Atan Vuloris tapped away at the data-pad secured to his wrist. Normally he didn't wear equipment, but this piece was an exception. Organizing the logistics of an operation was a time consuming affair; before the invention of computers, it had taken days if not weeks of planning to organize even small excursions. With the advent of computing machines, organization became much easier, but the scale on which objects had to be organized increased exponentially. An endless spiral of struggling to meet ever growing needs of logistic capacity. It's a good thing I'm the logistics officer for this ship, he thought. He had been up here for days, checking and rechecking that all necessary supplies had been requisitioned for the journey. Frustrations occurred, as did pleasing surprises. Such was the life of the officer.

Looking up, he watched carefully as the crewmen directed a box into the cargo hold of the U.S.S. Warhammer. Very carefully. It just wouldn't do for them to drop the torpedoes and have the things go off before the ship was even out of the bay. As the crate settled, tension left his body and he continued on to the next task, of which he had an endless series. Catching sight of an idling deck-hand, he yelled, "You there, come over here! I need you to deliver this to the quartermaster of the station. Tell him we need a few more rations. Someone forgot to load everything onto the crates. Hop to it!" Saluting, the boy- compared to Atan he was- ran off to complete the order. Despite his attentions, the loading was still not complete.

Glancing down at the data-pad again, he ran through the supplies once again. Everything was accounted for except the final stock of rations, which he had just ordered, and the weapons and armor, which was the personal matter of the crew-members. Though spares for every individual had been placed in the armory, along with the means to repair said equipment.

Striding onto the ship, he made his way through the gleaming halls until. Passing the medical bay, Atan glanced in to make sure everything was secure. As chief medical officer, an added burden on top of his logistical duties, he was in charge of supervising the overall functions of the medical bay. And it seemed everything was in order. Smiling, he continued onwards, adroitly avoiding the occasional scurrying person, running off to complete some order or another. Stepping onto the bridge, he spotted Rayne and saluted. "Greetings, Captain Rayne. I'm your new logistics and medical officer, Atan Vuloris. It is a pleasure to meet you."

SX903 MATNAV, or simply Mat as he liked to be called, was growing slightly more irritable with each hour they remained docked at moon base. How was he supposed to expand his database while the Warhammer was stuck here? He already knew just about everything worth knowing regarding Earth and her Moon, although humans were certainly a fascinating species. So much potential, and yet so weak. Yet as far as carbon-based life forms went, hell even including some silicon ones, humans were in the running to be his favourite organics, though he'd hardly admit as much. After all Mat did prefer taking the form of a humanoid male with his holographic projection form, and the mathematically verified attractiveness of certain human females did take up far more processing power of his than it should have. His theory on such traits were that they were derived from his maker, scientist Yuri Krishna. Unfortunately he had never had a chance to verify such, for his maker had long been marked missing in action.

Alerted instantly to Captain Rayne's presence in the airlock, Mat grinned and didn't respond verbally initially, but the low and powerful grumble of the engines firing up was unmistakable. He had heard the order, loud and clear. The takeoff warning alarm sounded outside on the docks as the engines fired up, warning any not already on the ship that needed to be to move it or lose it. Once Captain Rayne had reached the bridge and was seated in his chair, Mat's holographic form flickered to life from the centre console. Obviously he had been there the whole time, but he enjoyed making an entrance. He was everywhere the ship was after all, he was a part of the Warhammer and the Warhammer was a part of him. "Welcome back, Captain. New directive not to your liking, I take it? Personally I don't care...anything to get off this rock." As if on cue the engines gave another powerful rumble as their core temperatures had reached the ideal level for maximum power and efficiency in flight. They would continue to idle until Mat detached the ship from its docking station. At the new directive, Mat simply nodded, the purple glow emitted from his body flashing brighter for a second. He was already on it, and running system checks on all flight and life support systems. It was all green an hour ago and all lights were green when he checked again, but there was simply no such thing as a system check too many.

His voice rang through the docking bay and the ship, mechanical though not completely devoid of deep human tones. "All hands, prepare for takeoff." Additionally he would contact all of the new crew members as requested by the Captain by their personal communicators, projecting his image out of it if their particular model allowed for it. "You have been requested by Captain Rayne to report to the bridge. You have ten minutes and counting." The first to arrive was the new logistics officer and Mat looked over him with a mild interest, muttering quietly under his breath to no one in particular. "Atan Vuloris, eh? I've read your file big fella. I approve of the choice." Then again, he had read everyone's files. Though certain crew members did have their fair share of red flags, none were without merit, not aboard the U.S.S. Warhammer, the finest ship in the fleet.

