Post by Jakob on Jan 23, 2015 18:06:10 GMT -4
TALES OF STYLUS
//November 23rd, 2077, 1035 Hours - Stylus Military Calender : Homeworld Setting.
//Location: A.U. : Stylus Draw #54 - Deep space - Near Milky Way-style galaxy
//Assigned Agent: MONTREAL
The cockpit of the Stylus mech had gone dark two minutes ago, immediately after Montreal made the jump since Drawl’s Ascension. His mech sensors had detected a huge fleet of unidentified star vessels. Since everyone had decided beforehand to blink to different places in the Multiverse, Montreal was the first and only Stylus agent to arrive in this particular universe. Thanks to the instantaneous nature of the mech’s unique teleportation system, he could cross the universe in a blink of an eye.
He pondered if he wanted to show it off again, but the vessels had already detected him and sent a frequency on the communications system. Montreal cooled down his weapons systems and hoped the non-violent action could buy him enough time to switch the comm channel to the correct frequency.
The dialogue coming from the other end was garbled due to a nearby ion storm, but the language was unmistakable, Common English. The chances of that were a near-impossibility, but Montreal responded as professionally as he could. He didn’t want to start his visit to a whole new universe on a bad note.
“My name is Montreal,” the agent replied. “There is an ion storm nearby. I did not understand. Please repeat.”
There was a pause, then the signal got more clear. “Attention… near an ion storm… -ease move to … safer distance…”
Montreal chuckled to himself as he switched on the mech’s booster modules. The low growl of the accelerators sent the mech farther away from the storm. The signal got more and more clear as he made good distance. When the static finally stopped, Montreal repeated the message.
“Montreal… as in Montreal, Canada?” the one on the other end asked. She had a distinctly feminine voice.
“That’s correct,” Montreal said. He tried his best not to hide his confusion. There was a Canada in this universe as well?
“Where are you from?”
“Canada,” Montreal replied, “From an alternate universe.”
There was a far longer pause on the channel. The voice later returned. Montreal figured he was receiving instructions to relay.
“As part of Talon Protocol article 3, any and all unidentified vessels must be quarantined until due processing. Will you comply?”
“So long as I don’t get the long rubber glove,” Montreal replied.
That got a positive reaction; the woman on the other end laughed, as did some others farther from the microphone. “Please make your way to the Peregrine, Loading Bay 6.”
Montreal took a gamble with the silly dialogue. At least the people in this universe had a sense of humour. That was a good sign, if anything. He warmed up most of the systems and scanned the viewfinder for the correct ship. On the side of one of the ships was a long white line extending from mid-starboard to the bow. Over top of the white line was a line of text reading “PEREGRINE”. Montreal heated up the boosters again and approached the vessel cautiously.
With the closer proximity, the Stylus agent could see a few lines of loading bays. Each of them were numbered, so it was easy to spot Bay 6. The Stylus mech righted itself, feet parallel to the loading bay floor, and inched his way through the atmosphere-containing forcefield.
Montreal ensured his helmet was sealed in case of alien microbes, and slowed the mech to a soft landing in the centre of the loading bay. Armed soldiers in haz-mat gear had firearm-like weapons ready, though they did not point any at the Stylus mech… yet…
“Please hold position,” The woman’s voice requested. Montreal had all day, so he complied patiently.
Some of the soldiers glanced at each other, while authoritative-looking soldiers talked to other haz-mat donning individuals who were seated at consoles.
Eventually, everyone nodded to each other, and one soldier typed a few commands on a console. The woman’s voice returned. “You are now clear to exit the vehicle.”
The Stylus agent’s mech hull unfolded, and the slim-armoured Stylus agent hopped out. The red-tinted lenses of the Stylus helmet gave him the appearance of an ethereal apparition, with hell itself for eyes. Granted, that’s what a single Stylus agent was to his or her enemies, but the effect made the haz-mat soldiers physically uncomfortable. Hoping to quell any nervousness, Montreal rose his hands.
All Stylus agents were physically trained to the peak of humanly possible fitness, but Montreal was known as one of the naturally skinnier ones. Couple that with the relatively thin suit, and he looked like an alien from a distance.
“No Vorpal microbes detected,” A technician announced. The soldiers were about to relax when the technician continued, “But… there are microbes I’ve never seen before.”
Montreal did not move. Another technician approached with a canister connected to a hose. The technician pointed the hose nozzle to the Stylus agent’s face and squeezed the nozzle trigger. A rancid-smelling liquid splashed all over Montreal’s armour, reaching into every crevice in his armour. The Stylus agent felt especially grateful for Stylus engineering when his suit had been fully covered in the foul-smelling fluid, but he did not feel anything breach and touch his skin.
On the floor, the liquid caught what appeared to be some kind of soil. Montreal figured it was a mix of the soil of the moon Stylus formed up on pre-Colossus, and soil from their operations back on their Earth. The liquid sizzled as it slaughtered any and all bacteria and microscopic threats that could have clung onto the soil.
A similar process was applied to the Stylus mech. The technician got a good look at the relatively far more advanced technology present in the machine.
“You’ll have to keep that suit sealed at all times, son,” The lead officer called after the technician with the hose finished, “Scans say you’re a new form of intelligent life.”
