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Lullaby over Pax

Alliance territories


a part of Lullaby over Pax, by phosphene.


phosphene holds sovereignty over Alliance territories, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

112 readers have been here.


The goal is for the crew to stay together, so this setting is where we'll be on our adventures.
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Alliance territories is a part of Lullaby over Pax.

7 Characters Here

'Wrench' Sari [3] I can only trust my tools, all those other peeps and beeps are probably out for themselves.
Nikos "Greenhorn" Morgan [3] Why are you so stressed all the time? You should relax.
Sylvan Webb [3] [WIP] I see a darkness in my fate - I'll drive my car without the brakes
Danielle Kroh [2] She would've been your daddy. WIP
Ruben Hunter [2] Grief does not change you. It reveals you.
Miles Caal [2] you get what anybody gets - you get a lifetime.
Xero [0] I've been ghosting, I've been ghosting alone Ghost in the world, ghost with no home.

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sylvan Webb Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Danielle Kroh Character Portrait: Nikos "Greenhorn" Morgan Character Portrait: Ruben Hunter Character Portrait: 'Wrench' Sari
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vibes | #505a5b

2342-12-31, Pax’s exosphere

The Lullaby was floating along in the upper regions of the atmosphere, where it almost always was. In years past, there were other ships nearby, or on standby, but decades of nothing happening makes people get complacent. So the crew sat, going through basic daily duties that, by this point, likely felt like nothing more than busy-work. It was like they were chipping through an ice block, but every piece they chipped off was frozen right back onto the thing. It never ended, never became a satisfying job. They just floated right beneath open space and pretended they were doing something important. They hadn’t had any word from their superiors in a while, but that wasn’t unusual really. They never received new orders, and unless their logs contained anything troublesome the brass usually just left them alone outside of routine inspections.

So they took orders from an AI. Captain was a brilliantly programmed one, though. She was programmed to be fair (but firm), and not to watch the crew in the bathroom or their quarters. Human crewmates take their privacy very seriously, after all.

Miles Caal was one of those aforementioned human crewmates, though he didn’t mind Captain so much as some of the others did. Truthfully, he was rather fond of her, and liked tinkering into her coding whenever he got the chance. No ill intentions, promise, he just liked to see what made her tick. She was one finely programmed artificial intelligence, and he couldn’t think of much he wouldn’t do to get his hands on just a piece of that source code… Got his heart racing just thinking about it.

Of course, he was too busy looking busy and not getting in more trouble with the Alliance to actually try to do anything more than just poke in and take a look or two.

It was early afternoon, and Miles was taking inventory on their food stores, just like Captain had asked him to do.

”Hey, Captain, when was the last time we had a ration shipment?” Miles spoke aloud, kind of just out into the air. Generally speaking, she would hear you no matter where in the ship you were. Miles waited a moment for a reply, and then he heard.

”Approximately 61 Earth rotations.”

Miles frowned, that was too long. ”Do you know if there’s one scheduled soon?”

”I’m sorry, I haven’t received any word about ration shipments. I will make an inquiry.”

”Thanks, Captain.” His voice was warm and familiar, as if he was speaking to an old friend, and not an AI. He grinned at no-one and nothing in particular and added, ”I don’t know what we’d do without you.” But the moment he turned back to his notes, his face soured again. The rest of the crew probably already knew they were quickly running out of food, but he figured they needed to be told that there wasn’t any word on getting more. So he set out to find the others. It wasn’t a big ship, so it shouldn’t take too long.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nikos "Greenhorn" Morgan Character Portrait: 'Wrench' Sari
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#, as written by Lukatz

outfit | #8eaf28

Lately there was a new face around and his name is Nikos. This young man was assigned for the Lullaby roughly a week ago and besides his jobs given by Captain he was peeking around all over the Lullaby. Nikos is one of the pilots of the ship and an alliance member too. He seemed pretty busy with hustling through the Lullaby and checking every room he could. Apparently the ship wasn't very big so Nikos needed to figure out what he actually could do on this sleeping pill. The pilot was leaning back at one of the chairs on the bridge of the Lullaby and was going through several system logs.