[Fifteen Minutes Before the Activation of the Warhammer's Engines]

The T.S.V. Rohona entered into Earth's space, gleaming as the massive trading vessel maneuvered to prepare for entering orbit around the planet. The Rohona carried enough resources to last Earth a who day, but even that was not the grand total of what the tylo trading carrier held. On board was the new rotation of ambassadors, and their personal guard, the ships of all on board the Rohona, goods and technologies for trading, and a single Federation Ensign, who hurriedly scrambled to mount a small, external cargo bay to the top of his ship that held all his personal belongings.

The moment that he finished tightening the last bolt, Sol leapt into the open cockpit of his ship. The holographic dashboard that controlled his ship flickered to life as he flipped one of the many switches off to his left. Going through his well practiced routine of checks and commands, the Wrenn disconnected from its mount, floating 10 feet off of the metal floor. The small ship slowly turned to give the excited pilot his first sight of the Warhammer, distant and docked at the moon. This was the first time he had ever been to human space, but he had practiced the human's standard language several times over, just in case they didn't speak Federation Standard.

Pulling back on the stick to his left, just above the switches, Sol increased the thrust of his engines. As they overly large engines began to fire, the Wrenn shot out of the Rohona with only a single goodbye of the radio. With a few taps on the holographic display, Sol connected to the Warhammer's tower.

[Present Time]

Not having been on the Warhammer for more than a few minutes, Sol's helmet's HUD showed a visualization of the incoming words as they played over the helmet's internal speakers. "You have been requested by Captain Rayne to report to the bridge. You have ten minutes and counting."

Startled at first by the message, Sol regained focus with a shake of his head. Removing the external cargo bay from the Wrenn could wait, he only had ten minutes to get from the hanger to the bridge. Leaping from his small ship, Sol did a quick check to ensure that all the mounts to the Warhammer were good. After seeing that the mounts were indeed well connected, the tylo began a brisk jog down the halls, following the path that his HUD gave him.

Reaching the hallway to the bridge, Sol slowed down to a fast walk. After a few moments he entered the bridge, taking off his helmet and saluting the Captain. "Ensign Solactu Passsinon reporting, sir." By the scales did Sol hope that he got the formal human military greeting correct.

Wes had been on the Warhammer for a couple hours now, checking the weapon systems, and making sure they were to his liking. Well he would like a little bit more power to the main weapons, and some more torpedo's, but he says that about everything. Other then that it's fine. Although he is a little bit nervous about having a ship A.I with such a......lively personality. Call him crazy, but he's a little nervous about a A.I connected to so much of a ship, while he sees the benefits, he's just anticipating the point where Mat will start singing Daisy.

Once his final weapon systems check was done, he got called onto the bridge. 'Great, let's get this boat moving.' He thought as he headed towards the bridge. "Just ten minutes? Thought this Captain was a military man. A little soft if you ask me." He muttered to himself. Along the way he could feel the engines starting up. "Really we're leaving already? Don't we need some more paper work or something?" Wes said, not really addressing anybody.

Wes then reached the Turbolift. "Bridge." Wes commanded, and the lift began moving. As the lift went, Wes began rubbing his left elbow, right where his upper arm means with his cybernetic forearm. On some days he still feels his limbs, despite the fact he hasn't had them since he was around eight years old. He barely remembers them, but he still has that 'phantom pain' many amputees have. There's not much that can be done about it, not that he would if he could. It reminds him he's human.

The Turbolift stopped at the Bridge, he stepped off, and saw he wasn't the first to arrive. The first was Atan Vuloris, and the Tylo. He's seen the guy(assuming he's a guy, Wes can never tell with those insect-like species) around the ship as she was getting prepped. He hasn't had too much interaction with him. And the Tylo he hasn't seen in person. He's just read his file, his name is Solactu or something. "Sir." Wes said addressing Captain Rayne. "Commander Weston T. Carter, Spec Op, Cyber warfare, and Tactical Specialist. At your service." Wes introduced as he gave him a salute. It's more likely he knows of him by his codename Ironhide.

