The Canaries

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Washington DC, 2099
Agent Jack Benson stalked the fluorescent lit corridors of the government office in which he worked, there was a problem and it was up to him to sort it out. The research vessel Pandora had gone “quiet” and considering what was going on aboard it having it go “quiet” worried him deeply.
“Hey Jack why the long face?” enquired the youthful Agent Chris Squires a cheerful grin on his face, they’d been working together for several years now and Jack knew he could rely on him “Pandora’s gone quiet Chris and they want me to sort it out” Pushing the door to his office open he motioned for Chris to take a seat in one of the brown leather chairs that sat opposite his mahogany desk.
“What do you know about SS Pandora and its mission?” Chris wrinkled his brow in concentration as he dragged his memory for the required information, it’d been sometime since either of them had had any dealings with Pandora. “It’s one of those new starships for offworld research, you know for stuff that’s too dangerous to do on earth. Why do you ask?”
“Pandora’s mission was to breed a race of clone workers capable of mining radioactive materials for long periods of time, namely uranium. Reports say that they were close to achieving a break through though it now appears that Pandora has gone quiet… we’ll need to send in the Canaries” Chris visibly paled at the mention of sending in the Canaries, they were a last resort and a risky one at that. The Canaries or Penal Company 666 was a specialist unit designated for high risk clean up operations or suicide missions as they are more commonly known. Being comprised mainly of convicts both military and civilian who in return for serving in the unit received reduced sentences meant that they were completely expendable. They weren’t called Canaries for nothing.
“If Pandora’s offworld then why do we need to send anyone…let it drift and rot” Jack smiled sympathetically at his colleague’s attempts to clutch at any straw that would save them from using such drastic measures “Chris you know as well as I do that ever since the incidents surrounding Project Ghost that anything involving clones or genetic research needs to be investigated and cleaned up immediately” the two of them sat in the plush office in silence as they contemplated the fates of the men and women in the Canary unit that was currently on its way to Pandora and whatever lurked inside.

Authors Notes
This is my first attempt at a RP so bare with me and please don’t laugh too loudly when it crashes and burns.

You are a member of the Canaries unit that has been dispatched to investigate the fate of the SS Pandora. Although there have been great advances in Space travel, Robotics and genetic manipulation all other technology is at the same level as it is now (so no laser rifles or hover cars) and everyone is assumed to speak English (just to make things easy) other than that enjoy
(Note: Although operation Ghost is mentioned this is not a sequel)

Special skill: (Only one) (Electronics, Marksmanship, Demolitions, etc)
Physical Description:

Name: Dmitri Orlov
Age: 32
Nationality: Russian
Special skill: Electronics
Physical Description: 5’8” with broad shoulders, he has pale blue eyes and black hair in a prison issue crew cut. He has a scar running diagonally across his right eye.
Equipment: AK-102, Skorpion vz6.1, Combat knife, Flash Drive.
Background: Dmitri served with the FSB for several years specialising in electronic surveillance and house breaking. Using such methods he and his team managed to eliminate several terrorist threats throughout his career.
No-one knows precisely why or how Dmitri ended up in the Canaries as both he and the Russian authorities refuse to discuss as the events that led up to incarceration though it is suspected that although he is involved in several murders he is not entirely guilty.

Dmitri awoke suddenly as the adrenaline pumped through the intravenous line into his forearm; he’d been in deep sleep for around 48 hours and was naturally feeling a little groggy. He glanced around the cramped interior at the other members of his team all of whom were suffering a similar reaction to the rude awakening.
“Rise and Shine Maggots…” the intercom crackled loudly overhead causing Dmitri to painfully wince; his head felt like it had been put in a vice. “…The shuttle will be docking with the SS Pandora in 20 minutes so check your weapons, you have 48 hours in which to complete your mission and return to the airlock after which you will be left behind” it was the same with every mission they ferry you in and then left you to it.
This was Dmitri second mission with the Canaries the first one had been in North Korea and he was still amazed to this day that he’d survived it…none of the others had. Checking his weapons he waited for the shuttle to dock and prayed that his luck would hold out.
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Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Name: Xiomar Machiavelli
Age: 31
Nationality: Italian
Special skill: Intelligence
Physical Description: 6' exactly, slight frame but slightly muscular, cropped graying hair, usually has a brooding look on his face.
Equipment: An M14, timed bombs, knife.
Background: Xiomar is a fairly cold individual. He is blunt, emotionless, and considers himself above all other humans. He was the head of a crime organization in Italy for several years (all the members were as young as him) and did well for himself...until one of his members turned on him. Xiomar then found himself in prison. His hair soon began to turn gray, making a stark contrast between his youthful face and his hair. Xiomar is a plotter, a schemer, a liar, and a trickster. He lays plans that are completely failproof and then ensures they follow through. He is a behind the scenes kind of guy, preferring to work in a command room than actually go out and contribute. Despite his Italian origin, Machiavelli's favorite gun is the M14, and he insisted on his having one for the mission. Xiomar has been assigned as the CO of the mission as the authorities know he has the mind for it. He prefers to be called by his last name as he feels it puts him in the same lines as the famous Niccolo Machiavelli, making him even more his mind at least. He only listens to his mind, never his heart.


