Orbit

Tue Jun 02, 2009 6:12 pm by Kellemann

"I am Miro Kellemann."

*They were the first words he had spoken in twelve days, mainly because he had encountered no one else in that time. And for the first living soul he encountered on returning to known space, to be one such as this! There was power in the man, Miro could see--a shining beacon of energy that was reminiscent of some of the old masters he had known growing up, like his grandfather in full Reka Cili meditation, a level of power he had yet to achieve for himself.

Miro bowed stiffly in respect and thanks--one such as this hardly needed to offer his offer his hospitality, and Miro knew that he stood here by Blackhawk's sole consent. Then he sat on the bench, grateful for the chance to sit and not be constrained by the limits of his cockpit, to stand and be at ease.*

"It has been long.

Wed Jun 03, 2009 4:14 pm by Blackhawk The Deceiver

*Blackhawk was impressed that he commanded this kind of respect, but never really liked such admiration...he'd certainly done nothing to deserve it. He waived his left hand as Miro bowed*

"Please, I'm just an old man, not a king"

*Maybe that was a little rude he felt, so he cordially smiled afterwards, his teeth were still in rather good health, luckily. He floated his chair over next to the man, speaking calmly...or as calm as one could sound when your voice sounds like an aging Christian Bale...*

"So, what's your story Miro? Not often does hawk space get a worthy visitor...mostly refugees and riff-raff. What brings you to this dead corner of the universe?"

Wed Jun 03, 2009 5:45 pm by Kellemann

"Mainly? The desire to see a living being again. That, and a secure place to run maintenance on my ship."

*He stared straight ahead, and one could almost see the images of past events playing in his eyes.*

"The Dark Jedi worlds are always more prone to shoot first and greet one warmly afterward, particularly so these days, and I cannot bring myself to trust the One Republic. In recent times, they are little better than the ones against which they claim to defend their subjects. I came here because I'd no news of either having a presence in this system."

*He turned to look at Blackhawk.*

"What, if I may ask, is your story? How do you come to be the only living soul to inhabit this station, and how does it still remain safe?"

Wed Jun 03, 2009 8:01 pm by Blackhawk The Deceiver

*Blackhawk breathed, recalling the years past, and all the dark memories.*

"My story is a long one, full of pain and seclusion..."

*He sighed once as he began his story, but before that he waved his force staff, projecting into Miro's head an illusion that began and played with his tale as he spoke*

"5 decades ago, I used this station and an army of droids the size of which had barely been seen before, and conquered this world from it's past rulers. They had tried teraforming the planet, creating some new metropolis. In my conquest, everyone either fled or died...my droids were programed to kill anything. A grave mistake.

As the dust cleared, nothing remained, only silence. The planet was dead. Suddenly, as if hit by a star destroyer, a feeling of guilt and anguish flooded my mind. The silence and thought of my actions drove me to deactivate all of the droids that caused this, and sever my ties to my former alter ego's. Sadly, the whole endeavor caused me great physical harm, aging me far beyond my years.

So there I stayed, mooring this station as the last beacon of this planet...to keep some shred of life with it. Here I stayed, and trained in the force as my body had become to weak to even carry a weapon. And from that fateful day I have vowed to aide anyone entering the system with peace in there hearts, and offer them a safe haven, for only then can I ever repay the atrocities I commited upon the dead planet."

*He dropped the illusionary magic, any more would be to hard on anyone's mind. He forgot that sometime's his illusions were more intense than the original event.*

"I apologize for the 'vivid' imagery. Words couldn't give it justice alone...And as for how I have kept safe? The universe thinks this planet is dead, a heap of space rock. No government in their right mind would come here. WHich is the beauty of it, it provides me with everything I need...And the station can hold well enough it's own in a fight against the rickety ships of the modern age...."

Thu Jun 04, 2009 12:21 pm by The Admiralty

Blackhawk The Deceiver wrote:*A very faint buzzing is heard beneath them as power is rerouted back to the station mainframe. It wasn't enough yet to power the factory, but it brought up the terminal at the least. From there they'd be able to access the rest of the factory, and a surprisingly large number of other ship systems. Blackhawk breathed a sigh of relief, for once things didn't go wrong*

"Alright, that did it. The computer's up, it's a bit archaic, but I know you've worked in it's age. If you can just reroute some energy to the second generator, we can get it active and then from there we can bring power back to the factory floor...and hopefully even more"

*an interface wire extends from one of the gauntlets of the armor. hooking into the station. a hum builds up and a large pop is heard as the second generator comes online. lights and machinery start coming on all over the station, and the factory starts to rev up. Dillard chooses a basic repair model from his in armor database and the factory starts to churn up droid after droid, using the materials stored on the station. Dillard turns to the new comer*

i am Dillard. you can call me Zach if you want.

*a small holographic girl appears sitting on his shoulder*

and i am Ai

Thu Jun 04, 2009 5:47 pm by Kellemann

*The images flashing through his mind brought forward others, long suppressed out of necessity.

