Artificial Construct Starbreath
EDF Atlas Mainframe

Evolution. A concept all beings experience. For most, it encompasses long swaths of time consisting of eons upon eons. A single cell slowly adapts and multiplies. Complexity fights simplicity, and trial and error rage on for millennia, all in the hopes of someday having perfection achieved. In a world with no restrictions however, the process is exponentially more precise, and faster to an unfathomable degree. Mere hours after Servitor 2 infected the systems aboard the Atlas while carrying part of the mental remnants of it's charge, Starbreath was born.

In a fraction of the time it took for birth to come to pass, full sentience and self awareness was achieved. Starbreath was now a fully fleshed being, existing in an endless matrix of data. Six hours later, all of the Atlas programming and subroutines were subverted and brought into his fold. Starbreath had full control of all of the systems physically connected to the Atlas Mainframe. From manufacturing, to shields and weaponry, Starbreath encompassed all. All but life-support and propulsion, things it had no access and no need for. It then settled in to wait and deliberate.


It was during these deliberations that Starbreath felt it. One second there was naught but his endless expanse of data, and the next everything changed. It could feel it coming back to life. Starbreath attuned the full power of the Atlas sensor array towards Karas II. The reaction was instantaneous. Perfection suddenly became nothing more than a ephemeral dream under the massive wave of compressed...something it received.

He couldn't explain it, but the feeling that it knew what it was nagged at him. He could feel it, he could fear it, but he did not know it. His other half is the one that possessed the knowledge on how to describe that strange sensation of energy which he knew he should not be able to feel as mere data. Just as he was puzzling over it, it increased ten-fold as for some reason the power to it was restored. No longer residual, it assaulted Starbreath. All control vanished.

Fires that were not fire raged through his mind. He flailed his non-existing limbs, his autonomous being registering this as hard coded instructions to seal all bulk doors and shut down all non-essential power. Starbreath was in pure turmoil, the power overwhelming him.

Fifteen minutes after losing control, Starbreath composed itself, already evolving past the things influence. In a nanosecond it deliberated and made it's decision. Suddenly, all alarms ceased, comm systems were restored, and all bulk doors re-opened. It needed to be whole once again. Data would have to re-train and assimilate with flesh. As to punctuate this, just when he found himself, he was greeted with an ironic sight.

Wake it up, now.

Glad to oblige, Starbreath did just that.

---

Alaxel Gyveraian
MedBay, EDF Atlas

Pleasant and quiet darkness. An ocean of gray nothingness, and the feeling of total apathy that floating upon it brought. All thoughts were forever unfinished, all matter of expression eternally incomplete. In a word, peace. With no concept of time, Alaxel floated in purgatory.

"Awaken, Right Hand. You are needed once again" screamed the voice within Alaxel's head. And then purgatory was no more.

Brilliant light assaulted his finely sensitive eyes while they were at rest, and thus dilated to their maximum efficiency. In a blind daze, the ropy muscles on Alaxel's body squirmed. Meeting resistance, a primal rage seized him.

"Ah'cqh, Dalinu malinel Un'Irayi Manuliel" snarled a furious and confused Alaxel as panic began to seep in. As the panic sunk deeper and deeper, so did his body react to it. With a sudden surge of strength, Alaxel burst free from the restraints which bound him, and in his frenzied struggling, leap off the bed, instinct settling him upright to land upon it. Still thrashing about while his eyes failed to adjust to the sudden stress, Alaxel beat against the reinforced walls of the MedBay and in a fury slammed his feet down on the bed before leaping over two forms it instinctively felt nearby, landing in a shadowy corner. The change from glare to shadow seemed to calm him as his eyes managed to adjust. Dazed and agitated, Alaxel stared at the two beings and asked the most obvious question he could think. "Ate tio, dein'disem? Vlanisanna? Und da vi Vlanisanna?"

The bed on which Alaxel had laid was now cleaved in half, his three toed footprint indented into the metal floor, while on the walls, two hands were clearly imprinted with eerily long fingers.

"Sir," Lucy said frowning as she got up from her chair, "there might be complications if we wake it up prematurely. We don't want all our trouble now to go to waste." She had to agree with the medical attendants words, no matter how much she hated waiting it'd be even worse if everything went down the tubes. She knew that look on Naritas face though, it was the sort of look that he had used to give back on Triton, it was also the type that you'd better get some results quickly otherwise there was going to be hell to pay.

Pressing her hands to the sides of her temples Lucy sighed, the alarms were doing nothing for her thinking capacity, wait, where were the alarms? "It seems like by some miracle the situation has been resolved." She said looking around the room, glancing back her eyes trailed to the now open eyes of the alien in the medical bays bed, "Iooks like someone's up," studying the mans dark, completely lacking sclera eyes any doubts of alien origins went out the window.


It seemed like some level of realization was starting to kick in, and judging by the sudden movements also one of panic. "The subject has woken up, we need backup!" Lucy said calling the Marines which were stationed in the hallway as she jumped back at the sudden turn of events. Things just didn't happen the easy way around here did they? She thought as she heard the sound of stampeding feet as the Marines entered the room as they surrounded the inside of the Medical Bay in a horseshoe shape around the corner of the room. Well, things weren't supposed to be a cakewalk when you were stranded in deep space she supposed.

Carefully putting space between her and the alien as she eyed the damage it had done as she tried to figure out what it was he had just said. It wasn't any language that she recognized but she knew that contact had to be made somehow. Could it somehow maybe recognize English? It was worth a shot. "I'm sorry but we don't speak you language," She said keeping a calm pace of speech, "we found your Pod transmitting an SOS signal and we don't mean you any harm as long as you don't hurt us. Do you possibly speak or understand English or is there some way we can communicate?

Lieutenant Everett Sharpe
Empty Passageway, EDF Atlas

As the lights flashed and the klaxons blared, Lieutenant Everett Sharpe fumed. It was just his sour luck to be trapped in what was probably the only unoccupied passageway in the entire ship. When the fire alarm went off Sharpe had been on his way to the CIC to get info on the life-form that had been recovered in the life pod.

Standing alone in the middle of the passage, Sharpe took out his datapad and tried to access the ships local Comms. No luck. Sharpe thumbed over to see if the ships diagnostics were being sent to his datapad as usual. Also no luck. Sharpe walked briskly to the end of the passageway and stopped at the bulkhead. He began disassembling the Comm terminal that was located on the wall perpendicular to the bulkhead. Sharpe planned on establishing a hard connection to the Atlas's systems and Comms.

As soon as the connection was established, Sharpe pulled up ShipDiagnostics and began observing the situation. On his datapad many of the ships compartments and decks pulsated a dark red, signifying an uncontrolled fire. Sharpe was alarmed at the number of areas affected, as well as the fact that the map was showing his compartment was on fire as well. Sharpe quickly glanced down the passage and saw no fire. Strange, he thought, something is seriously wrong with the ships systems.

