THREAT
• YOU HAVE MY SYMPATHIES Xenomorphs, facehuggers, necromorphs, predators, whatever: the threat you're up against is some kind of being you've never seen before. Perhaps they're engineered somehow, perhaps they've evolved this way. Either way, I hope you can figure out how to kill them before they kill you.
• I'M AFRAID I CAN'T DO THAT Why the hell did we think building un-tethered AI was a good idea? Your threat is an android, or a ship's AI, or I don't know, a sentient race of evil ships that want to destroy all life and suck it into tubes to make a weird baby shaped ship. WHATEVER. The point is, technology is going against you. Can you beat out something with that much processing power? Maybe having bigger firepower will help.
• I LOVE... ROCKS Your threat is environmental. An exploding sun, an alien planet with an inhospitable atmosphere, your ship's life support systems have failed, your shuttle has gone down in flames. Can you cobble together some way to fix the problem before you all die?
• THIS IS NOT A RESCUE SHIP Screw the other problems, what you're up against are HUMANS. Or, you know, whatever species/race matches yours. We're not xeno-racist here. Anyway, you're being targeted by your own. Maybe you're in the way of a scientific development, or you've become expendable, or they want to take over your ship, or they're just plain evil.
• ABOUT 15 SECONDS Holy shit. Holy... shit. You were outside your ship making repairs and you got knocked off track. Maybe your fancy magnetic boots failed. Maybe some debris from your ship took you down with it. Either way, your space walk has become a space "holy shit help I'm going to get spaced, someone get me back on board." Try not to panic.
• WE'RE THE ENEMIES You've been out in space too long. Everything is going strange and everything is a threat. Is your space sickness psychological or physiological? Is it spreading? Is there a cure?
LOCATIONS
• PLANETSIDE Crash landed. In an outpost. Building a new life. You're on a planet not your own and things are going horribly wrong. What can you do when you have no way home?
• STATION SWEET STATION Whether you're out in your ship or in a streamlined space station, things are rotten in Denmark. You'd better fix that circuitry before you all die. Just a suggestion.
• THE GAPING MAW There's nothing around you and all you can hear is your breathing. Are you calm? Panicked? What's it like floating in the vast expanse of space?
• IT'S INEVITABLE You're lost in your own head. You can be anywhere, but maybe you're the threat because you've short-circuited from being in space too long. The mind can only take so much. Try to be gentle. Try to breathe. No one's after you, it's all in your head.
As always, these are just suggestions. Also, not all examples are strictly hard sci-fi but we do what we want in these parts. Make up anything you want, as long as you're having fun! |
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bakerstreet2020-11-16 02:54 am
Magneto | Marvel 616 | OTA
illyana rasputin | new mutants
clara oswald | doctor who
the doctor | doctor who
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-
Seven months into the journey, the central engine malfunctions. The emergency power switches on, but it's not enough to finish the journey. They all know that. It's not even enough to keep the ship moving.
He says nothing, when the announcement is made. But he holds her hand, as he had when they'd first embarked.
That he will not look at her says everything for him.
I will protect you. I would die for you.
-
The metal crawls across his skin like a rash. He does not scream, but the pain is visible — in the strain in his eyes, in the pallor his face takes just before it turns to chrome, in the sharpness of his clenched fist. There's a desperation to his movements that suggests just how much pain he's in, but he doesn't stop moving. He drives his fist through the alien creature's maw. It screeches, twitches until it can't move anymore.
Later, he tells her, as he drifts to sleep, that he'd thought he was dying.
-
The metal rod drives through his shoulder as he's changing. He drives the alien off (there are so many of them), but collapses soon after. His shoulders heave as the metal slowly peels back across his skin — right up to the patch of flesh the rod has pierced. ]
I don't know if I should turn back, [ he says, through his teeth. ] Might be ... a lot of blood.
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Forcing them to work together is probably a good way to make something work. I like the angle of Asteroid M, maybe a Sentinel AI got into it and they're working together to escape.]
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Maria Hill | MCU
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Nickov // Original Character // M/M
Number Five | The Umbrella Academy
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The station's hanger bay loomed large in the viewport, and in her trembling hands the geneticist held the weapon, uncertain of what was happening but knowing that it was not good. It was with surprise that she noted another shuttlecraft being pulled into the bay at the same time, the precisely synchronized movements of the two craft being hauled in and settled side-by-side difficult to miss. It set her teeth even further on edge, her frown deepening. It felt too well orchestrated, and too...computerized.
Was she expected? And who was in the other craft? And more importantly, perhaps more pressingly, what should she even do?
