Orwell hovers silently within the black void of space. Several mammal ships are seen dodging the defence system to dock at this well-catered space station. Amidst the crowds of mammal troops and attendants is Corporal, a slightly overweight human in the uniform of a British officer from WW1, the pips on each sleeve denoting that he is a Captain. Corporal's face is rather like a disfigured football, with a pair of silver-rimmed glasses curtaining his cratered face of zits and freckles. Corporal appears to be waiting for someone, and it appears that that someone may never come...
Post by Claudia Carranza on Jan 28, 2005 11:51:23 GMT -5
IC: Stepping from the main docking bay, a bright eyed, lean bodied, ferret darted look this way and that. Short spikey hair blended into the dark brown mask that covered his eyes, matching his dainty black nose. A slim five-fingered hand clutched the strap of a travel worn back-pack that hung from a shoulder.
Spotting the tall hairless baboon, the ferret's eyes lit up, and he moved over to investigate.
"Hi," he quipped brightly, shoulders and body giving a light bounce.
Post by Kooshmeister on Jan 29, 2005 12:32:12 GMT -5
Standing in the docking bay, a young hare, in his late 20s perhaps, with sickly, pale green fur, is consulting a small clipboard and making various scribblings with a pencil, apparently checking the numbers of the mammal ships and their names.
He is dressed in an expensive-looking three-piece suit and tie, and a small headset. A lamenated ID badge clipped to his lapel identifies him as a security supervisor and gives his name as "Billings, Lt. Renfield".
"I'm used to the cold." replies Corporal as he rubs where he has been pinched. "My race live on the most inhospitable planet with weapons so primitive that they stand no chance against any one of us here."
Corporal looks down sorrowfully at his lap. "Life was hell there, Miko. I don't think you'd want to know HOW I got here with the stone-age technology."
"Well, Lieutenant Billings, Orwe..." Corporal stops in mid-sentence as something flashes in his mind. "Wait a minute!" he mumbles as he stands up. "I don't remember your face at the Board Room. Are you stationed here perchance?". Corporal narrows his eyes slightly, suspecting something strange, although he is tethered by his paranoia of enemy agents from his darkened past...
Post by Kooshmeister on Jan 31, 2005 18:03:54 GMT -5
Renfield is taken aback by this, looking genuinely surprised. He chews his lower lip for a second. "No, I'm not stationed here," the young lieutenant finally said. Indeed, in addition to giving his name and rank the ID badge clipped to his lapel also read "Visitor."
"I'm a Political Officer from the Council, security division," he added. "We're taking a census of all friendly space stations."
* A tall grey hare disembarks from a docked UAC frigate across the hangar. His ensignia indicate his is a lowly ensign of the ships crew. After surveying the hull of the frigate briefly he strides over toward the small assembly of mammals in deep discussion *
"Excuse me sirs, im ensign Whitehind of the UAC frigate Valiant, we were ambushed by toads on our way to warren and our navigation systems are down. The UAC would be grateful for any assistance you could provide to us, our misson is vitally important", the hare's eyes reflect the urgency of his situation, "We're in dire need of new instruments or at least co-ordinates on this stations location".
* The hare waits anxiously for a response *
Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past. George Orwell