Machiavelli groaned as his body woke up. The fact they had knocked them out for the duration of the trip implied...he shook his head. He couldn't get a thought together right now...stupid IV fluids...he shook his head again, trying to clear his thought process, but to no avail. He heard the intercom go on and he one asked nicely anymore. He prepped his M14, then simply sat back and tried to clear his mind...he'd need it to be working in full once they landed.
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Name: John Phalia
Age: 24
Nationality: English
Special Skill: Stealth
Equipment: Silenced Desert Eagle, Daggers (Throwing and Nonthrowing), Poison
Background: A high profile assassin. Finally caught and put in New Alcatraz. He escaped but was caught after a few years because the adrenaline rush of escaping prison went to his head. Rather than put him back I prison he was assigned to The Canaries.
(Note: Yeah! You better bet this is my same character from Prison Break!)
John slowly sat up as he heard an announcement. He was still not focused because space travel made him get air sick. He understood most of what was said. He gathered up his weapons. Unfortunately at that moment he was overcome by air sickness again. 'Ugh!' John thought. 'I'll get ready later.'


Name: Viktor Seger
Age: 25

Nationality: German
Special skill: Demolitions
Physical Description: 6' 3160 lbs. strong build
Equipment: H&K G36 Sig Sauer P226 C-4, Fuses, Blasting caps, Gatoraide Bottles
Background: John was a Demolitions expert im the German GSG9. He got in trouble for killing a teamate from mistaking the bombs strength.

\Viktor was considered the most "unstable" in the group due to his rage againts his commanders and wasen't givin his weapons until they had landed. Viktor prepared for what he was getting into this time.


Name: Miklos Dragoun
Age: 35
Nationality: Czechoslovakian
Special skill: piloting
Physical Description: 5' 7", slimish, buzzed black hair, gray eyes
Equipment: MP-7, rad/space suit
Background: Growing up in a newly reunified Czechoslovakia, after the Velvet Reunification, life wasn't always easy for young Miklos. During his youth, his only haven was sneaking onto airplanes that his dad was piloting, and convincing him to teach Miklos the ways of the air. When he turned 18, Miklos joined the armed services, hoping to fly. He passed the tests with flying colours, and earned his wings 2 months after joining. A year later, after meritous and heroic actions in a war with Serbia, Miklos was recognized as a good choice to be a pilot with the Canaries. He served various missions, performing well, of course. Now he was chosen to be the a pilot of the Pandora Investigation.
Mikros pressed the button administering the adrenalin to the sleeping members of the team. They were approaching the Pandora, an empty derelict of a ship, abandoned or deserted for weeks, years maybe. The other pilot, James Harrison, an American, activated the intercom, relaying the message that they would dock with the Pandora in 20 minutes. "I wish you wouldn't call them maggots," Mikros said. "And why not?" James returned. "They are maggots." Mikros sighed. They had this argument every time, and it just wasn't worth it. "Just remember what you have to do. Keep the ships together, and I'll start up the Pandora. If I can't get it working in 47 hours, I'll head back, and we leave, whether the rest of the crew are here or not." Mikros got into his suit, a combination of airtight space suit, and impenetrable CBRNe suit, and loaded his MP7, and walked toward the staging area.


