"Houston, we have a problem..."


(The time jumps around a lot for a while. But it has to for everything to make sense. Just bear with me and please try and read it all!)

7 days before present:
An unknown amount of light years away:
"Have the last assembler probes reached the target zone yet?" asked a rather commanding alien.
"Yes sir, T-minus 7 days until completion of The Gate. A lesser officer responded.
"Finally, 7 generations of work spent on Project Infinity will pay off! The energy siphoning will be completed on time. Correct?"
"Yes sir the siphoning will be complete with time to spare."
"Excellent! We will warp into prime position with enough time to set up the ambush."

10 years before present:
"You will meet our demands or it means war!" POTUS yelled.
"Never! The Nuclear Alliance has waited far to long for this! We want war, we wish to wipe you from the Earth!" The Korean man yelled.
"Fine let the war begin. But I'm going to personally hunt you and your family down one by one and kill them even of it takes until the end of days to finish it!"
"And I the same to you. Let the third and final Great War begin!"

7 years before present:
"We've been working on this new project for a while, but we're going to kick it into overdrive now! The war will destroy the world regardless of who wins. We are officially starting Project Golden Reach*. We are commissioning 17 space traveling ships to be made. One for each of our allies, two for ourselves, and a mothership. Unfortunately the way the project is going we must stretch the war out for 7 years before we're ready to leave. The smartest, strongest, most creative, etc. will be on board. The project must succeed! We have found a great way to store tons of extra oxygen with some back up plans should that fail. Once again I will reiterate how important this is. The project must succeed!" finished POTUS.

2 days before present:
"...and blast off!" Everyone held their breath for what seemed like an eternity. Only a select few spoke.
"Entering stratosphere" echoed an intercom. "Exiting stratosphere" a few minutes went by with more announcements being blare over the intercom. Finally they began to slow until it seemed they had stopped. Suddenly came the one thing they all wanted to hear.
"We are in space!" cheers erupted everywhere. Shouts came from every corner of the facility.

A few hours later the mission was complete.
"We are stabilized and waiting." More cheers erupted from everywhere. Shouts of "the plan is going to work!" came from everyone.

1 day before present:
Fire erupted over hundreds of yards. The remaining 16 spaceships were blasting off. Over the next few hours the most exciting mission ever to occur on Earth started. The ships reached space in good time. For most, the war was over, the other countries would be left to die in their own rot. The ships met up with the mothership together they started on their course to their new lives. The mission was a success...

...or so they thought.

Space (Humans):
It had been roughly 48 hours since the official mission had started. Things were going smoothly. Suddenly and annoucment went out to all ships. The originating source is the mothership. (Now known as Houston because it is the new mission control.)
"We're picking up some strange signals. Almost like a giant, metal, floating, power source is just in front of us. And..."

Suddenly they wer cut off. A huge explosion of light over took everything. It dimmed a few seconds later.

"No, I mean what? The energy output from whatever that thing is," said the voice referring to the object that was still to bright to make out "just increased...wait what is that!" Suddenly the object in question became clear. It was alonost like a Death Star. Then ships shout out of a glowing circle on the side.

"UFOs! It's aliens! Everyone, move into defensive positions!" came the now panicked voice over the intercom as the aliens began attacking.

Near Earth Aliens:
"Sir we arrived late. They're already here!" said the same lesser officer from before.
"All is not lost! Begin attack!" yelled the commander.

Starship 16:
"Houston, we have a problem..."