Ultimately, it felt foolish to hole up and wait for the ship to be searched. There wasn't any movement in the hangar bay she could see, so she let down the boarding ramp and slipped out, careful to keep her weapon hidden and her head down.
"...Hello?" she called out, figuring that there was no hiding from something that had already caught a Shi'ar skimmer. They knew someone was on board, so why waste time.
Grand Admiral Thrawn | Star Wars | OTA
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Particularly since he was fairly certain all of his prior space stations had been destroyed.
Most of the trip had been a blur. Thankfully, he knew a few Shi'ar who owed him a favor. He spent the trip in his borrowed shuttle pacing back and forth, finally opting to meditate before he managed to accidentally fry anything important. He almost didn't notice the quiet beep of the shuttle's computer being instructed to land. And when he looked out the viewport? It was Asteroid M, without a doubt. He would recognize his own technology anywhere. But it was like looking into a mirror to find the reflection blinking wrong, or find its eyes subtly tracking a different point. It was his technology, but he was not the owner of this station.
He gritted his teeth. While the shuttle maneuvered to land, he stretched out with his power, trying to find the telltale electromagnetic signatures of life aboard. There was only one, on the Shi'ar craft that was exactly matching his shuttle's movements as they landed gracefully in the shuttlebay. Wonderful. If it was a scout for a salvage operation, he fully intended to send the Shi'ar packing. Current owner or not, this technology was his.
The other craft's boarding ramp was already down when Magneto started down his ramp. His helmet was securely on his head, his red and purple armor glittered in the dim light, and his cape billowed out behind him. There was a light shimmer of electric sparks around him, his usual strong electromagnetic shield being his only weapon for the moment.
Of course, he was not prepared for who was there at the bottom of the ramp. "Doctor MacTaggert. If you wanted to tour Asteroid M once again, I can think of easier ways to arrange for its master to be available to show you around." He strode up to her. Though he was not at all certain about the situation, he let himself believe for a moment that this was all some sort of ploy by Moira. He stared down at her, his face hard and angry beneath his helmet. "You're far less dead than I remember."
The air crackled around them, Magneto's electromagnetic shield flaring in response to his anger.
alan wake.
James Holden | The Expanse | OTA
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"The Legacy Virus, as ye might recall, only truly affects mutants," she replies calmly, her accent on full display. This is probably the one plan she can spin to her advantage, a small thing, but given that he would have no idea that she is a mutant it's the best she can come up with on the fly. "And, as ye might also recall, I was a carrier, and still am."
Which should make anyone with their genes nervous. Killing her, or even hurting her, might cause an infection. Hell, being in close proximity could as well.
"I have nae idea how you found me, Erik, but I had no intention of coming anywhere near here. I was deliberately in quarantine and isolation, heading to a place I could work on studying it safely. Why in the world would I want to wind up back on this rock if I was heading for Chandilar?"
Waving a hand at his shield, his helmet, his general anger, she gave him her most intense expression.
"Deaths can be faked, as I'm sure you of all people understand. But I'm not afraid of you, so you can either act on your anger, or you can explain to me what's gotten under your skin and we can see about figuring this out."
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But that wasn't why he was here, was it? If Moira didn't come here for Asteroid M, if she truly was headed for Chandilar, then some other force brought them together. And it wasn't him. He looked around them at the station. "Believe it or not, Doctor, I didn't come here for you. You may notice, I came here in a Shi'ar shuttle, something I would not have needed to do if Asteroid M were still in its proper position above Earth. In fact, I was under the impression that every iteration of this base that I built had been destroyed." He moved a few steps closer to her. "Which makes its appearance far from Earth of prime interest to me. There is technology aboard this station that I would be careless to allow fall into the wrong hands. I may not be an X-Man anymore, but I am not foolish."
He turned from her to look out at the station. "This. It's my design but it doesn't respond to me. I am not master here. And given we're the only two organic beings aboard, I am beginning to wonder what built this."
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So long as he's not threatening her at present then her goal is accomplished, and that's good enough for her. She would rather diffuse the situation, after all. But what he says next surprises her, since this was clearly his asteroid's design, and she is observant enough to note his touch to the technology.
Frowning, she shuffles away a pace or two, folding her arms and looking around the darkened, gloomy hangar bay.
"I had assumed it was simply your doing in the first place. A backup hidden away, but...no, that doesn't quite add up. Not now that ye mention all of that. To say nothing of ye having no way of knowing where I was coming from and where I was heading to. No, this is probably a bad thing."
Her shoes click on the steel decking as she walks forward, moving towards a bank of diagnostic monitors.