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

The docking shuttle made it, but only barely. It was a rough landing, an.... "error" back on the surface in the flight terminal had caused him to nearly miss his flight entirely. He could feel the pilots nervousness in the movements of the craft, and it wasn't entirely from late departure.... The cargo of this shuttle was unique. No other Federation shuttle had hauled personnel quite like this one. Even here, even now he could feel it. The pilot was keeping close eyes on the monitors, close eyes on the "cargo". Close eyes on him. Rss'Kan didn't like this level of attention, his tail quills bristling defensively. No, not now. Focus, he had to focus. This was his one chance. He saw her, before they docked, adrift in the beautiful void. Massive, much larger than any he'd seen prior. A Hecaton-class dreadnought, the U.S.S. Warhammer. Ancestors, she was gorgeous. Seeing her chained by the docking clamps felt almost insulting. Could his people ever construct such wonders? Would he ever live to see it? ....Would his people still be there when he came home? Would.... would she....

The shuttle's thud rocked him out of his thoughts, a distraction of great relief. Yes, enough of old worries, and let the birth of new ones commence. The light poured in through the crack as the shuttle's cargo door hissed open. Still cloaked in the darkness within, he stirred. The docking bay seemed frantic in the typical military fashion. "Organised chaos" was a term his instructors used often. Still, no more hiding, Rss'Kan must press on. A hand, large, alien, and glossy, reached out from the shadows of the shuttle's cargo bay. His two knuckles press hesitantly against the steel flooring, settling his weight on them as the rest of his body lurched out. A horrible sense of exposure washed over him, filling him with the immediate awareness of his vulnerability in leaving the safe confines of the shuttle. This must be how other, smaller insects feel, safe and secure in their dark homes till the rock is lifted, left blinded by the sun and at the mercy of the giants who peer down at them. His bulk lumbered slowly down the loading ramp, only to feel it be retracted the very moment he was officially on the starship. The shuttle took off with haste, abandoning Rss'kan to face his new home, and crew.

"You have been requested by Captain Rayne to report to the bridge. You have ten minutes and counting."

The order was clear, much to his chagrin. To navigate a ship he'd never been on was one thing, but to do so with urgency? A large knot began to form in his gut, like he'd just swallowed a small crustacean whole. Perhaps a T'nkni or a Bassgn.... He gripped the strap of his luggage pack tighter, as if straining it for reassurance. No one had seemed to notice him yet, and with the ancestor's gifts, he prayed for it to continue that way. Perhaps if he just moved along at a fair pace, he would not draw their attention, or it's possible that these.... "humans" had seen other, far stranger sights and would not care for his presence in the least. At least, these were his hopes. But of course Rss'Kan was sadly proven to be wrong, as a younger dock hand walked straight into his side without notice, with both parties jumping a bit in surprise. The soft-skin let out a startled gasp, which immediately grabbed the attention of what felt to be Every Single Living Thing in the entire docking bay. Rss'kan's great fears were slowly coming to fruition, his head whipping around to take in the unsure and even alarmed crowd that was gathering around him. His tail curled defensively, his gills snapped close, his mandibles chattered in concern.

Something was smiling on him at least, as a stray thought barged into his head like a brick. Words, communication, speaking, try them. A slow breath hissed through his gills as he straightened up. "Enssign Rss'Kan 's Nssk'Aani, third-classs engineeer." his hissed as dutiful and calm as he could manage. Heads began to turn to one another, still unsure how to take Rss'kan's being here. "I am to rreportt to the Ss-..." he started, catching himself from using a term this crowd likely would not understand. "The Co-man-der's Bridge. I am to go there, yess?" Even with the aid of his translator, that word had been his bane. There was no word such as that in Naxik, his native tongue, requiring him to actually try and speak in a wretched, bastardized version of their language. It was probably as unpleasant to hear as it was for him to say. the talking continued until one of the crewmen commed the Bridge. Rss'kan has had very little social experience with these "humans", but even he knew it was rarely good when a conversation started with "Command, I, uhhh.... I think there's an issue in docking bay 3 that needs attention."

