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Troy Caudillo

"Mari! What the hell are you doing to my ship?"

0 · 233 views · located in Known Space

a character in “After The Curtain Falls”, as played by Imperial Waltz


Name: Troy Caudillo
Age: 694, mid thirties in appearance.
Gender: Male.
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Height: 6'9"
Position: Captain
Description: A tall man with a soldier's build, gelled hair and a chiseled jaw covered with stubble, Troy is what many would call handsome. His eyes are a natural dull green, but his pupils glow softly in an inner, blueish-white light. This is purely cosmetic for the true power behind his eyes lies in his ability to see in multiple spectrums. Because his service in the Ecumene Special Forces, Troy's bones have been replaced with a dense and flexible carbon-nano weave skeleton, his muscles have been augmented to the point where he has triple the strength and speed of the average person even without armor and he heals faster then most. Like almost all soldiers in the Ecumene, one of Troy's implants allow him to read the emotion of others and predict with a fair amount of accuracy what they will think or do. Among other small implants and augmentations that's not worth mentioning his most important augmentation is his connection to the hallowed Adam.
On ship, Troy is very casual in his dress. Usually wearing a t-shirt and jeans, to him if its clean and comfortable then its wearable.
Marks/Scars/Tattoos: A stylized version of the service badge of his unit; the 374th Shock Troop Division is tattooed across his back. Two birds of pray-one a phoenix and the other a eagle- entwined in eternal battle, their feathers made to look like steel, with their wings spread wide. All in blacks and dark golds. A flaming diamond surrounds them. Plain gold text lay in the middle of it all that show the words "374th" and below that "The sword that shattered the stars." written in Latin.

Birthplace: Even's Dawn, Ecumene
Citizenship: Ecumene
Religious Affiliation: Atheist
Family: Jacob Caudillo(Father-Deceased) and Dana Caudillo(Mother-Living)
Friends: Few, most scattered to the winds.
Spouse/Lover(s): Erna Mari Mallory Durand (Lover)

Intelligence: Advanced forms of intelligence given to him by his experience, his implants and his "string's" position by a EVE Core.
Sense of Humor: Sarcasm
Personality: Very stoic, sometimes quiet and sometimes crass, Troy is a man that always tries to say it how it is and is known for sarcastic outbursts of various 'flavors.' Very patriotic and a firm holder of his political and personal beliefs, he does not like when people insult his peoples' way of life, though will ignore it if one is not blatant about it. If one respects his beliefs he will respect theirs and in general he won't care what you believe in.
A man who believes in respect, duty and honor, Troy strives to do right by those who have done right by him, though he excepts the fact that he will have to bend his moralities when he must. When matters are not pressing Troy is very casual and will be seen lounging around the ship if he isn't making his rounds. This is not to say that he doesn't take his responsibilities very seriously, but he has long learned that one should relax while they can for the chances to do so might one day be scarce.
Personal Quote: "Some say man needs to believe in gods. But in truth, men are but gods still finding their way."

Equipment: Along with his M30 Telestai Pulsar (Automatic Plasma Pistol), Troy carries a "Power Gauntlet"; a fingerless glove like device that at full power will shoot an energy pulse out of the palm that will send a fully sized man flying fifteen feet or more. The gauntlet's secondary function allows the wearer to temporarily paralyze those it touches.
Any other weapon he needs is stored in his cabin and will be used when the situation arises.

History: Nearly seven hundred years old, Troy has seen much of what Humanity can give in his long life. After his father died when he was seventeen he joined the military. Scince then he as seen much; The New Hiroshima Campaign, the Siege of Drace, the Three System Wars, and the alien incursion that destroyed five colonies. Troy has known victory and seen terrible defeat. Eventually he would join the elite 374th Shock Troop Division that would grant him extensive body modification and, more importantly, a connection to an EVE Core. An event known simply as Operation Trident brought on what would be his crowning glory and his most crushing defeat. Afterward, Troy was given an honorary discharge and eternal recognition by the Ecumene and even Jovian military.
Soon Troy started to roam the heavens, taking up odd jobs and experiencing a civilian life he never knew. Eventually he would be approached by members of TAF and given a position as captain. After personally reviewing and hiring every member of his crew, including one very interesing pilot, they "set sail." This has been Troy's life to date.