Osarian. The last stand of the Osarian Guard. His grandmother, sixty-three at the time but still fit and forceful, had been on the bridge of the Spectre when the antimatter powerplants, their containment fields flickering from battle damage, had for the briefest of moments rivaled Osarian's sun in brilliance. His grandfather, General Aron Kellemann himself, had lasted but a little longer, cut down by massed fire in the hangars at Kacik Field. Miro's father had taken command of the pitiful remnant, less than a sixth of the Guard's original strength, only to die of a broken heart years later following the blast from the improvised bomb that had scarred Miro, leaving him broken and thought dead, and killed his mother. Now, one could almost see the battle replaying in his eyes as Osarian, a charred rock, turned beneath his memory.

The young man once more pushed the memories back--there would be time enough later to deal with them, though this place would likely be the best time to do so. He turned to the other man, and narrowed his eyes in surprise. There was no one inside the armor!*

"Dillard? Sounds like a surname to me."

*The pause that followed the words was just barely enough to separate them from what came after:* "It appears your story must be at least as interesting as ours."

*Then he looked at the girl. A hologram-avatar AI of some sort, most likely; he'd never had much experience with them, as the Guard had always relied more on human intelligence, but he'd seen them used before.*

"Ai. A pleasure to meet you."

Mon Jun 08, 2009 2:24 pm by The Admiralty

it is. i have a title but i don't use it much, so don't worry about it. and my story is quite long.

and you.

Mon Jun 08, 2009 6:16 pm by Blackhawk The Deceiver

*Blackhawk looks back, cracking a bitter sweet smile as his once worst fear and once greatest ally spurred back to life. The droid factory would help in this time, allowing them to make repairs on the ship and aide in offense and defense in the future. Nevertheless, he felt slightly pained, remembering the destruction his creations caused...the many dead.

He would put those memories behind, but he could no longer do it in this room. He looked up from his floating chair at the others and nodded with a smile, speaking*

"Well, thank you Zach...Now, I think we've had enough stories for now. Let us go get a drink back in the lair...and for you zach...um.......yes, drinks! Follow the old man in the floating chair!"

*He motioned his force staff forward as he floated himself back to the turbolift, propping the door open to wait for the others.*

Wed Jun 10, 2009 8:39 am by Kellemann

*Miro stood and followed, a smile on his face for the first time in years. It felt strange, almost like learning to use the cybernetic limbs had felt. Even now, the expression was crooked, the left side of his face stiffened by the old scars so that only the right side could truly express itself meaningfully. But it was there.*

Thu Jun 11, 2009 2:21 pm by The Admiralty

*dillard follow the old man*

*a bit of humor leaking back into his voice*
i will just enjoy the company, if you don't mind

Thu Jun 11, 2009 10:00 pm by Blackhawk The Deceiver

*Blackhawk smiled as the others enterred the lift and he tapped the top button with the edge of his staff. Instantly the lift shoots up, towards the lair where Dillard and Zach were talking earlier. Eventually it arrived and blackhawk floated his seat back to it's dock and locked it in, allowing his force ability to strengthen as he was no longer multitasking. He rotated the seat back towards the others, the bar on a near wall*

"Please, Miro, have yourself a drink, you'll find the selection surprisingly well...And Zach, make yourself at home"
*He motioned to a few nearby chairs that Dillard could use. Blackhawk himself was wondering what reactivating the factory computer system would allow them to accomplish now...*

Fri Jun 12, 2009 12:50 pm by The Admiralty

*dillard takes a seat.*

i have set the factory to make 1,000 repair drones, then to make a robotic crew. once each drone finishes they should start making repairs immediately. so the station should be up and running at full strength in about 20 hours.

Sun Jun 14, 2009 2:13 pm by Kellemann

"Twenty hours? That's not bad at all."

*Miro hooked a wheeled chair with his ankle, leaning back and stretching his full length out to the point more laying in the seat than sitting. In this seemingly precarious position he pushed off with his feet, moving the chair closer to the bar, and surveying the selection with a gaze that looked careless but was anything but. Miro, like all Kellemanns (and by extension, all Tilani), took alcohol seriously.

It was too much to really expect that the station would have any of the Kirconen ale that was a staple for anyone with a drop of Tilani blood in his veins; The bloodred alcohol had only ever been shipped to a small handful of distributors on an even smaller handful of worlds. Yet it was conceivable that a case or two might have drifted around the galaxy and found its way here.

He was able to find something almost as good. The brew produced by the Lookout Hotel on Osarian had been almost as limited in its distribution as that produced by the Tilani on Kircone...but unlike the ale whose origin was a closely held secret, Osarian could be found easily, along with the stocks of liquor beneath the rubble of the Lookout. And sure enough, three bottles capped with the stamp of the old Osarian non-export food inspection agency sat underneath the counter. Miro opened one, reached for a glass and ice.*

Sat Nov 28, 2009 6:47 pm by The Admiralty

*dillard begins to detach one plate of the armor, polishing and cleaning it for the first time in nearly 50 years. when the plate shines like new again it reattaches itself in the right spot and the next plate is removed and undergoes the same treatment.*

what brought you to this lonely stretch of space, miro?

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