"Come on! Don't you fuck with me button!" an exceptionally distressed man yelled while pounding a purple shaded button. With extreme prejudice.
"Come one dammit! The one time I need something to work! Fuck it!" He yelled as he pulled back his arm before launching it at the button. And audible crack was heard as the button shattered, and he began to groan in displeasure before the ship he was in was vaporized.
Time: Who knows?
Place: Nowhere I care about
Condition: Out Cold
Sunlight streamed through the mildly cracked glass of the bridge. And that was bad. It meant he was either A: About to hit a star or something else really bad, or B: He was somewhere else he probably didn't want to be.
He wasn't sure which it was as he slowly sat up, groaning every inch of the way. He cracked his eyes open as he had yet to do so, before squinching his eyes to avoid the light.
"That was a bad button..." He mumbled,holding his head in his hand, hoping that would somehow ease the splitting migraine he was experiencing, but to no avail. He slowly opened his eyes again, but this time the visor in his helmet had darkened appropriately.
As his migraine slowly dissipated, he worked his way onto his knees, holding his torso up with his hands. He shook his head before speaking aloud.
"Doka, what the fuck have you gone and done now?" He slowly stood on shaky, unstable legs before looking out of the bridge's viewing window.
"Oh Doka, what in the possible FUCK have you done now?!" He cursed as he peered out. What he saw out that window, were;
"Blue foxes fucking everywhere! I done did it now! I done did it now! Wait, maybe I'm dead! Yeah, I must be. There is not a single race like this in space. Yep, I must have exploded." He tried to assure himself, but he continued to look out the view-port. He was about to look away, but something caught his eye.
One of the foxes, bipedal foxes to be more specific, was staring right at him instead of clambering and gawking aimlessly.
"What the hell...? Well I'm staying in my ship. No way am I heading out there. I should check the engine room, see if I can get out of here." He said to himself turning and unsteadily making his way out of the bridge.
As he walked down the corridor, one had running along the wall to support him, he still thought he felt the eyes of that one, near definitely female fox, staring right at him. But that, of course, was impossible.
A few turns and a quick ride on a lift later, and he found himself staring at the engines. Engines that were in an unfortunate state, but he was sure he could fix them. He walked around and surveyed the damage, though his thoughts kept drifting back to what he had seen, and how different it was. He was worried that he may be in deeper trouble the he had thought. He continued to examine the damages to the engines and their respective sub reactors and such, until a massive realization hit hit. What if he cant find what he needs to repair the damage.
"Oh shit...this could be bad. I only have enough on board to help with some of this! The rest I either have to improvise or get really lucky. I don't know the makeup of this planet, so I don't know if I can get the resources I need. Right, well, I need to be organized if I want to have a chance."
He looked around the now pitiful room, taking in all the damage. There was a hole ripped in the the left side of the room, from a stray MASS cannon most likely. Big enough to fit through, so he'd have to patch it up. That was doable for him.
The plasma reactor hooked to the bottom left thruster was leaking liquidized plasma. A very big problem as it had been meting through heat resistant floor for what looked like hours. He immediately jumped on the problem, pulling up a still working computer panel before typing in a few commands. A metal slab coated in a non reflective nulifier slid seamlessly around the reactor, stopping the leak and causing a bar to raise a few notches on the panels screen.
Next came probably the biggest problem he had to face, and likely one that he couldn't solve quickly. His ships engines power the thrusters with a gas that was superheated by passing it through the reactor coils that held the liquidized plasma. Massive turbines funneled the now flaming gasses through a small opening before exiting the ship, expanding greatly and escaping into space.
Simple, so simple no one else thought about it. Mainly because no one took the idea seriously because there wasn't a gas that held enough energy for it to work. But they of course never looked. I was powerful and efficient, but the components to make it tended to be fragile. And unfortunately for Doka, hard to come by.
The damage that was so terrible, was a straight shear straight through the turbine and through the sub generator that powered it. The turbine was made out of a rare metalloid that was extremely heat resistant, enough to withstand the super heated gases that were expelled from the reactors.
So he was fucked. He was certain that he wouldn't be able to find that element, know as Eranium, anywhere near here. Wherever here was.
That was mostly the extent of the important damage. A few jarred circuits, disconnected wires, missing master chips, all of that could be fixed quickly.
"Now what was the point of that? Four hour fixing everything else but without that turbine, I wont have enough power to get far. I don't even know how much stuff I wrong with the rest of the ship!" He shook his head in exasperation before heading out of the engine room.
He took the route that guaranteed arrival at hi little kitchen. He looked over at his liquid storage cabinet before walking over to it and opening it, revealing a lot of alcohol. He looked over his varied selection before choosing his favorite. Vodka.