Of course he would get the message about a situation in cargo bay 3 . That was purely because of his job as ships security officer that he got all messages about situations on the ship, never mind he was still ship, never mind he still hadn't finished hid first meal in 6 hours. But alas, duty called, so Reese got up and began to walk towards the exit, only to stop, turn around, and get his mug of coffee, then head for the exit. He spoke in to his NAVwatch as he went, "Roger that bay 3, chief mast-" he stopped himself. He was a lieutenant, he would have to get used to that. "Bay 3, lieutenant Coal, im coming down to check it out"




When he actually got to bay 3, he immediately saw what the problem was, correction, who the problem was. His HUD lenses built in to his eyes told him who the....honestly, the name of his species escaped Ressees mind. As he walked closer, he mentally ran through his xeno linguistics library and came to a conclusion. Either this large creature was a Novian, which was pretty impossible, as they are vary rare to see outside of their home system and are forbidden to join the federation. The other option was that this creature was a Torronaxian, which would make a lot more sense. Resse ended up throwing a shot in the darck and spoke to the creature in what he hoped was this creatures native tong Naxik.


"Can I help you my friend?" was what he ended up saying, naxik was not an easy language to speak, at least for humans, and that was just because it was hard for humans to pronounce the hisses and clicks needed to converse in naxik. However, a large amount of training and practice ended up aiding him, and at worst, his naxik was only slightly mispronounced.

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

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

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

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

”Number?”

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

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

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

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

---

Kerstin Wilde

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

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

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

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

'Of course Ironhide has followed me here. My cybernetics aren't even made of Iron!' He thought to himself as he went back to the Turbolift. "Deck 8." Wes commanded. "Cousin? Right! There was that one Tsuriac! Huh, what are the chances?" Wes said to himself. He hasn't really kept in touch with the other survivors of the crash, well other then Admiral Jones, but even then the admiral is the first to make any kind of contact with him. Wes just doesn't see the point in bringing up such a rough experience.

The Turbolift stopped at deck 8, the deck where his quarters are located. He went down the hallway until he came to his cabin, it's about 4 doors down from the Turbolift. Wes pressed a button on the control panel next to his door to make it open. Inside his cabin was fairly simple. It didn't have a ton of personal stuff, just all of the medals he has gotten over the years on the wall above his bed. He did however have several rifles, pistols, and knives all laying out on a table along with his armor, and a datapad.

Wes took the datapad in his hand, and plopped down on a chair. He leaned back, and started reading the pad. The datapad had the dossiers of many of the crew, giving him a service record, among other things. He was particularly interested in learning more about Dr. Kerstin Wilde, he heard the Captain say something about her having a reputation of some kind. "A Cyborg?" Wes muttered as he read her file. Some of her cybernetics were elective in nature, something that troubled Wes. Thanks to his childhood, he's a little weary of other Cyborgs, especially the kind that make modifications that are unneeded.

He tried to move onto another file, but he was just bothered by her. He needed to know if he can put his life in her hands, or is she a zealot like his family. He tossed the datapad on the table, and left his room. This was going to eat at him unless he found out himself. "Take me to the Med Bay." Wes commanded as he entered the lift.

He exited the lift, and made his way into the Med Bay. He walked in on the doctor tinkering with her cybernetic hand. Looked painful. Good thing he has very little feeling in his cybernetics, it barely hurts when he has to make such repairs. Down side is that he can't really feel anything, the touch of skin, a cool breeze, nothing. Very annoying. Wes' right eye turned grey as he looked her up and down. He could see her skeletal structure, and her cybernetics. Her cybernetics weren't nearly as extensive as his. Not only does he have his limbs replaced, but he also has several organs replace; his heart, liver, and kidneys are completely cybernetic, and he has a implant on his lungs that allows him much more resistance to areas with low oxygen, and poisonous gases. Not to mention his brain implants.

"Oh, my apologies ma'am. I'm interrupting." Wes said, not sure if she noticed him. His right eye returned to it's normal color. "I'm Commander Carter......or Ironhide." Wes sighed at the mention of his nickname. He feels it's just ridiculous, but what can you do? These things have a life of it's own. "I was just getting a look around the ship to make sure everything was ok. I'll come back later."

"Anything specific you would like added to the inventory before we leave?" Rayne heard from behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Atan standing behind him. Rayne thought for a moment before saying, "No, no. I have all my equipment, and I can't think of anything else we may-" he was stopped short from the notification about docking bay 3 in his earpiece. "Mat, get me a visual on Bay 3, onscreen," Rayne instructed. He then turned back towards the Commander, "Sorry, but no thank you. We should be fine, it's a routine scouting mission," Rayne said, hoping that was all it was. He then turned back towards the main screen.