So begins...

Troy Caudillo's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Troy Caudillo Character Portrait: Erna Mari Mallory Durand
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#, as written by Juular

Stardusting. The term, popularized in the late thirty-two hundreds, was derived from the new model FTL engines that had come into widespread utilization throughout the majority of human territory. Inspired in part by the concept of "crop dusting," though not quite within context, it referenced star-to-star jumps that many ships were now capable of because of the advancement. It remained popular, though its usage rose and fell as time went, even when new technologies came about and jumps could now cross many star systems at a time (depending, of course, on the size and power of the ship's engine- smaller vessels having far shorter jump scopes than, say, a Goliant-class EEDF Carrier) some would still, even if only in passing, refer to long-range jumps as "stardusting."

Inertial dampeners kicked in to compensate for the shift, and the bleak void of faster-than-light travel was left behind. Informal Gluttony slipped noiselessly, and without any of the drama typically associated with exiting subspace, into realspace. She seemed to glide, smoothly transitioning into casual flight through the glitter-ink. Sensors locked onto the nearest world and a trajectory was set by an automated program set up to save time and energy. Site Seven, Irkalla system. A dual-sun solar system with nine planets and nearly seventy moons in total. Seven, itself, had three. The stars were the only celestial bodies in-system to have been formally named thus far: Nergal and Ereshkigal. TAF, for the moment, owned this system. Though neither Jovia nor Ecumene had really expressed much interest in colonization, there had turned up a goldmine of artifacts for study. The entire system had been inhabited by what many theorized to have been a single species, Seven was thought to have been their homeworld. Now desert, but once believed to have been green and blue. Much like Mars before it was terraformed.

With less than the flick of a thought the holo-terminal came to life. A myriad of light-forged, three-dimensional displays bathed the gloom of the Bridge in a soft palette of lights that had the shadows dancing about with chaotic glee as the screens changed content, shrank, shifted, came to life or vanished altogether. She scanned them all, her neural lacings processing what she saw and what she gleaned from files and reports in the TAF sub-systems on-board. As far as she was concerned, if they wanted to put this information on a ship that she was basically the brain of then they could live with her doing some research of her own. No harm done and none intended. Of course not everyone was quite so sensible, but she could hardly care. She'd been apathetic as a child whenever her "elders" had admonished her for every fucking offense.

So far the journey had been typical. She enjoyed traveling, and managing the ship the way she did gave her something to focus on in a world where if you weren't content with basically just living then you were sorta kinda outta luck, really. Although maybe she was just pessimistic, anything was possible. Her posture sure as hell didn't seem to reflect any kind of optimism, much less even vigor. She was drooping like a wilting flower, her arm just barely propped into place enough to support her head. Not to mention the way her eyes were set: half-lidded and glazed over. She seemed dead or dead-tired. Either way it wasn't what most would enjoy seeing in their pilot, but Gluttony's crew was stuck with her, whether they liked it or not and whether she liked them or not.

A small note in the logs caught her attention. Her eyes widened, barely more than a fraction of an inch, and the tiny tidbit was read a second, third, fourth and even fifth time before she moved on. While all this was going on she made sure to monitor the ship's sensor array for any unforeseeable - actually "foreseeable" would be more accurate - complications. She considered briefly sending her captain a message regarding the note, but decided instead that all surprises are best when kept as secrets until fate decided the time had come. The files closed and she focused on flying the ship, sinking ever lower into her seat as her eyes drifted shut. Now she really looked unconscious.

As she angled the ship away from a cruising asteroid she sent her captain a voice message - without actually speaking, of course. "This is your wake-up call, daddy. Please move your ass."