The ship lurched violently as it docked with the Pandora "Damn pilot is going to kill us before we even enter" Dmitri muttered as he removed the IV line from his arm with a small trickle of blood.
Glancing to his left he noticed a familiar face, no it couldn't be...Dmitri studied the face of the man next to him for a few moments longer almost certain that he recognised it ... Xiomar Machiavelli, Dmitri smiled to himself it was a small world after all. Before his incarceration Dmitri had been apart of a surveilance team tracking Machiavelli's organisation not that they could ever pin anything on him he was always one step ahead, but it did mean he had studied the mans face for several years, prison hadn't been good for him obviously.
A man dressed in a space suit walked between the row of benches upon which the other Canaries sat and groaned under the harsh fluorescent lights, Dmitri noted that he didn't have to wear the same lurid yellow jumpsuit as he did which meant he wasn't a convict, probably the pilot.
Making his way over to where the other man stood he watched as the air lock doors slowly opened with the hiss of presurised air, they were about to enter Pandora for the first time.

Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Machiavelli stood up, his head finally clear. He looked around at the other Canaries...most of them were still half asleep...he shook his head sadly. Sad bunch he was working with. He shouldered his M14 and checked to see that his explosives were still there, which they were. He cracked his fingers in preparation for the upcoming mission. While waiting for the doors to open, he thought back to the day he had been arrested...

Machiavelli brushed his shoulder-length black hair back as he overlooked New York City. While he preferred to run his operations through his hometown of Florence, Italy, it had been necessary to be in the States for this job. He quickly unpacked his state-of-the art computer system, hacked into the security cameras of the city, and watched his plan unfold. He had planned to do something minor that day, merely to announce to the U.S. that he had finally achieved extending his criminal organization beyond Europe. He watched as his operatives, disguised as maintenance workers, went to work...simultaneously, every traffic light in the city stopped working. He then watched one of his men place Machiavelli's signature calling card into the panel from which he was working. Smiling as he closed down his computers, Machiavelli realized that he should have gone for something bigger...that was almost petty of him, and it wouldn't take too long to fix. However, it was the impact of the U.S. Government and their intelligence agencies that would be worth it. Still smiling, he turned to the last computer and froze. This computer showed the view of the camera directly outside his chosen hotel. An entire FBI squad was outside...waiting for him, and if they were there...Knowing he only had seconds left he quickly manipulated the computer, froze his assets, withdrew all his funds from various banks (he had hid them under aliases) and sent them to the bank he controlled back in Italy, and destroyed his electronic files on his organization. He then powered down the computer and went to the hotel door. Looking out through the peephole he could see the standard NYP coming down the hallway. Smiling coldly, Machiavelli opened the door. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

Despite the fact that the governments he had gone against couldn't get him for 95% of his crimes, they still had enough to put him away for 10 years. Despite the fact that he shouldn't have found out, Machiavelli heard who had betrayed him, and even being behind bars he had had the man killed. He had also heard the name of the man who his betrayer had gone to, although this one he hadn't been able to find...Dmitri Orlov...whoever this man was, this job would get Machiavelli out of prison and he would find and kill him. However, now was not the time for that. He looked around at the team that he had been given to work with, Machiavelli assumed his role as CO. "Our first job is to head to the command center. While I assume none of us know where that is, it generally is not too far from the landing platforms. From there I can locate survivors, get maps for you all, and be able to head a professional-style mission. Any questions?" Machiavelli wished he still had his longer hair, as although the cropped style made him look official, it made him look government official. The longer hair made him look sinister, which he was. Without waiting for questions, he turned to face the opening doors. Time to go.


Finally awake and with all the medical crap he had had on removed, John stood up and walked out of the shuttle with the rest of The Canaries. The command center was a small humble room not far down the short hallway. He took the time during the walk to examine the ship he was on. It was not too similar to their own but not a complete opposite. Doors openned and The Canaries filed into the command center. A few men and women greeted them before people began to take charge and set up a more efficient base for the mission. John took his time examining every nook and crany in the room so that his stealth skills would come in handy if they needed to defend this place or he needed to make a quick get away. This job was an easy one due to the fact that there wasn't that many places to hide in the current room. He was tempted to move on but resisted because he needed to hear his official starting orders that would soon be announced.
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Mikros waited with the rest of the Canaries, those that would be searching for survivors, figuring out what happened, and possibly defeat any hostiles that might be around. His job, luckily, fell under a different category, and as such, he wasn't under the jurisdiction of the CO. From what parts of the profile he was privileged to read, the man was dangerous, and could quite possibly turn on the team. Though he was still in danger high danger from this man, he was in less danger than those who had to answer to him.

Like the rest of the Canaries on this mission, Mikros's first task was to head to the command center, similar to a bridge on a military vessel, the main difference being everything was controlled from this one place, whereas there was separation on a military vessel. As the door to the Pandora opened, and nobody immediately died due to lack of breathable air, Mikros looked down on his sleeve, at the outside conditions of the vessel. So far, everything seemed fine, so Mikros pulled off his helmet, not feeling totally unlike Simon.

