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RP UCS Exploration Initiative


RP Date
RP Location
The Sojourner. Deep space.
Four months. Four, long months. That’s how long it had taken to get the UCS set up on their new home. For the people here, this was a staggeringly long time. For the UCS… it might as well have been millennia. The era that they now inhabited, this space-time, this… dimension… it was far from what they were used to. Still they maintained their machines. Still they kept building and kept hammering in nails into new homes, kept turning the bolts for the factories, kept driving stakes into the ground and slamming home new flags to preside over their worlds as if they were a beacon of liberty and happiness itself. But still, the machine of progress toiled on forever and ever; never resting… and always consuming.

Still, the UCS had constructed their station in a record breaking time for what they thought previously possible. Now, it stood as a monument to those that had lost their way, died, become wounded or fallen in the field of battle on their way here. Traders and emissaries from across the cosmos gathered here… at times. Most often it was local traders and traders heading from the NDC to the UCS or vice versa.

And for all this progress… the machine required more.

“C-V-S Sojourner this is U-C-S Hammer of Night. Current status and mission? Over.” The control spire on the station called out to the Sojourner as it began to drift towards the station.

“Hammer of Night, this is Sojourner. We are en route to dock with the station to pick up cargo, ambassadors, passengers and equipment. Current status reads green across the board. All systems nominal. Over.” Michael responded as the Sojourner began to close the distance a little more quickly than before.

It might have seemed strange to an outsider seeing so many large ships owned by civilians. Even what the UCS called a corvette was still six hundred meters in length and carried thousands of tons of cargo and supplies. “C-V-S Sojourner to Hammer of Night, requesting permission to dock with station. Authentication code is four, three, one, two, seven, niner, alpha, bravo, three, one, four, seven, niner, alpha, zulu, three, one. Over.”

“Sojourner you are granted permission to dock with station within docking ring four Charlie. Advise using RCS thrusters to maintain heading and bearing, drop speed to one kilometer per second. Over.”
The station responded as the two began to proceed with the tedious task of docking.

Eventually however the umbilical from the station extended over and the Sojourner was safely moored in place; ready to begin exchanging passengers and cargo in order to keep the machine running. Michael had done… decently. He’d kept the ship funded and running at least. And the Sojourner had done well battling pirates and other such renegades in her time both here and at home.

He stepped into the umbilical, made his way across it and into the station where he removed his helmet and breathed a breath of fresh, recycled, filtered, station air. “It’s good to feel a little bit at home… at least as home as I can be.” He mumbled to himself as his boots clanked against the deck. Armor… of course… as always when he wasn’t in anything nice.

A few people clapped and cheered at the return of the sailor. After all, every ship that made it home in these treacherous times was a miracle to say the least. That and of course, Michael had been the one to broker the treaty between the UCS and NDC. Or at least negotiated it. He didn’t stop to admire the crowd though. He had business to conduct and Michael made his way, helmet underneath his arm, towards the embassy where he was certain there were more people waiting for him.

“God damn I hate being an ambassador…” he grumbled as he stepped into the embassy and began to look about for anyone that might want to clamor for his attention immediately. Or quietly wave… or whatever floated their boat. There were of course a few crew members nearby; perhaps one of them or more had followed him into the embassy?
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New Member
The fun thing about long missions? They certainly gave one a lot of time to get used to their new assignments. Moreover, on establishing missions like this, one watches a newly formed order establish itself like a babe learning to walk. Though in this case, it would more accurately growing back up again. Seeing things erected under the tent of colonization, under the flag of newfound civilization and a newly built home was absolutely fascinating. Though there was always that odd doubt and even a tepid fear when gazing upon the UCS and what it was to become, there was always that distant assurance that hope would never die - and with it, the chance for a fantastic new tomorrow would always be alive in it's people. For the moment, she was proud to call herself one of them. For Comely Spirit of the Kohana, Deep Space never felt too deep. She had memories to tie her to home. The warmth of the scarf her mother had given to her - the ceremonial curved blade she'd won during her first tournament, 'Ghost' - her first general maintenance droid ... now a robotic companion who made her quarters ever that little bit more like home. In a way, the familiar was always available for her to wrap herself up in. It was the new that was fascinatingly curious. And it was those she served with and served under that were the most captivating of these new familiarities.