"I suppose we should see what does and doesn't work, and if we can find some logs."
you have my sympathies + station sweet station
"Years" passed, for whatever a "year" is worth. Stars burned, planets spun, civilisations sang about the Shepard. Under his hand, the Reapers helped to construct new worlds. Safer worlds, where the races of the galaxy could live in something very close to harmony. But even that was a long time ago now. Even the Shepard has been forgotten now.
It's very, very strange, possessing a body again.
Shepard doesn't really have the time to contemplate all of this, not when the space station is in chaos around him. Security klaxons are screaming, red back-up generator lights are flickering. Sparks fly from overloaded terminals that cycle through endless critical errors as a mechanically cool voice informs the station over the intercoms: WARNING. LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEMS OFFLINE. WARNING..
There's some residual muscle memory that spurs Shepard into action; the inner soldier within him resurfaces like a half-remembered song. In the chaos of the corridor he finds himself battling against the tide of panicked civilians - they're all running away from something. Shepard remembers he's the guy who runs towards things.
There's a pistol holstered at his side - was that his? Had it always been there? - and the weight is remarkably heavy. (Heavier than he remembered. God, he's rusty at this human thing.) He sidesteps and weaves through the crowds, heading towards what seems to be the source of this particular stampede: the hanger bay, and whatever the hell is inside it. ]
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He turned to one of the monitors and began to try to release both their shuttles. Hers, so she could leave. His, because he didn't trust a vessel that forced him to land without so much as a by your leave. Better to leave it in orbit and fly the few hundred feet on his own. Of course, the computer had other ideas. "Of all the...Scheißdreck!" Magneto gave the computer a hard smack and muttered a few more curses in German while he worked over the computer. Finally, he stood back and used his power to pull open a panel below the screen. He knelt and examined the wiring. "Willst du mich verarschen!" He glared at the computer as if he expected an answer. When one was not forthcoming, he stood and turned back to Moira.
"Doctor MacTaggert, there is a slight problem." He indicated the wiring. "Not only has my access as creator of this system somehow been overridden, but the wiring..." he paused and concentrated a moment. "And most of the important systems in the hangar that I can sense are laced with just enough vibranium alloy that I can't do a thing with them. That is not my usual practice. Vibranium and other metals I can't manipulate are the go-to metals for government and Sentinel construction when they expect to have to deal with me."
Chell | Portal | OTA
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"Carson mi? An nàire dha..." she mumbles under her breath in exasperated Gaelic, but says nothing more. Standing back, arms folded, she watches him work, swear, and generally cause enough of a fuss that she can derive at least a little amusement from it. It isn't helpful, but she's not above a little pettiness when it's earned.
"Ho?" she asks when he finally speaks to her, stepping a pace closer and eyeing first him and then the computer screen. Her mirth, small though it was, vanishes into a pensive frown. "That's not a good sign."
Her jaw sets, attention roaming the flight deck.
"And I think it's a reasonable assumption that that you're not sensing anyone else alive aboard this station. Which leaves me to assume that this place is crewed either by the spirits of the damned, or machines crafted specifically to counter you. And one of those things makes sense.
So, a trap, then?"
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Fuck it, if he couldn't release the shuttles electronically and this station was an elaborate trap anyway, he would just tear it apart enough to force it to let go. His feet left the deck plates as he focused on the metal around them, specifically several places along the walls where magnetic emitters hummed away, acting as sort of docking clamps. Their important bits were made of vibranium alloy, but there were enough other metals incorporated into the housing that he could simply grasp onto one and, with a snarl, rip it free from the wall. Immediately, the shuttle bay doors began to close, and Magneto used the broken emitter to wedge into the corner of one door and seal it almost all the way open. He repeated the process with the other emitters, using his power to turn them into a melted mess holding the door open.
The familiar voice of one the last beings Magneto wanted to encounter filled the shuttle bay. "Mutant identified. Designate: Magneto. Directive: terminate."
Naomi Nagata | The Expanse | ota
shepard • mass effect
dorian pavus • dragon age inquisition
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The groaning metal makes her wince, bad memories of other lives, worse ones from this one, but the sound that echoes in the shuttle bay is far, far worse.
"Mac na galla!" she swears, whirling around and drawing the Shi'ar handgun, pointing it in the direction it had seemingly come from. The weapon hums, but she doesn't fire. There's no Sentinel there. Just a bank of computers set up to receive arrivals, which is puzzling, but only for a moment.
"Human Identified. Designate: Mactaggert, Moira. Directive: Contain and Question," the voice continues.
"...Well, this went from bad to worse. Sounds as though there's an AI inside the station."
