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002; but on one man's soul it hath broken

Fri, 25 Aug 2017 01:05:28 GMT

Posted by: dephlogisticate

[ If asked, Asbo would always claim that he doesn't remember his dreams. Most of the time, that's true enough. He doesn't really remember them, only being able to dredge up vague impressions, little slips of detail that evaporate as quickly as they form in his mind. Hardly anything worth losing any sleep over. He's grateful for it, really, because he's seen enough in his short life to give most men nightmares, and having to relive those memories while he's unable to escape them sounds like, quite frankly, the worst thing ever.

He doesn't have to have nightmares to remember the things he's seen and done, however.

There was a fire earlier in the day, down in one of the engineering bays. It wasn't severe enough to damage any systems irreparably, but the smoke had clung, sharp and acrid, to the clothes of the burned servicemen that had turned up in the med bay, mixing with the smell of their burned flesh in a way that sent Asbo back in time two years and thousands of miles away, back to Earth, back to a dingy council tenement in London.

The burn regenerators on this ship work quickly. That didn't stop those who needed them from whimpering and moaning in pain as they waited for their turn with the machines, though. He's grateful he didn't hear them screaming as they burned. He hears screams echoing in his head enough as it is.

He's showered, scrubbed his skin clean with scouring soap after the sonic shower didn't do a good enough job for his liking, but even after nearly twenty minutes under the scalding water — using a medical override to allow him more hot water than he's rationed is definitely a misuse of resources, and he's probably going to get in trouble because of it, but he couldn't make himself care at the time — he can still smell the smoke in his nostrils, can still smell the sickly-sweet smell of burning flesh, a barbecue gone wrong, appealing and revolting at the same time. He wants to spend another twenty minutes in the shower, another forty, another hour, whatever it'll take to get the smell to fucking leave; he knows from experience it never will. He'll be smelling it for days, and every time he does, he's going to be brought right back to the council flats.

Thankfully, Brax had been in the middle of some module or whatever when Asbo got back to their room, his textbooks spread out on his desk, headphones jammed in his ears, his mouth moving as he mouthed along to audio track of whatever lesson he was working on, which allowed Asbo to crawl into bed and curl up under his blankets unmolested.

It's only through sheer dogged willpower that he forces himself to remain still and silent as he listens to Brax get up and get ready for bed, putting his books away and tidying his half of the room before changing and crawling into his bunk. He thinks Brax says something to him, maybe wishes him a good night, but the buzzing in his ears has become too loud for Asbo to hear anything, so he doesn't say anything in return, just digs his fingernails into his palms and grits his teeth.

Despite his best efforts, the tears he's been trying to force down come welling up, burning his eyes like acid, spilling across his face to be absorbed by his pillow and leaving scalding-hot tracks across his nose and his temple. He almost hopes they do scald him, that they leave some kind of indelible mark that won't ever fade so that everyone else can see his shame. It's what he deserves, after all.

Breathing shallowly through his mouth, he tries his hardest not to make any noise, though he can't help the way his shoulders shake as the sobs he's been suppressing all day come forcing their way up his throat. ]

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CLAIMATE CONTROL.

Sat, 19 Mar 2016 19:39:07 GMT

Posted by: krav

CLIMATE CONTROL FAILURE

militaria is a modern station, but technology is not perfect and militaria's climate control? is going haywire right now. some rooms might be so cold that you had better snuggle up to someone to avoid hypothermia, while others are too hot for you to be wearing as many clothes as you are right now.

surely the engineers will get it fixed soon, surely.

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VISUALS.

Thu, 10 Mar 2016 14:46:14 GMT

Posted by: krav

( Read more... )

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SETTING STUFF

Sat, 05 Mar 2016 17:26:57 GMT

Posted by: krav

WORLD / SETTING

In 2027, NASA scientists develop a method of space travel that is faster than anything that's ever been there before. At first, humanity rejoices: the time of space travel and exploration has come. Soon enough, however, humanity finds out that not only are they not alone in the universe, but not all alien races are inclined to share knowledge and the resources on far-away planets with the newcomers. The Formica — an insectoid alien race — in particular are ruthless in defending what they consider their sector in space. Human politicians are not willing to let the killing of astronauts and the destruction of their shiny new spaceships go unpunished, and by 2029, the United Nations Security Council declares war on the Formica.