"I honestly don't see the use in checking the systems every 8 hours , why should there be any change when we don't do anything?" Asks Nikos out loud as he holds a hand against his forehead. It was annoying for him and that big time.

Captain almost immediately responses "It's standard protocol for stationed ships"

Nikos lets out a sigh before he continues speaking "But what do we have you for? You could check this all on your own. It always takes an hour to check every single system we got on the ship."

"In fact I do, but it's protocol to double check the systems by a human so there are no errors"

"Okay! That's all, the systems are all in green parameter." say's the young pilot slightly frustrated. He argued now and then with Captain about the things that are done around the Lullaby, but Nikos was never successful.

After one or two minutes just sitting in the chair the pilot finally gets up and walks without any destination through the metallic corridors of the ship. "I finally get it why they call the ship the Lullaby" he murns to himself while walking. Nikos takes the left corridor and ends up almost walking into a mechanic kneeling on the ground at an open panel.

"Oh hey." Nikos says while he stops himself in front of the mechanic he recalls as Wrench. "Mind if I stick around a while?" He immediately asks, because Nikos was actually bored and needed to do something. And he remembers Wrench as pretty defensive about social interactions so this could be interesting enough at the moment.

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Character Portrait: Ruben Hunter
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vibes | #505a5b

Ruben had taken the job on the Lullaby for a change of pace. But he had to admit that he hadn't expected such a dramatic change. In his old life, he'd barely had a minute to eat or drink, and just enough time to breathe. And he'd liked that. He'd liked to be busy. Now... things couldn't have been different.

He looked up from his book as the patient on the couch stirred. "Hey. Not so fast, now," he said, as they began to try and sit up.
"Wha.... what happened, doc?"
"You took one look at the needle and flaked straight out. Don't worry, I used the opportunity to take your blood samples while you were out, so no more needles," Ruben said. "How are you feeling?"
"Yeah... okay. Bit groggy."
"Here." Ruben handed them a cup of water. "Drink this. It'll help."

Once the patient was recovered and had left, Ruben discovered he had yet another empty spot in his diary. So he laid back in his chair and began to flick through his novel again. He'd only brought so many books with him, and he'd read almost all of them at least twice. He'd only had so much baggage allowance, and he'd thought that surely he'd be able to get his hands on more once he was up here. However, his stockpile of medical supplies was depleting at a concerning rate, and he hadn't heard any promise of any more to come. If he couldn't get what he actually needed, then he doubted he had any hope of decent reading material. And so, he would just have to stay rereading the same seven books, over and over, until the end of time, until things changed. He wasn't going to hold his breath, though, so he was just glad that he'd brought good books.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sylvan Webb Character Portrait: Miles Caal
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S. Webb
Environmental and Life Support

Hex code #692d37

ISS 348. Environmental and Life Support Department.

It had taken Sylvan several months, when he first arrived here, to get used to the relative silence — and, if one were naive enough to describe it as such, serenity — of the “Lullaby”. Working on the very least technology-wise the Alliance could offer felt like a luxury.

But then everything else seemed luxurious compared to the desolation of the mining area and surrounding settlements he was born and raised in. It was a place where, matter how far one was from the mine, one could never really escape the sound of the drills boring into Paxian rock, the feeling of near-constant, deep, ever-present thrumming tremors underfoot that grew in intensity the nearer one drew to the mines, or the sensation of varying levels of dust filling lungs with every inhale.

Strange, how ingrained it was in the communities he grew up in to want or expect so little. How it had subconsciously leached into him.

It was sickening.

He traded it all in for hushed beeps and clicks, the ambient hum of machinery, and all the stability the artifical gravity systems could muster to keep both his feet firmly on solid ground. The air on this craft was cleaner, thanks to the numerous complex filtration systems he was in charge of in the (apparently, very rare) event “Captain” failed, but it was also thinner. Drier. Stale, if he fixated on the fact that they were all breathing the same damn air for months on end. Still, three years here was better than the two decades of active deterioration he had back home.