"This is going to be a very confusing period of my life." He said as he opened the bottle and took a long swig from it. He reveled in the warmth it brought him, and considered downing the bottle, but instead replaced the cap and sat it on the stainless steel counter top.
He looked over the the chair in which he'd discarded his helmet, it's red, painted smile glaring back at him. He looked down and sighed.
"Can nothing ever be simple for me?" He glanced at the couch in his little excuse of a living room. It looked quite inviting to a man who had gotten no sleep for days. Without a second though, he deactivated his armor causing it to drop to the floor with a loud, echoing crash.
He make his way eagerly to the couch, his feet making soft padding sounds on the cold metal tiles.
"I'm gonna have to do some renovations here if I get outta here." He mumble as he crashed down onto the couch. Sleep claimed him quickly, far faster than it should have in fact, and it brought him strange dreams as well.
Location: Dreamscape
Time: Around 7am
Condition: Sleeping Like A Baby
"What the fuck? Where am I?" Doka asked, standing up in what looked like a tribal village. The blue foxes from before were everywhere, as he looked around. He saw that he was in a marketplace, apparently. He looked to his right and saw his ship, apparently in one piece.
"Wait, am I dreaming?" He asked himself, even though the answer was obvious.
His voice broke a silence he hadn't even realized was there. He listened harder once he realized, but still he heard nothing. No one even noticed him. Something was off. There were nearly no tribal foxes around.
How could he dream so vividly about this, he knew nothing about this place or its people. He wasn't a genius, but he was by no means stupid. He liked to read when he wasn't busy being shot at, he read books. He remembered most of what he read, and he remembered the fact that dreams throw logic out the window, opting instead to fill in blanks with senseless, meaningless trash.
This was no logical, to detailed, and more than that, he was fully conscious and thinking. He knew he wasn't dreaming, but he knew he wasn't awake. He walked to one of the stands in the little marketplace, and began to smell freshly baked bread an pastries.
Doka stopped and breathing in deeply. While he held the breath, he began to here things. It sounded like slow words of a strange language. Then he notice figures begin to move. He was certain they weren't there before. But they moved incredibly slow, around the same speed as the talking actually.
He turned toward his ship, but stopped cold when he saw the female fox from before. She turned, and looked dead at him. She cocked her head to the side, and Doka noticed a faint trace of a smile tug at her lips.
She reached to her side and drew a knife. Doka backed up a little, cause the small smile to become just a bit more evident on the woman's face. She held her small skirt just above the end, and cut a strip about a foot long off.
It was light red from what Doka could tell. He watched cautiously as she walked toward him. She stopped about two meters away from him, and held out her hand. Somehow, Doka knew that she wanted him to hold his arm out. Against his better judgment, he did. She softly held his wrist with her left paw, and draped the red fabric on top. The tied the cloth around his wrist before patting his arm and pointing to his ship.
She turned back to him and pointed to the ground. She then spoke one word.
"Cerinia."
Location: Ass Planted On Couch
Time: Likely Around 8am
Condition: Freaked The Fuck Out
Doka jerked awake, instantly recalling last nights dream, and instantly beginning an attempt to rationalize it. He had nearly come up with a believable answer, until he looked down at his wrist, and saw the red and gold trim cloth tied around his wrist.
"Oh...oh...oh..." He stared at the cloth, brain functions steadily declining all the while.
"I have no explanation of this." He finally said as he plopped his hand down in his lap. He looked aimlessly around his small room.
"There is something very different about this world. That much is certain. I need to know where I am, and that something needs to be more specific than "Cerinia".
He sighed and looked into his kitchen, and then to a hallway at his left.
"Hell, I need a shower." He said after a period of staring. He stood up and stretched, letting loose a yawn as well. He then turned and made his way down the short hallway and made a left, went up some stairs, and entered the first door on the right in the new corridor.
He tapped a few buttons of the small panel beside it and the door opened silently in response. He stepped in and looked into the mirror that rested above the sink. He peered into it, staring into his own eyes, the green and blue in them seemingly flowing like a liquid.
He brushed his long brown hair away from his face and examined his complexion for any changes. All he found were the ever present evidence of faded scars. He sighed once again and began undressing. He turned on the hot water, and slowly stepped in.
He sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time since he arrived here, and he stood and let the hot water flow over him. It flowed through his long hair and over his muscular body before being deposited down the drain.
Once he was finished with his long relaxing shower, he simply tossed his undersuit down the laundry chute where it landed in he laundry compartment. He'd take care of that when it was important.