The entire group headed up to the command center, where the only lights came from the stars, a few remaining emergency lights, and the electric torches of the group. Everything here was dead, it was a wonder that the air was breathable. This set Mikros's first priorities, life support then figure out how to start the engines up. Mikros walked over to the life support station, pulling out a voltmeter. There was some current going through the system, it might not be enough. One way to find out of course. Mikros sat down in the chair, and worked the console. About half a minute later, the console lit up, and indicated that life support was working. "Alright guys," Mikros announced to the group. "You can move out whenever you're ready. Remember, be back at the ship in 48 hours, except for one person if I can get this running. I'll need some help getting her back. You can decide who stays."


Name: PARS (Partially Autonomic Regenerative Soldier)

Age: 4

Nationality: None

Special skill: Failed Genetic Experiment

Physical Description: Identical to all female PARS clones. 5'10, 170 lbs., completely black eyes, black hair which is cropped close to the scalp, alabaster white skin, which is transparent enough to reveal the blue veins that traverse her body.

Equipment: 2 R&D Hawks, 4 M67 Grenades, P229 Pistol, MP5SD3 Sub-Machine Gun, 2 trauma packs, PASGT Space Marine Expeditionary Forces helmet with built in comm link and night vision capabilities, Interceptor Space Marine Expeditionary Forces suit and integrated armoring system.

Background: Male and female PARS clones are used as the backbone of the Space Marine Expeditionary Forces. They are genetically engineered to be faster, stronger, and take a great deal more critical damage than human beings are capable of. They are trained from incubation in command structure, general military tactics, weapon delivery systems, and hand to hand fighting. They possess limited control of their autonomic nervous system to the degree of being able to control heart rate and the release of adrenaline, which are both designed to control the loss of blood from otherwise incapacitating injury and add a surge to their already enhanced physical prowess in battle. The trade off, is these soldiers generally burn themselves out quickly. PARS clones are also genetically designed to lack a sense of self-preservation, which makes them ideal shock troops, and easily controlled.

How this PARS clone ended up in the Canaries, is anybody's guess. She recalls nothing of her past, and does not associate freely with the other Canary members. She follows orders from command structure, however, does possess a modicum of self-preservation tendencies, which has allowed her to attain a nearly unheard of fourth year of existence. While she is a member of Penal Company 666, it is highly unlikely that she is an actual convict, but more likely placed there due to defective gengineering.


PARS opened her black eyes as the surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. She sat up and immediately looked around to observe her surroundings. She climbed out of her stasis chamber and suited up in her SMEF suit, and donned her helmet. She gathered her weapons and checked them each carefully for indications that they were operating properly. While prepping for the mission, she barely took note of the other members of the squad. Once she ensured all was in working condition, she reported to staging and stood silently as the CO explained orders. She opted for the MP5SD3 as her breaching weapon, held it at low ready firing position and waited to enter the zone.


As Dmitri followed the pilot through the dark torch lit corridors he noted the complete lack of life within the stale airless enviroment around him, dead ferns sat by a metal bench along with a couple of roses, black and shrivelled by a waste bin. However what the ship really lacked was any sign of the crew, a fact that worried Dmitri immensely the ship was huge surely there would be some sign of them, especially if any of them had survived?
After a brief walk they finally arrived at the control room Dmitri watched silently as the pilot got one of the terminals running. "Alright guys," announced the Pilot in an authorative voice. "You can move out whenever you're ready. Remember, be back at the ship in 48 hours, except for one person if I can get this running. I'll need some help getting her back. You can decide who stays." I will help you with the console" Dmitri volunteered.
Sitting down heavily in one of the leather chairs Dmitri noted the plume of dust that issued around him this placed had been deserted for quite some time. Inserting the flash drive Dmitri set about altering the ships sub-routines in an attempt to bring some life back into the generators before he set about locating the ships logs. "I have managed to restore emergency power to all locations but the labs, you should have it checked out Macia..Sarge" Dmitri's heart pounded in his chest, he'd almost said his name and that would have been dangerous.
Although he'd already been in prison for three years at the time of his arrest the evidence he'd gathered for the FSB had been instrumental in Machiavelli's downfall, several men involved had died already he'd have to be more careful in future if he didn't want to join them.
Dmitri continued working at the console they'd only have backup power for another 12 hours best he make the most of it.

Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Machiavelli nodded. " me Machiavelli. We're all equals under the law as we wouldn't be here if we hadn't broken it, so even though I'm in charge I don't expect formalities." His eyes widened slightly as he said the last word, putting emphasis on it. He looked around the command room until he found what he was looking for...a map. He pulled it out and laid it on the table, scanning it. "It looks like there are six labs with test environments throughout the ship. Each one is divided by an seems they were trying to develop creatures for all sorts of natural strains. We have the underwater environment, the volcanic environment, the arctic environment, the jungle environment, the desert environment, and..." Machiavelli frowned and hesitated for a moment. "And the space environment..." Where could there be Uranium in space??? he thought to himself.

Straightening, he turned to the group he had been put in charge of. "Ok, we have three objectives here. One, locate and secure any surviving members. The fact we haven't run into any on the way here means either they are dead or in hiding. Two, we need to find the main generator and get it online. Three, we need to examine the labs and surrounding test areas. It may well be whatever disaster happened here is related to the fact, I'm sure it is, as if we could get emergency power online it wasn't electrical failure."

Machiavelli looked each member over. "Now I'm not sure what each of you can do, so I want you to tell me which job you think you can take. If you want to go check a lab, tell me which one. I'll designate directions from there. While you carry out the objectives, I'll stay here to monitor activities throughout the facility as well as attempt to bring up the ship's log. If you encounter a hostile creature or human, you may terminate it...our safety is top priority with me. However, do not shoot until the creature is confirmed as a hostile. Now then, let's hear what you think you can do."

As the other members of the team pondered what job they thought they were capable of, Machiavelli began thinking hard. Uranium is not found in space...and very little is found in jungles...what else was the government creating up here? It almost seemed like they were attempting to create...Machiavelli shot a quick look to the PARS clone...Could they have been trying to create elite soldiers up here as well? It certainly explains the absence of crewmembers...alive or dead...Machiavelli swallowed hard. If so, this mission might have been under-exaggerated, and they were all in incredibly real danger.


PARS continued to face the door as Machiavelli continued to state mission objectives and place limits on accomplishing those objectives. She did not like hearing there were to be restraints placed on her performance, but orders were orders. Her entire body shuddered, and her head jerked to the side slightly, before she regained her composure. She began to bend and straighten her knees slightly as she swayed her torso to the left and right slightly, looking very much like a leashed animal waiting to break its chain. As the wait continued for several more seconds, she turned her head to regard the CO specifically. She stared in his direction with an emotionless face for several seconds, before looking forward again.
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"I am electronics expert, I have graduate degree in computer programming from Moscow university..." Dmitri stated as his fingers danced across the keyboard his eyes never leaving the screen, he was getting close to retrieving the ships log. "...I also have good knowledge of circuitry and fiber optics, Huh" Dmitri stared at the blank screen in mild suprise the logs should be here... someone had tampered with the database all records before the ships launch had been erased. Irretrievably erased.
Removing the flash drive from the console Dmitri looked down at the map spread across the desk "I need to find the black box in order to retrieve the ships log, if i take the monorail down to here..." Dmitri tapped an area just to the east of the first lab "I should be able to locate it" looking up from the map Dmitri noticed PARS for the first time, her white skin and black eyes seemed to bore right through him. The presence of the clone reminded him of why he was here and of the danger he faced.
Clone production had been outlawed after the PARS Clones had proved to be...Tempremental, Naturally of course all existing units had been granted immunity but they were still closley monitored. Only the presence of a loop hole in the original law allowed their production and use offworld, hence the Pandora and their current predicament.
"Machiavelli I think she wants you" Dmitri gestured to the waiting clone as he checked his weapons again, something about this mission didn't feel right.
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Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Machiavelli looked as Dimitri explained where he wanted to go. He nodded. "That would could search that lab while you're's the jungle environment over there, so special suits wouldn't be needed like if it was underwater or in space...that seems reasonable." He looked over at PARS. "Why don't you take PARS with you?" he suggested. "The jungle is the ideal place for anything to have an ambush set up, and she's programmed to attack anything that goes for her. As much as I hate to spend two people on the same area it can't be helped. I'm not going to lose anyone if I can help it." A knowing smile played across his mouth as he spoke, but it was gone with his next words. "PARS, come here please." When she got over there Machiavelli leaned down and whispered so no one else could hear, I meant what I said about the attacking. If it doesn't go for you, don't go for it. He stood up and nodded at Dimitri. Ok, you're free to go...what do the rest of you think you can do?" he asked, already moving on. As the pair he had dismissed began to leave, he looked over at Dimitri. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name earlier..." Machiavelli smiled slightly, ambiguously.