(Note: The list of allies and what ships they're on are here:
1. USA
2. France
3. England
4. Holland
5. Spain
6. Italy
7. Canada
8. Brazil
9. Scotland
10. Australia
11. Turkey
12. Uruguay
13. Switzerland
14. Luxembourg
15. Madagascar
16. USA
17. Mothership (All)

*I am not stealing David's RP name. Simply Giving props to a great RP!*
Character Sheet:
Job: (Inventor, Engineer, Repairman, Soldier (there are small ships if you wish to be fighter pilot or boarding ships for infantry or laser firing from ship), Navigation, Military Strategist, Gardener, or any other that makes sense (if you choose other and I feel it doesn't make sense I will PM you to change it.))
(Starting) Ship Number: (1,16,17)
Name: Chris Johanson
Age: 24
Job: Soldier (Infantry)
Equipment: Pulse rifle, gravity/space suit (mandatory), space armor, other necessary gadgets and tools
Ship Number: 17
Bio: An infantry soldier in the war on Earth. Chosen to come aboard for his exemplary talents. Great with machine guns and rifles.
Huge explosions roared from around the ship. Screams and shouts were everywhere. Chris grabbed his equipment and suited up. He began to run to the main control room amid the chaos. People were doing there best to help everyone but most were failing. He must get a better understanding of the situation than he had at the moment so he could decide how to react and what to do. As he ran down the halls a fire broke out. People scrambled to put it out and stop it from eating up the oxygen. Amid the commotion he was bumped into and slammed to the ground unconscious he heard strangled sounds for awhile and saw blurt images before succumbing to sleep.

(There are probably many grammar mistakes. This is because I wrote this on my iPod touch and it has a weird autocorrecting system. Like once I got tirade out of charade but that's another story. So excuse it for now and I'll fix it on a computer later. And yes I didn't hold up on my promise to wait until The Unreal died. But it's unfortunately getting slower and I had the inspiration to write. I almost never type and save. I type, finish, and publish all at once. Sorry to you, Peril, if you're mad but maybe this will increase activity and give new life to the forum. Please join!)


Name:Eric stoom
Job:soldier(fighter pilot)
Equipment:ray gun,space suit,fighter pod
Ship Number: 17
Bio: Ran away from home to join airforce was selected special space pilot program in preparation for this mission.
I awoke to hear screaming outside my door I grabbed my ray gun in fear of chaotic situation.As I stepped out my door a plump man in waistcoat scurried by I grabbed his collar and asked what was going on.
"ALIENS!" he screamed, before passing out. I ran towards the control room to assess the situation.
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Name: Jack McAlister Carlyle "Rowdy"

Date Of Birth: March 3rd 1981. 29 years of age.

Experience: Six years as a covert operations agent specializing in South America and Mexico.

Appearance: Rowdy is 6'5 inches tall. He favors blue jeans and a white T shirt. On few occasions he is seen with two blue eyes, but this is not the case. He has two different color eyes, his right one blue and his left brown. Because of this, Rowdy's eyes are hypersensitive to sunlight. He wears a pair of mirror lensed sungllasses religiously. His hair is cut short and is light brown. He weighs 140 pounds, all of it muscle.

Weapons of Choice: The 45. Magnum Automag Pistol, which he carries in a shoulder holster, under his left armpit.

Hometown: Lebanon, Oregon

Profession: Re-Tasked CIA Covert Operator

Equipment: Pressurized and Reinforced version of his previous TAR issued armor. (Check my other RP's as him for more information on it.)

Ship #: 16

Bio: Born on a cold morning in the pacific northwest, he was christened Jack Mcalister Carlyle. As a child he was an untouchable, neither unpopular or popular. Instead he floated in the middle, seen by none but seeing everything. This turned from a running joke with himself into a habit and, when he graduated high school with straight A's, he was given a scholarship to go to the school of his choice, but Jack MCalister Carlyle turned it down. What Jack did, was apply to a trucking company and learn to operate a semi truck, just as his father had. He worked for a time, but his heart was never in it. At 23 he applied to the Central Intelligence Agency. The rest is classified, was eaten or burned.

Rowdy was not seen or heard from again for 5 years. What happened was never released, talked about or even acknowledged it's existence. This time, Jack was behind the wheel of a semi truck, a Peterbilt. The nickname "Rowdy" was hung on him when he busted an acoustic guitar over the head of a dispatcher who had screwed him out of a lot of money.