He dried of and replaced the towel, opting not to take it out of the room. He decided since no one was here he didn't need to be worried about his decency that much. He left the bathroom and padded to the room across from it. His room. The place he spends the least time in on this mid sized personal cruiser. He pulled out a random outfit that consisted of a fitted undershirt of the combat variety, combat fatigues, a pair of military grade socks, and a pair of reinforced combat boots.
Yeah, everything he had served a combat role, seeing as he was a full time mercenary. He glanced at his nightstand at his favorite pistol, still in it's holster. He owned several pistols, both ballistic and laser based, but this was his only plasma based. It was expensive and hard to come by the ammunition, but he had already found a way to get free charge packs. A slight modification to a spar plasma reactor supplies him with a refill station whenever he needs one.
Sure, some arms dealers were unhappy that he didn't go to them for the expensive ammunition, he didn't give a shit.
He strapped the pistol to the side of his right leg even though he was safe in his ship. He always liked precautions. He decided to take the knife out of the drawer and situate it in his boot for some reason as well. He normally didn't.
He had an inexplicable urge to venture towards the hangar as well, just to make sure his prized possession was okay, he guessed.
His prized possession was an R-18-A Interceptor. Most advanced fighter in the human military's arsenal, but his of course is as pimped out as a fighter can get, capable of outrunning and outmaneuvering anything the military could send at him. He had heavy duty gravity correctors and a far more powerful engines, more sensitive controls all installed as fast as he could, along with a kickass paint job of course.
He had made small but numerous software and hardware upgrades over the years, including a more in depth HUD and bigger turning panels to go along with the better controls. And he of course had a massive gun on it, capable of shredding enemy fighters and gunships, and even pissing of attack cruisers.
He tapped the panel beside a large heavy door, and stepped under it even before it had fully opened. He sighed, this time with relief as he saw that the MagLoc kept his fighter firmly rooted to it's pad. He descended the stairs that led to the flight deck and quickly made his way to his ship for a closer look.
Not a single scratch.
An idea popped into his head. He hopped off the canopy of the Interceptor and jogged to the hangar door. He checked them for any damage they may have taken, but he found none.
He did, however, find something else. Someone else actually. He felt a soft, nearly unnoticed prick in the back of his head as he looked through the small window and into a pair of turquoise eyes on the other side.
He immediately knew who those eyes belonged to. And after that little dream last night, and for some other reason he wasn't sure about, he had a new idea. He reached to a console on his right, and activated the door.
He stopped the door just a few inches of the ground, and he bent down so the he was nearly level with the gap.
He sat there to think for a moment before saying;
"No loitering." He never was very good at social things. The strange woman appeared to understand, for whatever reason. She laughed softly to herself. She crouched to so the same level as Doka before she responded.
"You're on my planet." She said softly and kindly.
Doka blinked a couple of times. Firstly, she was speaking English. He knew for a fact that she didn't know English two days ago before he came. He also didn't expect a return quip.
"You know English. How?" He asked, smartass tone gone from his voice.
"An offworlder such as yourself wouldn't believe the truth." She replied, a bit disappointed it sounded. Wouldn't believe the truth? She said that to a man who was nearly eaten by a giant rock on a stroll though the park. He'd believe anything with just the slightest bit of evidence.
"Lady, I've seen and experienced thing a whole lot weirder than telepathy" He said tonelessly.
She chuckled, "Then that will make this a bit easier. I, am a telepath. I am one of the only telepaths in this village, and I also happen to be the Interpreter of Prophesies. I meditate on the many prophesies, and try to find their meaning."
"Yeah, well look, as much as I find all this mystic shit interesting, I should really be finding a way to leave this planet."
He heard a sigh from the other side of the door.
"Of course. That's what all offworlders that land here say. They don't care for our customs and culture. Clearly they can't see the beauty of Cerinia."
"Lady, enough with the sentimental stuff. I've been here a total of one day, and I'm talking to a local. I don't typically talk to another human being, much less a different species." He stated bluntly, not caring if he made a bad impression.
"Did you say human?" She asked, suddenly suspicious of him.
"Yeah, I did. Problem?" He asked, not liking her sudden change in personality.
"Perhaps for your plan of getting home." She responded, almost sounding sad.
"What do you mean? You gonna keep me here or something? Cause that isn't a good idea." He snarled, a threatening tone etched into his voice.
"No, but this will test your statement of believing things. If you truly are human, then you are home."
"...The bullshit has been called, it was nice talking to you." He stood up to close the door, but found himself opening it up the rest of the way for reasons unknown.
"Yo what the fuck?!" He shouted as the yet unnamed woman entered his hanger bay uninvited.
"We must talk, human. I am Princess Krystal of Cerinia. We have awaited your arrival.