The Sojourner. She'd made many jokes about it's name - about how on the nose it was and how over-sized it felt compared to her previous assignments. She remembered she once got lost there for a whole three hours before gathering the nerve to ask for directions. Not even her built in optics could help her navigate the thing at times. Returning back home never felt any better - something about going to this familiar embassy felt like the beginning of a new journey. She was sure this was hardly the last one, much more to come. She'd promised to create a legacy worth the admiration of her daughter and the appeal of those whom fared from her homeworld. Her new assignment put many of her skills to the test - as a crew member and robotics expert, as an information gatherer...someone capable of detailed recon and the monitoring of existing infrastructure. Spirit had a the opportunity to create a fantastic array of new gadgets to show these strangers from far, far beyond the stars exactly what her people were capable of. The odd romance of it all appealed to her, it made her heart swell with pride.

She was never scared. Not really. Oh she worried and grew weary of all the danger, but the excitement of it all gnawed away all feelings of terror every time they started creeping in. To say there were no close calls would be a fabrication, but - well - here she was, still in one piece if you didn't count the metal parts. Unlike her commanding officer, she was not carrying a helmet. She always felt a little old - a lot of the UCS's people made her appearance feel radically different. She would have had to wonder what it would be like for one of them to end up on a world like hers for years at a time. A queer thought, certainly one to entertain at some point. Still, stepping past them all she accepted any words of kindness but - more often than not - she was hardly looked upon beyond surprise or curiosity. Being the giant alien with the glowing eyes and spooky tattoo did not help. But as mother said: It was one's differences that made them beautiful. Such was the tale of the Mountain-Nymph.

"Sir?" Her voice would raise as Michael stepped forward, perhaps humorously enough she chose to wear some familiar clothing. The same suit and jacket she'd worn during her first visit. She could almost still feel the annoyance and anxiety of waiting outside for some attention. Of course, her being her - it was hard to miss her. Sort of like having a meat wall with a metal hand step in front of you, her hands folded behind the small of her back in her usual straight, stoic posture and her eyes radiating a warmth within their light. "May I have a word with you, if that would be appropriate?"


Convention Veteran
The YSS Imperturbable was docked with the station. They had been dealing with a trade dispute and had wrapped the meeting up when the Sojurner arrived. Ambassador Ranga Havard with her two body guards had been waiting for the UCS ambassador to appear. The Ambassador was a short woman, with blue skin and black hair tied into a complex crown like braid that she took pride in doing herself. Even though the comment wasn't directed at her, she responded to what Michael said. "Being an ambassador is like being chew toy sometimes." She commiserated playfully.


The Smollest Smol
FM of Elysia
UCS Hammer Of Night

As Michael entered the embassy, there was movement on his periphery - a couple of Elysians had been resting in chairs before he arrived. It didn't take more than a few brain cells to figure out why, either - the shorter one, belly heavily swollen with pregnancy, took a few moments to get over within handshaking distance. "Greetings," she stated cleanly. "I am Arvillael Castor, Senator of the people... And diplomat, given the gridlock in the Senate. I was told your name is Michael, is that correct?" The man hovering protectively behind Arvilla must be her husband - much taller than she was, but the familiarity in their touch and the matching rings worn by them - golden and silver bands with no insignias or visible markings - made it clear he wasn't just some bodyguard. She seemed friendly, at the least. Though she hadn't responded directly, the elysian woman chuckled quietly at Ranga's comment.

"I wonder if they've heard of the Great Plague yet? Hopefully they haven't gotten any biased tellings..." The woman sent a telepathic message to her husband.


FM of Elysia
UCS Hammer of Night

“Assume they have,” the little Elysian’s husband replied over their private mental communication. His hands wrapped in front of his wife, steadying her out and helping her keep balance on her feet. “Rule four, don’t base your plans off your opponents making mistakes.”

By comparison, Antoni Castor towered over the common folk. Seven feet tall, as most Patricians were, and a wingspan big enough to block an entire hallway if he wanted to. He seemed friendly enough — a little secure transparent box behind him contained a few gifts for the new group in the area, mainly consisting of artisan goat cheese and a tea set. Two strange, pale, and hairless Elysian-looking things flanked his sides, wearing basic uniforms. Seraphim, as many would know them. Once things Antoni used only when he was too lazy, ever since his wife got too heavy to move very easily, they had become his left and right hands.