5 Years Previous

Jack McAlister Carlyle looked back over the last few years with a look profound sorrow on his face. His left eye was still irritated by the color contacts he had to wear on such outings, you'd think after all this time they would grow accustomed to it, but they did not. The heavy suit of TAR issued armor served to shield him from point blank fire of projectiles, but it couldn't hold back the flood of nibbling, gnawing, crawling insects that occupied this godforsaken part of North Korea.

War, Rowdy was tired of it. Since the time he was in his early twenties he'd been at almost constant war. Covert operations into Mexico, Afghanistan and South Africa had left Rowdy tired of it all. There was rarely the chance to do an operation like the one he was about to undertake, usually his operations were covert, silent, the kind where a knife was the weapon of choice. It was this kind of war that Rowdy had signed up to fight in, but now that he was about to begin, he was already sick of it.

Jake, another one of the five Ex-TAR operatives dropped over North Korea reached over and shook Rowdy out of his state of thoughtfulness. As Rowdy came back Jake smiled "Hey man, we just got the radio signal the other three are waiting on our mark to begin."

"Right, thanks, Jake." Rowdy replied, standing. To anyone watching, the two Ex-TAR operatives would have looked like metalized aliens, in their fully functional battle armor and fierce face guards. Reaching up, Rowdy pulled the plate of reinforced Kevlar down over his face, revealing the pattern that decorated it. Much like in movies of Wild West Indians, Rowdy's faceplate had three streaks of warpaint going diagonally across it, the colors, red, white and blue.

As Jake did the same, Rowdy opened up the built in microphone in his helmet, allowing the other three Ex-TAR operatives to hear his voice "Alright ladies, let's keep this quick and clean, the Koreans are about to begin a launch, just like last time, they will not be allowed to do it. We must not let even one of those warheads off the ground if we allow even one up, we won't be able to take it down without detonating it. We have two hours before they launch, now let's use them. Jake and I will start in three minutes, then you guys come in from the north, we'll sweep the compound, plant the charges and get out, before we blow them."

(I'm not annoyed, Pi, why would I be?)



Name: 2nd Lt John Starbuck
Age: 26
Nationality: English
Job: Security Officer
Equipment: Glock 29, Kevlar Vest (All Standard Issue) Royal Navy Tunic
(Starting) Ship Number: 17
Bio: Joining the Royal Navy at the outset of the war John or "Johnny" quickly excelled at his chosen career, specialising in the operation of shipmounted weaponry he was responsible for directing fire upon enemy vessels and aircraft and did so with alarcity.
However it was several years later that he received his commission and place in Operation Golden Reach where he was initially assigned to the ship 3 only to be reassigned at the last minute
Two Years Previous
"Gentlemen it is your duty as Security Officers to operate the ships weapon systems should the mission come under enemy attack" Johnny stared a head blankly, they had been sat in the hot sun for over an hour now listening to the old man, sweat was starting to form under the arms of his navy blue uniform and across his forehead but it sure beat the atlantic things were getting pretty intense out there from what he'd heard. "...However should your ship come under attack you'll be expected to join the marines in its defence which brings me to todays class. Before you is the Glock 29 10mm automatic pistol you will keep it with you at all times, now if you will take you positions on the range we'll begin"
Placing the ear defenders over his sandy blonde hair John chambered a round and took aim at the targets at the end of the Range. Taking deep slow breaths he squeezed the trigger...

Present Day
"What in the hell is happening out there? speak to me Starbuck" the Senior officer bellowed at him in a strong southern accent Texas maybe? who knew he'd been with crew for a week the others had been together for the best part of two years.
The room was pitch black only the console lights and the monitors lit the room giving everything an eerie glow. "Sir, we have multiple fighter class ships approaching and approximatley three capital ships" John decided that mentioning the presence of the Deathstar was a waste of time who'd fail to see that? "Very well boys concentrate fire on the capital ships the flyboys can deal with the rest as for that Deathstar...well lets see what the marines make of that"


Chris awoke again. Now the fire was out and the lights were dimmed. The halls were empty. Everyone was hiding or taking orders. Chris made his way to the control room still woozy from the fall. He received orders to suit up and hop on the nearest transport ship to what seemed to be the main ship. He was an escort for some diplomats attempting to end the ambush. Oh well, he thought as he climbed aboard the air tight ship, here goes nothing...