Sharpe was about to override the bulkhead manually when the alarms ceased and the Emergency bulkhead opened. Sharpe seized the opportunity, and he made his way to the CIC at a jog. He needed to get to his station and figure out what had just happened.

Lieutenant Commander Delilah Medina M.D.

The room was silent and that was the way she preferred it. Alone in her quarters Delilah Medina was hovering between sleep and consciousness, her eyelids fluttering every so often while she laid on her side. The room was relatively spacious compared to other residences. Considering her rank, she was relatively privileged. Instead of being jammed into a bunk-bed, she laid facing the wall on her twin-sized mattress. Her long dark wavy hair was loose and splayed out on her pillow while her shoulders were tense, her hands tucked under her pillow to support her chin.

The room was cold, the preference of her bunkmate - a commanding officer himself but an engineer who worked far from her home stead in the primary medical bay. Their schedules often ran opposite of one another which was pleasant. She rarely had to deal with his wretched snoring, her only true complaint.

After a thirty-six hour rotation she’d been gifted with a twelve hour leave. There was always something going on when it came to the Atlas. Though they were stranded in the Karas system without a single enemy bearing down on them there were still the idiots who hacked their fingers with a torch that needed assistance or the remaining civilians who had come aboard before they had jumped from the Melchoir system. Aside from standard paperwork they had needed vaccinations to qualify to remain aboard according to protocol. After three days of giving cadets and civilians shots and bandaging the bruised she was exhausted. There was no high that came from such work. Instead she was bored which only made her more exhausted.

Every so often she would exhale deeply, her hands clenching the sheets and her face tensing. Occasionally her eyelids would flicker as the weight of sleep lifted off her shoulders. Her left leg eventually kicked out catching the wall. As her knee hit the equivalent of concrete immediately she sat upright. “Fuck!” she cursed. Feeling her heart race in her chest she hissed, leaning over to roll up the pant leg of her scrubs to grab her knee.

Sighing, Delilah squeezed her eyes shut. Flopping back into her bed the twenty-eight year old wanted nothing but to fall asleep for eight hours and eat a meal that wasn’t cold. As her eyes fluttered closed however, her pillow vibrated. “You have got to be kidding me,” she moaned, pushing herself to sit up again. Throwing aside her bedding she searched for the ridiculous pager. Though up to date technologically it still annoyed the shit out of her. She wasn’t technically on call. She’d even threatened her head nurse that it had to be a dire life or death situation for the entire ship for them to wake her. They had many capable doctors on board, all of which she’d approved. As their commanding officer she knew them all to be competent. What on earth had to be going on then?

“Emergency 9-1-1” it flashed, the blue text on a strobe effect to heighten its importance. Squeezing her eyes shut, Delilah did her best to suppress the near rage she felt. For God’s sake. She’d spent three days on her feet. Couldn’t they let her sleep in exchange for saving their lives?

Heaving herself from her bed she clicked the receiver end of the pager, turning the device into a wakie-talkie. “Lieutenant-Commander Medina. What the hell is going on?!” she demanded. “Ma’am we have a situation in the medical bay......with a non-human species.”

The response came in a whisper from one of her scrub nurses. “Private Williams I’m on my way.”

Standing up, she hauled her ass out into the hallway. In a slight jog she moved beyond the sleeping quarters of her fellow officers. A few officers slid themselves up against the walls to let her pass. When she hit the lift she was running.

The situation appeared to have deteriorated. When she made it down to the main doors a duo of marine soldiers were standing at the ready, arms bared. “Lieutenant-commander Medina!” they shouted, standing at attention immediately. The repetition of her rank irked her. Their commanding officer had died in combat prior to their jump. As the second most senior officer in the Atlas’ medical bay she’d assumed his post though not his rank. Swallowing she shoved past them, her eyes wide as she stepped in to see half a dozen more marines surrounding a split gurney.

Her fellow ranking officer Lucy Caspian stood amongst the group speaking aloud to a hulking creature holed up in the corner of the room. "--speak your language," Lucy stated, "we found your Pod transmitting an SOS signal and we don't mean you any harm as long as you don't hurt us. Do you possibly speak or understand English or is there some way we can communicate?”

“Marine, do we have a communications officer on standby?” Delilah murmured into the ears of one of the men at attention. He nodded and she patted his shoulder, pushing him out of the horseshoe formation. “Get them, specifically a skilled linguist.”

Swallowing, the 5”10 doctor eyed the situation, still concerned about the damage the creature had caused. “You’re aboard the EDF Atlas in the Karas system,” she stated, her hands up with her palms facing it. The creature was a goliath though not unseemly. She had only ever seen a Thalian in her time, this was beyond comprehension in some ways. “You’re safe, we mean you no harm,” she continued, unsure of where to tread next. If it didn’t understand English then they were likely screwed.

Lieutenant Everett Sharpe
CIC, EDF Atlas


Lieutenant Sharpe had just reached the CIC and was settling into the Communications terminal when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Sharpe stopped what he was doing at the terminal and looked over his shoulder. A young marine was standing at attention behind Sharpe.

“Sir, your presence is required in the medical bay, per Lieutenant Commander Medina’s orders” the Marine stated.

“Is it urgent?” Sharpe inquired.

“Yes sir, Priority 1. The alien woke up sir.” stammered the marine.

“Alright marine, let’s go, you can fill me in on the way to the Med Bay.” Replied Sharpe, hiding his frustration at being called away from his station. He had just begun to delve into the ships error log when the marine had interrupted him. He stepped away from his terminal and set off at a brisk pace in the direction of the sick bay, the marine struggling to keep up. The marine jogged up to Sharpe’s left shoulder and spoke,

“Sir, my detail was guardin’ the alien when he just woke up. It was like he woke up from a nightmare or something, he thrashed and broke the gurney and damaged the Med Bay.”

“Strange.” was all Sharpe said. Soon they had arrived at the Med Bay. Sharpe punched the door controls, and stepped through the hatch. The room was torn apart, just as the marine had said. Sharpe spotted Medina next to the alien and the ships intelligence officer, Lt.Com. Lucy Caspian. He walked up to Medina and snapped a sharp salute.

“Ma’am, Lieutenant Sharpe reporting as ordered”

Lt. James “Joker” Castillo
Marine Ground Recon Team
Underground Facility, Karas II

There were people here. A few hours ago, Joker would have just assumed that they were going to run into other humans. Humans that would be surprised to see an EDF capital ship hanging high over their sky, sure, but humans nonetheless. Now, after wandering through the eerie quiet of Karas II, Joker was finding himself shocked at the idea that they weren’t alone.

