Voices from Heaven (
thespaceopera) wrote in
driftfleet2017-02-18 12:26 pm
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Look - up in the sky...!
Suddenly, the SS Pathstone and the SS Golden begin to move on their own... slowly, calmly, they drift to two different points, a certain distance apart, away from the other ships of the fleet. Then, just as slowly, they turn to face each other.
And that is all the warning there is before the engines engage -- full speed ahead.
Like a pair of rockets, the ships torpedo toward each other, perfectly lined up for a head-on collision, and there is nothing to stop them. No matter what buttons the crews press, no matter how much they might panic, nothing is going to stop the inevitable. Any other ships watching will not have time to attempt any sort of interception.
CRASH!!
As if to shield spectators' eyes from the horrors of ships colliding in space, there's a blinding light upon impact -- and once it gradually fades, the results can be clearly seen by all: There is no wreckage. Nothing is broken. But where there were once two ships... now there's only one.
One ship that is... very clearly made up of parts from the SS Pathstone and the SS Golden, but somehow seems well put together, at least!
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On the bridge, the crews of the SS Golden and the SS Pathstone arrive, along with the usual pop! of Atroma confetti and ridiculous jingle music upon a successful shuffle. Sitting in the captain's chair is a round cake, just large enough for everyone to have one slice. There's a single candle, and the following message scribbled on top in yellow icing:
"Congratulations - SS Goldstone!
Happy Fusion!"
... What, did you think you were going to die? Sorry about that.
And that is all the warning there is before the engines engage -- full speed ahead.
Like a pair of rockets, the ships torpedo toward each other, perfectly lined up for a head-on collision, and there is nothing to stop them. No matter what buttons the crews press, no matter how much they might panic, nothing is going to stop the inevitable. Any other ships watching will not have time to attempt any sort of interception.
CRASH!!
As if to shield spectators' eyes from the horrors of ships colliding in space, there's a blinding light upon impact -- and once it gradually fades, the results can be clearly seen by all: There is no wreckage. Nothing is broken. But where there were once two ships... now there's only one.
One ship that is... very clearly made up of parts from the SS Pathstone and the SS Golden, but somehow seems well put together, at least!
-----------
On the bridge, the crews of the SS Golden and the SS Pathstone arrive, along with the usual pop! of Atroma confetti and ridiculous jingle music upon a successful shuffle. Sitting in the captain's chair is a round cake, just large enough for everyone to have one slice. There's a single candle, and the following message scribbled on top in yellow icing:
Happy Fusion!"
... What, did you think you were going to die? Sorry about that.
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[She's had a few talks with other people about how murder is bad, so she's going to not elaborate on what she's going to do once she does find them.]
Then again, someone else with bizarre powers might show up one day that can expose the Atroma right away, so who knows how it will happen?
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[Between Heaven and Hell and Paradisa, Crowley's faith in these sorts being brought to task for what they've done is pretty much nonexistent. ]
I sincerely doubt they'd bring someone like that in without nulling their powers, first. If they won't let me full reign with mine, they're not going to do it with someone like that.
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Nothing's perfect. People make mistakes. Sometimes, a fight is just waiting for the enemy to make a mistake, and then punishing them for it.
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[He wants to call them 'The First Gens', but that's a Paradisan phrase that would be lost on all but two other people here. But that's absolutely what he's calling them in his head. ]
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[She isn't a Paradisa person, but she'd get it.]
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[She nods, happy he picked up on her train of logic.]
I can't answer about the shooting, but it makes sense now if they were trying to help us without tipping their hands to the Atroma. They were trying to give us a chance to escape, too... Or at least that's my guess.
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[He's smirking, though. ]
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...
I mean there's no space zombies and there isn't a creepy mystical portal to Hell opening up anywhere so.
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... How are we defining 'space zombies', exactly?
[That's probably a bad question to have to ask.]
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[But the fact she has to ask isn't comforting. ]
They were called Necromorphs, the ones we dealt with.