He was at peace. Vast and ever expanding streams of knowledge flowed through his mind at once and he sensed all of it. He saw the radiant burst of gamma rays that blossomed outward from his point of entry, heard the x-rays and various signals that passed him every second. He could smell the dark matter excreted from his jump into system and could reach out and feel the solar winds flowing through him. He was more than human, bound by their limited senses as they were. He was the ship and he knew so much more.

Every sensor, every camera, every system and every function of the Gluttony was him and his. Everything within his domain was his to survey and without the whole of space was his to delve into. Nothing escaped him on here and no one could hide while within him and everything beyond his hull within sensor range was his to absorb. With barely a thought he could access every file stored on his data-cores or operate every system.

The captain is the god of his ship, as the old saying goes. Once figurative, now it was far more literal.

Smirking at the pet name his pilot used for him on occasion he quickly pulled out of his 'sleeping' state. On occasion, 'specially during jumps, he enjoyed delving his mind into the "shipscape" which involved him making the walls, floor and ceiling of his quarters- which doubled as the ships observation deck- completely transparent that gave him a complete view of the cosmos beyond, only marred by the furniture in his cabin. Though this was ultimately a small part of the process and was only for his 'waking' eyes. For the rest, he abandoned internal thought in favor of sinking his mind into the whole of the ship far more than usual. Watching everything. Seeing, hearing, knowing. Everything. Extending his mind, viewing the cosmos in so very many ways and feeling the "ecosystem" that surrounded him thrive. One would consider it an out of body experience if he wasn't so connected to the ship.

It was calming, it gave him peace. Meditation, as she called it.

Getting off his couch and without a single word uttered, "Aye, I realized," he replied and gave a mental chuckle, "Thank you though." He thought of asking her what she had read, or simply reading it himself, but considering her subtle facial expression and brainwave pattern, all seen by him through the ship's internal sensors, she wanted to keep it a secret from him for now. He'd oblige her, just another part of a game they enjoyed playing.

Opting to use the stairs he descended down unto third floor of the ship and headed up to the bridge. Without a word he stood behind his pilot and tactical officer in a casual parade rest position (centuries of military training and discipline dies hard), watching. After a minute or so he headed down to the second floor while monitoring the activity of his the rest of his crew: Davis, Keeling, Marker and Reeve was in the cargo hold. The two TAF Overseers moving about some foodstuffs while his Envoy and Adjutant Officer moved heavier supplies and equipment. The captain had been silently giving them a hand for the past fifteen minutes, controlling some of the mechanical arms within the hold- using the larger arms to move the truly heavy supplies and equipment and the smaller ones to place some of the delicate items on the second floor of the cargo bay. The Doc was in the med-bay as usual, sorting out some medical supplies and his engineers were roaming about the engine room.

Walking to one of the rail systems (meant to quicken the commute across the length of the ship) that was placed a little ways to the left and right of the crew quarters and mentally commanding it to bring him to the med bay. His destination was the engine room, but while the small rail platform could take him directly to the engine room he always stopped by the med-bay to say hello to the Doc in some form or fashion. After the five second ride from the head of the crew quarters to the med-bay Troy walked toured the engine room, nodding at Jones as he passed. With a long stride and a brisk pass he would be there in about a minute.

The reason for his small trip to the engine room was that secondary inertia dampener was off balance, causing small trimmers in the ship. While he was sure one of his engineers was already working to fix it he opted to come address it anyway. If for no other reason it was because he enjoyed giving the "captain's stare."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trey Keeling Character Portrait: Troy Caudillo Character Portrait: Tyler Marker Character Portrait: Vivian Davis
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#, as written by Modesty
It’d been a few hours she’d spent down in the cargo bay. A few hours she could have been fussing over the latest artifacts. Instead, a simple rearrangement of edible items had turned into a small scale inventory check. While this kind of obsessive-compulsive behavior often tortured those around her, she was pleasantly surprised that her co-workers either held the same enthusiasm of efficiency or didn’t care enough to say anything about it to her. While the current task at hand may have been seen as below her rank, duties were duties and she had no intention of upsetting the captain; Troy had a way he liked his ship to run, that was all there was to it. That aside, as effective as the crew was, somebody had to logically arrange all the cargo and she’d taken that task on herself. What would be considered expendable and shoved in any place it would fit was now neatly labeled, completely with scanable barcodes and organized appropriately.