“Antoni Castor,” he greeted. “Senator of the people, manager of the SDF, and also as of moment, a diplomat. Please accept these gifts.”

He signaled with his telepathy, and one of the Seraphim moved to present the box to the leader. Small trinkets, but still a gesture of friendliness.


“Of course, miss.” After a brief conversation with Comely on the side, Michael approached the two ambassadors whom were vocally hailing him. “Ambassador Havard. A pleasure to see you again. I trust Yamatai is well?” he offered as he placed a hand on her shoulder and turned just in time to realize that another was making their way towards them. “Mister and Misses Castor, it’s good to meet with another government that does things similar to how we do them in the UCS. Can we all walk and chat? I haven’t had any coffee in almost a month.” He replied as he extended his hand and shook the hands of each diplomat in turn… or stood there awkwardly if no one decided to shake hands. “I appreciate the gifts… though I must say such a gesture is not needed.” He spoke as he nevertheless took the box offered and carefully placed it atop and inside his helmet. He’d have it checked over for bugs or bombs later. Then again, if it was a bomb, this was a lot of work to get it here…

“I presume you’ll be coming with us on our most recent contract? Contrary to popular belief by most of the diplomats I meet, I’m just a civilian Captain so… I guess just call me Michael. Or Mr. Oliver if you feel the need to be formal. If you're unaware of our most recent contract, I am a bounty hunter by trade but recent events have made bounty hunting... less lucrative. Thusly, I've been tasked with exploring the nearest solar system. The voyage is expected to take the better part of about a month but I'm certain that scientific inquiry from the science teams I'll be taking aboard will extend that time. Nevertheless, the Sojourner is capable of staying out to space for nearly twelve months before a resupply is even necessary. Sixteen months if we nurse our supplies well enough." he explained to them as he walked towards the nearest coffee stand.


New Member
Comely seemed to get out of that conversation with a noticeable blush and admittedly a bit of a smile towards Michael as they finished up - less a suggestive one and more a look of doting respect. Perhaps some joke was exchanged or a kindness proposed? Either way, it was clear she came off feeling a little bit more happy to have talked to the Captain - her insistence on formalities aside. Still, she soon found herself facing an intrepid foe that no explorer of the final frontier should ever face - an eldritch parasite suckling at the energy of any room you enter and destroying the confidence of the fickle or the cautiously polite ... An awkward as hell conversation.

Admittedly, she had not been expecting to lay eyes on a pregnant Elysian, nor did she think her husband would be hovering towards them with that particular look...nor someone like Ragna to show up and throw in a jab like that! The moment they arrived, she noticed the Captain instantly was eaten up by their attention - and her being the subordinate, of course she would end up just staring at their particular exchange. A slight roll of her eyes was all that betrayed her momentary annoyance - an act which seemed to humorously (and quite accidentally) activate the 'sleep mode' on her optical implants, causing them to temporarily shut down, lose light and force her to literally rub her eyes to get them started again. Deep inside, she was cursing for another reason. T'was nothing personal, of course, she treated any other soul as a newfound challenge to get to know and properly befriend! Which is one of the reasons she seemed to be stepping back during this insensitive snubbing and letting the captain shmooze freely.

Clearly, she wasn't the only one who needed bionic eyes.

Still, their conversation stuck in her mind. Stepping aside, she chose to be as little of an interruption as possible - especially considering the two floating-folk might be some important representatives. Hardly wanting to interrupt, she chose not to intervene. There was a mission coming up after all - so she certainly was not being rude by, say, taking out a small handheld tablet from the inside of her jacket and activating it's holographic display, holding it up close to her chest and half-watching, half-working on quartermaster's requisitions.


The Smollest Smol
FM of Elysia
The only opponents we should be worrying about are the other senators and the Kuvexians, Anty. Arvillael's hand was soft and warm to the touch. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle like a starscape. "Hm... I think that we could spare a month, if we wanted to. Not too much longer than that, though," she elaborated with a pat to her belly. She was able to follow the captain fairly easily, thanks to the help of her husband.

"I'm not sure what supplies you'll have aboard, but I'm sure that your crew would appreciate my cooking," Arvillael claimed with one of her rare moments of pride. One of the gifts was actually a little tray of four cupcakes - probably made by her. They looked borderline professional, like something out of a pastry shop.