way to his bunker he couldn’t help but berate himself the whole way there. It’s what he got for not checking three times like he normally did. Stepping inside his room he immediately noticed his dufflebag placed on his bed. Cracking his knuckles he placed the box on the floor and sat with it. ”Better get this done.”

---

Kerstin Wilde

Yup, there’s my reputation. Kerstin knew that would be the first thing to get pointed out.

With the rest of the briefings finished she made her way down to the med bay to get situated with the new equipment. She didn’t bring much with her to begin with so whatever she had brought didn’t matter to her at all. Walking around the room she couldn’t help but touch everything, she good at what she did. Hell she was great at what she did, but when it came to facilities this one definitely topped her list. She had gotten used to being on war torn planets with the threat of doom at every waking hour. This was a pleasant change of pace.

Throughout her walkthrough she remembered several of the machines from various locals she had been stationed at. Of course some of these were newer versions, but they clearly worked the same. The ones she didn’t recognize only took a few button presses to figure out what they did and how they worked. Nothing ever lasted a few button pushes until Kerstin figured out how they worked. Plus her skill for lying simply made her seem like she knew what she was doing when she actually didn’t.

A slight tingle went up her right arm and looking down noticed her middle finger twitching. ”Damnit.” Sitting in the nearest chair she pulled out her kit that she kept with her at all times. Placing her hand firmly on a table. Pressing the center of her hand a small panel opened revealing the wiring of her hand. This is going to hurt. With a deep breath she tightened the joint piece in control of her finger, sending another, sharper jolt up her arm. "Good thing i'm ambidextrous." she sighed through the pain.

Kerstin Wilde

It wasn’t until the door shut that she let out a slow calm breath while looking over some medical files on the crew. If she was going to do her job right then she would have to read up on everyone, the one thing she never liked about the job. Paperwork. She was deep into a file when the door snapped her out of her focus.

Swiveling revealed Commander Vuloris. “Hello sir. It’s no bother.” As she greeted him he asked her why she joined and grabbed a chair at the station over from hers.

”Please, it's just Doctor in here and to answer your question,” She paused thinking over her next couple of words. ”I joined because I have a knack for helping people. May I ask the same to you?” She said not looking up from the paperwork.

---

Weslow Rykes

Weslow finished reassembling his sniper rifle and with one last look over noticed the time. It was time for his second dose of his supplements. Good timing too, he’d take the supplements and then head to the shooting range. Being in one space for too long was never good for his mental state, he tended to get antsy if he has to wait around for too long and not do anything. Which only resulted in him testing his marksman skills and athleticism and that only lead up to him tiring himself out.

Grabbing his rifle he made his way to the med bay where he seemingly intruded on a conversation between Doctor Wilde and Commander Vuloris. “Excuse me.” He said as he passed them and sat in a chair. He rested his rifle against the wall and grabbed a small black container from his pocket. He did not need anyone to give him the injection but it was best if he was supervised.

“Supplements?” A voice chimed in.

“Yeah.” Was all he replied. Kerstin and himself had been stationed together a few times before and by now she didn’t ask questions when it came to this sort of thing. ”I’ll be out of the way in just a moment.” He added as the blue liquid was squeezed through the needle into his vein. Blue. Couldn’t they have made it a more pleasing color. Like how about clear?

Three needles. All blue. All in the same spot. He clenched his fist after they were done and proceeded to leave the room.

Atan sat quietly as Weslow walked in and set his rifle against the wall. An interesting character. If he wasn't mistaken, Weslow was a San'i, which meant that he should have had his pair nearby. He did not remember seeing one. Dead, perhaps? If so, then would Weslow end up being a liability? Something to consider later, and he was leaving anyway.

Turning back to face Kerstin, he gazed at her, tumbling her words around in his head. "As you wish then, Doctor Wilde. Why am I here you ask? Because I despise war. I simply hope to reform the military complex through the complex itself. War is much too brutal for a galaxy. Sadly, sometimes the only way to stop war is to wage it. In a way, my reason is much like yours: I wish to help people, simply in a different way."

Glancing back at the door through which Weslow had exited, he asked, "If I may be so bold, how did you end up here on the U.S.S. Warhammer? Your record is certainly interesting to examine, and many would have passed you over. What did our superiors see in you?"