Serious blue eyes scanned over her clipboard. It was digital, and that was about as technologically advanced as she got. Strangely enough, there was an ancient graphite pencil shoved into her hair, holding it in a bun. Vivian Davis was always one absorbed in her work. That was, until a question from her collegue and fellow TAF officer interrupted her. Vi stopped, glancing up at Trey.

“Mmm, yeah. Okay. If we shift all this stuff back to the other end, like it was before, then it should fit.” Vi looked back down at her paper. She’d just suggested that they undo the last couple hours of work to fit in more food, and hadn’t broken a sweat. They had to do what they had to do. But something was tugging at the back of her head. Tyler Marker, the heavily upgraded Adjuntant Officer, spoke up.

“Wait.” She said, sliding her gaze back up and between the two. “Marker is right. I forgot to mention theirs probably a month supply of dehydrated meals in the kitchen. I think the staff slip it into the fresh food and hope we don’t notice. It’ll hold when the perishables are gone. Besides, I thought I heard that we’re avoiding trade routes on the way back for faster travel? I don’t think we’ll be getting supplies anytime soon. ”

Davis hung her clipboard up on the wall with an instructional map of how to find any of the cargo that someone would be looking for. It strictly marked the artifacts as fragile and off limits. It wasn’t for the crew, who she knew could be trusted, but a precaution for whoever would be unloading the Informal Gluttony at the end of the journey. Vi turned on heel, brushing bangs out of her eyes. She shrugged, spreading her arms. “It looks like we’re finished. Shall we go report?”

Her head was tilted back, staring up at her two crew members. Keeling stood over half a foot taller than her, and Marker closer to a full foot. She was used to her diminished height, though, and hadn’t found imposing height to be particularly intimidating. Between Marker’s guarded stares and impressive strength, and Keelings knowledge rivaling her own, they were a pair to be astonished of. Vi was just glad they were on her said. And yes, she always called them, and everyone else on board, by their last names or ranks.

“I thought I saw Captain head towards the engine rooms.”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Roger Masters Character Portrait: Delvia Plastt Character Portrait: Troy Caudillo Character Portrait: Nesteph Russon
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Rogers was still amazed at the capacities of his implants , for most of his career he had worked with little more then basic implants and AI's that could not even run a decent chess game without crashing! Not to mention one particular 26th century exploration shuttle Maxwell Prime wanted for its museum in usable condition!

The day was basically a protocol day until the trouble with the 2nd dampener and the strange power fluctuations.

Naturally Delvia took over its repairer, she was young and Eger for experience who could blame her?

The engines themselves seemed fine; there was no indication of fault form his inspection… so far at least.

The slight power fluctuations worried him; it was not rare for such problems to occur but to happen so suddenly? Too fishy for Rogers nose.

No wonder the sensors couldn't figure out what was the problem with the internal dampener with so much interference.

Rogers didn't think the problem was serious or all three dampener's would have gone offline by now, however he would not bet on that assessment in Sarek's bathe or shave gambling house.

The only scenario that came into Rogers mind was that the problem with the number two internal dampener was cased by a random power surge.

With the instability cased by the loss of the dampener other systems had difficulty operating properly leading to power fluctuations cased by the automatic power distribution system.

One question remained, why didn't the sensors detect a power surge? Could it be possible that the power surge happened in the dampener sensors themselves? Or was the AI cracked?

Ether way it was currently not his job to figure it out.

The problem was that the majority of people who grew up with the implants relied heavily on them and the AI's.

They sometimes had problems with imagination or even common sense and could pointlessly scan the systems for days instead of thinking.