Nodding as the Captain responded nothing was needed- if there was something, he would have been genuinely surprised- his interest was perked when Rayne commanded the AI Mat to place a visual of Bay 3 on-screen. Glancing up at it, he saw several soldiers milling around, apprehensive about what was going to happen, and with good reason. In the middle of it all was a Torronaxian, massive body impossible to miss in the middle of the gleaming bay, especially around the much smaller humans. So that is the problem, he thought to himself. Assuming Rayne did not want to be disturbed any longer, Atan walked out surreptitiously, cautious to not hit anything.

Entering the nearby Turbolift, he punched in the number that would lead over to his room. Speeding quickly through the decks, he began planning how the device could be used when in a boarding action or if it was necessary to get equipment somewhere. Having a lift that could provide access to anywhere on the ship was both a convenience and a liability. The only way to make sure it didn't help the enemy during a boarding action would be to destroy it. While painstaking to repair, many would consider it a small price for having their lives saved.

Stepping off the shuttle, he proceeded to his room, a few doors down from where he had disembarked. Not much lay in there other than the standard furniture, albeit a bit better than what would be found in other rooms due to his rank. Not that Atan cared much about comfort. What he sought was his spear. 8 feet tall, the tip itself was 2 feet with a guard extending down to cover the hands. Made out of a silvery metal similar in texture to the carapaces of a Kara'kan, the spear represented all that his family had done throughout its existence. A testament to the glory and achievements of his ancestors. The very fact that he carried it rather than leaving it on display at his family's manor indicated the faith placed in him.

Picking up the weapon, he walked out of the room with the spear gripped in his hands. Using it as a walking staff, he once again entered the Turbolift before heading down to Bay 3. Hopefully there would be no need for him to interfere, but maybe he could calm the situation. Though he might simply panic the humans more. Stepping out behind everything, he waited a moment before slamming the butt of the spear into the ground, stating, "Calm will be held on this ship. If you will become apprehensive about the presence of a crew member, then you should not be on this ship."

Addressing Rss'Kan and Coal, he asked, "I apologize for the reception you have received on this ship. My name is Commander Atan Vuloris. Welcome to the U.S.S Warhammer." Nodding to Coal, he uttered, "I give the situation back to you, Lieutenant."

Kerstin Wilde

Kerstin heard the door open but didn’t bother turning figuring it was just another doctor or something of that nature. It wasn’t until he started talking before she recognized the voice from just a little while ago. Carter?"Commander Carter." Waving away his thoughts of interruption and swiveled around to face him. “You’re not interrupting.” Clicking her hand panel shut. “Workplace hazards.” She joked flicking her hand up.

“Doctor Kerstin Wilde,” She stood up and nodded. “I figured i’d get acquainted with all this stuff before I would have to actually use any of it.” She added, walking over to the garbage and threw the stick that she had been chewing on away. ”So did you need something?”

[The Bridge]

Mat watched idly as the Captain met with the new crew members. A skilled bunch to be sure, but whether they meshed together or not remained to be seen. Biologicals were remarkably more efficient when working cooperatively together as a team, the whole being much greater than the sum of the parts. He had the statistics to prove it. Mat's new orders were simple but long awaited, finally they were leaving! Command had given the green light to Captain Rayne to begin the mission, so he then quickly radioed the dock master, and his audio receptors immediately filled with angry chatter. Apparently a pilot flying to the Warhammer had broken several regulations and 'flow like a god damn maniac' as well as 'nearly killing a dozen people'. Grinning to himself, he responded to the dock master. "I'll be sure to let Captain Rayne know about the incident. Now I would like to request clearance for the U.S.S. Warhammer to depart." The response he got was a still agitated dock master swearing that if he could he would keep them docked another full rotation, but Mat knew he was powerless when the Admiral had already granted them clearance.

"Even if there was something else, it'd have to be left behind anyway I'm afraid commander, anything not on board at this point is staying behind. Can't fall behind schedule." Said Mat quickly, turning to the Captain and the Commander. Reluctantly the dock master cleared the Warhammer for departure, and ecstatically Mat detached the primary and secondary docking port from the station, a hiss of escaping air accompanying their disconnection from the station. There were more docking ports but they did not configure with the station properly, and thus were never opened. The hangars were also sealed accordingly...they were ready to fly. "We've got the green light Cap, coordinates are set and I'll prepare us for warp speed once we've reached minimum safe distance." While it was possible to jump from where they were, hell they could even jump in atmosphere if they wanted, that would require use of the deflector array and even so was incredibly dangerous. Such jumps were to be taken under extreme duress, as they had the potential to tear the ship apart and/or ignite the atmosphere of the planet. Definitely not a thing to try on a heavily populated planet such a Earth. Protocol dictated that in or near atmosphere warp jumps were only to be taken on planets devoid of sentient life, and even then you'd better have a damn good reason.