“Not exactly new,” The Stylus agent replied, “I’m from Canada.”
//November 23rd, 2077, 1035 Hours - Stylus Military Calender : Homeworld Setting.
//Location: A.U. : Stylus Draw #54 - Deep space - Near Milky Way-style galaxy
//Assigned Agent: MONTREAL
The cockpit of the Stylus mech had gone dark two minutes ago, immediately after Montreal made the jump since Drawl’s Ascension. His mech sensors had detected a huge fleet of unidentified star vessels. Since everyone had decided beforehand to blink to different places in the Multiverse, Montreal was the first and only Stylus agent to arrive in this particular universe. Thanks to the instantaneous nature of the mech’s unique teleportation system, he could cross the universe in a blink of an eye.
He pondered if he wanted to show it off again, but the vessels had already detected him and sent a frequency on the communications system. Montreal cooled down his weapons systems and hoped the non-violent action could buy him enough time to switch the comm channel to the correct frequency.
The dialogue coming from the other end was garbled due to a nearby ion storm, but the language was unmistakable, Common English. The chances of that were a near-impossibility, but Montreal responded as professionally as he could. He didn’t want to start his visit to a whole new universe on a bad note.
“My name is Montreal,” the agent replied. “There is an ion storm nearby. I did not understand. Please repeat.”
There was a pause, then the signal got more clear. “Attention… near an ion storm… -ease move to … safer distance…”
Montreal chuckled to himself as he switched on the mech’s booster modules. The low growl of the accelerators sent the mech farther away from the storm. The signal got more and more clear as he made good distance. When the static finally stopped, Montreal repeated the message.
“Montreal… as in Montreal, Canada?” the one on the other end asked. She had a distinctly feminine voice.
“That’s correct,” Montreal said. He tried his best not to hide his confusion. There was a Canada in this universe as well?
“Where are you from?”
“Canada,” Montreal replied, “From an alternate universe.”
There was a far longer pause on the channel. The voice later returned. Montreal figured he was receiving instructions to relay.
“As part of Talon Protocol article 3, any and all unidentified vessels must be quarantined until due processing. Will you comply?”
“So long as I don’t get the long rubber glove,” Montreal replied.
That got a positive reaction; the woman on the other end laughed, as did some others farther from the microphone. “Please make your way to the Peregrine, Loading Bay 6.”
Montreal took a gamble with the silly dialogue. At least the people in this universe had a sense of humour. That was a good sign, if anything. He warmed up most of the systems and scanned the viewfinder for the correct ship. On the side of one of the ships was a long white line extending from mid-starboard to the bow. Over top of the white line was a line of text reading “PEREGRINE”. Montreal heated up the boosters again and approached the vessel cautiously.
With the closer proximity, the Stylus agent could see a few lines of loading bays. Each of them were numbered, so it was easy to spot Bay 6. The Stylus mech righted itself, feet parallel to the loading bay floor, and inched his way through the atmosphere-containing forcefield.
Montreal ensured his helmet was sealed in case of alien microbes, and slowed the mech to a soft landing in the centre of the loading bay. Armed soldiers in haz-mat gear had firearm-like weapons ready, though they did not point any at the Stylus mech… yet…
“Please hold position,” The woman’s voice requested. Montreal had all day, so he complied patiently.
Some of the soldiers glanced at each other, while authoritative-looking soldiers talked to other haz-mat donning individuals who were seated at consoles.
Eventually, everyone nodded to each other, and one soldier typed a few commands on a console. The woman’s voice returned. “You are now clear to exit the vehicle.”
The Stylus agent’s mech hull unfolded, and the slim-armoured Stylus agent hopped out. The red-tinted lenses of the Stylus helmet gave him the appearance of an ethereal apparition, with hell itself for eyes. Granted, that’s what a single Stylus agent was to his or her enemies, but the effect made the haz-mat soldiers physically uncomfortable. Hoping to quell any nervousness, Montreal rose his hands.
All Stylus agents were physically trained to the peak of humanly possible fitness, but Montreal was known as one of the naturally skinnier ones. Couple that with the relatively thin suit, and he looked like an alien from a distance.
“No Vorpal microbes detected,” A technician announced. The soldiers were about to relax when the technician continued, “But… there are microbes I’ve never seen before.”
Montreal did not move. Another technician approached with a canister connected to a hose. The technician pointed the hose nozzle to the Stylus agent’s face and squeezed the nozzle trigger. A rancid-smelling liquid splashed all over Montreal’s armour, reaching into every crevice in his armour. The Stylus agent felt especially grateful for Stylus engineering when his suit had been fully covered in the foul-smelling fluid, but he did not feel anything breach and touch his skin.
On the floor, the liquid caught what appeared to be some kind of soil. Montreal figured it was a mix of the soil of the moon Stylus formed up on pre-Colossus, and soil from their operations back on their Earth. The liquid sizzled as it slaughtered any and all bacteria and microscopic threats that could have clung onto the soil.
A similar process was applied to the Stylus mech. The technician got a good look at the relatively far more advanced technology present in the machine.
“You’ll have to keep that suit sealed at all times, son,” The lead officer called after the technician with the hose finished, “Scans say you’re a new form of intelligent life.”
“Not exactly new,” The Stylus agent replied, “I’m from Canada.”