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He gestures towards the only set of doors out of the bay and into the main station. "We need to get to the main control room. I should be able to deactivate the main computers manually from there. Then I want a copy of the logs to peruse later and we'll need to set the self-destruct mechanism of the station. That, at least, is one system I'm certain they haven't touched."
He pauses and thinks. "I wish I could tell you what kind of defenses to expect, but when I owned it, I was the deadliest thing aboard. Now? Be prepared for anything. If we're lucky, they don't have or haven't found the dampening field I installed to limit the powers of Charles and his X-Men."
Thane Krios | Mass Effect
mashes a bunch of shit together HOPE ITS OK
Those had been the first words he heard...ever, mechanical and muffled from his space inside the persistently running energy shield. The moment he stepped out he was briefed on the situation — the only reason the crew dared to bring him online, which appeared to be a subject of strife. "He's not ready", "this is a mistake", "we're desperate!"
The ship has been invaded via the cargo hold, likely from something being picked up on another planet. They wouldn't tell him as much, just rushed him out of his shielded tube and down the hall as he was handed weaponry and told that his systems were still shackled, but he would have everything he needed to help eradicate this threat. He was being put under the charge of one Dorian Pavus — apparently he understood his technology and was a knowledgeable individual.
He's escorted into the cargo hold where the damage was being examined; strange fleshy growths covered some of the cargo, holes burned into the metal here and there, and an odor similar to that of a corpse.
Between coming online to a disaster, being treated like he was a walking bomb, and bossed around like he wasn't state of the art technology, he's already not in the best of moods.]
Am I to understand the threat hasn't been properly identified yet?
[Does he sound put off? Absolutely. So far the only thing he's been told is that a body was found with this same fleshy substance eating away at its body and that his "skills" might be needed. But of course while he's connected to the ship he's not allowed to utilize its full functionality yet. He can't be "trusted". Infuriating. He feels like he's being cut off from himself, but nothing can be done about it, it seems.]
I hope it's nothing serious.
[His sarcasm filter is definitely working at least.]
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This mystery has to be undone.
"Assume that they have. Whoever did this came prepared, clearly."
Her voice is steady and unafraid, with a hint of resignation in her voice. Gripping the gun with some certainty, she nods firmly.
"Have you anything else on your shuttle that might help? If no, then please lead the way. I'll cover the rear."
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He led the way out of the shuttle bay. "I don't have anything else useful. As I said, I'm used to being the most deadly thing aboard. Come on. If our way is blocked, I know a few less pleasant shortcuts." The first level was mostly empty, except for one room, a lab, in which several humanoid robots worked with their backs turned to the door. Magneto clenched his eyes shut, but refused to give in to temptation. Attacking would only set off station defenses. He motioned for Moira to follow him quietly.
The first Sentinel in their way, he destroyed by accident more than planning. They turned a corner on the next deck, and ran face-first into it. Startled, while it scanned them and tried to come up with an appropriate response, Magneto grabbed it by the bits of metal he could manipulate and pulled. The Sentinel ended up in several pieces on the deck.
aaa love it
He regards the newly-activated project with interest; Dorian had grown up with similar technology to the Blue Wraith had hard-grafted into his skin, a natural upgrade to the innate talent Dorian had shown as a child for controlling Lyrium implants. Forcefully implanting the technology into others - with a dubious level of consent - had been something Dorian had followed from a distance. On Dorian's sleeve glittered a science corps patch, the stripes of an officer, and the emblem of a fully trained implant adept. Still, he doesn't stand on ceremony - the Blue Wraith project had only just woken up, of course. How was he to know that he was talking to an officer and a superior? ]
Oh, deathly serious, I'm afraid, [ he replies with a smooth kind of cheerfulness, his lips twisting into an unhappy smile beneath that distinctly non-regulation mustache. He gestures broadly at the horrific body and sweeps his arms open to show the fleshy growths on the military-grade crates strewn across the cargo bay. ]
This unfortunate soul happened to be its first victim. And it's last if you and I have anything to do with it.
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Or at least, that's what he's been told.
Fenris circles around the scene to get a better visual, the body coming into view as he does so.]
That's optimistic. [He takes a couple cautious steps closer to the body in order to administer a scan. The lyrium running through his body begins to glow as circuits whirr to life, green eyes shifting to blue.] Or...perhaps realistic. This body is fresh...whatever or whomever is responsible for his death may yet be very near.
[That's good news, right? He thinks so.]
I need another moment to scan this substance...perhaps you should get the officer in charge.
[The officer who is clearly not already here right??]
sorry for the slowness! black friday prep has been kicking my ass
Please, scan away, [ He replies airily. ] Word of warning: don't get too close. Poor fellow smells like the wrong end of a waste exhaust.