Delvia was not like that really but even she could have similar difficulties.

Oh well I will send her my suspicions; if she acts on them is her decision; she is senior on this mission after all.
Rogers hoped she didn't think the power fluctuations where simply random as he did before putting two and two together, was it simple coincidence that the power distribution system was operating 21% more then normal capacity? And that the power systems had gone into safe mode? Again why didn't the sensors pick it up until Rogers actually asked for the data? Too fishy for his nose.

A sharp stabbing like pain suddenly plagued his right shoulder; it was an automatic sensor alarm he had designed into his implants to warn him when the captain was near by, it was essential while on duty to avoid being ambushed by him during inspections.

He will most likely examine the internal dampeners first Rogers thought, should he send a warning to Delvia and Ness? Why not?

He sent both a copy of his alarm system as both already had experienced it before and would know what it meant.

Quickly cleaning up all his many scattered runtimes Rogers prepared for the captain's arrival.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Roger Masters Character Portrait: Delvia Plastt Character Portrait: Troy Caudillo
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"Yea will be right on it" said Rogers still worried about the sensor failures.

"By the way Del, can you please try to sort out the mess with the AI's runtimes? It doesn’t have very good programming on how to deal with this sort of situation and has really messed up the power distribution systems. The constable of an AI gives me a hard time with all its protocols and regulations; you shouldn't have any problem I swear it's got a crush on you."

Looking for the spares and finding a few decent ones to choose from Rogers headed towards the dampeners. The ship's spares stock was growing scarce, Rogers would have to cannibalize equipment if they didn't restock soon.

"All right be back in a tick, see you in the naffy ". He said to Del before starting the repair.

The operation was straight forward, simply replacing the burned out distributor. the real time killer was connecting the new one to all the systems in question and then recalibrating the systems parameters to record and accept the change. Making the system accept the slightly different Mk7 was more complicated then Rogers expected, the system was built with the Mk7 in mind as an emergency changeover but the calibrations for the Mk7 where sadly lacking. Under normal circumstances Rogers would have used ether an Mk9 or an Mk12 like the once he was replacing but the distributors of these types he had where not trustworthy, the only reason the ship was using the Mk12 in the first place was because they where of the later model. The remaining replacement Mk12 where from the first batch and did not posses any of the corrections the Mk12 series had been given in the later models. The only remaining "old reliable" Mk9 was a highbred (Mk9/12) created during the factory switch to the Mk12, unlike the original Mk9 they where not known for reliability and played havoc with other distributors unless also Mk9 highbred.

Rogers decided he should reinform the captain of the situation and proceeded to send a direct message:

"Sir, we have few spares and need to stock up, currently we have nothing but Marmite. I have switched to the Mk7; I don't trust our replacement Mk12's and our Mk9/12's are a real constable. If you want I can start cannibalizing our remaining replacements into Mk7n's, the Mk7n's won't greatly affect the run of the ship but have slower processing capabilities and a few other limitations. Our remaining Mk12's should compensate but I need your premission for the go ahead. Masters out"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Trey Keeling Character Portrait: Lucia Samson Character Portrait: Troy Caudillo Character Portrait: Erna Mari Mallory Durand Character Portrait: Ava Desilli Mia Character Portrait: Allan Rho Character Portrait: Josh Hanlon
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#, as written by Juular

Allan entered the Mess, seeing that the captain, himself, was just heading onward toward the Bridge. Momentarily heeded by his own thoughts, he suddenly caught the appetizing aroma of something stewing. A smile slowly came to life, familiar creases showing around his eyes and mouth, and he moved further into the warm, lived-in room, hands stuffed casually into his pockets as he looked over the ship's two cooks. "Lucia," he greeted the first, nodding politely. His eyes darted to Ilia and back, his smile turning sly, "I hope she's not been making you do all the work by your lonesome," he remarked with as much concern as he could muster. "Dear Ilia can be quite the slouch, sometimes." He made a sharp tsk, waving to the subject of his jest with what amounted to an innocent mien. An implant, added some time ago so that he might better be aware of his charge, notified an increase in heart-rate.