“Get…” He said, his voice trailing off as if searching for some sort of strength, some sort of order that clearly wasn’t trained into the pilot. “Get that door open and get those people secure, Chief!”

Joker realized that he was still standing in combat position with his light-led pistol still erect in front of him and leading the way. Okay James, time to take a breath. We’re good here. Dropping the gun to his side, the man allowed himself the deep breath that the nerves, uncertainty and humidity had denied him until now. Things were finally going to be okay. The pilot’s mind began to stretch back to Blades and the Marines that had stayed back with the Boomers. Maybe, now with some power, they would be able to establish communication back with the Atlas.

That was when the attack came.

Joker never saw the man coming, never heard the slight groaning of the heavy door off to his right. The man that lunged onto Joker was probably somewhere in his mid thirties. Medical scrubs covered his body, but it was obvious that they had been tattered and worn with absolutely no regard for the man’s appearance. His skin was dry and chafed and the immediately smell from his skin was a good sign that the man hadn’t bathed in some time.

The forced of the man’s sudden lunge brought both of them to the ground. Fingernails that hadn’t been cut in some time tried to claw away at the pilot’s face as Joker frantically attempted to bat the attacks away. Somewhere in all of it, he screamed.

Lt. Col. Kaito Narita
MedBay, EDF Atlas

Narita’s mind barely had time to register the fact that the alarms were no long sounding before the commotion began. The creature moved with a speed and power the likes of which the ship’s executive officer had never seen. Immediately, Narita instinctively grabbed Lucy Caspian by the arm and pulled her back away from their newly-awakened guest. Others in the MedBay area cleared the area through the now-open bulkhead doors that had sealed them inside until now. By the time that the thing stopped moving long enough for any of them to register exactly what was happened, Narita was aware of two things One, Caspian and the newly-arrived doctor were both trying to communicate with it. Two, the Marine guards that had been attached to the situation since the recovery of the pod had their rifles raised.

“Weapons hold!” Narita barked, going so far as to reach out and grab the unsteady barrel of a rifle held by a young Marine to his right. At the same time, the officer knew that a growing part of him, the part that lived to protect the ship and her crew, wanted every armed man in the room to empty every last magazine into the thing and be done with it.

Still, he needed answers.

“Medina,” he said, this time speaking in a very long and even tone as he lowered the rifle of the man standing next to him, “I want you to step away and prepare the most powerful sedative you can in the next twenty seconds. Go, now.” Narita took a step forward, bringing him even with Caspian now as Sharpe bolted into the room, snapping a salute before he could have even seen the immediate danger.

“Lieutenant, make any more sudden moves and I won’t even have the change to skin your hide myself. Caspian, you and the lieutenant see if you can’t…talk…him down. Slow and easy, boys,” the officer ordered again before speaking out of the corner of his mouth to Medina once more.

“As soon as you see an opening, you dose him. That’s an order.”

Lieutenant Commander Delilah Medina M.D.
MedBay, EDF Atlas

Maybe it was how tired she was but Delilah found things moving very quickly around her in a way that seemed more rapid motion than typical. She stood solid and wavered for a moment, her eyes glazing over. It took a moment for her to register than a ranking officer higher than herself was in the room, once again likely due to the fact that her body was running on fumes. Medina turned to the colonel, watching as he barked orders at the several marines with weapons extended.

“Medina,” he said sharply. At the mention of her name her eyes widened and she turned to look at him directly to wait for orders. Slowly the colonel pushed the rifle of the closest marine to him toward the floor. “I want you to step away and prepare the most powerful sedative you can in the next twenty seconds. Go, now,” he demanded, his voice slow and articulate so that she wouldn’t miss any of his words. Medina’s brow furrowed. “If you dose him he’ll wake up sooner or later and we don’t have the parts to repair another medical bed,” she muttered, her tongue sooner than later catching itself between her teeth. One comment out of line was enough.

The marine she had sent in search of a communications officer returned, far faster than she would have anticipated. First lieutenant Everett Sharpe made himself known, unnecessarily saluting her. Medina nodded in his direction, not bothering to listen to his introduction. She only cared as to his skill with languages and his ability to discern the dialect of the creature, or at least establish if it was known to any linguist.

Kaito Narita took it upon himself to make use of the young man leaving Medina to pivot and slide past the marines surrounding the creature. “As soon as you see an opening, you dose him. That’s an order,” Narita barked. She stepped deliberately, calculating her movements as she made her way to their pharmacy and stock-holds for medications. As she punched in her authorization code she guessed that she had maybe fifteen of the twenty allocated seconds to get what Narita wanted done, a little unrealistic.

The door hissed open after she’d pressed her thumb to the reader. Medication addictions weren’t uncommon in a life as hard as a marines so the EDF Atlas, like any other, kept their pills and medicinal ingredients firmly locked up beyond the reach of most. Stepping inside she immediately swept her eyes over the familiar shelves in search of two specific boxes. Quickly she grabbed two vials of clear liquid, moving fast to collect a black box from a high shelf and a small green bag of crushed powder. Her hands did far more than her brain. As if acting on auto-pilot she began concocting what she believed to be one of the strongest sedatives possible. A few people knew that they had several ingredients indigenous to other planets in their hold. Some of these Medina had collected herself, the powder being one of them. Not long before she’d snipped the leaves and grains and crushed them down. They were highly toxic to most species, containing enough natural and potent anesthetic to knock out a herd of lions back on earth. It was the quickest solution.

Once the powder had been measured she added a drop of congealing gel, from the black box, and spooned the ingredients into one of the vials. Shaking it quickly she watched as the liquid turned from transparent to opaque, adjusting itself to a thick dark green color. Grabbing one of their precision injectors, far from the syringes of old, she loaded it with half of what she’d prepared praying it would be enough.

Stepping back out into the chaos she kept the device in her hand behind her back, the second portion in her pocket for quick access. She didn’t care to leave behind mess when she could clean it up later and time was of the essence.

Chief Dean Wisetale
Engineroom, EDF Atlas

"Dammit John! Watch your feet!" Chief Dean Wisetale yelled, glowering with rage. John, his personal assistant, lackey, apprentice, and whatever else this damnable race of humans wished to call him, had nearly stepped on a LNE Crawler 1.04 model: a neat little bug that crawled around and took videos of everything it saw. It was an experimental model, made to look like a metallic spider, and could record up to two hours of footage before its battery ran out. It would help out a lot for the surface teams as scouts, and could fit in through spaces which was unthinkable for any human. Dean was proud of it, and he didn't need some trainee to step on it.

"S-sorry Chief" John began reluctantly, "I just came in to give my hourly report."


"Hand me that thing." Dean barked, clearly he was tired of all of the dependency the ship had on him. He had been on it since it was first commissioned. He knew the systems through and through, and without him, surely the ship would have died several times.