[ He steps back, gesturing grandly as he allows Fenris all the space he needs to fiddle around with the disgusting corpse as he sees fit. ]
don't worry about it EVERYTHING is kickin my ass ok. also don't mind my scifi bullshitting
Correct. Aside from the corpse...the smell seems to be coming from the noxious gasses being emitted from the merging of the bodies' tissue with this...substance. It's not feeding off of it but changing it at a rather alarming rate.
[The glowing stops as he finishes his scan and puts some distance between himself and the body, turning to address Dorian yet again. There's something of an impatient sigh as he does so.]
The officer in charge. He really should see this.
[For all his advanced programming and wiring...still not clicking.]
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Oh, he has. [ Perfectly curved eyebrows upraised, he looks pointedly between Fenris and the disgusting body, adding as he stares at the corpse: ] In fact, I think you'll find he's looking at it right now.
[ He doesn't mean to be mocking. Fenris is newly worken, after all; there are probably warm-up times on those implants, or maybe social mores are lost when a project's world has been reduced to what can be processed through Lyrium sensors and an upgraded brain made of more metal than grey matter. Point made, Dorian neatly turns away and begins surveying the rest of the cargo hold. ]
Whatever creature did this must still be close by, as you say. [ And look at this cargo bay! Just full of places where a creature could hide! Dorian instinctively thumbs at his wrist device, bringing his own Lyrium online and summoning a thin, glowing Barrier field of blue across them both. ] I do hope your warfare drivers are up to date. I have a feeling we'll need them.
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Ah. I see...then you are who I am to report to.
[He's not sure for what purpose he's allowed to feel things such as "annoyance" but damned if he's not feeling that right now. Was he supposed to just know these things? He understands the emergency is likely forcing these organic minds into a panic but how did the men and women of the synthetics department not fill him in on some of these seemingly basic bits of info?
All of these thoughts aside, he offers a deep nod. Ugh, they've uploaded some social communication drivers at least — what's he supposed to do here?]
My sincerest apologies.
[Too bad the information in these drivers do nothing about tone. Either way! He'll just quietly add this bit of information into his memory banks, as well as a mental note to pay closer attention to uniforms from now on...as well as a note that Dorian has a lyrium implant. He has plenty information on that subject, so this fact intrigues him. He half hopes to get directly attacked by something so he can study how well this shield holds up.]
I am, in fact, equipped with the latest warfare drivers available, retrofitted with upgrades you will not see in most combat synthetics. I am also equipped with a powerful firewall to prevent hacking. Which I am to understand...has been a problem with your AI department in the past.
[Which would explain the sheer amount of fearful looks he got on his way over here. But enough rambling; Fenris reaches for the gun maglocked onto the back of his armor—
—though his sensors pick up movement from the other side of the room, further inward from where the body was found, stench in the air growing more potent. A scuttling against metal follows not long after, first it sounds as if it's moving against the crates, then the sound jumps above — in the vents most likely. Damn it.]
If you give me permission, I can lock down the air vents to trap the creature inside. Then we can...proceed from there.
[They'll have to get it out, but at least they'll be in somewhat control?]
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I hear it too. [ His words are quiet, determined. 'I smell it' would have been just as accurate; Dorian's stomach turns at the smell. It reminds him of the necrotizing influenza that had broken out the last time the ship engaged the Qunari, when the medbay had been overflowing. A rather horrifying memory, that.
Dorian grits his teeth. He knows where those air vents lead. ]
Those particular vents will take it past both engineering and the medbay. [ Which absolutely cannot be allowed to happen. ] Do what you have to do. Now.
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Locking the vents down now.
[The scuttling gets louder as whatever's crawling around in the vents ends up directly above them. Fenris doesn't move an inch, concentrating on closing vent after vent, sadly unable to do it all at once, since he has to go through a brief list of authorization checks and "are you sure's". Frustrating.
There are multiple vents in the cargo hold alone, and the creature can be heard changing its course as it's locked from one after the other. He's plotting the course in his head and it seems as if it's purposefully trying to get to either engineering or the medbay.
For a moment there's only the sound of scuttling, the occasional swelling of that horrid smell, and the whirring of Fenris's circuits and vents shutting. Eventually, the glow stops and Fenris appears to return his attention to his surroundings. He's unfortunately very vulnerable when connecting with the ship to such a degree.]
The creature is trapped. We can force it back in here and confront it, if you wish.
[Strangely enough...it doesn't make much noise now that it's trapped. Fenris isn't sure but he can swear he hears a faint whispering? Or maybe his audio filters are straining from only just coming online.]