John quickly offered to check out the desert environment because his speed would help him there. He waited for a reply as Dmitri and PARS left after having a few words with Machiavelli.
"Well? Do I have permission."


PARS moved over to Machiavelli as she was called over. She remained still as he whispered to her, and snapped her head in Dmitri's direction, narrowing her eyes slightly. She nodded as Machiavelli straightened and murmured, "Oorah sir." She studied the map Machiavelli had pulled up, and then moved over to Dmitri. She obviously gave him a once over glance as her body was again wracked by a shudder. She moved in front of him and turned toward the Pandora. She tucked the butt of her MP5SD3 tight against her chest to the right of her left shoulder. She flicked a switch and a single red dot appeared down the dark corridor.

She murmured, "Taking point. Secure comm-link alpha two established. Advancing to objective zone", to nobody in particular.

She looked over her shoulder at Dmitri with her soulless eyes, nodded, looked forward and began to hurry-step further into the Pandora. She moved quickly and efficiently, taking each step in a roll stepping heel to toe movement as she advanced down the corridor. Her aim constantly moved, as indicated by the red pinpoint which danced over walls, along the ceiling, and forward as she continued to move in the direction of the first junction that would lead to the objective zone.


Mikros thought about the best way to get the Pandora running again, deciding on activating the engines, then the navigation computers, and basic hygiene systems. He walked over to the engineering monitor, just as the lights turned back on. "Alright, generator running. I think we might have two vessels." Mikros was glad, his mission at least was going well, it seemed he would have the ship ready to leave in under a half hour. Then he could relax for a day, maybe help out a bit if the others needed it, but mostly relax and prepare to pilot this thing home.

"That's funny," reported Mikros, upon arriving at the engineering station, and receiving no response from the engines. They were dead, nothing coming from them at all, not even an out of order message. It was time to investigate this puzzle. A quick look at the security station showed no sign of logs of any sort, though the live feed was still active. Apparently the engines had been sabotaged, though still repairable, it would take some time. The biggest problem would be the radiation, and that wasn't a problem with his rad suit. "Heading down to the engines. Don't follow without a rad suit, unless you like radiation sickness."

The trip to the lifts was quiet, though the same cannot be said for the lift ride itself. Mikros had his helmet on, the suit was impenetrable now, up to 8x55mm, and guaranteed to keep you breathing in an air free environment or safe in a rad filled environment for up to 2 days without maintenance. The lift ride was normal, except for the introduction at the beginning of the ride, similar to a commercial airliner's. The things that really stood out were the 100% chance of death if crashing was imminent, the materials to record a last will, and drop bags with cyanide capsules in them. Mikros hoped it was a joke. Fortunately, the cyanide and will recorder proved to be unnecessary, as the lift arrived without a hitch, and Mikros got out to fix the damage.

Lord Regal

Well-Known Member
Machiavelli nodded at John. "That would work. I have no objections with that, go ahead." He looked over in time to see the pilot, still in his ridiculous-looking rad-suit, walk off randomly, muttering about fixing the engines...even though they hadn't heard anything about moving the ship. Sighing, Machiavelli turned back to the other members of the group.


John took a look at some maps, grabbed his supplies, and headed down towards the hallway where the test lab was located. He walked slowly down the dimly lit hall. He held his breath in anticipation. He approached the doors. They seemed to be locked with multiple scanners such a biometric, optical, and keycard. He took a moment to assess this and make a note for future door encounters. He searched around and found a discarded metal strip that had fallen from the roof. He used this lightweight but strong metal like a crowbar and pried open the doors. They weren't difficult to open because overtime the pressure locks had released due to lack of electrical power. John now felt foolish as he realized he could have just openned the door with his hands but now he had a mote readily disposable weapon. He walked into the arid room. It was an amazing recreation! Dunes were piled just as they would have been if the wind had shaped them. Their was also a slight breeze and machines that kept the room dry and hot. He saw a small mine entrance not far from him. He readied his bar in case of attack before realizing he would most likely need a radiation suit to enter ad secure the uranium mines. However he debt want to leave without accomplishing anything. Careful to stay away from the shafts, John proceeded to check the above grout portion of the simulator room. All clear. John now began to make his way back to Machiavelli to decide what he and the other search parties should do regarding the mine portions of the labs.