[The Medical Bay]

Being so intricately connected with the ship had its advantages, and Mat had been aching to get a proper bioscan on both Wilde and Carter. He had given them all a rudimentary one when they had entered the ship, but the one in the medical bay could provide him with a much more detailed look. As they both engaged each other in conversation Mat projected himself from the corner console, his holographic form brighter than usual. "Hello you two. Mandatory bioscan, stand right where you are and...done." He said with a tinge of excitement in his voice as a green light from the sensor swept over both of them. His rudimentary scan had revealed cybernetics in both of them, but this one showed him the true extent of them and how they were connected to the living issue. How intriguing it was, Mat mused, the ways organics found to repair themselves and compensate for their rather mediocre immune and regenerative systems. Now he just needed the other crew members to do the same, but he was sure they would all see the medical bay sooner or later. It was that kind of job. With a chuckle Mat's holographic form dissipated from the console, taking with it his purple glow.

[The Bridge]

Minimum safe distance was reached in all of three minutes and twenty six seconds. Mat thought the whole thing a little overdone though, for they could have easily gone to warp speed as soon as the docking parts were detached from the station. Better safe than sorry, he supposed. "Warp drive firing up..." The plasma from the warp core, made by the reaction of matter and antimatter, fed into the warp coils and allowed the coils to create an asymmetric subspace bubble that enveloped the U.S.S. Warhammer, allowing it to travel many times faster than the speed of light. "Warp factor 1...3...5.6..7 and holding". Warp factor seven was the ideal cruising speed for the Warhammer, where the engines would be most efficient. The ship had a maximum cruising speed of warp factor 9.2, and a maximum top speed of warp factor 9.6, though at 9.2 tremendous amounts of fuel would be burned, and at 9.6 it was damaging to the ship's heat dispersing and deflector systems to be under so much strain. "At current speed of warp factor seven we will arrive at our destination in 2 days, 1 hour, 12 minutes and 12 seconds. Warp factor 7 is ideal, Cap. Last thing we want is to be stuck at the edge of deep space without any fuel, should the mission drag on."

Carelessly Mat waved his left hand, bringing up Bay 3 on the main screen. It became immediately obvious what exactly was causing the problem. Ah, biologicals. The most trivial things seemed to rattle them sometimes. As soon as he could Mat would give the newcomer a complete bioscan. His databanks were too empty for his liking on the Torronaxian's.

As the rest of the crew had left Robert had quietly stayed behind on the bridge to observe the launching process. Fading into the background he watched as the mighty ship pulled away from the dock and felt the subtle vibrations of her power full engines running up to speed. Despite being a dedicated fighter jock, he would admit, being part of a ship this big flying gave him a bit of a thrill. As a pilot he was after all rated to fly the Warhamer, even if his practical experience was lacking. In addition to their specific pilot training all cadets had trained on the main interface for the larger warships.

Now that the process was complete Robert thought he'd head down to the marine barracks. One could usually scare up a good card game, either that or be guaranteed some drinking buddies. They had 2 days and change till destination and he couldn't get any live training in on the Warhammers fighters in warp so he might as well just relax for a bit. He briefly entertained the idea of hitting the holodeck to try out propeller aircraft dogfights from bygone ages, something his training officer had recommended. There would be time for that later though. For now he started to exit the bridge, trying to attract as little attention as possible.

---

There was a good deal of dread when the soldier started to approach. Rss'Kan recognized his uniform for one of Earth's armed forces, quickly wondering if he'd made some grievous error or offended someone. The warrior side of him wanted to move into a defensive stance, but that would no doubt send the wrong message here. And then it happened. Oh Ancestors, if there's one thing Rss'Kan wished to never hear again, it was a human speaking Naxik. Was that what he sounded like in his attempt at their language? The human didn't even do too bad of a job pronouncing the words, but unfortunately the linguistic aspects of Naxik make up only a third of the actual language, and a rather subtle part at that. Without the other vocalizations, what this soldier had done was shout out a statement, completely devoid of emotion, intent, and context. So while it sounded like something well intended, at least based on his knowledge of how human tongues worked, what ended up coming through was along the lines of "buckets aid your friends".... Though he couldn't really be blamed. Hell, Rss'Kan often struggled to speak his own damn language in a manner the translator bands could actually pick up. There was just too much differing vocabulary.