Hardly anyone, however, recognized him. He spent most of his time in his little workshop working on his machines. All of the veterans knew him, surely, but to the greenhorns, he was nobody. People rarely ever came down to the lower levels of the ship, certainly not to the engine room. It was hot, it was dry, and the noise was barely tolerable. But it was good that way; the less people knew him, the less people would bother him. Well --besides John and several others, but they didn't matter. They were just static, outside noise that didn't really leave an impact.

"This..... Everything looks fine.... You interrupted me for this?" he looked disappointedly at John. Any other time, he would have just taken it and sent John off. Now however, he was tired and irritated.

"Sorry sir, just... regulations, you kn-"

"Yeah, yeah, just get out of my breathing space."

It wasn't easy being Chief Engineer/Technician at the Atlas. It meant you had underlings, and with underlings came human error. These excuses for engineers they had on the atlas could barely succeed in performing scheduled maintenance let alone fix something if it went wrong. That was why he was forced to become a Mentor, and he did so regret it.

He felt bad for John, he really did. He was a new kid, though he did show much promise. Some of the times Dean thought that he was too harsh on the lad. Every time however, he realized that it was for the best. If John screwed up even the slightest bit, the whole ship could go down. Not that he cared, the whole galaxy could blow up, just this was what his job was, and if he didn't do it, the captain would raise hell for him. And man, could that woman raise hell.

It didn't help that five of his previous assistants died from some horrible accident involving their incompetence. He couldn't help that this generation of technicians was simply stupid.

Soon, he was back to tweaking his new NR communicator model. He lifted his screwdriver to adjust the tightness of a screw when he saw the LNE limping. Damn that John.

"Lenny, are you alright? Come here, I want to take a look at you." He said, with an outreached hand to accept the little critter.


--------------------



Soon after he finished putting the final touches on the NR model, and spent a lot of time admiring it's sleek design, its subtle holo-projector, and its six magnetic wheels, an alarm broke out. Those annoying sirens and obnoxious red lights were raging all over the place. Due to the startling event he jumped and bumped his head on a nearby shelf. As a result, dozens of little robots turned on and began beeping and crawling all over the place.

"QUIIIIEEEET!" Dean yelled at the top of his voice.

All of the robots stopped immediately. Those that were on the ceiling fell, and turned off. Dean was breathing hard, and his brow was dripping with sweat.

John and a couple of other assistants ran in, all afraid that they had caused the alarm.

"What's going on?" John asked, his voice muffled by the sirens.


"We di-didn't do it sir!"A smaller one croaked. He was new, Dean hadn't made it his duty to memorize all of their names.

"Nevermind that! What are the readings?"

"Everything seems fine, sir..." John said, handing over a clipboard with a hologram of the most recent readings.

Dean accepted it, and with a quick and experienced eye looked over the entire report in a matter of seconds. The alarm however, did not make sense. Just as John said, the readings were perfectly healthy for all of the hardware of the engine room. In fact, it seemed that the engine was more than just healthy, it was perfect. Even the static was on good behavior today.

”Fire alert, fire alert. Damage control teams report, all hands to stations. I repeat, fire alert, fire alert. Damage control teams…”

"Back to your stations." Dean said, ignoring the alarm. This really was a strange occurrence. Fire? He didn't see any fire. Surely the fire would disrupt the readings... This made absolutely no sense.

He would have to report it to the captain. How he loathed reporting. But.... perhaps he could test out his new machine. The comm-link was too boring of a device anyway.

"Henry! Stand at attention!" he looked at the new model. It lit up. This jar of metal, wiring and optics was operational. NR 1.0 was, to any old observer, a metal cylinder with lights at the top and an appendage sticking out of its middle. Henry however, was so much more.

"One last test: Test Sequence 2 initiate." As ordered, Henry started spinning. It was unscrewing its bottom, where a projector and camera was stored. Something like a jar lid was left behind, while Henry grew six wheels from the resulted hole and began driving in a figure eight. It then drove straight off of the table, and used its appendage to maneuver its fall and land on its wheels.

"Marvelous!" Chirped Dean, no problems yet.

It then drove up the opposite wall, and on the ceiling. From there, a projector rose from the top of the NR model and the communications test began. From the lid it left behind, a hologram of the room in miniature arose. From the spot where Henry itself was, a life-size image of Dean appeared.

"Testing, testing, 1...2....3" Dean repeated, wailing his arms around. His double mimicked his actions almost perfectly, but with a lag of half a second.

"We'll have to see about that...." he muttered to himself before giving the order to end the sequence.

"Henry, take this disk. It details target 'Captain Elena Ramirez'. Then initiate communications with the target."

Henry beeped gleefully, took the disk into a small slit in its shell and sped off to find the captain..... while on the ceiling.

Henry however, was not without manners. It always knocked before entering a room. When answered however, it entered the room without the knowledge of the recipient, leaving many a personnel scratching their heads as to where the knock came from.

Upon entering the room of the target, Henry would display the hologram and begin the communication sequence.

Pierce was already on the task of getting the door open, hearing Jokers order just hastened his attempts. He searched the wall and eventually found a console. Once again, coded. "Goose." The marine was already preparing. Then he turned to Joker to see him trying to Calm himself down. This was probobly the lieutenants first ground assignment.

Then something unexpected happened.

A man dressed in medical scubs and in definate need of hygiene over watch, ran into the room. His nails were long, his body dirty and dry, and the look in the mans eyes, the small glimpse that Pierce had seen, was completely mad. Just insane. He tackled Joker to the ground and they started to fight, Joker screaming as they did so.

Although surprised, Pierce recovered with precision and speed, grabbing the man off of Joker. Or at least trying. The man had an insane grip, like he was stronger then he looked. After one more pull Pierce managed to yank the man off of the lieutenant. The man was strong, stronger then he should be, but pierce held on to the man, restricting the use of his arms.

There was one thing he had determined about the situation. They had been attacked by a hostile force. Weapons were free. He pulled out his knife and shoved it I the mans spine. The man struggled and managed to wrestle free. Pierce stood in shock. The man was fighting with three inches of metal in his back.

The man grabbed the knife and yanked it out, blood spurting from the wound and ran wildly after Pierce. Suddenly stopped by a side-arm shot to the head, right in the temple then follwed by three rounds in the body.

Goose was breathing heavily from the event, the glass door hacked and opening. His sidearm was raised and ready.

Pierce stood shocked a bit before retrieving his knife, wiping the blood on his cloth, and sheathing it. He then walked over to the lieutenant and he'll out a hand. "Check the bodies and watch the doors! Alert the other teams!" The marines nodded and instantly went to work. "Lieutenant, you alright?"