5 Years Previous

It may be an old superstition, but this day, Rowdy was not going to watch the man he was going to kill. Many say that there is a 6th sense, one that will alert someone when he is being watched. Rowdy wasn't going to take the chance of the guard being made aware of his presence, was not going to allow him to call in reinforcements and was not going to have any mercy.

Jack McAlister Carlyle stooped low, as he slowly made his way towards the North Korean launch station. The body armor that made TAR Industries famous, but led to it's downfall, was perfectly silent, each piece of overlapping armor coming down on a thick layer of cloth, as to stop the clanking sound it would make otherwise. Clutched in his right fist, held low and out of sight, was four inches of blackened steel that would cut deep into the unaware sentry's neck.

The North Korean sentry stopped beside a the bombed out wall of what once was a guard station. He sat down, hands on his knees and began to roll some kind of cigarette. Rowdy immediately changed tactics, sheathing the blade in the small of his back and melting back into the bushes beside the ruins of the guard station. He readied himself for the spring, the look of horror that would pass over the guard's face, as he tried to scream through the fist that would clamp down hard on his windpipe and then the the sharp crack that would accompany the guard's neck being snapped. That thought took him back to the first time he had learned how to perform such a move, remembered his instructor saying that when possible you should not bloody an enemy with a blade, when a seemingly asleep guard will attract less attention than one lying in a pool of arterial blood.

Rowdy sprang, coming up behind the bombed out wall and reaching down. He seized the snoozing guard by the jaw and hauled the small Asian man to his feet, simultaneously smashing the back of his head against the wall behind him. With his other arm, Rowdy clamped his hand across the guard's mouth, cutting off all sound that would filter into the microphone clipped to his helmet. With a movement practiced in hot spots across the globe, Jack McAlister Carlyle jerked the man up and then over, snapping his neck in a single fluid movement. He then laid him back down gently against the wall,
giving the appearance of a sleeping guard and not a dead one.

At that moment Jake's voice came over the microphone inside Rowdy's helmet "I've got one neutralized guard."

Rowdy sighed with relief "So have I."

There was an awkward silence that passed between the two, before Jake broke it with the words "You don't understand, Rowdy, I didn't kill him."

Falcon McCallister

(sorry im gonna use a previous Rp's character with some minor changes if that is fine, i just love the character and just don't want to let him die lol)
SHIP: 16
COL. David Felts

AGE: 36
APPEARANCE: 6"1" 160 pounds of muscle, dark hair with a touch of Grey on the temples and and dark eyes with a scar that runs from the bottom of the ear to just short of the center of the throat and large tattoo of his unit on his right shoulder. he always is seen with his glocks on and its rumored he sleeps wearing them
NORMAL WEAR: BDU pants, black t-shirt, belt, boots, black ball cap, and duty belt
HOMETOWN: Corpus Christi, TX
Fluent in English and Spanish with minor german

OCCUPATION: U.S. 1st SFOD-D (more commonly known as Delta Force)