What follows is an arms race of unknown proportions, not of country against country, but of humanity against aliens. Politically speaking, the threat from outer space means countries are willing to give up their sovereignty, granting far-reaching powers to the UNSC. Vast amounts of money are invested in space travel and new weapons. For some countries, this means their economies blossom; others are left behind. In almost all countries, the gap between rich and poor grows larger and larger.

Diplomats sent by the UNSC forge alliances against the Formica with other alien races, but the Formica, too, have allies. Among the human allies, we find Erenes (humanoid, long-lived and very intelligent) and Karoid (also humanoid, a species that has been at war with the Formica for a long time), while the Formica are allied with Teroid (enemies of the Karoid; they live in the same star system) and other, unknown species. Humanity builds space stations for defensive purposes and because Earth is growing overpopulated, with resources becoming scarce. The weapons industry and most of the military — earth's main industries by 2034 — are outsourced into space.

One space station is MILITARIA, a military academy where officers are trained.

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001; pillow forts with braxton

Fri, 04 Mar 2016 14:54:03 GMT

Posted by: dephlogisticate

[All in all, Braxton is not the worst roommate Asbo could have asked for. He's tidy, he's quiet enough, and when he does speak he doesn't do that obnoxious I'm-clearly-humoring-you thing he can get from other students at the academy. Technically, his record is sealed as per the plea bargain he took — if he agreed to sign up voluntarily for the academy, his criminal record would be locked down so nobody up here could see it and see what he's done — but he's not stupid enough to think that out of all the genius kids stuck up in this horrible floating piece of trash, not one of them has figured out a way to get past the locks the government put on his files. It just means he's extra cautious around his fellow students; most of them are the idealistic type who signed up voluntarily, like Braxton, and he knows enough about human nature to know that idealists don't often take too kindly to criminals like Asbo.

He doesn't know for certain, but he's pretty sure that Gibbons, the linebacker-sized robotics student in one of his combat training classes, knows. At least, he knows something, because the comment he made as Abso passed him in the halls after lunch just set his hackles up, and he hasn't been able to forget it all day.

Coupled with the three different burn cases he had to assist on today — the sickly-sweet charred smell of burning flesh is more than enough to turn his stomach — it's safe to say Asbo's having a bad day.

Even Brax's bad jokes haven't been enough to pull him out of his funk, and the two boys had lapsed into silence fifteen minutes ago, Brax clearly giving up on trying to get Asbo to respond, to cheer up. Good. Asbo doesn't want to cheer up, he wants to stare blankly at his textbook and remember every detail about the day he helped set that fire, the smells and the sounds that haunt his dreams. He's glad he never had to hurt his mum by telling her what he'd done, but somehow it feels like even his banishment out into the black vacuum of space isn't punishment enough. If the authorities won't punish him for what he's done, Asbo will punish himself.

He's so wrapped up in his brooding that the pillow colliding with his shoulder catches him completely by surprise.]

What the fuck? [He turns to glare at his roommate, who looks perfectly innocent, minus the fact that he's missing his pillow.] You're such a dickhead, Brax. [Scowling, Asbo takes the pillow that has so kindly been offered him and tucks it about himself, creating a little nest-like fort that he can hide in so he can wallow in his own misery in peace.]

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SPACETEXTS

Sun, 28 Feb 2016 17:06:34 GMT

Posted by: krav

TEXTS FROM LAST SPACE
no rules, just texts

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WHO DOESN'T LOVE SOME CR

Sun, 14 Feb 2016 11:00:36 GMT

Posted by: chatona

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TAKEN/CLAIM LIST

Sun, 14 Feb 2016 10:55:37 GMT

Posted by: chatona

AT THE ACADEMY RIGHT NOW...

krav CHARLIE SPENCER ( original ) STUDENT WEAPONS ENGIN. tona.	PARKOURPRINCE LEGOLAS ( Tolkien ) OFFICER COMBAT / GUERILLA / SURVIVAL blanche.	EXACTITUDE AJ KNIGHTLEY ( original ) STUDENT COMMAND WEAPONS COMBAT maria.	opi8 EIGHT ( original ) STUDENT PATHOS / COMBAT noodles.
DEPHLOGISTICATE DENNIS "ASBO" SEVERS ( The Smoke ) STUDENT EMERGENCY MEDICAL TECHNICIAN feebs.	kerflooey BRAXTON "BRAX" KERBY ( original ) STUDENT COMMUN. / ROBOTICS emily.	sicituradastra ZHEN ELLIOTT ( original ) OFFICER COMBAT COMMAND WEAPONS betsy.
( coding by whambam )

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