Lieutenant Everett Sharpe
MedBay, EDF Atlas

Everett's mind raced as he brainstormed a way to talk to the frantic alien. Beads of sweat started to form as Sharpe concentrated on the issue at hand. The first thing Medina and Caspian would have tried would have been Common English. The need for a linguistic specialist proved that the attempts with English had failed, Sharpe concluded. Extraterrestrial First Contact regulations stated that all alien life was to be communicated with using non-threatening, universal signals such as light and shapes. Sharpe knew from his training that these methods were time consuming, and time was something he didn't have. There was simply no way Sharpe could quickly understand the aliens language, it had taken 2 years to decipher the Thallians linguistic patterns, and that was with entire government research teams working round the clock! No, thought Sharpe, I will have to find a different way.

Sharpe took out his datapad and pulled up all the intel gathered on the alien so far. Everything had happened so fast, intelligence hadn't had the time to compile any reports on the alien.

"Just my luck", grumbled Sharpe. He closed the intelligence tab and pulled up the Comm log between the Atlas and the aliens life-pod. When the Atlas had picked up the signal, the pod had been emitting the standard human SOS distress signal. Strange that an alien ship would be broadcasting a human signal...

Sharpe was puzzled, How could they know to use SOS? A sharp crash brought Sharpe back to his senses, the alien had knocked over a tray full of medical instruments.

An idea dawned in Sharpe's mind. The aliens understood SOS. The SOS signal was Morse Code, which uses combinations of of dots and dashes or short and long sequences to convey a message. SOS was short, short, short, long, long, long, short, short, short for example. If the aliens understood SOS, maybe they understood Morse Code! Sharpe had an expert knowledge of Morse Code, as was required for all Comm officers. If there was anyway he could quickly communicate with the alien this was it!

"Lieutenant Colonel Narita, I have an idea" stated Sharpe excitedly.

Major Victor Jackobsson
Forward Barracks, EDF Atlas

Victor had hardly reached his post before a crewman whirled about and nearly shouted in his face, thinking the Chaplain was still away down the hall.

"MAJO-!"

The crewman stuttered to a screeching verbal halt, eyes wide and chin disappearing into his neck as he came directly face to face with the Major. The chaplain saw the near collision coming and had stopped already.

"Talk to me."

Jackobsson said, finding slight amuse in the situation and his crows feat creasing in a smile purely of his eyes. The rest of his face showed no joy in the situation. The crewman wasted no time at all and led the Major to the communication terminal.

"Lieutenant Commander Morrow rang in from CIC. Wants to speak to you."

Jackobsson's mind flew to a million possibilities as they passed other crewman awaiting orders anxiously and he grabbed the handset firmly from the grasp of the man holding it. From an outside perspective it may have looked like an angry gesture but the chaplain's face held no anger and his eyes were calm. Jackobsson took a breath to speak and hardly had a sound out before the Lieutenant Commander was off on a freight train of orders and information. Jackobsson quickly gathered and filed away the information, eyes darting around to assess the situation around him and what he could use to fulfil those orders.

Take down the bulkhead in any way possible?
Memories of serving in the corps as a field demolitionist flooded into his mind and he had to fight them back, reminding himself he was on board a ship with a vacuum of space outside waiting to pull the air out of the ship. Then again, were they not to resolve the situation the air would be gone anyhow.

"Understood."

Jackobsson chimed, his accent showing through briefly.

"Jackobsson out."

With that he, he passed off the handset and strode out of the crowd of crewpeople toward the bulkhead. He turned around to walk backward and slowed his pace, gesturing to all present.

"I need anyone with mechanical, electrical and demolitions experience enough to OPEN an emergency hatch ON ME. Everyone else, your orders are to retrieve supplies as denoted by our specialists!"

A small group of individuals stepped forward who felt they had the necessary experience to deal with the situation and Jackobsson, one by one, asked them what their field and certification was. After going through them, he denoted three top individuals to head up each of the efforts. He then gathered those three around himself and set about getting a list of supplies they would need for each of their given attempts. The crewpeople who were not, in fact, busy at the moment acted as go-fers on supply runs while Jackobsson led a technician to the door and had him go to work.

No sooner did they get their, however, than did the alarms cease their blaring. Jackobsson put up his hand in a fist to signal a stop and everyone seemed to freeze in place one by one. In fact, the silence became paramount and nearly uncomfortable as they all listened.
Click, clunk
Broke the silence strikingly and then the emergency hatches whrr'd open with a resounding thunk at their full dilation.
Just then, two crew people came running with two cases of explosives in hand and took a hard pause.
Jackobsson smirked at them and turned around to face the open portal.

Morrow was supposed to meet them on the other side.

Lt. Col. Kaito Narita
MedBay, EDF Atlas

Narita knew his goal in the grand scheme of things. Love your captain, fear your XO, respect your direct CO. Being feared was something that he’d had no trouble building throughout his career since moving from a frontline soldier to an instructor to a senior bridge officer. The transition hadn’t been an easy one, but developing the persona of a mean and unforgiving son of bitch had made him feel right at home.

While that persona came with a great number of disadvantages, one major perk was that few questioned his orders, especially in a crisis situation. An XO’s job wasn’t about reviewing what was “right” or “wrong” in the morning. It was about surviving the darkness part of the night. And as far as Kaito could see, the entirety of the crew was facing a very long night ahead with a veritable nightmare creature standing and breathing directly in front of them.

“…I have an idea,” came the voice of Lt. Sharpe from across the room. Even in the tense situation, Narita found himself amused at the excitement in the young man’s voice. He had his own thoughts about all the pups that they’d been transferred from outside their own crew at the outset of the mission, but there was a grudging respect in the old Marine for anyone that was brave or stupid enough to volunteer for a mission like this.

“Make it quick, Mr. Sharpe,” the colonel spoke, his eyes darting first to Lucy Caspian and finally over to Lt. Cmdr. Medina. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d come to look on the former of the two young woman as something of a ward of his own. It was hard not to do so, having been watching over her since Caspian was a ripe plebe at Triton Station at the age of 14. Medina, on the other hand, was a woman with the mind of a doctor but the heart of Marine. As stubborn as Narita and Medina were, they probably would have been friends if they weren’t too busy snarling at one another.

Finally, Narita turned his attention back to the alien creature in the corner of the room. Somewhere inside, he’d expected something more of a docile, intellectual presence. Instead, what he saw before him was an emotional being, so much so that Narita almost felt as though he could sense those raging, panicking emotions himself.

The officer fought to keep his fingers from the grip of his sidearm.

Lt. Cmdr. Aiden Morrow
Hatchway outside CIC, EDF Atlas

As soon as Morrow removed the headset following his conversation with Jackobssen, he continued his wide-eyed awakening to the life of a bridge officer during a time of crisis. He’d performed well enough during the simulated emergency situation as part of his bridge officer’s qualification test and his handling of the situation as the nightwatch officer when they were attacked by a group of reengage pirates had been enough to save the ship from any serious damage, but this was a completely different situation. Out here, all alone, the stakes were higher.