APPAREL: Black BDUs, Black T-Shirt, Black Combat Boots, Black Belt, Black Tactical Gloves, Black Tactical Sunglasses, and a Black Balaclava (not worn on ship but at all other times), Black ball cap, and a black duty belt
DUTY BELT: Drop down holsters on each leg, hand cuffs, and extra mags for his glocks
WEAPONS: Custom M4 Carbine w/ CQB sling with mounted flashlight, laser sight and ACOG scope, 2 custom Glock .40 tactical with flashlight and laser, survival knife, and pocket knife
EXTRAS: Comm system, extra clips for both M4 and Glocks carried in a tactical vest
BIO: Colonel Felts was born and raised in south Texas by his wealthy grandparents due to his mother's death at the age of two and his Army Vet. dad's suicide about four months after his mother. his grand parents owned a very large ranch were he spent all his young life working the ranch with the numerous ranch hands the ranch employed being raised with southern values and not a silver spoon. after completing high school he went to the army to follow the footsteps of his father and grandfather before him and become an airborne ranger after growing up hearing the stories of what his grandpa and dad had done for their country. after joining the army he worked hard to complete his dream and it soon became a reality. once he became a ranger he set his sights higher and attended drill sergeant school at the almost unheard of rank as sergeant and upon completion became a drill sergeant at the airborne ranger school in Fort Bennings GA.. after a few years he was approached by a recruiter and given the opportunity of a life time to serve in the 1st SFOD-D handling covert anti-terrorist and other CLASSIFIED missions across the word in what is most commonly know in the civilian world as Delta Force. he worked hard even earning a college degree in the army and raising to the rank of colonel where he refused all further promotions wishing to stay in a command position that aloud him to fight with his men and have the respect of both soldier and officers alike. When this mission was planned David's superiors came to him to lead the team of his pick aboard the ship which was bound for space.

18 NOVEMBER, 2008
1845 hours

David was enjoying his meal in the mess hall winding down from the last mission which had been a rough one to anyone's standards even his, when a corporal approached snapping to attention. "Boy at ease, don't you see I'm eating, whats the so important emergency that it couldn't wait till i was done" he stated to the corporal in an annoyed tone. "sir, i have a wire here for you from the D.O.D. that requires your immediate attention." the bumbling corporal stated. "Boy unless that letter is from G.O.D. it can wait till I'm through" he stated as he went back to his almost finished meal "sit boy, and quit looking like an idiot, I'm almost done" he said as the cpl took his seat. Once David was done he took the letter and quickly read it "you driving slick?" he asked and got a sharp "yes sir" in response "don't do that, I'm not you normal officer, and i feel that junk is uncalled for, try it a little less formal, shall we" he stated. "yes sir, i can do that" said the corporal as the two got up and headed for the door. "well then, looks like your my taxi to the C.P. slick, so lets get going" David said as he got in the passenger seat of the Humvee and headed for the command post.
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Two Years Previous
"I can't believe you got away with that!" laughed James O'Reilly "I mean how the hell did you manage to beat the simulation? that thing killed me three times" John Starbuck considered the answer as he walked down the dark, Bristol street with him were his friends James O'Reilly and Kevin Jones both of whom were navy recruits for Operation Golden Reach "it was easy really, I compensated for both wind, target speed and deflection then I inserted the flash drive that convinced the computer that I had a rail gun simple really" John's reply was met with astonished laughter "You cheating sod! they'll catch you, you know" Replied James with his thick Irish accent "Who cares? I've already spent six years fighting this damn war in the atlantic one simulation won't prove anything, anyway check it out"
The three of them turned to watch as a group of beautiful women in party dresses leave a bar laughing "Oh Jesus I've been looking at WAF's for so long I forgot girls could look like that" James drooled as they walked their way. Putting on his best smile John made ready to introduce himself when Kevin grabbed his shoulder "Forget it John we've bigger problems" John followed the direction of Kevins nervous stare to the approaching Para's "What are you damn pansy's doing here? looking for a little action?" John swallowed hard this was going to be painfull.