With the AI in charge of nigh on everything on the ship, people like him were only around to plug holes that the hyperintelligent, intuitive automaton couldn’t handle. “The human touch,” they called it. Bullshit. These days, people were less pilots and engineers and more sitting ducks, waiting on what seemed like eons for anything to go wrong and too used to its intuitiveness to know what to do when anything actually fails.

A series of hollow, rasping coughs broke through the white noise. “Fuck off,” he grumbled at no one in particular, and continued his rounds through the lower decks.

There were three blips in the system today that could have very easily been signs of an aging system, or something that “Captain” had skipped over. Sylvan tried to troubleshoot when he found them but, miraculously, they resolved almost immediately. A blip was a blip, and he needed another set of eyes and ears to figure out if this was worth any amount of concern.

“Captain,”, he called out. “Location on Caal?”
“Food storage.”

He put on his breathing apparatus, took as deep a breath as he could before briskly walking through the hallways to where the storage was.

Miles was in the middle of taking stock of the food supply. If supply was what you could call a dwindling ration.

Sylvan cleared his throat. “Caal. A word,” he started. “Picked up something strange on my rounds today. Three blips.”

He produced a folding tablet from his tool belt and opened it up to a set of diagnostics. He quickly highlighted three spots on the map.

“"Captain" detected leakages in Tunnels 31-A, 32-B and 16-F, but before I could get to any of them, the issues disappeared.” He pursed his lips. “System's sensitive at times but... I don't know. Something's up.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sylvan Webb Character Portrait: Nikos "Greenhorn" Morgan Character Portrait: 'Wrench' Sari
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| vibes | #5C4033 |outfit |

Working, and living, on the Lullaby wouldn’t be Wrench’s first choice, but when given the choice of working upon an Alliance ship actually doing what she liked, or being shipped off to some prison that rotates around a planet, the choice was easy. But when first learned about the ship captain being an AI, she had more than a few words to say, and was even still skeptical about any diagnostics from it.

While Sylvan took care of the environmental and life support systems, Wrench kept her eyes and hands on just about everything else, really only going to him when their problems would overlap or she needed ‘clearance’ to do some work that involved something in his area. But today, she was just trying to trace a temperature increase in one of the bays, which involved pulling up some floor panels. The Captain tried to reassure Wrench that while it was off, it wouldn’t cause any issues for at least some length of light years. Wrench didn’t like that answer and wanted to work on it now, plus there wasn’t anything better to do.

Wrench had only her legs showing from the panel, though her upper half could be seen through the rows of wiring and pipes. “Ugh. ‘Miss Sari, the temperature differential is not significant enough to warrant troubleshooting and repair.’ Blah blah. AI doesn’t know what it’s talking about.” Wrench mumbled out loud, not caring that the Captain could very well hear her, as well as any passerbys. “Well you know those bots only know what they are given.” Wrench said in a deeper voice, “You know, you’re right Dirtlee” Wrench spoke back, having a conversation with the wrench that hung on her tool belt by holorope. Dirtlee was what she called her wrench, and it wasn’t abnormal for her to talk to her tools while working, or even when just by herself. Some people call her crazy for this, but she was good at her job and it doesn’t harm anyone, so most people ignore her and her ramblings. Though some people do whisper calling her crazy and other such names.

As she was finally tracing down the problem, a voice came from above Wrench, startling her and making her hit her head. “Ow, fuck!” She said as peaked over shoulder and saw the pilot, Greenhorn. His name was Nick, or Nickie, or something, but Wrench mostly called him Greenhorn or Green. The two of them only interacted a few times before Wrench had an impression of him, and the two argued about “my ship” and such, before the Captain would interrupt. Greenhorn quickly asked if he could stay by. “Eh, sure. Don’t think Dirtlee would mind.” Wrench replied before getting to work.