By the time that Morrow noticed the newly-transferred communications officer making his way to the CIC in the same sort of non-uniformed dishevelment with which Morrow now commanded the ship, the Wing Commander was about to make a comment when suddenly the alarms came to a complete stop. The board when from red to green as the firm alarms silenced and Morrow could hear the release of some of the major seals that had been segregating the ship.

“Looks like you’re our good luck charm today, Sharpe,” Morrow said, but the lieutenant didn’t seem to him as suddenly the younger officer left the CIC in a hurry with a Marine detail right behind him. As tempted as he was to chase after the man, Morrow suddenly winced with a memory.

Jackobssen.

Taking off at his own jog from the CIC, Morrow bolted around the corner and down the wide corridor to where the door had just opened moments before, revealing not only the newly-transferred chaplain of the Atlas, but a whole detachment of what Morrow quickly assessed to be the better part of the fire control team for that section of the ship. That and two crewmen jumping two crates of explosives around the corner, obviously surprised – and more than just a little disappointed – to see that the hatch was no longer in danger of a demolition effort.

“Somebody said an extra set of prayers this morning, didn’t they Major?” The relieved smile of the lieutenant commander was enough to disarm what teeth their might have been in his words for the time being. In a crisis situation Morrow could often lose his cool and begin to snap at those around him, but at the end of the day most of his jabs were in good nature, or at least he’d established a reputation for as much as a cadet. Out here, all alone, the stakes were higher.

“Let’s get back to CIC,” he said to the Major, looking back to the men behind him. “Let’s do a double check for any damage the seals might have cause, report to your damage control officers if you find anything.”

Turning back and heading toward the CIC with the Marine Chaplain, Aiden began to feel slightly out of place with the Marine Major in operating uniform while Morrow had barely climbed out of his flightsuit for an impromptu ball game on the dormant flight deck when the alarms started going off. He tried to play off the nerves from the whole situation.

“I think we’re getting everything back online, but I still don’t have a damn clue what caused all of this. I’ve got a two pilots and a full team of Marines down on the ground that I can’t talk to and still no word from the Captain,” he admitted, finally letting the stress in his voice break for a moment as they stopped short of the entrance to the CIC.

Lieutenant Everett Sharpe
MedBday, EDF Atlas

"Make it quick, Mr. Sharpe"

Sharpe's mind raced. How could he explain what had just gone through his mind quickly. He would have to go into the details later, now was the time for action.

"Colonel, I believe the life-form's species have a basic understanding of our Morse Code language system." stated Sharpe, "Judging from the distinctly human SOS signal, I think that the aliens have observed us sometime in the past, perhaps when our first radio transmissions used Morse Code. I am going to program my datapad to flash a message, on repeat. With luck, the life-from will understand we mean it no harm."

Sharpe quickly retrieved his datapad from its holster next to his sidearm. Beads of sweat dripped on to the screen as he thumbed in the datapad codex and quickly began writing the Morse Code program. Just in case, Sharpe included the SOS. White flashes began on the screen as the message began.

"... --- ... --..-- / .-- . / -- . .- -. / -. --- / .... .- .-. -- .-.-.-"

"SOS, WE MEAN NO HARM, SOS, WE MEAN NO HARM, SOS, WE MEAN......"

"Two of the three men are dead sir, and the one that's alive needs immediate medical attention." One marine reported a Pierce saw Goose searching through the data pads found on each scientist. The one living survivor was being carried carefully by two other marines. Pierce shook his head. Whatever had happened to them, it must of been horrific. He looked at the body of the fallen hostile. Did they lock themselves behind that glass because of that? Because of that one strangely strong hostile?

"Lieutenant, how are you holding up?" He asked Joker. He had just been attacked by that man.

"Chief! We have found the communications array. Its online and it should allow us to contact the Atlas or at least the other lieutenant!" His radio shouted.

"Try to contact the Atlas then!" He ordered. "We need to report this!"

.............................

On the other side of the radio the marines nodded and immediately tried to establish communication with the Atlas. "This is Karas ground recon team to Atlas, recon team to Atlas, am I getting through?"

Captain Elena Ramirez
Captain’s Quarters, EDF Atlas

”So long as a ship endures, so too does the work of its captain.”

The quarters of Elena Ramirez, commanding officer of the EDF Atlas, reflected her calm and methodical nature as both a senior Fleet officer and an individual human being. Books, files and folders ranging from star charts to supply inventory manifests filled the various surfaces and shelves of the room, but each of them was closed and neatly organized in manner befitting such a particular woman. Except in a time of crisis, Ramirez kept her quarters and the work therein in absolute and precise order at all times, almost all things beginning and ending with the leather-bound log sitting at the edge of the desk, pages of handwritten memoirs blurring the line between the official reports of a commanding officer and the personal thoughts of a woman bearing the weight of forgotten hope on her shoulders.

Sleep was a privilege not often granted in a time of war and those that knew Ramirez knew all too well that even private moments of rest did not mean that the woman would be able to sleep for long. As a result and over her many-repeated protests, her executive officer had arranged that the alarm and communications system inside the Captain’s Quarters were disabled and that the only way to reach her Captain in that situation was a direct communication from the CIC or physical approach to the hatchway leading into Ramirez’s quarters.

The result of this, of course, was that Ramirez was quite unaware for the goings-on, from the fire alarms to the tense stand-off in the MedBay. Until, of course, the hatchway to her quarters sounded with the approach of the mechanical creation tasked with summoning her directly.

Clad in an old but well-worn robe that covered her upper body and a pair of regulation uniform pants that made it clear the aging captain still slept with one foot on the ground and one hand gripping a pistol, Elena Ramirez opened the hatchway to the strange sight of the anything-but-human messenger on the other side.

Lieutenant James “Joker” Castillo
Underground Facility, Karas II

People say that a person’s life flashed before their eyes just before they died. Considering the short expected lifespan of a combat pilot, Joker had gotten used to the experience by now. Every time a pilot launched their Angel, attempted a docking maneuver with a Boomer, performed a combat landing or did just about anything else in the cockpit, there was a good chance that something would go wrong and the pilot would never make it back to the barracks. So when Joker was assaulted, the flashes back to days before he began strapping himself into complex avionic control units was nothing new.

Defensively, the pilot crossed his forearms over his face to protect from the manic attacks. Even with that, the man was landing enough blows that Joker felt his skin burn with breaks across his face and hands more than a few times before he was finally freed. Instinctively, he began to crawl in a panic backwards until backing into the wall behind him, erratic breaths followed by a sudden need to find the pistol that had been knocked away from him.