Disturbed from her meditative state Ava replied, "You know I can just give you mush to eat while everyone else eats the gumbo, or poison your food." She grinned mischievously.

"Hm," Allan huffed, "Mush is better than synthetics. There's just something wrong about eating fake food." As he spoke he watched Din travel up his owner to wrap himself around her neck. Loosely, but protective as always. Oddity, that thing was. "Well, I won't let myself be a bother to you two any longer." He paused at the door, looking back and nodding once more in farewell, "Ladies." He ducked out, moving at a leisurely pace, which, for him, was faster than a stroll, but slower than a jog. He slipped noiselessly into the dark space, eyes adjusting appropriately to give him a clear view, and slowed to a halt just beyond the threshold, behind Trey. Choosing to remain in the more shadowed corners of the room, he ghosted along the wall into a corner.

"No problems to report, then, sir?" He queried softly, observing their destination on-screen.



Durand. Hated. People. Always when she was calm and at peace - whatever that meant varied - they would interrupt with their insipidly stupid nonsense, thinking she could give a shit about what they had to say. As if it meant anything most of the time! A tremor shot through her. Proximity alert, someone.. no.. her captain. She eased a little, but only barely, and restrained her tongue from shooting something back at the Tactical Officer, choosing instead to work on calming her nerves.

She scoffed, "Tag along, huh? Can't say it crossed my mind." Her tone was bitter, but lighter than usual. Josh started to read off sensory feed, and she rolled her eyes. "Kiss-ass little-" Troy cleared his throat warningly. Durand turned in her seat, looking up and smiling acidly, "Bite me, sir." Her eyes leveled on the door as Trey stepped in. "Oh, goddammit!" She hissed. "Why do I get the feeling," she growled through clenched teeth, "that there's gonna be some kind of party in my Bridge!" Her proximity alarm went red-hot again, and her eyes narrowed viciously as Allan strode in with all the grace and silence of a cat on the prowl, sliding like a monster from a child's tale through the black recesses of the Bridge, where he opted to remain.

"No problems to report, then, sir?" He asked, not even acting like he acknowledged her.

Durand's knuckles turned white(er) on the edge of her seat, "Sonuvabitch, not this cock-maggot, too!" She wheeled back around, eyes fixating on the viewer.

Allan's jaw unhinged a fraction, and he looked up at Troy, "I always feel like I'm stepping into a haunted house every time I come in here. It really is incredible, sir."

"The only thing even remotely 'incredible' is your incessant gum flapping. Get the fuck off of my Bridge, you cock-biting shithead!"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Roger Masters Character Portrait: Delvia Plastt Character Portrait: Troy Caudillo
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Roger breathed a sigh of relief when hearing the captain; not every port had a repair station. Roger was glad for the free time; he would not have to calibrate the dampeners for the next few hours as basic calibrations would be sufficant for a short time providing Masters was linked with the AI every 15 minutes. The job would not take long, upon hearing Del's remark about grub Roger replied: "got ya mam, will be up in a tick.

Closing his eyes Roger sent a message to the captain, it took Rogers a significant amount of time to establish a mental link compared to the rest of the crew. Roger was not used to mental linking and had slower systems. For most starting a mental link was as easy as breathing, Rogers needed a certain level of concentration.

"Understood sir, can you please allow me to accompany you while examining the replacements? Anything expensive is probably cheap, anything cheap is probably near worthless and anything free is broke anyway. There are a zillion fakes, cheats, junked and copies out there, I rather make sure we get the right ones. Not sayin you don't know your Mk12, 7632, Ak15 generation Gama Standard Vickers & Pegasus Dampeners from your average Lal Mk 303 66A generation beta cheap skate copies, I rather see, hear, touch and taste a dampener before taking it into my action."

Within a few minutes the temporary repairs where finished and Rogers went into the Naffy whistling the old Freeside classic Sola Sola here I go.