As unsure with how to proceed as he was, that grew exponentially more so when the insectoid came over with a spear. Spears were most definitely a universal weapon, fundamentally logical and practical in it's use, so immediately Rss'Kan was on edge about the weapon-wielding alien. However, he was surprised. The insectoid quickly restored order among the dock hands, and introduced himself as Commander Atan Vuloris. He also revealed something that had plainly escaped Rss'Kan's notice. He'd completely missed the bars & blades on the soldiers uniform. This human was a Lieutenant, which was unfortunately another word not found in Naxik. Still, he found himself being addressed by superior officers, and slowly rose to his full standing height to salute these two properly. "Enssign Rss'Kan 's Nssk'Aani of Tarr'n, classs three engineeer, heavy repairs. Reporting for duty, Ssoh." Damn it. The word had escaped his mouth before he caught it. Ssoh was the only word in his tongue used to address someone of importance, a superior or leader. Much like a human would say "Sir" if used in the right context. However, it was a tribal-based dialect, barely known even in his translator's dictionary, and in actuality often translated poorly into something like "head". Hopefully it sounded respectful enough to not offend....

His form lowered as he reached for his data slate, which contained the requisition forms that brought him here and confirmed his status as foreign representative, along with his file from Fleet Academy. "I apologize for the dissrruption I have caused. I am still to rreport to the Bridge, yess?" he asked, presenting the data slate for their inspection. Rss'Kan was completely unaware that the vessel had already begun it's warp launch, it's flight being far smoother than any other ship he'd trained on. Not a shake, nor quiver. If it wasn't for the docking bay being closed off, he'd have expected to turn about and still see Earth's moon.

Reaching his room, Sol maneuvered the cart carefully through the narrow doorway. Within seconds of the door closing, Sol began to tear into all his belongings. He quickly sorted through the mass of replacement plates for his armor, rechargeable A-cells for his omni-tool, the expandable tablet that was currently unlinked, the tablet for his ship, and monoknife, which he normally used to open anything that couldn't be opened without a thin blade. Looking at the tools he pulled from the external cargo bay, Sol ran his hands across each, as if religiously checking each of their conditions.

After achieving a level of satisfaction that his tools were up to his expectations, Sol began to give them another look over. Grabbing his monoknife first, he fastened the knife and sheath on his belt. With a look at his omni-tool, the device found itself hanging opposite the blade, with the unlinked tablet, still in its shrunken form, next to it. With a swift movement, Sol grabbed three more of the A-cells and threw them into his pockets.

Turning around, now ready to begin his tasks, Sol started to plan what he would do. Before he could get very far, his stomach let forth a great howl. Food first. Thought Sol while he was pressing the button to open the door. With a quick gate, he made his way to the mess hall, intent on getting something to satisfy his empty stomach.

Reese could tell he had screwed up his words somewhere along the line, that was purely given by what the torrnax said in return, "Enssign Rss'Kan 's Nssk'Aani of Tarr'n, classs three engineeer, heavy repairs. Reporting for duty, Ssoh." Reese returned the nod to the commander and said, in English "I apologize if I mispronounced anything there, haven't had to speak naxik in years. Any who, I do believe your quarters are on deck 8, and yes you should report to the captain."

"Yeah, I know all about those hazards. I've had a few of those. My sweat can sometimes get into my implants, mostly the area where my limbs are connected to my nerves. It can slow me down a little bit. I have to do a clean out every month." Wes stated. "I was just passing through, giving the ship one last once over. Plus I'm sure I'll be here a few times on our missions. The life of a solider. I hope everything's to your satisfaction." Wes said with a smile.

They were then interrupted by Mat, who seemed to be a bit more excited. That's a little unnerving to Wes. "Bioscan? What?" Wes asked, and then was scanned out of nowhere by Mat. Wes grunted in slight discomfort, and rubbed his forehead. "Damn bioscans. Those in-depth ones always make my cranial implants tingle. So annoying." Wes growled. "What happened to the good old days when the computers weren't do or say anything without a command?" Wes groaned. "I thought we had bioscans when we first got on the ship? Did you know about these Doctor?" Wes said as he turned towards the doctor.