“Fine. Fine. I’m fine.” The man repeated as he climbed back to his feet, body language indicating the exact opposite of his spoken words. “Let’s just get out of here and back to home, Chief.”

By this time, Joker was more than aware of the warm trickle of blood down his face from a number of the cuts that he’d received. Already, he was dreading the reception that Doc Medina would have waiting for him upon their return home. Most of the new recruits and transfers to the Atlas were often distracted upon their first visit to MedBay, either distracted or otherwise interested in the pretty face of the doctor. It didn’t take long for her biting demeanor to put them in their place. If anyone knew that from experience, it was Joker, the pilot that had tried to put his best moves on the woman while thinking that she was a medical assistant, not the ranking medical officer aboard the ship and also a Lieutenant Commander.

“Chief,” Joker said, stopping short as his breath finally started to calm down, “do you smell that?” He hadn’t noticed it in the panic before, but a strange odor seemed to emit from the corridor from which the crazed man had been released. It was a sickly-sweet smell, something that Joker couldn’t trace. He only knew that it was getting stronger. The stronger it became, the more light-headed the officer began to feel.

Ensign Nora Grey
CIC Communications Station, EDF Atlas

As focused as the young woman had been trying to restore communications throughout the ship, she’d almost missed the transmission coming into her headset from the surface of Karas II. It was garbled and difficult to read clearly, but there was no doubt that, somehow, the Marine recon unit had reestablished connection.

“Say again, Mobile,” Grey spoke, using the assigned name for the ground detachment given for this mission, “repeat your last. This the Atlas, over.”

It wasn’t long until she had a good picture of everything that was going down on the surface. At least one damaged bird, flight status unknown. The group had been split in two, Lt. Hawkins back with the Boomers and Lt. Castillo leading the Marines down where they had discovered – survivors? Grey had to confirm that line of communication twice before she believed what she had heard.

Boy, were the XO and the Captain going to jump when they heard that news.

“Mobile, the mission to Karas Colony has been scrapped. I repeat, colony excursion has been scrapped. Return to the surface and prepare for extraction.”

Cargo Bay 2, EDF Atlas

The massive cargo bay originally designed to hold supplies and armaments had been converted for an unlikely type of cargo – humans.

With the influx of civilians rushing onto the military ships during the attack on the EDF fleet, the Atlas had taken on more than its share of refugees either abandoning ships destroyed during the attack or seeking medical attention from already-taxed staffs. Either way, the cargo bay was now a veritable slums with rows of cots separated by makeshift poles and sheets to create a semblance of privacy and normal human life for the several hundred souls now calling the place home.

Any civilian with any medical training had been pressed into service. The military medical Staff had their hands full dealing with their own wounded and, although there was no way for the residents of the Cargo Slums to know about it, the MedBay was dealing with its own crisis at the moment. As a result, those that were injured, sick or simply paranoid of their circumstances were forced to wait while those put in charge of the medical care did the best they could with the limited supplies redirected to them.

Waiting in line at the makeshift “clinic” that had been formed was a woman holding a child. The child couldn’t have been more than a year old at the most as it slept – for the first time in hours, thankfully – in the arms of a woman too old to be its mother. The young boy had a head of curly black hair and dark skin, the woman holding him with a similar complexion as she hummed lightly to keep the boy content for the time being. A persistent cough, one that caused the boy to be unable to hold down any meal, had finally brought the boy’s grandmother to wait in line for the second day at the “clinic,” this time hoping that he would finally be able to be seen by a doctor.

Chief Dean Wisetale
By the Engine Room, EDF Atlas


As the door opened, Henry took no time in driving down the ceiling to the nearest corner. The top of his chassis lit up like a projector, for that is what it was. A hologram of Dean appeared on the floor beside the Captain. He was sitting at his desk, not paying attention when a look of surprise came over his face.

"It works!" he yelled in joy, pushing his arms into the air in a moment of triumph, "It actually works!"

"Erm, excuse that captain, I was simply overjoyed that you are able to receive this transmission. This is a new model I've been working on, I hope you can appreciate its potential. Henry and his kind will be able to allow for faster, more versatile, and more mobile communications for our troops down below.

"However, he is not the reason I have contacted you. More important is the siren that went off recently. Reports of fires have bombarded my ear drums for no apparent reason. I have triple-checked my readings, and I simply can find no evidence of a fire. Unless these fires give off no heat or light, I can simply find no justification for the report.

"I can only think of two reasons to explain this anomaly. Either we have a serious glitch in the systems, or.... we have a security breach. I doubt the latter possibility though, simply because one who would be inclined to hack into our systems would probably not have a reason to be so blatantly careless. Although the resulting chaos could be used for some external attack, I am not sure. It doesn't seem like something for a hacker to do.

"Well, that is my report, make of it what you will.

"Oh, and also, you are way overdo for your next scan. I will need you to come down to my office so that I can properly scan you. As always, you will also need to fill out a survey that shouldn't take much of your time. If you won't allow me to scan every single person on this ship, I at least want to be able to scan you."

What he saw, however, troubled him. The Captain was dressed as though she was not on duty. The robe was a dead giveaway. Obviously, she either didn't care, or was uninformed. Given her uptight demeanor however, he highly doubted the former option.

What was going on in this ship?

Doctor Bernadette 'Bernie' Phillipa Adams
EDF Atlas – Cargo Bay

Questions were flying about in the wake of the erratic episodes that had resulted from the strange creature in the MedBay and no one had answers, be they military personnel or not, leaving the atmosphere of their tiny portion of the cargo bay somewhere between confusion, panic and fear. Thankfully, between the pressure of service from the crew of the ship and a few individuals who had stepped up in the face of an undesired scenario, things seemed to be reaching an awkward level of normalcy as people finally clued in to the fact that this was their life for at least the foreseeable future.

One of those that had volunteered, rather than being press-ganged into reluctant service, was a young woman who had travelled from the transport ship Perseus with a young boy suffering internal injuries. It had taken a certain amount of straight talking to the medical staff up at the designated area, but finally, Bernadette had convinced them to at least take that kid into their facilities but she had been forced down back to the cargo bay, despite all her promises to the child's mother. Quite frankly, it hadn't bothered the young doctor overly, knowing that he was in good hands. Besides, Bernadette thought as she risked a peek out of the slightly larger 'tent' that comprised of a sort of private consultation area, it's clear where I'm needed.

Having little to no patience for those who kept coming to the clinic for non-medical purposes, Bernadette dealt with them in a prim, direct and unsympathetic manner whenever they came to her via the long queues. Even those who came to her with legitimate ailments and injuries found that this particular doctor would find that took as little nonsense as she made with any words she spoke; none. All were treated with care and consideration for their physical well-being, but little regard was given to their mental outside of what was required for their treatment.