Present Day
"Rail gun batteries 1 to 6 online Sir!" John's hands raced across the controls as he vectored in the various codes and calculations required, wire frame rail guns rotated in position on one of his monitors whilst a second showed a real time feed of the approaching enemy ships "Targets acquired commencing fire mission" in the shadows of the war room the Texan smiled "Give em' hell boys"
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5 Years Previous

Jack McAlister Carlyle crouched low, as he swung his rifle from his shoulder. The Heckler and Koche G12 was still a prototype rifle, however it worked like a dream, both in live field testing and upon the firing range. It fired high impact rounds that dropped when they hit a target, causing massive internal injury. The G12 had fifty round magazines and one hundred round magazines, Rowdy carried three of the latter kind. The best part of this gun, however, was it's lack of bullet casings, so there were no brass shells scattering about his position, impeding movement and providing evidence.

Rowdy racked the G12's action, as he set out again, moving towards the launch pad in a low crouch. He spoke to Jake while he stalked from shadow to shadow "What killed him?"

"Well, Rowdy, it wasn't the best job I've ever seen. A big bladed knife slashed the guard's throat, the kind we used back in the TAR days." Jake replied, his voice crackly.

"You think there is another faction at work here?" Rowdy asked.

"It would seem so, the body wasn't picked over, so the likelihood of this being a mugging is zero. Do you think we should call off the mission?" Jake replied.

"Negative, we can't let those warheads launch. Stay frosty, I'm going to switch channels and contact are friends to the north." Rowdy's hands played with the radio set, before adjusting it to the correct frequencies "Report." He barked into the microphone.

There were three main access roads towards the launching platforms which were embedded into the earth itself. There roads were dotted by gates, machine gun emplacements and watchful guards. Around the launch pad was a large group of structures and command buildings. They housed vital supplies and the troops to guard such a high value target. On the overlooking mountains, Rowdy could see the great cylindrical missile tubes of Surface-To-Air emplacements that made an Air strike impossible, so those few operators that were left over from the collapse of TAR Industries were called in. Recommissioned Covert Operative Jack McAlister Carlyle in the lead.

"Everything is quiet here." One of the three operatives to the north replied. "We've taken out three guards, but we found another that had already been taken down. What do you make of it?"

"It looks like our 'friends' in high places decided to call in a second team, one to mop up if we failed. They must have gone rogue and decided we'd already been killed." Rowdy replied.

"What are the orders?"

Jack thought for a moment, before he replied "The orders were to neutralize the nuclear capabilities of this station and all personnel who stand in our way. It is my belief that this unknown entity is a dangerous faction. Kill on sight."

"Roger that." Was all that came over the microphone, before there was a loud spurt of gunfire and a pained yell came over. Followed by the sound of footsteps approaching where the microphone was and then a sharp stomp, as the microphone was crushed under the combat booted foot of whoever had killed Rowdy's three men.


Two Years Previous
"Shouldn't you bunch of fairies be out knitting or something seen as you don't do any real fighting" shouted one of the Para's, his three equally drunk mates laughing at the insult "We saved your asses in Reykjavik, if we hadn't blown those damn Ruskies out of the sky you boys would have to hold hands in a gulag" One the Para's, a large thug of a man surged forward his mates stopping him short of belting John across the mouth. "John shutup and let me deal with this your making things worse" James smiled before sauntering up to to the group of homicidal drunks "Look we're all on the same side, hows about i sign you an autograph and then you guys a pint?" a puzzled look spread across the lead Para's face "Why the hell do we want your bloody autograph?"
"You must of heard of me? I am James O'Reilly... I play lead for Concrete Nails" a look of recognition spread across one of the mens faces " Oh yeah I've heard of you...I hate that bloody band" James sighed deeply as he shook his head in dissapointment turning round briefly to reply "Well lads I tried" before whirling round to punch the lead Para. The fight had started and John was right. It was Painful.

Present Day
The weapons were having no effect on their targets and with only a limited supply of ammunition John couldn't afford to waste it trying to break through shields
"Anderson we need an EMP burst at co-ordinates X21, Y55, Z14" out of the corner of his eye John watched as Anderson hammered in the co-ordinates "Target acquired, sending out warning code to all nearby friendlies, Firing in 3, 2, 1..."