Greenhorn then asked what she was doing, which caused a small smirk to come over her face, curious if he would understand. “Well, we’ve been having temperatures fluctuating. Captain says it’s fine, blah blah. But Dirtlee helped me trace it from the APU and have found that the secondary air coming off of Engines 2 and 3 aren’t flowing to full capacity, tripping a MFL 15. MFL 15 is Anti-Icing issues. Which isn’t too bad since the Anti-Ice system fails in open mode and still functions. I found a couple connections used with second-rate parts, and soldered a few wires.” What Wrench said wasn’t too complicated, but a normal joe would have trouble understanding it.

“Anyways, if you’re gonna be here, make yourself useful. I need the nine millimeter angle head open end wrench so I can close this connection. Not sure why they used a nine millimeter b-nut on this nipple, when a six millimeter one would save them space and money. But I’m just a dirty mechanic, isn’t that right Dirt.” Wrench asked Greenhorn for a tool, as she spoke to herself, continuing to mumble a bit as she held her hand out between some pipes for the tool. But when he placed it in her hand, she immediately knew it was the wrong tool. “Ugh. Green. Open end, not box end. You see the one that has the opening and like three quarters of a square. That one. Not this one that's closed off, that looks like a box.” She complained, as Nikos quickly got her the right one.

Wrench didn’t take long to finish up and crawl out from the panels, wiping her hand across her forehead, smearing a bit of grease. “It’s fine. I don’t expect a fancy ole pilot to know how us grease monkeys work, you know, the people who actually get their hands dirty on this ship.” Wrench said, organizing her tools before one of the automated robots on the ship came by and took it back to the mechanic bay. “Hey! Careful with that, you bucket of bolts! Ugh.” Wrench yelled after the bot, then turning back to Greenhorn. “So, why you down here, don’t you have a ship to fly, or someone else to bother?”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Danielle Kroh
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Mechanical whirs from the engines softly ringing through the corridors, the occasional flashing beeps and ticks from panels lining the walls breaking up the lowly drones of what seemed to be the background music for most of the occupants on board the Lullaby. Even though the crew compliment of the cruiser recorded to around thirty five, today was one of the few times where there was a ship-wide call on shore leave, leaving the Lullaby empty with only a skeleton crew of a third that size, spread far and between.

As such, it seemed peaceful and quiet... mostly.

The nonchalant atmosphere was immediately shattered by the explosive and intense noise of... something. Queue the disturbance, "classical" music
with its loud riffs blasting noisily throughout one of the hallways. All closer inspections of this intrusive music revealed that it was coming from the Operations Deck. With its... loudness, this noise pollution had become a bold and blazing contrast to an otherwise empty and quiet space vessel.

Danielle had poured herself yet another cup of coffee as she slid along the musical background noise back to one of the many monitoring panels she had trained her eyes on, watching for any abnormalities to the ship readings. While she wasn't quite suffering from a lack of sleep despite the long hours on watch duty, the coffee and music were really just a coping mechanism to drown out the deafening quietness with the majority of the crew absent. With a light security compliment within the crew, only six out of the total crew made up the security team, only Danielle and two others stayed onboard while the other three traveled ashore with the rest of the crew. A skeleton security crew of three, what could go wrong?

"Patrol to Zero-Two, sweep's clean, returning to Ops," a voice crackled over the intercom system, automatically lowering the musical noise playing in the background as one of the other security officers called in. "Zero-Two acknowledges sweep is clean, aye. Return to Ops," she answered back while she started the logs for the other two to finish filling out when they returned. She resumed scanning the monitoring boards while she waited on the returning patrol, tossing her feet up as she leaned back into her seat.

She had received her new orders earlier in the day that within a week, she were to be transferred back to Terra Prime to report to the High Council in person for a certain event in the past. She had served on this floating jailcell for over half a decade as punishment, and she was about to leave it behind.