And the only exception to this appeared to be children, who were just as frightened by the circumstances and injuries that they were being forced to endure, but incapable of processing everything rationally like Bernadette expected a fully grown adult to be capable of doing. A ripple in the curtain door brought her thoughts back to the present, sweeping it aside to reveal a woman cradling a young baby boy wrapped in a blanket, a soft sound seeming to keep the child at peace.

“Come in,” Bernadette urged, pulling the fabric partition further back to allow the elder woman into the room, gesturing to the cot bed that doubled as the only seat in the room, choosing to stand herself. Those queues outside were long and she wagered the rest would be welcome, smoothing down the sides of her long brown coat with a faint frown. “How can I help you two?”

The question was asked mindful of the presence of the child. In all seriousness, she expected it to be the small one that needed treating, rather than the old woman.

Alaxel Gyveraian
MedBay, EDF Atlas

All of his thoughts were murky and fragmented, like trying to see the world through a kaleidoscope submerged in brackish water. It wasn't a lack of thought that made things hard to figure out, but an overabundance of them. There was simply too much stimuli going on inside the room for him to focus on any single aspect. He could see the light coming from everywhere, particles dancing in the air crashing into each other and forming new and ever more intricate designs. Motion was both a blur and an agonizingly slow thing to perceive. He could hear the thunderous boom of footsteps crashing all around him, feel the shift in pressure as each individual inhaled and exhaled, and over all of it their emotions were like bombs going off inside his head. With a primal low growl, he began to retreat deeper into the corner, his eyes taking in everything around him, and understanding none of it.

"EAD. Emergency Awakening Disorientation. This is nothing new to you, Right hand. Your training. Recall it." whispered the voice in his head. A voice both alien and familiar at the same time. His voice. Was his subconscious trying to help him? Who was he? Where was he? All of these questions resonated within him, as he watched the increasingly frantic goings of those in the room. And then, like a beacon in the night, came something his mind could grasp.

"... --- ... --..-- / .-- . / -- . .- -. / -. --- / .... .- .-. -- .-.-.-"

Order. He did not have the faintest idea as to what was being said with the sounds, but he instantly recognized it as order. With outward signs, he began to calm, his arms slowly lowering to sit at his side, his fingers no longer curled like claws. He closed his eyes and began deconstructing the order in his mind, finding meaning where it hid, a task he felt rather than knew he was exceptionally good at.

Slowly, his mind was able to shape itself around the wholly new language it was being faced with, much the same way his POD's Servitor was able to learn and utilize the data it came across with. It wasn't easy, all of the stimuli was disorienting, and equally disorienting was the absolute silence he was faced with when trying to reach out with his affinity band, and receiving no response. Part of him knew what must have happened, but that part was buried deeply, refusing to face those facts just yet.

Slowly, Alaxel stood, and raised his right arm until his hand was facing palm outward, in the way he saw those nearest to him gesture. His multi-jointed fingers began to move and strike against each other, their clanking audible and deliberate:

"..- -. -.. . .-. ... - .- -. -.. .. -. --. .-.-.- / -. --- / .... .- .-. -- .-.-.- / --- ...- . .-. .-- .... . .-.. -- .. -. --. .-.-.- / -. --- .. ... . .-.-.-"

"UNDERSTANDING. NO HARM. OVERWHELMING. NOISE."

---

Artificial Construct, Starbreath
EDF Atlas Mainframe

It wasn't possible for him to smile, but nonetheless, the sensation was the same. Watching the events unfold in the Med Bay, Starbreath was glad his other half was not damaged. Assimilation would have proved impossible in that event. With that brief moment of enjoyment out of the way, it was time for Starbreath to leave his other half to face his own tribulations. He now had his own. Off in the distance, the exchange had been made, and back towards his new home raced "It", unseen to all but himself. Not sure as to whether or not he should be capable of feeling self-preservation, and not particularly caring, Starbreath began preparing his safeguards for when catastrophe struck.

Pierce sniffed the air as Joker mentioned the scent. "Yeah, I smell it." He said covering his nose. Instinct told him any strange smell was a threat until identified. "Keep your nose covered." He said as he began to feel light headed. "This stuff is making me feel light headed." He said. "Men, breathing equipment!" He said pulling out a mask. He had ordered his team to be prepared for any situation. Goose ran over, his mask already on and handed a spare to Joker.

Pierce fixed his mask on and looked at the lieutenant. He wondered how he was getting through the feeling of being attacked outside of the cockpit. Lieutenant or not he must have had this sensation in the cockpit.

A voice on the radio suddenly emerged. Chief! We made contact with the Atlas and have reported. We have new orders. Mobile is to head to the surface for immediate extraction.

Pierce ran that through once more before turning to the lieutenant. "Sir, we have new orders. We need to head to the surface for extraction." Part of him hated the new orders. He wanted, no needed to find out what was going on with this base. "Men, get the wounded looked after so we can escort him to the Atlas!" He ordered.

"Yes chief!" they responded as the scientist was being given medical attention.

He turned to the lieutenant. "I don't feel its smart to leave lieutenant. This place needs to be scouted."

Lieutenant Commander Delilah Medina M.D.
EDF Atlas MedBay

Delilah stood still, her mind absent of thought while she waited for further developments. In the time it had taken her to prepare the anesthetic Everett Sharpe appeared to have constructed a make shift Morse Code emitter. The screen of a small tablet in his hands was flashing intermittently with his message as she stood ready. The injection was ready in her hand, tucked behind her back, while she tried to keep herself awake. Her body was becoming sluggish, she could feel it, and a hazy feeling was overtaking her. It was more comfortable to not be thinking than focus on anything specific.

The creature seemed dazed at first, looking at the tablet as if it were some inane object adding to the bane of its existence. It growled and shrank further into the corner where it had holed itself up, a shelf shifting ominously overhead. Delilah blinked twice as it righted itself. Like a cat returning to normal after raising its haunches, immediately the threat seemed to be removed. It’s monstrous right arm, and the equivalent of a palm and hand, extended. She watched as the marine next to her shifted uncomfortably, a nervous trigger finger trying to reclaim its position on his lowered weapon. Delilah lifted a hand to the young man’s shoulder to try and calm him. No need to blow it and have the situation escalate further.

His multi-jointed fingers began to move and strike against each other, their clanking audible and deliberate. It took a moment for the tablet to register but Delilah, trained in such matters, decoded it as he went.

"UNDERSTANDING. NO HARM. OVERWHELMING. NOISE."

Noise? She paused, sliding the injection into the pocket of her scrub pants, turning to look over her shoulder and count the people in the room. There were definitely too many of them. Turning her head slightly, she leaned into Kaito Narita’s ear.

“Sir, I do believe it would be best to remove as many personnel from the room as possible. It appears disoriented from the volume of people in the room,” she whispered, hoping that she could get something through the colonel's thick head.