Post by BrickNinja on May 6, 2015 21:21:49 GMT -5
*Illustration is coming soon! Be sure to watch Crazycrownieguy's Flickr feed!*
8/14/59
17:55 CPSTS(Closest Planet Space Time Standard)
Terran IST-994s "Copperhead" Unit 223
The small Terran interceptor sped through the vast black emptiness of space. A larger glowing pinhole mark than the typical star denoted the nearby presence of a planet. The two crewmembers in the cockpit stared down at the instruments and readouts, their bored faces illuminated by the glowing touchscreens. This was a typical patrol run along the border of Terran space, and although tensions were high with the Conglomeration military, nothing exciting usually happened.
"What's that, d'ya know?" One pilot said, and gestured vaguely in the direction of the far off planet.
"Dunno." The second pilot pushed the scan button uninterestedly.
"It says…huh. Scanners gettin' fiddly again."
"Try to reboot the scanners, we're s'posed to have 'em on all the time." The first pilot began the reboot procedure.
The sensors began loading, then beeped, flashing crimson. The second pilot craned his neck forward, squinting to read the display.
"Scanner unable to…." he drifted off, suddenly feeling a knot of worry. "Hey, check the auxiliary scanners. We might be getting jammed." He held the intercom and directed orders to the crewmen in the midsection of the ship: "Hey, Carlsson, have your men hop on the guns for a sec--" he was cut off as the ship was rocked by a tooth-rattling impact. "We're being fired on! Carlsson, scan the ships and try to shoot back! Probably some cocky 'Leaguers lookin' for easy prey."
The man hurriedly swung into action along with his copilot, rerouting energy to shields and engines. The intercom crackled: "Sir, the ship reads Centuri military! Should we return fire?" The interceptor lurched again, sending errant drink cups askew.
"Centuri? What in the world? Hit 'em with a couple of disabling shots, then I'll get us out of here!" The pilots wrestled with the starship controls, trying to wheel her about. They heard the muffled thud and a subdued series of vibrations coursed through the craft as its own guns started to return fire.
"I'm hoping that was just a couple a' trigger happy greens, but either way, command'll have to hear of this!" the man barked angrily.
The heavy engines bucked and kicked in, sending the craft hurtling forward. Flashes and accompanying shudders assailed the cockpit. Gradually the signs of the blasts faded, though the deflector shields had been ravaged. Soon they had outdistanced their adversary. As they sped away, the second pilot breathed a sigh of relief.
"That was tight. Now pull up high command for me, will you? Terran command needs to hear 'bout this …."
8/14/59
17:55 CPSTS(Closest Planet Space Time Standard)
Terran IST-994s "Copperhead" Unit 223
The small Terran interceptor sped through the vast black emptiness of space. A larger glowing pinhole mark than the typical star denoted the nearby presence of a planet. The two crewmembers in the cockpit stared down at the instruments and readouts, their bored faces illuminated by the glowing touchscreens. This was a typical patrol run along the border of Terran space, and although tensions were high with the Conglomeration military, nothing exciting usually happened.
"What's that, d'ya know?" One pilot said, and gestured vaguely in the direction of the far off planet.
"Dunno." The second pilot pushed the scan button uninterestedly.
"It says…huh. Scanners gettin' fiddly again."
"Try to reboot the scanners, we're s'posed to have 'em on all the time." The first pilot began the reboot procedure.
The sensors began loading, then beeped, flashing crimson. The second pilot craned his neck forward, squinting to read the display.
"Scanner unable to…." he drifted off, suddenly feeling a knot of worry. "Hey, check the auxiliary scanners. We might be getting jammed." He held the intercom and directed orders to the crewmen in the midsection of the ship: "Hey, Carlsson, have your men hop on the guns for a sec--" he was cut off as the ship was rocked by a tooth-rattling impact. "We're being fired on! Carlsson, scan the ships and try to shoot back! Probably some cocky 'Leaguers lookin' for easy prey."
The man hurriedly swung into action along with his copilot, rerouting energy to shields and engines. The intercom crackled: "Sir, the ship reads Centuri military! Should we return fire?" The interceptor lurched again, sending errant drink cups askew.
"Centuri? What in the world? Hit 'em with a couple of disabling shots, then I'll get us out of here!" The pilots wrestled with the starship controls, trying to wheel her about. They heard the muffled thud and a subdued series of vibrations coursed through the craft as its own guns started to return fire.
"I'm hoping that was just a couple a' trigger happy greens, but either way, command'll have to hear of this!" the man barked angrily.
The heavy engines bucked and kicked in, sending the craft hurtling forward. Flashes and accompanying shudders assailed the cockpit. Gradually the signs of the blasts faded, though the deflector shields had been ravaged. Soon they had outdistanced their adversary. As they sped away, the second pilot breathed a sigh of relief.
"That was tight. Now pull up high command for me, will you? Terran command needs to hear 'bout this …."
Can Never trust those Centuri can you boys? 
Do we have a Flikr group? We should keep it open - I know I'm going to continue Kilvane's story. 